Chapter 1

Chapter

One

SAVANNAH

T he dim glow of Savannah's laptop screen was the only light in the attic office as she sat hunched over her desk, her stylus tapping absently against the tablet. The ceiling beams of the old mansion creaked occasionally, as if even the house was restless. The air was thick with the smell of jasmine drifting up from the garden below, but the peaceful scent did little to calm her growing frustration.

She stared at the screen before her, where the half-finished logo design for a new natural peanut butter company blinked back at her. The assignment wasn’t particularly difficult—organic, wholesome, simple. But every time she tried to sketch out the sleek, modern logo the client had requested, something else appeared on the screen.

Not a logo.

A face.

A man’s face.

He was gorgeous—impossibly so. His strong jawline, the curve of his full lips, the sharp intensity of his dark, unreadable eyes. Savannah’s hand had been tracing his features almost unconsciously for days now, and the fact that she didn’t even know this man, had never seen him in real life, only made it worse. Every time she closed her eyes, he was there, haunting her dreams. Standing just out of reach, watching her with that piercing gaze that sent shivers down her spine.

She leaned back in her chair, blowing a frustrated breath up toward the loose pieces of her blue fringed bangs that needed a trim. Her fingers itched to draw him again, but she forced herself to refocus on the task at hand. The peanut butter company had given her a deadline. Two days. She had to stop letting her imagination run away with her.

But no matter how hard she tried, every attempt at clean, geometric lines turned into soft curves, high cheekbones, and dark, sensual eyes. Savannah clenched her fist around the stylus, staring at the image that had once again replaced her work. The man’s face stared back at her as if mocking her inability to concentrate.

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered, setting the stylus down with a frustrated thud.

Her fingers brushed the screen, and with one quick swipe, the image of the mysterious man disappeared into the digital void. But he wouldn’t stay gone for long. She knew that. He never did.

Savannah shoved away from her desk, standing up with a restless energy that buzzed under her skin. Sitting here wasn’t helping. Staring at the screen wasn’t helping. She needed a break—no, she needed a release. And there was only one thing that ever managed to burn off this kind of energy.

Demon hunting.

Her sisters, Geneva, Phoenix, and Catalina, would have told her to sleep it off, work out in their home gym, or meditate. Her aunt Maeve would have given her some ancient fae wisdom about balance and peace. But Savannah didn’t want balance or peace. She wanted the adrenaline of the hunt, the thrill of chasing down the darkness that slithered through the streets of New Orleans.

She didn’t need to tell them she was going out. Not tonight. It wasn’t like she couldn’t handle herself. She’d been doing this long enough, and sometimes, hunting was the only thing that cleared her mind.

Decision made, Savannah grabbed the black leather jacket slung over the back of her chair and slipped it on, the worn material a comforting weight on her shoulders. She headed down the narrow staircase, making her way through the silent house. The mansion was quiet, as it always was at night. Geneva was either at work or in her room. Phoenix would be with Griff and Catalina with Zane. Her Aunt Maeve would be doing whatever it was she did nowadays. Her sisters might have forgiven her for her betrayal, but Savannah hadn’t. Her sisters were far more philosophical, more full of grace, but every time she looked at their aunt, all she could see was what her treachery had cost them. The familiar creak of the floorboards echoed as she moved, the old house responding to her every step.

Once she reached the rooftop access, she climbed the narrow iron staircase leading to the rooftop garden, the night breeze greeting her as she pushed open the door. The soft glow of the city lights bathed the space in a warm, muted light. From here, the Garden District stretched out below her, with its grand houses and ancient oaks, but beyond that lay the city proper, a shimmering sea of neon and shadows.

Savannah paused only for a moment, listening to the steady hum of the city below. New Orleans pulsed with life, even this late. The streets were never truly empty. There was always someone or something lurking in the shadows. She took a deep breath, feeling the tension in her muscles ease slightly. Up here, the air was clearer, the noise of the world below softer, distant. But it wasn’t enough to calm the restless energy inside her. She needed to move.

With a single thought, she summoned her fae magic, feeling the familiar rush of power surge through her veins. Her wings—gossamer-thin, glowing faintly with the energy of the fae realm—unfurled from her back, shimmering in the moonlight. The fae blood that coursed through her veins responded eagerly to the call of the night, her power intertwining with the mist rising from the ground, amplifying the strength in her limbs.

With a powerful beat of her wings, Savannah launched herself into the air, the city unfolding beneath her as she soared. The cool night air whipped through her short spiky hair as she flew over the rooftops, her keen eyes scanning the streets below for any sign of movement, of darkness.

The city always felt different from above, more alive, yet eerily quiet at the same time. Savannah let her senses stretch out, feeling for the telltale flicker of demonic energy. It wouldn’t take long to find something. New Orleans had always been a magnet for the supernatural, and tonight felt like it had something waiting in the shadows, lurking just out of sight.

Her heart raced as the adrenaline began to take hold. This was what she needed. Not dreams of a man she couldn’t place, not the confines of her graphic design work, but this—the thrill of the hunt.

The skyline of the French Quarter came into view, its twisting streets and old-world charm hiding all manner of secrets. Savannah’s wings beat steadily as she flew lower, her eyes narrowing as she felt a faint ripple of dark energy below her. She hovered in place for a moment, her pulse quickening as she locked onto the source.

Perfect.

With a slow exhale, Savannah descended, the thrill of the impending fight pulsing through her veins.

The bass from the street below throbbed through Savannah's body, a relentless heartbeat that matched the frenetic energy of the packed dance floor. Strobe lights cut through the haze of sweat and smoke, painting the writhing bodies in flashes of electric blue, fluorescent pink, and acid green. To the untrained eye, it was just another night at Pulse, one of New Orleans' hottest underground clubs. But Savannah wasn't here for the music or the overpriced drinks.

She was hunting.

Leaning against the bar, Savannah took a sip of her virgin mojito, her eyes scanning the crowd. Her pale blue hair, and short, shattered cut helped her blend in with the club kids and fashion victims. Nobody looked twice at the shimmer that occasionally rippled beneath her cropped leather jacket. In a place like this, iridescent fairy wings were hardly the strangest thing on display.

"Hey there, beautiful," a voice slurred near her ear. "Can I buy you a drink?"

Savannah turned, coming face to face with a man who reeked of expensive cologne and too much vodka. She offered him a tight smile. "I'm good, thanks."

The man frowned, swaying slightly. "Aw, come on. Don't be like that."

As he reached for her arm, Savannah caught a whiff of something else beneath the alcohol and cologne—a scent like sulfur and rotting meat. Her eyes narrowed.

"I said," she repeated, her voice dropping to a dangerous purr, "I'm good."

The glamour surrounding the man flickered for a moment, revealing a flash of mottled gray skin and yellowed fangs. The demon's eyes widened in recognition and fear.

"Shit," it hissed. "You’re one of them…"

Before Savannah could react, the demon shoved her hard, sending her stumbling back against the bar. By the time she regained her balance, he had disappeared into the crowd.

"Dammit," Savannah muttered. She downed the rest of her drink and took off after her prey, weaving through the mass of dancers with preternatural grace.

She caught sight of the demon near the exit, its human disguise back in place. As it reached for the door, Savannah's hand shot out, grabbing its wrist. The demon spun, snarling, its face contorting into something inhuman.

"Now, now," Savannah said, her free hand slipping inside her jacket to grip one of her pistols. "Is that any way to treat a lady?"

The demon's eyes darted around wildly, looking for an escape route. Finding none, it lunged at Savannah with impossible speed, claws extended. But Savannah was faster. She sidestepped the attack, using the demon's momentum to slam it face-first into the wall.

"You're making a scene," she hissed in its ear. "Outside. Now."

She marched the creature through the door and into the alley behind the club, keeping it pinned with one hand while the other held her pistol at the ready. The night air outside Pulse hit Savannah like a cold slap. The thick, humid atmosphere clung to her skin, a stark contrast to the electric heat inside the club.

As soon as they were out of sight, she spun the demon around, pressing the barrel of her gun under its chin. It spun away with inhuman speed, breaking her hold and disappearing around a corner that led, she knew, to a maze of alleys. She rounded the corner. The alley before her was narrow, choked with shadows and the stench of rotting garbage. A lone flickering streetlight cast a dull glow that did little to penetrate the darkness.

Savannah took a deep breath, letting her fae power hum beneath the surface. The water in the air, in the puddles on the ground, and even in her own body responded to her call, ready to be wielded. She moved cautiously now, each step deliberate, her eyes scanning every corner, every shadow for the demon that lurked ahead.

A faint whisper of movement. She froze, listening.

A sudden crash—a metal trash can kicked aside—rang through the alley. Savannah’s dagger was in her hand in an instant, its silver blade catching the dim light. A figure appeared at the end of the alley, cloaked in darkness, eyes glowing faintly with an otherworldly light. The demon stepped forward, its smirk stretching wide across its sharp, angular face.

“You won’t leave here alive, little faery,” it hissed, its voice grating like broken glass.

Savannah clenched her jaw, stepping forward, the dagger at the ready. “Yeah? Don’t know how to tell you, but I’ve heard that one before.”

The demon moved first, charging at her with that same burst of speed he’d shown outside Pulse. This time, she wasn’t caught unaware, but Savannah barely had time to brace herself before it was on her, claws slashing through the air. She ducked under its swipe, spinning out of its reach as the demon's claws sliced through the air where her head had been.

Her dagger flashed in retaliation; the silver blade aimed straight for the demon’s ribs. But it was fast—too fast. It twisted, narrowly avoiding the blow, and lunged again. This time, its claws caught her across the shoulder, tearing through her leather jacket and drawing blood.

Savannah hissed in pain but didn’t slow. She pivoted, using the momentum to whirl around and slice at the demon’s side. This time, her blade found its mark. The demon shrieked, its high-pitched wail echoing off the alley walls as black blood poured from the wound.

“You’ll pay for that!” it snarled; voice thick with venom.

Before she could respond, the demon raised its hand, and dark energy exploded from its palm. The force slammed into Savannah’s chest like a freight train, sending her flying backward. She hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from her lungs as she skidded across the wet pavement.

Gasping, she rolled to her feet, her dagger still clutched tightly in her hand. Her shoulder throbbed where the demon’s claws had raked her, but she forced herself to ignore the pain. She’d been through worse. Far worse.

The demon was advancing again, its form shifting, growing larger and more grotesque with each step. Its humanoid appearance melted away, revealing the true monster beneath. Its skin turned a sickly shade of gray, muscles bulging unnaturally, its eyes glowing brighter with a malevolent light. Massive horns curled from its head, and its claws elongated into deadly weapons.

“You can’t hide behind that fae power forever,” it sneered, its voice now a deep, guttural growl. “Soon, you’ll be just like the rest of them—dead and forgotten.”

Savannah’s eyes narrowed. "I'm not hiding."

She thrust her hand forward, calling to the water in the air around them. In an instant, the moisture condensed, swirling into sharp, icy blades that hung suspended between them. With a flick of her wrist, she sent the shards flying toward the demon.

The creature roared as the icy daggers embedded themselves in its flesh, black blood spilling from the fresh wounds. But it wasn’t enough. The demon charged again, ignoring the pain, its claws slashing toward her face.

Savannah ducked just in time, the demon’s claws barely missing her cheek. She retaliated with a vicious slash of her dagger, driving it deep into the demon’s side. It howled, staggering back as she twisted the blade and yanked it free. More black blood spilled to the ground, hissing as it hit the pavement.

The demon was weakening, but Savannah knew better than to let her guard down. It wasn’t done yet. Its glowing eyes fixed on her, burning with hatred, and it lunged again, its claws slashing wildly. This time, Savannah was ready.

She sidestepped the attack and thrust her hand out, calling to the water once more. A wave of liquid surged from the puddles on the ground, crashing into the demon with the force of a tidal wave. The creature stumbled, momentarily blinded by the torrent of water, and Savannah spun it into the wall.

"Talk," Savannah demanded. "What's a pit dweller like you doing topside?"

The demon sneered, "You think I'd tell you anything, faery? I know what you and your sisters do to my kind."

Savannah removed her pistol from its shoulder holster. She cocked it, the click echoing in the narrow alley. "Last chance. Talk, or I send you back to Hell the hard way."

For a moment, she thought the demon might cooperate. Then its mouth split into a wide, fanged grin. "He's coming," it said, its voice a guttural rasp. "The master. He'll turn this city into a new Hell, and there's nothing you can do to stop it."

When they started making threats, it meant the demon in question was not going to go down easy or clean. No matter. The demon's words cut off in a gurgle as Savannah pulled the trigger. The silver-wrapped iron bullet tore through its throat, and the creature dissolved into a pile of foul-smelling ash.

Savannah stepped back, her mind racing. ‘The master… a new Hell?’ What the hell did that mean?

Her gaze drifted to the neon flyer stuck to the wall, its bright colors garishly out of place in the dark alley.

O bsidian Lounge: Grand Opening Coming Soon!

Savannah stared at it for a long moment, the demon’s words echoing in her mind.

Shaking her head, she removed the flyer from the wall, folded it, and tucked it into her pocket. She didn’t have the energy to make sense of the demon’s cryptic message right now. All she wanted was to go home, clean the blood off her shoulder, and collapse into bed. But as she turned away from the alley, she couldn’t shake the sense that something bigger—something darker—was on the horizon.

T he mansion was still quiet when Savannah arrived, her boots barely making a sound as she crossed the threshold. She took a deep breath, the familiar scent of jasmine, crepe myrtle, and old wood filling her lungs as she made her way up the grand staircase. The weight of the night pressed down on her, exhaustion tugging at every muscle.

Once in her room, she tossed her gun onto the nightstand and peeled off her jacket, wincing at the sting in her shoulder. The wound from the demon’s claws wasn’t deep, but it still throbbed. She shrugged out of her clothes, wadding them up and tossing them into the laundry bin before padding to her ensuite bath.

Under the warm spray of the shower, she let the tension melt from her body, the water cleansing both her skin and her mind. But even as she stood beneath the cascading water, the demon’s final words echoed in her head. The master is coming. A new Hell is rising.

Savannah scrubbed a hand down her face, frustrated by the cryptic warning. She had fought plenty of demons in her time, but none had spoken of a master. None had left her feeling this unsettled.

Once clean, she wrapped herself in a towel and headed back to her bedroom. She blow-dried her hair and headed to her bed. She lay down, sinking into the soft mattress as her exhaustion finally caught up with her.

But sleep didn’t come easily. She rolled onto her side, pulling the blankets up around her, trying to quiet her mind. She reached out to her nightstand, her hand brushing the familiar grip of her gun, its comforting feel familiar against her palm. It was a reminder of her dual life—graphic designer by day, demon hunter by night.

Her eyes drifted closed, but even in the darkness of her room, the unease lingered. She was supposed to feel safe here, in her family’s mansion, surrounded by generations of the combined fae magic of her sisters and her aunt. But deep down, she knew the hunt was just beginning.

Somewhere in the shadows, something—or someone—was watching. Dark eyes, unseen but felt, lingered on her every move, waiting for the moment to strike.