Brighid's Mark Read Online Free PDF

“Speaking as someone who’s died once already, I find it’s all a matter of perspective.”
    Liam’s eyebrows lifted in open curiosity as he trooped beside her. She merely shrugged, electing not to elaborate.
    They came upon a squat vault reminiscent of a brick oven, dripping with the paraphernalia of Voodoo—burned-down candles, piles of pennies scattered like rose petals across the ground, flowers, photographs and the inevitable beads. The vault’s stone facade was covered in sets of triple red Xs, especially the door, upon which Liam knocked three times.
    Donal looked around, taking in the miniature necropolis. “Is that really a good idea?”
    Liam snorted. “Don’t tell me you believe in zombies.”
    “Zombies? No. Ghouls—definitely.”
    “It’s tradition to knock on the tomb door of Marie Laveau before attempting a Voodoo ritual in the vicinity of her final resting place. As a matter of respect, just to let her know we’re here.”
    “Great. Wonderful. Perfect.” Donal started forward again with bad grace. “Can we get this over with, please? I’m all full up on heebies and jeebies, thank you very much.”
    “If it makes you feel better,” Liam added helpfully, “most people believe she’s buried in another tomb in one of the other cemeteries. Could be we’re knocking on the wrong door altogether.”
    “Oh, that’s just loads better.”
    “Glad I could help.”
    They reached a four-way intersection between rows of tombs, surmounted by soft grass. Liam considered the ground with distant eyes while Chase set the crate down and began emptying its contents.
    Callie cocked her head to one side, much like Liam’s friend the raven. “Donal’s not the only one having the jeebies,” she observed.
    Liam hoisted a game smile onto this face. “Perhaps one or two,” he conceded, with a shrug. “This is where I arrived, when I first came to the city. Sulie was here when I woke up, Marked and bleeding. I had a feeling at the time—still do—that I had been diverted, or something.”
    He didn’t need to mention the waiting, decades upon decades spent marking time until the true reason for his lengthy existence revealed itself. She knew. Besides, he kept watching her with those enigmatic dark eyes, clearly wondering.
    Callie took her first good look at where they were standing. Right smack in the middle of a grassy crossroads, in a city where the dead resided above ground, sharing cramped tenements with other remains, in New Orleans. She took a quick mental tally. By her experienced reckoning, there weren’t many places left in the world where the Loa were still recognized, let alone welcome. “My, we did hit a trifecta, didn’t we?”
    Liam conceded the point. “It is a bit much, once you understand the implications, isn’t it? It doesn’t get much more of a Crossroads than this.”
    Callie let the subject drop, curiosity satisfied. Knowledge gained correlated with a shift of focus. “Chalk won’t work here.”
    “That’s why we’re going to use string.” Liam accepted the roll from Chase and handed her the loose end. His fingers lingered on her bare arms as he shifted her a foot or so to the left. Her skin prickled, rash-hot and delicious. The strange energy between them sparked. Then he moved from corner to corner, end to end, in a seemingly random pattern and occasionally directing Donal in the placement of large white candles. Chase merely crossed his arms and watched.
    Eventually Papa Legba’s vévé was complete, the door to the Loa realm ready to be opened. Callie wondered, not for the first time, if the door weren’t perpetually ajar. Liam spread a black fringed shawl over the ground. It barely ruffled in the still, humid air. He unscrewed the top from a bottle of spiced rum and repeated Sulie’s act of spreading handfuls around the circle. “Papa Legba, you know me,” Liam called. “You have helped me before, and have agreed to help me again tonight by opening the door to