Page 11 of Mardi Gras Murders & Midnight Masquerades
"Society?" Dre asked.
"Could be." I watched another figure disappear down a side street. "The magical signatures are too well-hidden to tell."
Lucas took another turn, this time heading toward the river before doubling back. The familiar silhouette of our family's plantation finally emerged from the darkness ten minutes later. Its columns were stark white against the night sky. The wards rippled as we passed through them, recognizing our magical signatures.
We parked in the parking lot. There wasnothing we could do to avoid potential surveillance. The night air hit me with a wall of humidity as I stepped out. It carried the heavy scent of jasmine from the garden. Our footsteps crunched on gravel as we hurried inside. We took the back entrance and headed directly to the library.
"Finally," Cami called out from behind a stack of grimoires. Her dark curls were wild from running her hands through them. She had a coffee cup in hand. "Did you find—" She stopped short, taking in our expressions. "That bad?"
"Worse," I replied as I moved toward the evidence wall where our research was displayed. “Can we see your mother’s grimoire? Or even her journal? We need information on the Society of the Masked.”
“Sure,” she agreed and hurried out of the room.
I focused on the crime scene photos overlapped with historical records and magical analysis. They were all connected by strings that tracked patterns we barely understood. Phi brushed past me, heading straight for the main display screen mounted on the far wall. Her tablet connected automatically, and data began streaming across the screen. Surveillance footage, traffic patterns, and historical records all merging into something that might, finally, give us the answers we needed.
Before I could ask about where she got access to the surveillance, my attention caught on a detail in one of the oldest crime scene photos. It was something I hadn't noticed before. Maybe it was what we'd just witnessed at the cathedral, or maybe it was seeing all the evidence with fresh eyes, but suddenly the placement of everything became more like carefully arranged pieces in a much larger game. A game where we were all just pawns, and the killer was several moves ahead.
"The timing tonight is awfully convenient," I said as I traced a line between two photos. "The cathedral victim,Kota’s club investigation, and the shadows following us. Sure, we were being herded toward something. Yet, that doesn’t feel like everything. Maybe this Society was trying to give themselves an alibi by being in your presence during the latest murder."
"Or maybe they were trying to lead us to someone," Lucas countered in a voice tight with frustration as he paced near the windows. Even with the wards up, his wolf refused to settle. He kept checking the grounds, one hand resting near the concealed weapon at his hip.
"Has anyone heard from Kota and Jeff?" Dre asked.
As if summoned by her name, our sister appeared in the doorway, with her husband, Jeff, close behind. They both looked rattled, though they were trying to hide it. "Sorry we're late," Kota said, shrugging off her jacket. "Had to make sure we weren't followed."
Phi's sharp intake of breath drew everyone's attention to the main display. She'd been fairly quiet since we arrived. She had gotten lost in her data mining, but now her fingers flew across the keyboard with renewed purpose. "Look at this," she said as she highlighted a series of documents that spanned over a century of New Orleans history.
"There's a recurring symbol in the historical records. It’s a masked figure surrounded by what appears to be flames. Though some accounts describe them as writhing souls. It shows up every fifty years and always around carnival season. It is preceded by a series of ritualistic deaths each time, as well. I think they're components of a larger magical circuit."
"That's the ring design," Kota interjected before she pulled out her phone to show us photos she'd managed to take at the club. The images showed elegant hands wearing ornate rings. Each one bore the same masked figurePhi had found. "Every member wore one, except..." She paused and glanced at Jeff with a troubled expression.
"Except Alexis St. Claire," he finished. "She had something different. Hers was a pendant that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. And when she moved, I swear I could hear whispers coming from it."
Dre leaned in to study the photos. "The rings are works of art. Look at how the metal's been worked. I’d bet my bottom dollar those decorative patterns are channeling circuits. Each one could be designed to collect and store magical energy."
"Like supernatural batteries," Phi suggested as she typed in notes. "Are they each killing a victim to gain power? If so, for what? Why do this every fifty years?"
Before anyone could answer, Cami returned, clutching Mary Alice's grimoire to her chest like it might try to escape. The instant she crossed the threshold, the scent of sandalwood and sage slammed into me like a physical force. It was so potent my eyes watered. My knees gave out as reality twisted sideways and the room's edges bled into smoke.
"Shit—" Dre lunged forward, catching me before I hit the ground. Her touch anchored me as the vision took hold, but I couldn’t feel her hands anymore. Everything had been replaced by something that hadn’t happened yet.
A different grimoire's pages began to flutter. Ancient symbols lifted from the yellowed paper like living things. They began writhing in the air before my eyes. They twisted into new configurations, and pulsed with a deep crimson light that matched the rhythm of chanting. The masked man speaking was vast and terrible who reeked of blood and Dark magic.
The masked figure was wreathed in what I first thought were flames. When I looked closer, what I saw turned my stomach. They were souls. He was surrounded by countless tortured souls whose faces were contorted in eternal agony.They spiraled around the figure in an endless dance of torment. The masked one raised his hands, and I saw rings glinting on his fingers. Each one was a perfect circuit designed to harvest power.
I slammed back into my body with a gasp that felt like drowning in reverse. I hadn’t been able to see if the rings matched those of the Society or not. Releasing Dre's arm, I apologized for leaving marks.
"That felt intense," Kota whispered as her face lost color. "What did you see?"
Everyone was staring at me with a mixture of concern and barely concealed fear. They'd seen me have visions before, but nothing like this. Nothing that made the very air crackle with residual power. I swallowed hard, trying to gather my thoughts. "I think I just saw the ritual this jackhole wants to perform. It’s going to be awful if we don’t stop him. Oh, and I think the rings are involved."
"So, the Society is involved?” Dani clarified.
I lifted one shoulder and leaned into Lucas as he closed the distance between us. He hadn’t been able to get to me before Dre had and it bothered him. I ran a hand up his arm to soothe him as I said, “I didn’t see what these looked like, but his fingers were covered in them.”
"Woah," Dea muttered, looking up from where she was staring at Mary Alice's grimoire. "The symbols... they're alive somehow. Moving. Changing."
I shook my head, trying to clear it. "Is the grimoire trying to tell us something?"
