Marguerite had been squatting on the cold ground of the cemetery for a little over half an hour. Spread out at her feet were some runes, a few bones, and metal braiser that just finished spewing out the last of the incense she was burning. All that effort to contact the spirit world to find out what had become of Lasher, and no results. She was beginning to feel like it was all in vain. Since arriving nearly 200 years into the future and far away from her beloved city of New Orleans she was in a state of total confusion. It was bad enough being taken from her city and her children, but having to deal with being thrust into the 21st century without warning was too much to handle.
She sighed heavily and began to gather up the materials on the ground. It was obvious that despite her powers as a witch they were not helping to fix her situation. At least she had a place to stay for the time being. Logan the interesting and mysterious man she'd met when she'd first arrived was allowing her to stay with him for a while until she figured out what to do next. The little bit of money she'd had on her when she'd appeared in Red Oak had been more helpful that she'd anticipated. It turned out that the bank notes she had been carrying were worth more in the future. With them she'd managed to purchase the supplies before her along with the modern clothes she was wearing.
In her day women never wore pants, but apparently in the modern world almost all women wore pants. Though she had to admit denim was difficult to get used to. But the blouse, jacket, scarf, and boots were reminiscent of her era. With her long wavy black hair bound up on top of her head and simple make up she resembled every other woman of the modern age. Slipping the items into a leather bag she stood up. Her legs felt sore from squatting for so long but a few paces got the blood flowing properly again. As she made her way though the iron gates of the cemetery she spied something curious. A large square contraption seemed to appear out of thin air not far from the entrance of the cemetery.
Marguerite could see a tall, young, and rather handsome man inside the bright red box who immediately stepped out of it. People in the 21st century had strange ways of getting around she thought. Or perhaps this man was different from the rest. In the little time she'd spent in this new century she had learned that most people traveled in horseless carriages, not metal boxes. The man who had exited didn't seem to be like the other men and women she'd met so far. Walking out the cemetery gate she stepped onto the same street he was currently walking down.