Chapter 2

Chapter

Two

RIKER

D etective Zane Riker squatted down and squinted, his eyes narrowing as he studied the body at his feet. The alley reeked of magic, the scent of ozone and charred earth lingering in the air. The victim, a prominent human politician, lay twisted on the ground, his limbs contorted in ways that defied the laws of nature. His face was frozen in a grotesque expression of terror, his eyes wide open, staring into nothingness.

"Damn it," Riker muttered under his breath, pushing himself up to stand.

He scanned the scene again, trying to make sense of it. Magic—dark magic—had been used here, but its signature was different from what he usually encountered. The way the body had been mangled, twisted by forces unseen, would be hard enough to explain to the higher-ups. Trying to pass this off as an accident, a natural death, or even a gang hit was going to be nearly impossible.

Zane ran a hand through his grizzled salt-and-pepper hair, frustration building. How the hell was he supposed to explain this one to the humans on the force, let alone the entire city? Most of them didn't even know about the supernatural world, and those that did pretended not to.

A soft shuffle behind him made Riker glance back. Griff Broussard, the dragon-shifter detective, approached the crime scene with his usual swagger, his sharp features highlighted by the dim streetlights. Riker felt his hackles rise instantly. He'd never liked dragon-shifters. Hell, he barely trusted shifters in general, and Broussard had always been a cocky sonofabitch.

"Looks bad," Broussard said, his deep voice dripping with casual indifference. He crouched next to the body, eyeing the politician with a clinical interest that made Riker's skin crawl.

Riker clenched his jaw. "What the hell are you doing here, Broussard?"

"The captain called me in," Broussard replied, his tone cool. "Seems like they think we need to work together on this one."

Riker's gut churned. "And why's that? Last time I checked, I didn't need a dragon to help me with my cases."

Broussard chuckled, standing and brushing off his pants. "Because this isn't your usual case, Riker. This isn't just about magic. There's something bigger going on, and the brass thinks we need all hands on deck."

Zane bristled, the air between them crackling with tension. He knew exactly why Broussard was here, though. It wasn't just because of the crime scene. It was because of the Duvall sisters—the fae. Riker wasn't fond of people—supernatural or human—but he disliked the fae most of all.

The fae weren't known for wanting to peacefully co-exist with anyone. In general, Riker felt like they caused too much chaos and harm; Riker valued honesty, loyalty and straightforwardness, the fae's cunning and elusive nature could make them untrustworthy. He never felt quite sure that any feelings he had about this were real. They had a tendency to manipulate others' emotions and, in some cases, reality itself.

"I don't need your help," Riker growled, stepping closer, trying to keep his hand loose and relaxed. "And I don't need you poking your nose into things you don't understand."

"That's rich coming from you," Broussard shot back, his eyes flashing with amusement. "You've been riding the edge of the supernatural world for years, Riker, and you still don't get it. This city is changing, whether you like it or not. You're gonna have to work with more than just humans and shifters."

"Stay out of my way, Broussard," Riker said through clenched teeth, stepping closer, his towering form casting a shadow over the dragon-shifter.

"Careful, Riker," Broussard warned, a glint of danger in his eyes. "You're not the only one in this city who knows how to handle things."

Before Riker could retort, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, glancing at the screen. It was a text from the assistant medical examiner, Geneva Duvall. She usually worked fast, and if anyone could figure out how to make sense of a body twisted by magic, it was her. Riker breathed out through his nose, forcing himself to calm down. He couldn't afford to let Broussard get under his skin—not when there were bigger problems at hand.

"I've got to talk to the assistant M.E.," Riker muttered, turning on his heel. "Don't follow me."

Broussard smirked. "Don't worry. I've got other leads to chase."

As Zane walked away, he felt Broussard's eyes burning into his back, but he refused to look back. He hated working with dragons. Hated it even more that Broussard had gotten tangled up with a fae, especially Catalina's sister, Phoenix. It was one thing to deal with shifters, but fae? They were a whole different breed, and Riker didn't trust them. Not one bit.

R iker stormed into the precinct, still fuming from his encounter with Broussard. The hum of the place was a constant buzz in his ears, officers moving in and out, phones ringing off the hook. The chaos of human law enforcement clashed with the strange, supernatural world he had been dragged into long ago.

He marched down the hallway, his boots echoing off the tiles, and headed straight for Captain Evelyn Moreau's office. The door was open, and she was sitting behind her desk, her sharp eyes immediately snapping up to meet his as he entered.

"Captain," he said, his tone clipped. "We need to talk."

Moreau gestured for him to sit, though Riker remained standing.

"What is it, Riker?" she asked, her tone exasperated. "I've already heard about the scene. I know it's... complicated."

"Complicated?" Riker huffed. "That's one way to put it. I'm not sure how you expect me to explain that twisted body to people on the force, much less the press. People are gonna start asking questions I can't answer."

"You're not going to have to answer them alone," Captain Moreau replied calmly. "I've called in a consultant."

Riker stiffened. "What kind of consultant?"

"Someone the assistant medical examiner recommended," Moreau said, her expression unreadable. "Catalina Duvall."

Riker groaned. The name hit Riker like a punch to the gut. His jaw tightened, and his hands balled into fists at his sides.

"No," he growled. "You can't bring her in."

Moreau raised an eyebrow. "And why not?"

"She's…" Riker groaned, searching for the right word. "Different," he said lamely. "Besides, her sister is involved with Broussard. This isn't just about the case. This is... personal. You don't know what you're getting into with her."

Moreau leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "I don't care about your personal issues, Riker. What I care about is solving this case. The Duvall sisters are the best consultants we have when it comes to things not easily explained. If she can help us figure out what's going on, then I'm bringing her in. End of discussion."

Riker clenched his jaw so tightly he thought his teeth might crack. "This is a mistake."

"That's your opinion," Moreau said coolly. "But you'll do your job. I trust you to handle this professionally, Riker. Or do I need to remind you who's in charge here?"

Riker stared at her, his blood boiling, but he knew better than to push any further. Moreau wasn't someone you crossed lightly, and if she wanted to bring Catalina into the case, there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

Without another word, Riker turned on his heel and stalked out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

R iker needed answers. If he couldn't stop Moreau from bringing Catalina into the case, maybe he could get a little leverage by pumping her sister for information. Geneva Duvall was smart—maybe too smart—and as the assistant medical examiner, she had access to things Riker didn't. Things like information about her family's involvement in the city's supernatural underworld.

Nodding to himself, he left the precinct and headed for the coroner's office, where Geneva was likely still working on the body from the crime scene. As he entered the lab, the smell of antiseptic and formaldehyde filled his nose, and the cold, sterile environment made his skin itch. He had never liked being in here. Too clean. Too quiet. But Geneva? She thrived in this place.

"Riker," Geneva said without looking up from the body she was examining. "I was wondering if and when you'd show up."

"Dr. Duvall," he said gruffly, wanting to keep this on a professional level.

Geneva looked up, arching her eyebrow at him. "Really? Don't you think it's about time you started calling me Geneva like every other detective on the force?"

"Fine. Geneva," he corrected, stepping closer to the table where the body of the politician lay, still twisted and mangled. "What have you got for me?"

She sighed, pulling off her gloves and tossing them into a nearby bin. "This isn't like anything I've seen before, Riker… does anyone call you by your first name? What is that, anyway?"

"No, and Zane."

"Nice." She looked at him, cocking her head back and forth. "Hmm… you really look more like a Riker than a Zane. But anyway. Whatever did this, used powerful magic. It's... disturbing."

Riker glanced at the body again, his stomach twisting. "Disturbing how?"

"It's not just the physical trauma," Geneva said, her brow furrowing. "There's residual magic clinging to him. Dark magic. The kind that leaves scars on the soul."

Riker felt a chill run down his spine. "Can you trace it? Figure out where it came from?"

"I'm working on it," Geneva said, her voice tense. "But this kind of magic doesn't leave a clear trail. It's messy. Whoever did this, knew how to cover their tracks."

"Dammit," Riker muttered, running a hand through his hair. "This just keeps getting worse."

Geneva glanced at him; her eyes sharp. "What's really going on here, Riker? This isn't just about the case, is it?"

He hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Moreau's bringing in your sister, Catalina, as a special consultant on the case."

Geneva raised an eyebrow. "And you don't like that idea, do you?"

"I don't trust her—no offense," Riker said bluntly. "She's fae…"

"None taken, and I will remind you that I'm fae, as well, and you're not exactly human…"

"Part of me is human." Geneva rolled her eyes. "Shifters are different. But you're an exception. I know you, and you work… well, not exactly for the force, but you work with us all the time. You know how I feel about fae and other supernaturals. Your sister included. I don't even care for most shifters."

Geneva's lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn't argue. Instead, she leaned against the table, crossing her arms. "Catalina is...complicated. But she knows what she's doing. If Moreau called her in, there's a reason."

"Yeah, well, I don't care how complicated she is," Riker said, his voice tight with frustration. "I just want to solve this case before it blows up in our faces."

Geneva studied him for a long moment before speaking again. "You know, Riker, not everything is black and white. Just because Catalina is fae doesn't mean she's your enemy."

Riker scoffed. "I'll believe that when I see it."

Geneva sighed, shaking her head. "Just be careful, Riker. There's a lot going on in this city that you don't understand. And if you're not careful, it's going to swallow you whole."

Riker grunted, his mind already racing with everything he'd learned. He didn't like the idea of Catalina getting involved, but Geneva was right about one thing—this case was bigger than he realized. And if he didn't figure out what was going on soon, it could be too late for all of them.

As he left the lab, Riker couldn't shake the feeling that the storm brewing in New Orleans was about to hit harder than any of them were prepared for.