“I agree with him,” she says and stands to mix herbs, putting them into a little brown pouch. “I know that Millie is our hedgewitch, but I want you to take this tea and drink it. A cup every day.”
She passes it to me, and I tuck it into my pocket.
“I need more information.”
She sits once more and lets out a small sigh. I think this is the first time in my life I’ve ever seen Miss Sophia look conflicted.
“The answers you seek are in the other five. I’m not permitted to tell you what you want to hear, Jackson. Giving you too much information could be dangerous. But I’ll say this: You must be careful. Stay aware. Take anything you see or feel with a grain of salt. Everything from here on out is important.”
“Pay attention.” I nod. “Yeah, well, it’ll be hard not to. I won’t let him hurt her.”
She reaches across the table and takes my hand. “Child, being hurt is inevitable.”
I shake my head, but before I can reply, the edges of my vision go gray, and I’m thrust into a vision.
Daphne. I’m looking at Daphne’s apartment. Her door opens. She looks down with a scowl, picks up an envelope, and then screams.
“Jackson?”
“I have to get to Daphne. Damn it. I need to get to her now.”
I stand and rush out of the cabin, driving faster through the bayou than anyone has any business going. Traffic through the French Quarter isn’t crazy yet as most of the city is still asleep.
I run a red light and come to a screeching halt in front of Daphne’s building. As I’m rushing up the walk, I see her door open.
“Daph!” I yell, catching her attention.
She blinks and then frowns at me. “What are you doing here?”
I run up the stairs to her balcony and see the envelope on the stoop.
Before she can look down and grab it, I snatch it up.
“What’s that? Jack, this isn’t funny.”
“I had a vision.” I’m panting like crazy from the adrenaline and running up the stairs. “Shit, Daph, I came all the way from Miss Sophia’s.”
I back her into her apartment.
“Okay, now you’re freaking me out,” she says. “You’re as pale as a ghost.”
The envelope pulses in my grasp as if it has a heartbeat.
“Give me the envelope.” Her voice is perfectly calm. Her face clear of distress. She holds her hand out. “It’s okay, Jack.”
“I’m right next to you,” I remind her. “I’m right here.”
“Okay. We’ve got this.”
I pass it to her, and she immediately scowls.
“Heartbeat?” I ask her.
“So weird,” she mutters. “But everything about this is ridiculously weird.”
On the back of the envelope, written in a chicken scratch that looks like something a six-year-old wrote, is one word: DAPHNE.
“I’m putting fingerprints all over this,” she mutters. “Cash’ll be pissed.”
“Well, you have to see what’s inside,” I remind her.
She pulls out a photo.
A Polaroid.
In black and white, it’s a picture of a woman staring straight into the camera—only her shoulders and head visible in the frame.
And her eyes are missing.
“Oh, my goddess,” Daphne mutters and puts the photo facedown.
“There’s a timestamp on it,” I say and slip the image from her hands to study it. “Two-oh-eight in the afternoon. Today.”
We look at each other.
“Today?” she asks. “It’s only like seven in the morning.”
“I think this means he’s going to kill her this afternoon.”
“But who is she?” Daphne takes the photo back from me. “Without her eyes, it’s almost impossible to tell.”
“Or the camera is broken. Or set on the wrong time.”
“It’s set on the wrong time,” she confirms. “But on purpose. He’s messing with me now, Jack. It’s started.”
I blow out a breath and reach for my phone.
“Who are you calling?”
“Your sisters. If you think we’re not telling them about this—”
“I don’t think that. I know we are.” She sets the photo and envelope on the table in front of her, watching them as if they might jump up and bite her. “I need to get dressed.”
“Do that. I’ll make the calls.”
“Thanks.” She stands to walk into her bedroom but stops and looks back at me with haunted eyes. “Thank you. I mean that.”
“No need to thank me, sweets.” I wink at her and toss her the arrogant grin I know she likes, just to lighten the mood and give her a second of normalcy.
But when she’s out of the room, and Brielle answers her phone, I get serious again.
“Jack?” Brielle asks. “Are you okay?”
“It’s started,” I reply. “Everyone needs to come to Daphne’s.”
“We’re on our way.”
* * *
“What happened?” Millie demands, the first in line as the four of them march into Daphne’s apartment. Millie has a huge paper sack, and Lucien comes in right behind her with a tray of coffees.
Brielle has another tray.
“You brought breakfast?” Daphne asks in surprise.
“We have to eat,” Cash says and bites into an apple fritter. “And you know she put all kinds of woo-woo protection stuff in all of this.”