Page 33 of Mardi Gras Murders & Midnight Masquerades
"We're investigating the murders, same as you," Dre said.
"Without jurisdiction, authority, or invitation," Payne pointed out dryly.
"We have expertise you don't," Dani countered.
"In criminology?" Payne's eyebrow rose skeptically.
"In the occult," I admitted, earning sharp looks from my sisters. They started it by telling him what we were doing. No mundane explanation would make sense. "You don’t know this, but there are issues at play here that you do not understand."
Payne holstered his gun but kept his flashlight trained on us. "I've suspected that since our first encounter. There was something off about the situation with Phi’s first student. And normal civilians don't examine ritual markings with expert eyes."
"You've been following them," Lucas observed. There was a growl in his voice that made me move closer to him. I didn’t want him to attack the detective.
"Monitoring," Payne corrected. "Six sisters suddenly at the center of every bizarre incident in the city? Even for our fair city, that’s highly suspicious."
To my surprise, Payne pulled out a worn leather journal. "Now we compare notes," he said, "because I found something in our archives youneed to see."
"What is it?" Dre asked as we approached cautiously.
"They’re records from a detective who investigated similar murders fifty years ago," Payne replied with a grim expression. "He included descriptions of ritual markings, underground chambers, and a society of masked occultists."
My heart skipped. "This has happened before."
"Every fifty years, like clockwork," Payne confirmed. "Dating back to at least 1873." I shouldn’t have been surprised he was able to find so much information. Murders like this would not have gone unnoticed by mundie authorities.
"The bloodiest carnival in New Orleans history," Dani murmured.
"My colleagues think I’m insane for believing we have a supernatural serial killer. But my gut tells me we're dealing with the same psychopath," Payne said as he flipped open the journal to reveal detailed sketches of sigils identical to those on the recent victims.
I exchanged glances with my sisters. We were at a crossroads. Did we continue hiding the supernatural world from this detective? Or bring him partially into the fold? Dre inclined her head, indicating I should tell him. Her subtle nod carried the weight of the importance of keeping the secrecy. Keeping the existence of the magical world secret was the first rule that had been drilled into our heads after we became magical. And it was a boundary we had never crossed.
"Detective," I began slowly, choosing my words carefully, "what if I told you that magic is real? And these murders are part of some ritual? We don't know what kind of ritual yet." I muttered that last part under my breath, frustrated by our limited understanding.
Instead of disbelief, Payne's expression remained serious. "After twenty years on the force in New Orleans, very littleabout the supernatural would surprise me anymore." His eyes held a weariness that spoke of things witnessed and deliberately forgotten, cases filed away with incomplete explanations.
"You believe in magic?" Dea asked incredulously, her voice tinged with suspicion.
"I believe in evidence," Payne corrected, shoulders squaring under his rain-dampened jacket. "And the evidence points to something beyond conventional explanation. I've seen too many inexplicable things in this city to dismiss possibilities, no matter how unlikely they seem."
"We need to see those journals," Dre said decisively, her tone brooking no argument.
"I'll share what I have on one condition." Payne stepped closer, his flashlight on us kept him mostly obscured in deep shadows. "You tell me everything. No more half-truths." He pinned all of us with a hard stare that had likely broken countless suspects over the years.
"Deal," I said, meeting his gaze steadily. "What we can tell you right now is that people will die if we don't stop this. Not just one or two victims, but potentially hundreds." The weight of this truth hung heavy between us.
"A mass casualty event during carnival season," Payne concluded grimly, his jaw tightening as he processed the implications.
"Yes," we confirmed in unison, the harmony of our voices echoing off the ancient stones.
Payne nodded once. "My car's parked two blocks from here. The journals are locked in my bottom drawer. It’s evidence that never officially made it into the system."
As we prepared to follow Payne back through the tunnels, the smell of pine and musk hit me like a battering ram. The scents that didn't belong in this damp underground space. Knowing what was coming, I reached outfor Lucas. The vision slammed into me before I made contact and it sent me staggering backward. I barely registered Lucas catching me. His touch as my consciousness was swept away.
I stood in an ancient chamber. Massive stone columns rose to a ceiling lost in shadow. It was carved with symbols of power pulsing with dark energy. In the center stood a circle of robed figures. Their faces were hidden behind ornate masks that shimmered in torchlight.
Beyond the circle stood a solitary figure in robes of midnight blue adorned with silver stars. His face was obscured by shadows that clung to him unnaturally. Power radiated from him in hungry waves that made the air seem to bend and distort around him.
The robed figures began chanting. It was clear they believed they served a higher purpose. The man in blue had fooled them because there were tendrils of magic extending from them to the figure beyond their circle. He was drawing their energy away even as they offered it willingly. They were being consumed, not empowered.
