Chapter 4

Cole

Central Business District, New Orleans, Louisiana

“ E vangeline?” Cole Aidoneus squinted at the top sheet of paper in the manila folder his uncle had just handed him. It was a missing persons report filed by Desmond Dyeus for his daughter, Evangeline Cora Dyeus, after the New Orleans Police Department took him into custody for the suspected murder of his wife and daughter. Filed in October 1991, he could see from a quick skim that it gave barely enough details for him to figure out just why exactly his uncle thought this was relevant. He glanced up at his uncle, eyebrows raised then, unable to resist, dropped his eyes to keep reading, even though, like every born-and-raised New Orleanian, he knew the basics of the story. Hell, it was practically an urban legend in the city more than thirty years later. Wife abducts daughter, husband chases down wife, wife’s corpse found the next day, daughter missing and never seen again.

But the report in front of him laid out a much grimmer story. After almost two years of disturbing events around the house, the wife abducted the daughter with plans to dump her in the nature preserve because the child began displaying unnatural abilities… Jesus Christ. That was fucked up. But it seemed farfetched that the missing daughter was the one they were looking for, given that, best anyone could tell, she was dead. “Evangeline Dyeus? You serious?”

Charles, the stoic man who raised him after his parents died when he was young, leveled his gaze at Cole. “She matches all of the descriptors that Essi gave us, down to the grey eyes.” At Cole’s eye roll, he countered quickly, “We know your feelings on the Moirai, but we have no reason to doubt their reading of the lifelines —”

Cole cut off his uncle. “Nobody’s seen this girl since she went missing in 1991, Charlie. Even if she’s still alive—and that’s a big if since nobody has seen her in three decades —are we really going to say that she’s the key based on her fucking eye color when she was an infant? That’s absurd, especially since kids’ eye colors can change as they grow up.”

Well used to Cole’s sarcasm and assertive nature, Charles continued mildly, “If you had let me finish, you would know that it’s not just the eye color, although children’s eyes colors don’t just change willy nilly.” He raised his hand and began counting off items. “It’s her birthdate—February 01, which, as you well know, falls right in the middle of Imbolc.” One finger went up. “It’s the fact that her family name is Dyeus, well known as one of Zeus’ many names.” He raised a second finger. “It’s the types of abilities she showed, based on her father’s statement. Spontaneous decay in everything except plant life, control over plants, pyrokinesis, telekinetic powers, just to name a few. And, yes, it’s her grey eyes too. All of that aligns with what Clo and Essi told us, and you know it.” Third, fourth, and fifth fingers all raised.

Cole scowled at his uncle, shoving a hand through his black hair. At 35 years old, he was the founder of Elysian Counseling, a boutique law firm with offices in many major U.S. cities, and the heir apparent to the Underworld; he wasn’t used to not knowing all the facts. In fact, if he had to sort his dislikes, he was fairly certain that “lack of knowledge” and “lack of control” would top the list. He liked to think he had all the time in the world to find the key to his kingdom, but the Moirai, the group of fates tasked with providing guidance to his family in their rule— and the most annoying group of women in New Orleans , he thought uncharitably—recently signaled that was not the case. Time was no longer on his side. Which meant he had to find her. Now.

It was almost poetic if you thought about it. He had avoided marriage like the plague for almost two decades, skirted romantic attachment like it was a contest. When he needed a woman, it was easy enough to find one. He had two long-term casual hook ups, Lucy and Aimee, that he could call if he couldn’t find a suitable single woman—and sometimes not so single, he wasn’t too picky—out on the town. Now, at 35, he had to take a wife just so he could save the fucking world and claim his throne and wasn’t that just a kick in the balls. And not just any wife. He had to take his “fated wife.” Persephone reincarnated.

Fucking absurd. He knew magic existed, had more than enough of it himself, but it was still hard to believe that he was the fated Hades and that, somewhere out there, was his fated Persephone, and the two of them were responsible for stopping the apocalypse. Not only that, but they would be bound to each other for a literal eternity after they claimed their rightful seats as the royals of the Underworld. He snorted audibly at that, causing Charles to jump in the cushy chair he had settled into after skewering Cole with logic.

“Are you ready to accept that I and the Moirai know what we’re talking about?” Charles stood and walked to Cole’s desk, nudging the folder sitting atop all the other piles of paper. “That we aren’t just trying to trap you in a marriage?”

“Fine.” Cole steepled his fingers under his chin. His thoughts raced as he started planning. “Are we assuming she’s a witch then? Seems the most likely option.” The old legends demanded that a parent abandon their female daughters who displayed magical powers to the forest. He would have bet money that was a myth started by coven elders to sow fear, but Luanne Dyeus appeared to believe it, so much so that she had been prepared to dump her two-year-old daughter in a nature preserve filled with 'gators and other predators.

Charles inclined his head. “It makes the most sense. We’ve heard tell of a coven that lives in the Jean Lafitte Preserve, but we’ve never been able to confirm their existence. Even the Moirai can’t tell us anything about it.”

Cole dropped a hand, tapping his fingers against the desktop. That was… troubling. The Moirai’s powers were comprehensive. If they couldn’t see a lifeline, beginning, middle, and end, something was amiss. Only intense power to rival the Morai’s could block their sight. He grumbled, knowing that there was only one solution. Shit. He hated hiking in Louisiana—it was too humid for it to be anything but horrible. “Sometimes the best answers are the old-school ones, Charlie, you know that.”

His uncle’s brow furrowed as he shook his head emphatically. “Cole, it could be unsafe. We can’t see into the forest. We don’t know what’s there, and you could get injured before you find her and settle into your immortality.”

“There’s nothing for it, Charlie.” Cole checked his watch, thumbing his mouse to wake up his computer when he saw he was about to run late for a call with a local casino. “I need to find her. As much as I hate listening to those creepy ass women, I do actually pay attention to the Moirai, especially when they tell me that our time is running short. If y’all think Evangeline is alive and the right girl—” He sighed deeply. “—And Essi can’t see any lifelines in the forest, then the only option is for me to go looking around over there for Evangeline.”

He clicked into the call conference link, where he saw he was still waiting on the business owner. “I’ll be careful. You taught me well, Uncle Charlie. I know what I’m doing. I know how to use my magic.” A chime sounded as the business owner admitted him to the virtual conference room, and Charles began to leave the room. “If she’s there, I’ll find her.”

His office door closed softly behind Charles. “Good morning, Mr. Boudreaux. I understand you’re interested in reincorporating your company in Delaware. Tell me a bit more about your concerns.” As his client rambled—something about corporate shields and potential criminal liability, neither of which were a wholly accurate description of the law—Cole’s eyes caught on a sharp corner jutting out from beneath the stack of papers in the folder. Flipping through the papers in the folder, he finally came to an old Polaroid photo about halfway through. In it was a small child, red-haired and beaming at whoever was holding the camera from her seat in her father’s arms. In her chubby face sat big grey eyes, too serious for any child’s face. Familiarity burst through Cole. He knew those eyes, would have known them anywhere. He had seen them every night in his dreams since he was twelve.