"Just what we need. Ritual murderers who are also experts in geometric alignment," I muttered as I squeezed Lucas's knee. "We need to stop them before they complete whatever pattern they're creating."
"That’s a given. The masquerade," the new vampire leader interjected, changing the subject. "It's in a week. During the height of carnival season. When the veil between worlds is thinnest. Perhaps, this killer is working up to something then." Or not. I shouldn’t rush to judgement, but vampires were notoriously blood-thirsty creatures.
“That would be the obvious,” Kota agreed. “If anyone has any thoughts as to what that might be, we would love the information. Right now, we are grasping at straws. This psychopath has ulterior motives, and they could be just for thrills.”
Keryth cleared his throat. "My guest list consists of both magical and mundie guests. We must ensure they are safe for the event. It wouldn't be good to have the city's leaders killed during one of our parties."
No, that would definitely put a damper on the Six Twisted Sisters’ stellar reputation. "We always take security very seriously. This will be no different," Dani assured the elf leader.
"We have to do some research first," I said, trying to wrangle everyone back on track. "Kota is right. We can’t predict the next moves until we understand what this psychopath is trying to accomplish. Preferably before they kill anyone else." I considered sharing my vision, but kept it to myself. At this point, it didn’t add to the solution.
Marie nodded gravely. "I'll have my archives brought to your home. Some of these rituals were nevermeant to be recorded, let alone modified. The killer is playing with forces they don't understand."
"When do they ever?" Dre muttered.
"Sounds like that wraps this meeting up. Keep your eyes and ears peeled. And warn your people about the danger," Kaitlyn suggested as she stood.
Kota nodded in agreement. "Let’s get home. And grab snacks on the way. None of us will want to cook lunch."
"As long as they include fried pickles, I’m all for it,” Dea agreed as we left the council building.
There was a lengthy discussion about where to get the pickles. We settled on a cafe owned by a Fae family. They had the best red beans and rice. By the time we made it home, Marie was already settled at one of the tables in our portico. She was surrounded by ancient tomes that emanated her unique brand of power. “Ready to get to it?” She asked.
Dre inclined her head and held the back door open. “Absolutely.”
Two hours later, we were in the library. Books covered every surface like a paper explosion in a supernatural archive. "I found something," Phi announced suddenly, making Kota jump and nearly fall off her chair. "If I’m right, you aren’t going to like this."
"That would be par for the course. Give us more," Dre requested as she looked up from the book she was reading. "Because around here, that could mean anything from minor inconvenience to world-ending catastrophe."
"Human sacrifice level not good," Phi clarified. "I can confirm the symbols are part of a power collection ritual. The part where it’s unclear is whether or not they are involved in a ritual that requires balanced sacrifices. If so, magical and mundie victims have to be killed in specific ways at specific times."
"The big event will occur during Mardi Gras," I guessed,given what I saw in my smell-o-vision. "When the veil between worlds is naturally thinner."
"Okay, let’s assume that you’re right. What about the masks? Do they do something specific?" Dani asked. "Like maybe they focus power. It would fit if the killer was storing the magic he is taking from them."
Kota’s eyes widened, and horror washed over her face. "Our masquerade could be setting up the perfect victim pool for this sicko," Kota pointed out. "Magical and mundie guests, all wearing masks."
"Well," I said with a grim expression, "we have to stop him from turning the party into a murder mystery masquerade." I wasn’t sure I wanted to see what else our mask-obsessed killer had planned for carnival season.
In response to my comment, the grimoire in front of me suddenly fluttered open. Its pages riffled in a nonexistent wind before settling on an illustration. I stared at a rendering in dried blood of the exact drawing of the mask from my visions. The image was dated eighteen-seventy-three. The year of New Orleans' bloodiest carnival season.
CHAPTER 2
Danielle
We'd been poring over Marie's books for so many hours that the tension in the room was thicker than a Louisiana summer day. Having Marie still at our plantation didn't help. Sure, she wasn't trying to kill us anymore, but that didn't make it any less weird having her camped out in our library. Every time she shifted in her chair or her power flickered, I caught one of my sisters tensing. Old habits died hard, I guess.
The sun was just starting to think about rising when my hand brushed against the grim illustration Lia had discovered of the gruesome massacre. The blood-drawn mask pulsed with malevolent energy under my fingers, and before I could pull back, my psychometry kicked in hard. The vision slammed into my consciousness like a shotgun blast, flooding my mind with echoes of an ancient carnival season twisted by darkness and death.
Masks dripping crimson. Bodies arranged in elaborate tableaus. Power being harvested through torture and sacrifice. Each image hit harder than the last, and was accompanied by a horrifying symphony of screams layered over jazzmusic that made my stomach turn. The juxtaposition of celebration and suffering was almost worse than the violence itself.
I yanked my hand away, but the damage was done. The residual magic left an oily film across my psyche that made me want to take a shower and scrub for days. But there was no washing away what I'd seen. This was exactly why I'd spent months walking around wearing gloves until I got better control of my psychometry. It had been a long time since I'd been pulled into a vision against my will, and I hadn't missed the experience.
"You okay?" Noah's warm hand settled on my shoulder, grounding me back in the present. My mate always knew when I needed anchoring after touching something with bad memories. His steady presence helped push back the lingering echoes of screams.
"Yeah," I managed, though my voice was shakier than I'd like. "But this grimoire? It's seen some serious dark magic. The kind that leaves scars on reality."
Marie's eyes narrowed as she studied me from across our library table. Her power crackled in the air like static electricity, making everyone else shift uncomfortably. "What did you see?"
