Six months passed in relative peace.
Klaus kept his word—Davina remained untouched, the Crescent pack flourished under Hayley's leadership, and the baby grew healthy and strong. I divided my time between the Quarter and the Bayou, maintaining connections, building relationships, preparing for whatever came next.
But peace never lasts in New Orleans.
It started with the witches.
The ancestors had grown restless since the Harvest. Three girls had returned—Monique, Abigail, Cassie—but they were different. Darker. More connected to the ancestral realm than the living world. They whispered to the covens, stirring old resentments, fanning flames that had been banked for centuries.
"They're planning something," Sophie told me one night. She'd become a regular contact, a bridge between my world and the witches'. "The ancestors want power. Real power. Not just influence—control."
"Control over what?"
"Everything. The city. The supernatural factions. Maybe the living world itself." Sophie's face was drawn with worry. "They're not just ancestors anymore. They're something else. Something hungry."
[ANCESTRAL THREAT DETECTED]
[The ancestors are evolving]
[Their goals have shifted from guidance to domination]
[Warning: This threatens all living supernatural factions]
[Recommendation: Investigate immediately]
I'd been expecting this. The ancestors' hunger had been building since the Harvest—since I'd stolen Davina's soul from their grasp. They wanted power. They wanted revenge.
And they were willing to use anyone to get it.
"Monique," I said. "She's the key."
Sophie nodded grimly. "She's become their voice. Their hands in the living world. The other girls follow her lead."
"Then I need to talk to her."
"Paradox, she's—"
"I know what she is." I stood. "But I've dealt with worse than a teenager possessed by ancestral spirits. Arrange a meeting."
Sophie hesitated, then nodded.
"Three days. St. Louis Cemetery. Midnight."