Chapter 3

Chapter

Three

CATALINA

T he Fae Quarter shimmered with an otherworldly beauty that no mortal eye could ever comprehend. The streets wound through the city like silken threads, bathed in light that seemed to come from within the stones themselves. Everything, from the arching trees that whispered secrets in the wind to the soft glow of the ever-blooming flowers, held a deep and ancient magic. Catalina Duvall had been here countless times, but it always took her breath away.

Today, however, the beauty of the place couldn't quell the apprehension that gnawed at her. Catalina entered the council chamber and stood before the high council of the fae, her gaze fixed on the stoic figures seated in a half-circle. At their center sat Oberon Whisperwind, his pale, flawless skin a stark contrast to his cold, icy blue eyes. His gaze swept over Catalina, measuring, judging. They were a circle of seven, with Whisperwind dead center and three fae on either side. To his immediate left sat a surprising figure that not only shocked her but made her stomach churn with surprise—her Aunt Maeve.

Maeve's presence here was unexpected, to say the least. As far as Catalina knew, her aunt had had no dealings with the Fae Council since she'd left the realm of the fae. Like her mother who had been banished, Maeve chose to live among mortals, like Catalina and her sisters. To see her seated with these ancient, powerful fae, a look of calm authority on her face, as if she'd been among them for a very long time, was disconcerting, to say the least. A feeling of unease and suspicion went running through Catalina's veins.

"Catalina Duvall," Oberon's voice rang out, cold and emotionless. "You have been summoned here because of your expertise and connection to this realm. As you are no doubt aware, demon activity has increased exponentially in New Orleans."

She didn't intend to let Oberon think he had the upper hand or that she answered in any way to the Fae Council. Her mother had stood up to them, and Catalina had no intention of kowtowing to them.

"Let's get something straight. I am here at the request of this Council, but the decision to be here is mine and mine alone. My sisters and I are happy to work in collaboration with the Council, but we do not answer to you."

Oberon stiffened—his reaction was slight, but he'd gotten the message, which was good. She didn't think working with the Council was necessarily a bad thing. They might be able to offer resources to her and her sisters that would come in handy.

Catalina and her sisters had talked about the rise in dark magic they'd felt over the past few weeks. It lingered in the air like a heavy, oppressive fog, unsettling even the most grounded of magical beings.

Had that been what had driven their aunt back to the fae? What had been the cost of her doing so? She had questions for her aunt, and she meant to get answers.

Oberon's gaze never left her face. "This rise in demon activity is not accidental. It is deliberate. The balance between realms is shifting, and unless we act swiftly, there will be consequences—not just for your city, but for our kind, as well."

"Hot news flash for you—regardless of whether you like it or not, my sisters and I are part of ‘your kind.'"

She wasn't sure why she was being so provocative, but she felt it was important to establish how this was going to work, if it was going to work at all. Catalina felt the weight of his words as they settled in the room and noted they seemed to settle more heavily on those sitting at the council table. The delicate balance between the fae, the human world, and the realms beyond had always been precarious. If the demons were organizing, seeking to exploit that weakness, it could lead to chaos.

"The council has decided," Oberon continued, "that you will be tasked with investigating this matter. You are to find the source of this disturbance and neutralize it before the situation worsens. We expect full discretion, as the political stakes are high."

Catalina shook her head. "Again, my sisters and I don't work for you. There are times we choose to work with you, and this is one of those times, but get this straight in your mind—you aren't ordering or tasking me to do anything. I will do as I see fit. I will, as a courtesy, keep you advised and will expect you to lend your assistance if and when it is requested."

Maeve stood up and banged her fist on the table. "That is enough, Catalina. It was your mother's insistence to go her own way that created this fissure between our family and the fae."

"No, Aunt Maeve. It was my mother's love for my father. They told her she had to choose. She did. If you didn't like her choice, perhaps you should have remained behind. My sisters and I are grateful for the way you stepped in when they died, but we're all grown up now, and if you choose to return to the realm of the fae, we will understand and wish you well. Keep in mind that our home in the Garden District was left to my sisters and me, and it is there that we will remain."

Her aunt blanched and, at a look from Oberon, quietly sank down to her seat. Feeling as if she had made her point, Catalina nodded and remained quiet. She knew the Fae Council well enough to know she wasn't being told the entire truth. The council rarely interfered in the human world, but when they did, it was for reasons far beyond simple demon hunting. This was about power, influence—about maintaining their hold over the delicate threads that connected the supernatural realms.

Before she could respond, a faint buzzing sound filled the air. Catalina frowned, glancing down at the small black object vibrating in her pocket. Her cell phone. That made no sense. She didn't think that phones worked in the Fae Quarter—the entire realm operated on a different frequency of magic, one that interfered with human technology.

Still, the phone buzzed persistently. Apologizing with a quick bow, Catalina pulled it out and glanced at the screen, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion. The number was from the New Orleans Police Department—human authorities.

Oberon's icy glare tightened, though he didn't say anything. Catalina felt the intensity of the council's gaze on her as she answered the call. "Duvall here."

"Catalina? This is Captain Moreau from the precinct. We've got a situation—a high-profile murder downtown—and we need your expertise. There's something off about it, and we're in over our heads, and I was hoping you could head over to the crime scene and take a look."

"Now?" Catalina blinked, startled. "I'm a bit tied up with?—"

"It's urgent. You're the only one I think that can help us figure out what the hell happened."

Catalina hesitated. The Fae Council had just laid a heavy responsibility on her shoulders, but the urgency in Moreau's voice told her that this was not a situation she could ignore. There were already too many threads tying her world to that of the humans, and if something magical was at the heart of this murder, it could unravel everything.

"I'm on my way," she said, ending the call and slipping the phone back into her pocket.

Oberon's thin lips pressed into a disapproving line. "You will handle this… human matter first?"

"I'm not sure this matter doesn't relate directly to what you're talking about," Catalina replied. "But the city and those in it—human or otherwise—are my responsibility, just as much as the fae are."

For a long moment, the council remained silent, weighing her words. Then, to her surprise, it was Maeve who stood and spoke.

"Be swift, Catalina. Do not lose sight of the larger threat."

Her aunt rose and turned away, but her voice held a weight that hadn't been there before—a gentle command, almost, laced with an undertone Catalina couldn't quite place.

With a nod, Catalina turned to leave, but as she stepped through the council's grand chamber, something caught her eye. In the far corner, Maeve was already deep in conversation with a cloaked figure. The figure was hunched, its face obscured by the heavy folds of a dark hood. Maeve's body language was tense, and her voice was low and urgent. The sight sent a flicker of suspicion through Catalina's mind.

What could Maeve possibly be discussing with someone like that? The cloaked figure didn't belong in the Fae Quarter, not with the council present. It didn't register as fae, shifter, or vampire. Catalina strained her ears, but the words were too muffled, drowned out by the hum of ancient magic that filled the air.

The figure glanced in her direction, and the moment their eyes met, it inclined its head toward Catalina and abruptly broke off its conversation with Maeve. The cloaked figure disappeared into the shadows, moving quickly through the chamber. Maeve, too, seemed startled, her face hardening before she hurried off in the opposite direction.

Catalina stood frozen for a moment, her mind racing. Something wasn't right. Her aunt, the council, the sudden rise in demon activity—it was all connected. She could feel it. And yet, she didn't have time to pursue it. Not now.

Shaking off the urge to chase after the mysterious figure, Catalina turned on her heel and strode out of the chamber, her wings fluttering faintly as she stepped through the shimmering veil that separated the Fae Quarter from the human world.

"I'll deal with this later," she muttered to herself, making a mental note to confront Maeve the next chance she got.

T he scent of ozone and charred earth hit Catalina the moment she stepped into the alleyway. Magic had been used here—dark, twisted magic that left a heavy, oppressive weight in the air. She pushed her way through the crowd of officers and crime scene investigators, her eyes scanning the scene with practiced ease.

There was an outline of a body. She had spoken with her sister, Geneva, about the high-profile politician who'd met his end there crumpled in a grotesque heap. His limbs had been twisted unnaturally; his face frozen in an expression of sheer terror. The magic had been violent, invasive—whoever had done this had left no mercy in their wake.

She crouched down near the outline, her hands hovering over the place as she extended her senses. The residual energy was chaotic, sparking like wild lightning. It was the kind of magic that left a scar not just on the victim but on the very air itself.

"That's some kind of trick you got there," a deep, gravelly voice cut through her focus.

Catalina didn't need to look up to know who it was—Detective Zane Riker. The man was notoriously gruff, distrustful of anything remotely connected to the supernatural. And, of course, he didn't trust her. He'd told her as much himself.

"Not a trick," she said coolly, standing and turning to face him. Riker stood a few feet away, his arms crossed, his hard expression set in stone. His salt-and-pepper hair was ruffled, his eyes a piercing blue that seemed to challenge her every move.

"We don't need your kind here, Duvall," Riker growled, his tone dripping with skepticism. "I've got this handled."

Catalina raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? Because from what your captain and my sister have told me, it looks like you're in way over your head."

Riker's jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with anger. "This murder is human business. We don't need fae messing around in things they don't understand."

Catalina fought the urge to roll her eyes. "Human business? Then what the hell is a shifter doing here? Believe me, when I tell you what I suspect you already know, this isn't just human business. Whoever did this used powerful magic—dark magic. If you want to figure out who's behind it, you're going to need my help."

Riker's gaze hardened, but he didn't argue. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence imposing, his broad shoulders and tall frame casting a long shadow over the crime scene.

"Fine," he said after a long pause. "But let's get one thing straight, Duvall—I don't trust you. And I don't trust your kind. So don't expect any special treatment."

Catalina smiled sweetly, folding her arms over her chest. "Wouldn't dream of it, Detective."

Their eyes locked, the tension between them thick in the air. It was a challenge, a silent battle of wills, and neither of them was willing to back down. Catalina could feel the heat rising in her chest, not just from the irritation at his attitude but from something deeper—something that tugged at the corners of her awareness.

Riker broke the stare first, turning his attention back to the body. "What can you tell me about this magic? I need something to work with."

Catalina stepped forward, her wings shimmering faintly as she knelt beside the body once more. "The magic used here is raw, chaotic. Whoever did this didn't just want to kill—they wanted to send a message. This isn't just a random murder. It's a statement."

"A statement?" Riker echoed, frowning. "What kind of statement?"

"That the barriers between worlds are weakening," Catalina said, her voice quiet but firm. Maybe sharing a little of what she knew that he probably didn't, would help begin to foster some kind of working relationship. She was pretty sure they were going to need it. "And that someone intends to exploit that weakness."

Riker was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the spot where the twisted body had laid. Then he stood, his hand running through his hair in frustration.

"Damn it," he muttered. "This just keeps getting worse."

Catalina stood as well, her wings folding behind her. "It's only going to get worse unless we figure out who's behind this, and to do that, we're going to have to work together."

Riker turned to face her, his dark eyes locking with hers once again. "I don't like the idea of working with you, Duvall. But I don't have a choice, do I?"

Catalina smiled, though there was little warmth in it. "No, Detective. You don't."

As they stood there, side by side in the dimly lit alley, Catalina couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning. The city was a tinderbox; all it would take was one spark to set everything ablaze.

And the demons, whoever they were, had already lit the match.