DAHLIA
I was trying to have a quiet moment with my daily dose of Monster Ultra and learning as much as possible about an Elvin masquerade when the scent of stale king cake hit me like a supernatural freight train. Now, I loved a good king cake, but that wasn’t anywhere close to that. This was the sad, three-day-old gas station variety that lingered in your sinuses like skunk and brimstone. The world went sideways, and I barely managed to set my drink down before dropping it.
The vision slammed into my consciousness with all the subtlety of a runaway float during Mardi Gras. The first thing I saw was a body sprawled near Jackson Square. It was positioned like some twisted carnival display. It was wearing what looked like a handmade mask. You could easily tell the mass-manufactured ones sold in stores everywhere.
Blood formed intricate patterns around the body that were definitely not standard parade route decorations. The tourists that were stumbling around finally noticed the dead woman. That was when the screaming started. The screeching brought me out of my head before I was ready. I didn’t get nearly enough details to try and avert this tragedy.
"Well, shit," I muttered as I reached for my drink with a shaky hand and fueled my caffeinated addiction. Yeah, some of us dealt with seeing the future through aggressive energy drink consumption. Don't judge. "We aren't going to be able to plan this party without tripping over a corpse," I informed Dre and Dani, who were going over information with me.
Both sisters looked up at the same moment my phone buzzed. It was Puich, our inside man at the morgue. Well, inside brownie. The tiny supernatural coroner's assistant had saved our butts before by alerting us to magical deaths before mundane authorities could ask too many questions. I put the call on speaker, “Hey, Puich. I’m here with Dani and Dre. What's up?”
"We've got a problem," he said without preamble. "A dead female in her early thirties was brought in an hour ago. She's got... markings on her." His swallow was audible through the speaker, and my stomach dropped. Puich wasn’t ruffled unless things had gone into seriously weird territory. "They look like ritualistic carvings. Like someone was trying to... hell, I don’t know. You need to see this. Soon. Before Detective Payne shows up for his briefing."
I winced at the mention of Detective Payne. We'd worked with him six months ago when one of Phi's graduate students had gone on a killing spree and had targeted her and her family. We'd managed to keep the magical elements under wraps during that case. He still thought the student was a psychopath rather than corrupted by a skinwalker. But the detective wasn't stupid. He'd known we weren't telling him everything. Since we clearly weren’t involved in the deaths, he hadn’t pushed the issue. That would change if he got one whiff of something off this time.
"How long do we have?" Dre asked.
"He usually arrives by seven. It's five-thirty now," Puich responded.
"On our way. Should we call the other sisters?" I asked.
“It would be good to have you all here to see this. I’ll see you guys soon.” Puich hung up, leaving me staring at my sisters for a second.
I hopped up and sucked in a breath when I saw Lucas standing at the entrance holding my purse and keys. My mate's expression told me he’d heard the entire phone call. I wasn’t surprised, given his shifter hearing. He could hear a whispered conversation. I just hadn’t realized he was in the house.
He held out my belongings and searched my eyes. "You saw something right before you got the call, didn’t you? You mentioned something about a body." The words were gentle, but there was no point pretending he hadn't caught every detail.
"I had a vision.” I gave him and my sisters a brief rundown of what I’d seen as we headed for my car. “The woman I had seen was during the thick of Mardi Gras, so we should have a bit of time. Although, I guess this victim could be a lead up to that.”
"Let’s hope that’s not the case. We don’t need a supernatural serial killer. I’ve informed Kota, Dea, and Phi to meet us at the morgue,” Dre replied.
Lucas pressed a kiss to my lips and murmured, “Be careful. I’m going to have some of the pack meet me there just in case this is the skinwalker setting you guys up.”
Knowing better than to argue with him when he became overprotective, I nodded. It was a good idea. One, I hadn’t considered. He handed me my energy drink before I slipped behind the wheel. This was why I loved that man. He understood that sometimes you needed both family and potentially lethal doses of caffeine to deal with supernatural emergencies. I steeled myself for what we were going to encounter and headed out with my sisters.
Twenty minutes and several traffic violations later, I pulled into the morgue's parking lot. Kota and Phi were already there when Dani, Dre, and I parked. Dea arrived before we reached the back door.
"Anyone want to explain the size of that coffee?" I asked with a smirk. My sisters had given me shit about the number of energy drinks I’d consumed when we had dealt with the Lost Legends. And here Phi and Kota were holding cups that were roughly the size of my head.
"Don't judge. It's not even six in the morning," Kota muttered, clutching her cup tighter. "You of all people should know that sometimes mainlining caffeine is necessary."
Dani laughed. "Yet you're the one who's always giving Dani crap about her energy drinks. And she's been sticking to just one Monster a day for three days now," she pointed out.
"Baby steps," I teased, earning an eye roll from both of them.
The conversation halted as Puich appeared at the service entrance. The brownie's pristine white tennis shoes practically glowed in the pre-dawn light. They were a stark contrast to his neat blue jeans and green sweater. His wavy brown hair flopped as he gestured us inside.
"Quickly," he urged as he led us through maintenance corridors. "I've got her isolated in exam room three. There’s definitely a magical signature on this one, and it is strange."
My usual snark evaporated the moment I stepped into that exam room. The stench of death and antiseptic hit me like one of Dre's practice punches from that disaster of a week when I thought sparring with my sister was a good idea. Considering my oldest sibling had biceps that could rival most bodybuilders, I don’t know what I was thinking. My ribs twinged at the memory.
But it wasn't the smell that had my magic doing the cha-cha under my skin. It was the mask perched on the victim's face. It looked like some twisted art piece with its gold swirls and royal purple feathers. It was the kind of thing you'd see at those fancy masquerade balls New Orleans was famous for back in the day, where rich people pretended to be mysterious while sipping overpriced champagne. My stomach turned at the thought of Keryth's upcoming masquerade. With a killer who had a thing for masks on the loose, it could become the perfect hunting ground.
That wasn’t our immediate concern. My brain automatically began comparing it to the mask I'd glimpsed in my scent-o-vision earlier. Now that had been a work of handcrafted art. Each golden whorl had been personally etched by someone who clearly thought of leather work as foreplay. The one on this victim however, was mass-produced perfection. Did that mean it wasn’t the same killer? It was something to keep in mind.
My power coiled tight in my gut as I edged closer to the steel table. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead like angry wasps. The shadows they cast danced across the mask's surface in a way that made it seem almost alive. Shaking my head, I focused on the supernatural element Puich was concerned about. Something had my magical radar pinging like a pinball machine stuck on bonus mode.
"Are those..." Dani’s question trailed off.
"Ancient channeling marks," Phi confirmed grimly. "Like the ones we found in that old tome Cami translated last month. If I remember right, they're used to focus and direct power. Holy shit,” she gasped when Puich removed the mask. “This woman was one of my students. This feels like deja vu." Was Lucas right about this being the skinwalker? He hadn’t carved up the last victims/
“We’re better prepared if this is a repeat.” Dre pursed her thin lips and leaned closer. “These symbols have been modified from the channeling marks we saw in that book. Or maybe they’re not channeling marks. One thing I am certain about it there’s no doubt she’s supernatural."
“And her killer has magic,” Dea interjected as she moved closer to the body. Her gaze took on that slightly unfocused look that meant she was either communing with lingering spirits or searching for them.
“Is her ghost here?” My head swiveled around like I was possessed as I asked. It was unsettling to think about there being spirits around us.
Dea shook her head. "There are plenty of ghosts here, but she’s not one of them. Not that I can see, anyway. I can feel her residual energy, like there is something of her here. I get the feeling that she fought back. Hard. The killer wasn't expecting that level of resistance."
"I don’t blame her. Look at the coloring around the cuts," Dani added as she carefully examined the victim's arms without touching them. "These sigils were systematically carved and seared into her skin. One by one. While she was still alive."
"She was tortured?" I asked, though my gut already knew the answer.
"Definitely," Phi said grimly. "Her power was also drained. Each carved symbol would have acted like a siphon, drawing out her magical essence while it burned. By doing this while she lived..."
"They were harvesting her power," Dre finished for Phi. "But why the mask? What role does it play, other than being a super creepy calling card?"
"This is the third one I've seen," Puich said quietly, making us all snap to attention.
“What? Why haven’t you called sooner?” I blurted.
He sighed and shook his head. "I didn't connect the cases at first because I couldn't detect any magical signature until this one. With all the temporal chaos the Lost Legends created, there's been an uptick in violent crimes across the city. All three victims had the same cause of death. Ritual burns and carvings done while they were still alive. All had masks on their faces. The police are already calling it the work of a serial killer." His voice grew heavy with regret. "If I'd picked up on the supernatural element sooner..."
The way he trailed off made my spine go cold. The killer was likely practicing on mundies, perfecting his process before moving to a supernatural victim. It was disturbing to think someone was hunting us. Yeah, this case should have been diverted from the mundie police with the first victim, but I understood how he’d missed it the first two times. The city had gone schizophrenic during the Lost Legends reign of terror.
He gestured to pictures on the counter. They were images that contained spatter that, at first seemed normal for the scene. When I looked closer, there was something more to them. "Holy shit," Dre breathed. Her telekinesis unconsciously made nearby instruments rattle. "That's disturbing. The dark power used feels icky even through a picture."
"They definitely know what they're doing now," Dani added as she touched the tip of a finger to the end of a feather.
"Don't..." I trailed off as her flesh connected with the object.
Her face went slack and the color drained from her cheeks as whatever memories the mask held slammed into her consciousness. I watched her throat work as she swallowed repeatedly. I bet she was fighting back bile. Whatever she was seeing, it wasn't pretty. Her psychometry had a way of making her a front row witness to someone's darkest moments.
When she finally spoke, her voice was rough, like she'd been screaming. "You guys are wrong about the book you saw these in. They came from one of the Laveau books." She yanked her hand back, wiping it against her jeans as if trying to erase the touch. "You're right about them being changed, though."
"Someone took the original ritual and remixed it for an even more twisted purpose," I muttered.
"Wait," Kota interjected as she tossed the coffee cup in the trash. "There weren't any symbols in the case with Phi's student. Do you think the skinwalker needs more power for something?"
A heavy silence fell. We'd all been thinking about the possibility. "It’s not the skinwalker. Those were a completely different style," Phi said firmly. "He uses corrupted demon magic. It didn’t feel like this."
"Ladies." The familiar voice from the doorway made us all freeze. "Interesting place for a family reunion."
We turned to find Detective Payne standing in the doorway. His perfectly pressed suit and salt-and-pepper hair were a stark contrast to our sleepy appearance. I even still had on my pajamas. Thankfully, they were black, so it wasn’t as obvious. I smoothed my hands over my top as the detective’s light green eyes took in the scene with the kind of sharp observation that had made him so good at his job. And a huge problem for supernatural coverups.
"Detective," I managed. "Fancy meeting you here."
"Indeed." His expression suggested he was ready to haul us all in. "Why are you here looking at a murder victim? This is an active investigation."
"Actually," Phi stepped in smoothly, "I know her. The victim. She was one of my doctoral candidates."
The detective's expression hardened. "Another one of your students?" His hand twitched toward his notepad. "And you just happened to be here before we could even release the ID?"
"I called them," Puich interjected in a clipped and professional voice. "I recognized her from campus visits. Given the sensitive nature of the situation, I thought it best to have Dr. Hodgins confirm the identity discreetly."
"And we weren't about to allow our sister to come here alone given what happened last time..." I gestured vaguely at our group, trying to deflect attention from Phi, but the detective's narrowed eyes told me he wasn't buying our convenient presence.
Payne ignored me as his gaze lingered on Puich. I knew that look. It was one that said he was trying to figure out why a two-foot-tall coroner's assistant pinged his 'something's not quite right' radar. Most assumed Puich was a little person. He was able to hide his height and appearance behind his glamour. Unfortunately, Payne picked up on more.
"The other victims," Dani said carefully. "Puich mentioned similar cases? Were they also students?"
Payne's eyes narrowed, and his mouth setted in a hard line that told me he wasn't planning to share details with a bunch of civilians. While he was focused on Dani, I muttered a lip-loosening spell under my breath. I wove just enough power to make him chatty but not enough to trigger his suspicions.
His expression softened slightly as the magic took hold. "No. The first victim was a local artist specializing in Quarter-inspired pieces. The second was a bookstore owner dealing in rare texts. Your student makes three."
"Any connection between them?" I asked, keeping my tone casual to avoid disrupting the spell's subtle influence.
His pen tapped against his notebook as he answered with unusual openness. "All women in their early thirties. They all had similar markings and masks. Their locations also seem significant."
"Significant how?" Phi pressed.
"Each body was placed near historical landmarks. The artist was by St. Louis Cathedral. The bookstore owner near the old Ursuline Convent." His eyes locked onto Phi. "Your student was found by Marie Laveau's tomb."
"The masks," Kota ventured quickly, while the spell still held. "Were they all the same?"
"Similar style, different designs. They were all Venetian with purple accents." He snapped his notebook shut, some of his natural suspicion returning as my magic began to fade. "I don't suppose any of you ladies have insight into the occult significance of these deaths?"
"Just what anyone would know about carnival traditions," Phi offered carefully. "The masks are popular, and it’s almost Mardi Gras."
He tucked his notebook away. "I'd like to know why all of you are here. Beyond Dr. Hodgins identifying her student."
"Like I said earlier, we came to support Phi," I explained.
"So you all decided it was a good idea to show up at the morgue and look at a murder victim?" He barked. My spell was completely gone now.
"She shouldn't have to do this alone," Dani told him.
"Of course not." He clearly didn't believe that was our only reason, but he also couldn't prove otherwise. "Well, now that you've confirmed the ID, ladies, I trust you'll be on your way. And try not to contaminate my evidence while you're... paying your respects."
Nodding, the six of us silently left the room. No one spoke until we had exited the building. There were ears everywhere now that people had begun arriving for their shifts.
"We need to call an emergency council meeting," Dre said when we reached our vehicles. "When you add this to Lia’s vision, this is big. We need to stop this killer from targeting more witches or other supernaturals."
"Marie needs to be there," Dani agreed as she typed on her phone. "She can verify if this involves her grimoire, even if it's been twisted."
"The whole supernatural community needs to know," I added. "Especially, with the masquerade coming up."
One hour and several beignets later, I was seriously regretting my resolve to limit my energy drink consumption to one a day. The sugar crash wasn't helping me focus on the grim discussion unfolding in front of me. The council chamber looked like a supernatural United Nations, and it had nothing to do with Dani's elegant decor choices. Representatives from every faction filled the seats around the massive table, their faces grave as they examined the crime scene photos.
"We called you all here to discuss the fact that there is a serial killer hunting supernaturals," Dre announced, spreading out more photos across the polished wood. "Three victims so far, all with ritualistic elements."
"These channeling marks," Marie Laveau spoke from her usual seat, her voice carrying centuries of power. At least now we knew Dani was right about where they had come from. "They're familiar. However, they’ve been changed. Twisted from their original purpose." The way her mouth tightened told me she recognized more than she was saying.
"I’d bet there is also significance to where the killer put them," Kaitlyn added. "St. Louis Cathedral, the Ursuline Convent, and Marie Laveau's tomb are all powerful locations. The question is, do they form a larger pattern?"
I found my gaze drifting to the new face in the crowd. With Viktor cooling his heels in Coldwater Creek's supernatural detention center, his replacement stood out like a diamond in a coal mine. The platinum-haired vampire's fluid grace made everyone else look clumsy in comparison. The calculating look in her eyes told me she was taking in every detail of the room's dynamics.
"If I may," the vampire said when she caught me studying her. Her smooth voice cut through the rising tension. "Allow me to introduce myself, as it seems introductions were... overlooked. Alexis St. Claire."
"And who exactly nominated you as top fang, Alexis?" Talindra's fae-enhanced voice carried clearly as she questioned the new vampire leader. "Last I checked, vampires were about as organized as a cat herding competition. Or did you just happen to be the first one to plant your designer heels in Viktor's empty chair?"
Alexis's smile showed just enough fang to be threatening, while her eyes held calculated amusement. "We had a vote, actually. We’re quite democratic. It turns out when you've got eternity, eventually you figure out that might doesn't always equal right. Viktor's traditional approaches were becoming a liability. The world is changing. So are we." Her gaze swept the room. "Though I suppose some factions prefer to cling to the old ways like security blankets."
"Lovely," Marie replied. Her voice cut through the tension like a steel blade wrapped in velvet. "Now that you've had your audience, we should move on and focus on the immediate threat. Someone is corrupting my family’s work for dark purposes. This cannot stand."
"We need to look into the timing of these murders," Phi added, spreading out a map marked with the crime scenes. "I’m betting that Kaitlyn is right, and we're missing a pattern here. Perhaps, it’s their positioning relative to the ley line intersections."
"Just what we need. Ritual murderers who are also have 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 never meant 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.