"Alright. Call if we should come out and try to do a reveal spell," Lia said as she leaned into Lucas's touch. "We’ll be in the library."
The rest of us turned and left Lia and Dani to smooch their mates. They weren’t far behind. I beelined for the kitchen and grabbed a pineapple iced tea and then headed for the library. Lia was spreading out the evidence we'd collected. Phi set up her laptop, downloading the crime scene photos she'd managed to discreetly take. Dre and Dani huddled over Marie’s grimoire. They began comparing the symbols we'd found on the victim to the historical records. Dea and I went over to help Lia map everything we knew onthe massive whiteboard someone had dragged in from the barn.
I was adding the latest victim's details to our timeline when my phone buzzed. I'd texted Jeff after seeing how the victim at the French Market was also connected to the carnival season. I wanted to see if his krewe contacts had heard anything unusual. As a manager overseeing everything from float construction to route organization, my husband had built an extensive network throughout New Orleans' carnival community over the years. The close-knit world of parade organizers, float builders, and costume designers often knew things before they hit the official channels.
My heart jumped when I saw his name on the screen. His message was brief but promising. One of his contacts who handled special event rentals had mentioned a private gathering happening at Le Masque Noir tonight. According to the message, several people connected to upcoming carnival events would be there. That included some who had worked with our latest victim. The timing felt almost too perfect, which made me uneasy.
"Ladies," I announced as I reached for my coat, "Jeff found something that might provide us some information. There's a private gathering tonight at Le Masque Noir. It’s invitation only and very hush-hush. Supposedly, it’s going to be attended by several people involved in this year's carnival planning. Including some who worked with our victim."
"Perfect timing," Dre commented as she looked up from Marie's grimoire. She'd been writing down the original symbols that seemed to correspond with the twisted channeling marks found on the victims. "With luck there will be a member of the supernatural community in attendance that we can question about layering power together."
"Especially about blending demon magic with super-secret elven techniques," Dahlia pointed out. "Because that's definitely not a common skill set."
"More importantly," Phi interjected, not looking up from her laptop where she was still analyzing the French Market crime scene photos, "we need to know why they're specifically targeting people connected to the carnival season. The artist, the bookstore owner, the costume designer, and now the mask restoration expert. These aren't random kills."
“Which is exactly why this lead is perfect," Dea agreed. "The club caters to the city's most influential, which includes the supernatural. If anyone knows what's really going on with these ritual murders..."
"I figure I’d go with Jeff," I said as I began to consider what to wear. "His contact knows to expect him. Plus, we'll draw less attention as a couple than if we all show up."
Dre nodded, though I could see she wasn't thrilled about me going alone. "Keep your phones on. And take your protection charms. We don't know what kind of magic might be in play there."
"I always have mine on me. I told Jeff to grab his, as well," I replied and then headed upstairs to my designated room at the plantation. Given how often magical crises pulled us into unexpected situations, I kept a stash of clothes here. But as I opened the dresser drawers and small closet, I realized everything I had stored was definitely on the practical side. Clothes suitable for tracking supernatural threats or dealing with magical emergencies, not mingling at an exclusive club.
"Everything I have here is completely wrong for this," I muttered, rifling through my backup wardrobe. Tank tops, dark jeans, and shirts I wouldn't mind getting demon ichor on. Perfect for our usual adventures, useless for infiltrating Le Masque Noir. "I can't exactly show up to a private gathering looking like I'm ready to chase down a rogue shifter."
"Did I hear someone was having awardrobe crisis?" Cami's voice came from the doorway. Our newest sister had been through more than most. From her difficult childhood as a slave's secret daughter to her time as a ghoul before we helped restore her humanity. Now her bright smile was one of the plantation's everyday miracles. "I couldn't help overhearing about the club investigation. You know, there's this trunk in the attic that belonged to Mary Alice."
We all turned to look at her. Mary Alice - Cami's mother and our resident ghost - was still a sensitive subject. Their relationship was complicated by centuries of secrets and separation, though they were slowly finding their way back to each other.
Given that her mother had died centuries before, I seriously doubted there would be anything I could actually wear to a modern club. If the fabric hadn't deteriorated to dust by now. But maybe there would be something I could modify in a pinch. When you're desperate enough, anything was worth a shot.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
Cami nodded and headed for the attic stairs. “Absolutely. It’s worth looking to save you a trip home.”
I shared a look with my sisters before we followed her. Our footsteps echoed in the narrow stairwell. The trunk sat in a shadowy corner. Its brass fittings were tarnished with age. It was a massive thing of dark wood and hand-forged iron bands. It was the kind wealthy plantation women had used to store their finest clothing.
Cami lifted the heavy lid with reverent care, and the musty scent of dried lavender and aged fabric wafted out. Beneath yellowed linen wrappings and sprigs of herbs meant to ward off moths, we found Mary Alice's carefully preserved gowns. The magical enchantments hummed against my senses. I should have known a witch like Mary Alice wouldhave preserved them with spells. The garments were each folded with precise care.
"Here," Cami said softly, lifting out a black cocktail dress. The vintage silk seemed to catch every bit of light in the dusty attic. "Mary Alice wore this to the Krewe of Orpheus ball one year. She always said it was her lucky dress."
The dress was perfect. Classic enough to be timeless but with subtle details that marked it as something special. “I love it,” I gushed.
“I thought you might,” Cami admitted. “Let’s get you dressed.”
Nodding, we headed back downstairs. I stripped my jeans and slipped on the silk, praying it would fit over my ample curves. To my relief, it fit like it had been made for me. The style was sophisticated but not flashy. Precisely what we needed for this operation.
I was just fastening the delicate zipper when Jeff appeared in the bedroom doorway. He was already dressed for clubbing in a tailored black suit that made my mouth go a little dry. My husband cleaned up nice.
"Ready?" he asked before looking up. His eyes widened, and he whistled. "Wow, you look gorgeous. I love the dress. When did you have time to shop?”
“It’s borrowed,” I admitted as I slipped my arm through his elbow.
Jeff pressed a kiss to my lips before heading downstairs. “Eric said we need to be there in thirty minutes if we want to establish ourselves before the main event."
I fought the urge to double-check that my protection charm was around my neck when I climbed into Jeff’s truck. It was ridiculous to be worried it had fallen off. The magic tingled against my skin. It was familiar, subtle, and reassuring. Every little bit of protection helped when walking into what was almostcertainly a trap.
The drive through the garden district was tense. The late evening air was thick with humidity when he parked. Sweet olive and night-blooming jasmine from the historic gardens competed with the metallic tang of old ironwork. Underneath it all was the ever-present hint of decay that permeated the older parts of the city. It was a reminder that everything here was built on layers of history and death.
