Author's Note:

Yes, I've tried the witch angle a few times and failed miserably.

Yes, this won't be updated for a while.

Yes Bad, Take Ten, and Back to the 90s are my priority (in that order).

Yes HFGP will probably come after that...

But in the meantime...enjoy!


Prologue

"What happened…in da New Orleans?"
-Big Freedia


This humid-ass heat was the beginning of the worst day of Jazmine's life.

She swore she could feel her thighs sticking together as she shuffled down the sidewalk, her Gucci gemstone sandals sizzling with every step. She glanced down real quick, just to make sure they weren't melting off her feet yet.

She wouldn't have been surprised if they'd evaporated at all.

This Louisiana heat really had no morals.

"This is ridiculous…" Shee muttered, loud enough for both her parents to hear her, but not loud enough to start a fight. "Y'all really made sure I got stuck down here. Without my friends."

Her dad laughed like that was funny. Her eyes stayed glued to her shoes just in case.

"Come on, Jazmine!" He said, grinning as he kissed her mom's cheek like they were on a date and not ruining her summer. "You'll still be able to catch up with your cheerleading crew."

She gagged loudly. On purpose.

"You're gonna be busy junior year." He kept going, like she didn't just perform a whole monologue. "Pretty soon you won't have time to hang with your totally cool parents."

Jazmine shot him a look. If secondhand embarrassment had a face, it was hers right now.

Thank God nobody she knew was around.

"I barely have time to hang out with you now." She said, rolling her eyes so hard she felt it in her soul.

She pulled out her phone on reflex and froze.

There it was. The latest post.

Breanna. Front and center.

Smiling with the squad like she owned the place. Like she was captain.

Again.

Jazmine blinked, staring at the caption like it would change. It didn't. The long paragraph was some fake-deep quote about "leading with heart," and the comments underneath were nothing but heart emojis and "Yesss lil' leader!" like the mess she was spewing was gospel.

Jazmine sucked her teeth and looked up.

"Seriously, Dad." She hit him with the face. Eyebrows up, lip out, begging-but-make-it-fashion. "As cheer captain, it's mandatory I'm at practice, this summer! Especially at LSU's cheer camp!" She held up her phone like it was Exhibit A, pouting at him. "You don't get cheer bureaucracy, Dad! It's extremely fickle. One wrong move and Breanna's the next captain."

"I don't get cheer bureaucracy?" Her dad repeated, looking offended. "Me? The man who cheered in college before becoming a star athlete…."

"Mom told me you rode the bench, Dad." Jazmine cut in, already cracking up before her mom joined her.

"Well honey…." Her mom snorted, shaking her head as she leaned into the nostalgia. "She's not wrong."

Her dad rolled his eyes.

"And besides," Jazmine added, still grinning. "That's different! Cheer wasn't that cutthroat back in your day."

Jazmine stretched both her arms up like she was mid-practice and let them fall with a dramatic sigh, shrugging. "We have to fight for our spots now, Dad! It's meticulous. Selective. You get replaced if you blink wrong."

Her dad chuckled, shaking his head as her mom smiled at the ceiling like 'Lord, please give me strength'.

"She says this to two lawyers." He muttered, nodding.

"Jazmine, look." His voice softened as he waved his hands in that I'm-about-to-say-something-deep-so-pay-attention type way. "You'll get to Baton Rouge, later...But this place….this town, it's important. Full of a rich, cultural history that extends past many lifetimes. Especially considering what our ancestors had to endure—"

Jazmine stared at him, her face shifting from sincere amusement to a dry, squinted ...what? expression.

"No offense…" Jazmine was already fanning her hand in the hot, heavy air. "But since when do you care about history, Dad?"

"Since now, young lady!" He huffed, turning back to her mom as if to say 'your child is out of control'. "Sarah—"

Her mom wrapped her arms around him and gave him a warm, grounding squeeze.

Translation?

'I love you, but you sound pretty ridiculous right now, Tom.'

"Okay, future lawyer, dagger down." Her mom chuckled, turning serious, the kind of serious that always made Jazmine brace herself. "The truth is… your father and I did some research about your parents."

That made Jazmine pause.

Huh?

Since when did they even say that out loud?

Her mom just nodded, like this whole conversation was normal. "We think they…and you, were born here. In this town."

Her mom leaned in, her voice dropping like they were in a classified briefing room. "I know the whole 'witch' thing hasn't really been a huge part of your life…. But we figured it was time you had access to as much of your lineage as we could find."

Jazmine blinked slow.

…Now what?

She looked between them. Were they being serious right now?

Because witch?

Lineage?

We think they were born here?

They barely even said her bio parents' names, and now suddenly they were pulling up ancestry results and coven lore like she was supposed to care.

Jazmine sat back, heat prickling against her skin. "Now you lost me." She trailed off, her nose wrinkling. "My lineage? I don't even have an active power to worry about!"
She fanned herself again, hot, annoyed, and one bead of sweat away from going full meltdown mode.

"And all that potion stuff? Cauldrons? Wands? Animal Blood? I said no thank you, remember?"

"…Vaguely." Her dad said, dead serious. "But Jazmine, I still think you'd benefit from being here. Just so you can see for yourself."

Now she was officially looking at him crazy.

And he wasn't joking, either. Not even a little.

"So wait… you guys brought me here to what? Connect me with their side of the family?" She asked. Her voice dipped, more hesitant than she meant it to sound. "I don't have to like…introduce myself to people, do I?"

"Honey, no!" Her dad said quickly, giving her arm a light squeeze. "Nobody's making you do anything weird. We just want to give you some answers, that's all."

He smiled, but she could tell it was the 'please don't fight me on this' smile.

"And your grandparents are excited you're here." He added, already pulling up messages on his phone. "Especially Grandma Laura. And Grandpa August, too. He's been asking about you nonstop."

Jazmine rolled her eyes.

Probably because he thinks I'm still five, she thought, biting her tongue before it slipped out.

"I mean… cool, I guess." She shrugged, her voice flat. "But like I told you guys before…"

She pulled her ponytail off her neck again like that would fix her mood.

It didn't. But at least it gave her something to do.

"You two are the only parents I've ever needed." She said, nodding.

And that was the truth.

Period.

She turned her head to the side, trying hard not to let her voice crack.

There was a lot of stuff she'd never said out loud, like how her bio-parents left, how they were gone, how they'd had money, powers, resources, and family, but had still managed to disappear from her life without a trace in the world.

"They had good lives, guys. Nothing was wrong, and they still—" Jazmine stopped herself, her jaw tightening.

"I don't need to know people who gave up on me." She swallowed hard, trying not to feel the heat crawling up her neck.

"And being a witch doesn't define me anyway." Jazmine muttered, still bitter about the rejection letter brought to her windowsill via an owl. "It's like those Council People already told you guys….I wasn't strong enough to help. So what are we even doing here?"

Jazmine crossed her arms, holding her purse strap tight like it owed her something.

"I'm just a regular girl. Always have been. Always will be."

Her parents exchanged a look, the kind that meant 'this girl is in for a rude awakening.'

"Jazmine, look." Her dad started. "There's something you should—"

"Jazmine!"

Her head whipped around.

"Vince?" She blinked.

Sure enough, her boyfriend was jogging towards them like he hadn't interrupted a Dubois-style intervention.

Grinning hard, looking fine, and acting like everything was sweet, per usual.

Jazmine just stared at him.

Because of course Vince was here right when everything was weird.

"I thought that was you!" Jazmine laughed, breaking out into a full smile without even meaning to. "What are you doing here?" She pulled him in for a hug, already shaking her head. "I thought you were asleep!"

She stepped back, blushing a little. "You missed me already, Vince?"

Vince nodded, grinning, then kissing her cheek , enough to make her melt a little, but not enough to get her in trouble, either.

"I knew you'd wanna check in on your squad." He said low, leaning close so her parents wouldn't hear. "And I definitely know how you feel about Breanna trying to snake your spot."

His arm brushed hers, casual, but intentional. He dipped his head a little. "So I did what I had to do. Ran interference. Because no one's taking that captain title from you. Not while I'm around."

That made her pause.

Thank God somebody understood her.

She looked at him, genuinely impressed. "You…" She said, grinning wide. "Are a genius."

Then she gasped.

Because the squad.

The actual friggin' squad…..was strolling down the street like it was nothing. Phones out, hair flawless, laughing like they weren't about to shake up the whole summer without her.

"They're all here?!" Jazmine whisper-screamed, eyes wide. "You brought the whole team?!"

She tried to play it cool, but her excitement was jumping.

"How'd you even convince them?"

"It was a struggle." Vince said, smirking like he'd solved world hunger. "But they're teenagers. I said let's explore New Orleans for a couple days since you're stuck down here, and everybody was like, 'Bet!'."

He dropped his voice again, chuckling. "Might've roped in the football team too."

Jazmine's mouth fell open. She turned to her parents with the face, the one that never failed to get her out of trouble.

"All summer." Jazmine said, nodding like she'd just come to terms with something deep. "That means I've got plenty of time to learn about… you know. Lineage. Heritage. Ghost aunties. Whatever."

She hugged them both, big and dramatic. "So can I please hang out with my friends now? Pleaaaaase?"

Her dad shoved her playfully. "Go." He turned serious for a moment. "Just don't get into any trouble." His eyes narrowed at Vince's hand in hers. "And give each other some breathing room too, please."

Sarah shot him a dirty look.

"What?!" He added. "She was just out here acting like she was gonna pass out from heatstroke two seconds ago!"

Jazmine laughed and kept walking, lacing her fingers with Vince's a little tighter just to spite him.

"C'mon, Dad!" She called back with a smirk. "How bad could it be?

If only she'd paid more attention, she would've seen exactly how bad it was actually going to get.

But somehow, she'd missed it, too focused on Vince to notice the change swirling in the air.

And already too deep in it to stop it.


Jericho Freeman didn't wait for Huey to shut the trunk before he started in.

"You sweating from pulling in a suitcase?" He said, squinting at Huey like it was personal. "What Robert got y'all doing up there? Walking from the AC to the fridge and back?"

Huey took the plastic cup Jericho handed him, water that somehow managed to taste like the cup and the fridge, but didn't say anything, not because Jericho was wrong, but because Jericho talked too much.

"Thanks." He nodded, dropping his duffel bag in the guest room.

One busted outlet. No desk. Just a fan in the window and a barely working ceiling fan.

It'd been a while since he'd come to visit, but the guest room still had that lingering, humid heat he remembered, right along with that sweet, wooded smell, the kind he recognized the second the floorboards creaked beneath his feet.

"So." Jericho leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed. "What you really down here for?"

Huey didn't look up at first, busy ruffling through his things. "Xavier."

Jericho nodded. "That it? Just Xavier?"

"Just trying to graduate early." Huey shrugged, finally pulling out some files . "It's a high school journalism program. They're trying to give out summer credit for free."

Jericho raised an eyebrow.

"And all this ambition ain't got nothin' to do with that lil' camera girl you been seein'?"

Huey looked up and blinked.

"Arielle isn't the reason that I'm here."

"Mmhmm."

"I signed up for me." Huey shrugged. "Arielle just...happens to be around."

Jericho held up both his hands like he was innocent. "Didn't say it was bad, nephew. I know how young love goes, you cats doin' cartwheels and callin' it playin'."

Huey decided not to entertain whatever the hell that meant. Instead, he pulled out his laptop and got to work, scanning over some emails.

Jericho nodded toward the screen. "Still writin' for that blog, huh?"

"It's not a blog."

"Oh." Jericho pulled back. "Excuse me. What is it, then?"

"Black Ramblings." He clicked again, barely smirking. "It started with one case, then two." He shrugged. "Now I'm tracking something. Something big."

"Tracking what?" Jericho moved in closer, watching as Huey clicked open a grainy, redacted file.

"Unsolved murder cases." Huey nodded, zooming in on something that was blacked out. "Typically for missing people, missing dead black people." He nodded again. "I've noticed a pattern with their stories. A lot of old stuff coming back."

Jericho tilted his head, studying him.

"You look tired."

Huey leaned back, his hands behind his head. "That's what it is."

"If you say so." Jericho shrugged, still staring at him like it was the dumbest thing he'd ever heard.

"Just don't bring yo girl or any other fast-tailed girls up in this house." He added, turning serious. "I ain't spendin' no money on no babies, and your granddaddy ain't doin' it either."

Huey scowled, ready to mouth off — but Jericho slowly lifted his hand, eyeing him sideways.

"Just listen." He rolled his eyes like he was already over it. "My rules don't need a response."

Huey clamped his mouth shut. He couldn't even argue, the man did have a point.

And besides, it wasn't like he was planning on becoming a statistic.

"Okay." Jericho moved into the kitchen, grabbing a few things.

"Here's your key, a couple dollars, and my phone number." He shoved everything into Huey's hand like it was a survival package.

"Pay attention." He added, glancing out the window. "Because things down here? They ain't always what they seem...even when they are."

Huey humored him with a nod, ready to write it off, but actually…

Something did feel strange. Not loud or obvious, just eerily heavy. Like the land itself was physically holding its breath for some reason.

"Will do." Huey said, turning toward the door.

"I hope so." Jericho's playful tone dropped out of his voice. "There's some spiritual shit that runs deep around here, boy. Powerful. Raw. Painful." He nodded, more to himself than to him.

"You plannin' on lookin' into the dead?" He paused. "You better think twice."

Jericho shrugged.

"You never know what you're wakin' up until you do."

Huey raised a brow, unconvinced.

"It's all just folklore." He scoffed, bored with the topic. "A few urban legends won't stop me from getting answers."

Jericho seemed like he'd expected that.

"Alright." He nodded. "But it ain't just about logic and journalism." He wandered off towards the back of the house, still talking like the air needed to hear what he had to say. "It's about heritage." He glanced over his shoulder ominously. "About Black folks conjurin' freedom outta clay."

Jericho paused, nodding slow.

"It's all a beautiful balancing act, though." He took a long sip of moonshine and flashed Huey a gummy, yellowed smile. "You'll see."

Huey snorted.

He wasn't planning on seeing shit but a darkroom, New Orleans, and his girlfriend.

"—Well okay then…." Huey trailed off, chalking it up to his uncle being drunk. "I'll be back, Uncle Jericho."

"Alright, son!" Jericho called after him. "Grab something from Mo's while you're out." He patted his belly. "I need me a good fish plate."

Deciding against delivering a long speech Jericho wouldn't listen to, Huey headed out to his car, squinting at the hot, beaming sun.

From his peripheral, he caught a man watching him in the rearview. Formal clothes, gold stopwatch in hand, and extremely snobby energy.

"Stupid." He grumbled, thankful he'd gotten his coolant replaced last week. "It's too damn hot for respectability politics. People down south always gotta-"

The man vanished.

Disappeared.

"Flos." Something whispered fluently in Latin. "Pythonissa Strix."

"…What the hell?" Huey raised a brow in disbelief.

That was Latin, wasn't it?

Something about witches, flowers, and none of his damn business.

He snorted, backing out onto the road.

Being a Ghostbuster? Dealing with demons?

It was the last thing on his list.