“Look.”

There was a whoosh. Suddenly the tunnel we’d just walked through was engulfed in protruding blades. They came out of the walls from all sides, as if we’d just entered inside a demon’s mouth. A few feet back, and I’d have been julienned where I stood.

“Neat,” I said. I could appreciate a good booby trap as much as the next person. “Must have cost a fortune, all that silver.”

“They’re not silver.”

The woman’s voice came from the top of the stairs in front of me. Smooth, buttery. Like crème brûlée for the ears.

“They’re steel blades,” she continued. “I wouldn’t want undead intruders killed. I’d want them alive and brought to me.”

Just like before when I jumped into this rabbit hole, I braced myself. Then I walked up the stairs to meet the voodoo queen.

As stated on her headstone some seventy yards away, Marie Laveau had died in 1881. Beyond that, her being a ghoul and her reputation with voodoo was all I knew. Bones hadn’t wanted to go into detail in her own backyard, so to speak. His caution spoke volumes about the person coming more clearly into view with my every step. From what I had heard about Marie, I half expected her to be seated on a throne, turbaned, with a headless chicken in one hand and a shrunken skull in the other. What I saw made me blink.

Marie was seated in an overstuffed chair, possibly a La-Z-Boy, bent over nothing more threatening than needlework. She had on a black dress with a white shawl thrown over her shoulders. On her feet were smart little heels that could have been Prada. With her shoulder-length dark hair curling around lightly made-up features, I had a weird flashback to a scene in a movie. She could have been bent over cookies, saying, “Smell good, don’t they?” while I broke a vase that wasn’t really there.

“Oracle?”

It came out of my mouth before I could snatch it back. No wonder Bones had wanted to come with me. I’d piss her off before even introducing myself.

Hazelnut eyes that were way too alert raked me from boots to brow. The needlework shifted when a long finger pointed at me.

“Bingo.”

That dessert drawl again, Southern Creole and sweet. If ears could digest verbal calories, my ass would’ve been getting fat just listening to her. And with that single word, she’d just recited the next part of the movie Matrix, which I’d quoted.

“Great movie, wasn’t it?” I didn’t move to sit because I hadn’t been invited to. “One of my favorites. The first film, anyway. Didn’t care for the other two.”

Those penetrating eyes fixed on me. “Do you think you’re the One? The future leader for all of us?”

“No.” I advanced and held out a hand. “I’m just Cat. Nice to meet you.”

Marie shook my hand. Her fingers tightened on mine for an instant but not painfully.

She released me, a tilt of her head indicating the seat next to hers. “Sit, please.”

“Thanks.”

The small room was bare of any decoration. Its walls were concrete, dry at least, and the only things in it were our two chairs. It reminded me of a prison cell. Stark and bleak.

“Should I just jump right in and say Gregor’s full of shit, or do you want to chat first?”

Meaningless banter didn’t seem like a productive use of time. Besides, if I could do small talk, I wouldn’t have pissed off the vast number of people that I had. Certain talents were beyond me. Okay, many talents.

“What do you want?” Marie asked.

Her matching bluntness made me smile. “You haven’t slept with Bones, and you don’t beat around the bush. If you weren’t considering backing Gregor against Bones, I’d like you tremendously.”

She shrugged, resuming her knitting. “Whether I like people or not has little to do with deciding to kill them. It’s either necessary, or it isn’t.”

That caused a grunt to escape me. “You sound like Vlad.”

A knitting needle paused. “Another reason to wonder about you. Vlad the Impaler doesn’t make friends easily. Nor is the Dreamsnatcher usually so enamored of someone. You have an impressive list of conquests, Reaper.”

My brow arched. “When you conquer something, it means you fought for it. I don’t know Gregor, Vlad’s just a friend, and Bones is the only man I care about, dominatingly speaking.”

A throaty laugh came from her. “Either you’re a very good actor…or very naïve. Gregor wants you back, and he’s amassing support for his claim of a blood-binding with you. Vlad Tepesh has named you as a friend. And Bones, who was notorious for his promiscuity, married you and started two wars over you.”

“Two? I’m only aware of one.”

“Gregor is understandably angry about Mencheres’s imprisoning him for over a decade, but he offered not to retaliate if you were returned to him. Bones refused, and as his co-ruler, that means he spoke for Mencheres as well. Technically, that makes them at war with Gregor.”

Great. Bones had neglected to mention that.

“If Gregor hadn’t been invading my dreams, I wouldn’t know him if I hit him with my car,” was my even response. “I remember cutting my hand and swearing by my blood that Bones was my husband, in front of hundreds of witnesses. Where are Gregor’s witnesses? Or evidence? If he’d really taken the trouble to marry me, you’d think he would’ve kept a souvenir.”

“You could find out the truth for yourself,” Marie stated. “I wonder why you haven’t.”

I sat up straighter. “Mencheres told me my memories can’t be retrieved.”

“Did he? In those exact words?”

My nails drummed against the edge of the chair. “Kind of.”

“Mencheres can’t return your memories, but Gregor can,” Marie flatly pronounced. “Mencheres knows that. As does Bones.”

I didn’t say anything for a minute. She stared at me, absorbing my reaction, then she smiled.

“You didn’t know. How interesting.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” I said, covering my obvious surprise. “I don’t know Gregor, but he doesn’t sound like the type who would come over to return my memories, then leave with a cheery wave when he was proven wrong.”

“What if he wasn’t proven wrong?”

Be careful. Very careful. “Like I said, why are all his claims hinging on my memory? It could easily be a ploy to get me within snatching range, then it would be may the fastest man win.”

Marie set her knitting down. Guess that meant we were getting serious. “Right now, I believe you don’t truly know if you bound yourself to Gregor. If it’s proven, however, that you are his wife instead of Bones’s, I will ally myself with Gregor according to our laws. That’s my answer in this matter.”

“You asked me before what I wanted, Marie. I want to go home with Bones and be left alone by everyone for about ten years. I don’t remember Gregor, but even if I did, it wouldn’t change how I feel about Bones. If it’s a fight Gregor or you wants by trying to force me to be with him, you’ll get it.”

Marie’s face had an unusual ageless quality about it. She could have been twenty when she was changed into a ghoul. Or fifty.

“I was married once,” she remarked. “His name was Jacques. One night, Jacques beat me, and I knew he liked it. The next morning, I gave him a poisoned tonic, then I buried him underneath my porch. Now every time I take a lover, I call him Jacques, to remind me that if I have to, I’ll kill him.”

Marie tilted her head and gave me a challenging look. “Care for some refreshment?”

Not after that story. But if she thought I was going to tuck my tail between my legs, she was wrong.

“Love some.” Bring it on, Voodoo Queen.

“Jacques!”

The ghoul appeared. “My love?”

I quelled a snort with difficulty, getting the reason behind his name. Yeah, you’d better ass-kiss, buddy. I bet you never forget an anniversary, huh?

“Bring some wine for me, Jacques, and I believe we’re familiar with our guest’s preferences?”