By the time we turned onto Decatur, the familiar streets of the French Quarter took on a sinister cast in the early morning light. Street cleaners were still washing away the previous night's revelry, the water running in dark rivulets along the gutters. The scent of stale beer and yesterday'sbeignets mixed with the metallic tang of blood that seemed to permeate the area as we neared the market. I could see Ricky standing nearby, talking to a uniformed officer. He gave us a subtle nod as we passed.
"The magic's getting stronger," I murmured as I rolled down my window despite the February chill. The supernatural energy was so thick I could practically taste it. It was like licking a battery while drinking absinthe. "Whatever the killer did here, it's left one hell of a magical footprint."
Dre's hands tightened into a fist. "Yeah, I'm picking it up too. It's different from the woman we saw yesterday."
"It's evolving," Keryth interjected. "The killer is refining their technique."
I turned in my seat to face him. "And you know this how exactly?"
Before he could answer, a group of early-morning tourists crossed in front of us. Their cameras were already out despite the crime scene ahead. Some were even taking selfies with the police lights in the background. The contrast of their excited chatter with the knowledge of what waited ahead made my skin crawl.
"Tourists," Dre muttered as Keryth hit the brakes harder than necessary. "They'll treat anything like a photo op."
"That's part of the killer's plan," I theorized. "They're using our city's biggest tourist season as cover. They could create an effective smokescreen with all these people and cameras."
Keryth shifted uncomfortably as he parked his car. "That is highly disturbing to consider."
"That’s the understatement of the century,” I muttered as we jumped out and headed for the scene.
Detective Payne met us at the tape line with a grim expression. "I was wondering when you'd show up." His gaze flickered to Keryth. "Bringing friends to my crimescene now?"
"He's an expert in the occult," I said smoothly, which wasn't exactly a lie. "We're hoping he might recognize something about the unusual elements."
Payne's eyes narrowed. "If we need an expert, I will find one. If you’ll excuse me, I have a crime to investigate. Stay out of my crime scene." With that, the detective walked away.
My phone buzzed in my pocket just as I saw Noah walking toward me across the crime scene. The text that came through made my blood run cold—it contained an image of me and my sisters at the plantation yesterday, taken through the library window. Whoever was watching us had been close. Too freaking close.
Lifting my head, I was about to show Dre when Noah reached me. Sometimes our mate bond was the best gift I’d ever gotten. I didn’t have to say a thing to him. He knew I was upset and frightened. He wrapped a protective arm around my shoulders, and peered at my phone screen. A low growl rumbled in his chest. "I'm calling Kai and Aaron right now. They can scout the property and the surrounding land, see if they pick up any scents or signs of a visitor."
"Good idea." I leaned into his warmth, trying to ignore how violated I felt knowing someone had been watching us in our own home. "We should sweep the property and update the wards."
"We will,” Dre assured me as the others joined us. "But first, we need to figure out what they're building to. The timing of these kills isn't random."
"None of this is random," Noah agreed as he kept me tucked against his side. "The locations, the masks, the magical signatures—they’re all clues to whatever the end goal is."
"It’s tied to the carnival season," I said. "The first victim was found right when the krewes started their initialparades. The second one appeared during Bacchus. Now this one..."
"Three days before the masquerade," Noah finished. "You think that's the endgame? Whatever they're building to is going to happen at Keryth's party?"
"It would fit the pattern." Phi agreed, pulling out her tablet and pulling up a file. "Look at this. If you connect the dump sites, Jackson Square is at the center. And guess what's directly under Jackson Square?"
"A major ley line convergence point," Dre groaned. "We should have considered that."
"They're using the parade routes to channel power," Kota added. "Each execution site corresponds to where major krewes pass. They're literally turning our Mardi Gras traditions into a giant ritual circle."
“We cannot allow that,” Lia growled.
They’d get no argument from me. My gaze skipped around. The French Market's early morning quiet was broken only by the shuffle of crime scene techs and the occasional camera flash. We needed to get close enough to get a sense for the killer while trying not to draw too much attention from the mundane authorities.
"We need to find this asshole's signature," Dre said, taking charge as usual. "Every practitioner leaves traces of themselves in their work. We might be fast enough to be able to pick up on it. Spread out, but stay within sight of each other. And for heaven's sake, do not draw Detective Payne’s attention. He’s suspicious enough."
"We should pair up," I suggested, moving closer to Dre. "We cover more ground but stay safer." My sisters nodded in agreement, naturally falling into partnerships. I watched as Kota and Phi headed toward the market stalls outside the crime scene tape while Dea and Lia moved to examine theperimeter.
Dre's hands moved with subtle precision beside me as her telekinesis probed the magical resonance in the air. I kept my phone, pretending to take pictures while tracking the power signatures lingering in the area. From my position, I could see Kota and Phi photographing something. I hoped they were getting the symbols carved into the victim's skin. We needed to get a better look at them and my vantage didn’t give me a view at all. The cops were blocking her too well.
On the far side of the scene, Dea had that familiar distant look in her eyes that meant she was searching for lingering spirits. Lia was keeping watch over her and likely doing the same thing I was. Sometimes having a sister who could talk to ghosts was handy. It would be nice if the victim stuck around after whatever ritual the killer had performed. She might be able to help us avenge her death.
"The magical signature is... odd," Dre murmured with a frown. "It's like they're bleeding different types of magic together. See if you can get a read on this spot, sestra." She pointed to one of the old iron hitching poles. The horse head and green paint went from quaint antiques to daunting.
