Page 36 of Mardi Gras Murders & Midnight Masquerades
“Obviously.”Adèle's mental voice was slightly annoyed. “I can create pathways between your energies without the usual messy human entanglements. Less chance of someone's brain melting.”
"Your distrust of me is understandable," Marie said,addressing all of us while nodding respectfully toward Adèle. "I hope to earn your trust eventually. But for now, your familiar's suggestion is sound."
"Each of us will contribute to the spell," Kaitlyn explained, "but Adèle will weave our energies together to create a protective barrier strong enough to allow Dani's psychometry to work without the mask overwhelming her."
Noah moved forward, practically radiating Big Protective Energy from every pore. "Is that safe?"
"No," Marie answered bluntly. "But neither is ignoring it. You're flying blind, and the entire city is at risk."
We shoved everything aside to clear the workshop floor while Marie prepped the space. She marked each of us with protective sigils using a paste that smelled like herb garden meets slaughterhouse. I bet it was her own blood mixed in with the concoction. Adèle prowled the perimeter. Her tail flicked impatiently as she watched. The voodoo magic sizzled against our witchcraft like oil hitting a hot pan as our power started building around us.
"Ready?" Marie asked, taking her position at the north point of our circle. Adèle positioned herself in the exact center of our formation. Her small feline body somehow emanated more of a magical presence than all of us combined.
Kaitlyn opened the box and stepped back, leaving me staring at the mask. Those hollow eye sockets somehow seemed to see everything. "As I'll ever be,” I replied. My hands didn't shake, but my heart was doing its best impression of a jackhammer against my ribs.”
“Don't mess this up,”Adèle's voice purred in my head. “I can only shield your mind for so long before that thing notices.”
"You can touch it now," Marie commanded.
With a deep breath, I reached for the mask. The moment my fingertips made contact, reality twisted aroundme. I was suddenly standing in a torch-lit chamber. Its stone walls were covered in symbols that seemed to writhe with purpose. The air was charged with magic that made my skin prickle.
A solitary figure hunched over a table cluttered with all sorts of magical crap. His back was to me, but even from behind I could tell this wasn't some amateur hour wizard. Something about how he held himself, the purposeful way his hands moved—this dude radiated power like a nuclear plant having a meltdown. Definitely a mage with serious juice.
He turned, and though his face stayed conveniently shadowed like some B-movie villain, I felt his awareness slam into me. It was cold as a witch's tit in January. It felt like being sized up by something that had been hunting prey since before humans discovered fire. He lifted the mask he was working on. He turned it this way and that, admiring his handiwork in the dancing torchlight.
"The enchantment is complete," he murmured, his voice dry and crackly as autumn leaves underfoot. "When the time comes, all six vessels will be drawn to me, no matter where they're hidden."
With the kind of careful reverence usually reserved for handling newborn babies or million-dollar artifacts, he placed the mask on a fancy stand and reached for a book. The thing looked like it was bound in what looked disturbingly like human skin. Gross. Its pages made that skin-crawling rustle as he flipped through them, searching for something specific.
"Society of fools," he chuckled, the sound about as warm and comforting as fingernails on a chalkboard. "So desperate for knowledge, so blind to its price. They will serve my purpose well."
The scene shifted. Now I stood in an elegant salon filledwith people in elaborate period clothing. It was the 18th century, by my estimate. Masks concealed their faces as they participated in what appeared to be an initiation ritual. At the head of the gathering stood the same mage. Though he was in a different body and dressed in the height of fashion for the era, he felt the same as before.
"Brothers and sisters of the Mask," he intoned in a voice that carried easily over the murmurs of the crowd. "Tonight, we welcome new seekers of ancient wisdom. Our Society grows stronger with each passing year, our knowledge more profound."
The initiates bowed their heads in reverence. I wanted to scream at them about the threads of dark magic I could see emanating from them. It was all flowing toward the mage like tributaries to a river. He was draining them and feeding on their collective power while they believed themselves blessed.
The vision fragmented, showing me glimpses across centuries. There were different eras and different faces, but it was always the same mage orchestrating events from the shadows. He had created the Society from nothing. He shaped it over centuries, all while harvesting the power he needed for his ultimate goal.
I saw him creating the first masks and infusing them with spells designed to channel and collect energy. Each mask was a work of art. It was also a sophisticated magical tool. "Six points of power," he muttered as he worked. "Six vessels to complete the circuit. When the alignment comes, and the veil is thinnest, I will become a god and have life eternal."
His rage blistered me each time his attempts failed. The expenditure of energy nearly killed him each time. He would retreat, lick his wounds, and heal while siphoning power from his sacred Society.
His plans became clearer. He performedritual murders spanning centuries and moved from body to body. He was always searching, always working toward some grand design. Beneath it all was a hunger so vast and terrible it made my soul recoil. The certainty that he had found the ones he needed sickened me.
Reality snapped back into focus as my rage was building regarding his plans to kill my sisters and me. I found myself on the workshop floor with Noah's arms around me. My sisters and Marie stood around me in a protective circle. My throat was raw, and the coppery taste of blood filled my mouth.
"Sunshine," Noah said in a voice tight with fear. "Talk to me."
"I'm okay," I managed, though my body trembled with the aftermath of the psychometric assault. "I saw... everything."
Marie knelt beside me. Her dark eyes were concerned but intent. "Tell us."
Noah kept a steadying arm around my shoulders as I sat up. "We are right about the Society. The mage created it as a way to harvest power without detection. He's been jumping from body to body for centuries, manipulating everything from the shadows. And this mask will bring his six vessels to him when the time is right."
"He’s using soul transference," Marie gasped. "That is the darkest of arts. There are great costs of moving from body to body. It is a marvel he is still alive in any form."
"There is always a cost. A powerful mage like that should know better,” Dre replied.
