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Chapter 15

Chapter

Fifteen

A ngelo

Gianna stopped me, her face pale. She was visibly agitated. “Angelo, Detective Flanagan’s here to see you. There’s… There’s been another murder.”

I cursed under my breath. Chester Flanagan was definitely a thorn in my side. He was Louis DuPont’s partner and held me responsible for the murders and his partner’s disappearance. He also loved to sniff around my home like a bloodhound. I stared at her. “Who was the victim?”

Tears welled in her eyes. She bowed her head and choked. “My friend Nancee… Nancee Lane.”

I remembered her. She was the one that Gianna often escaped from Crescent Manor to go see. Another young woman dead, another connection to my family. This wasn’t coincidence.

“Angelo, there’s more. Detective DuPont is with him. He’s back, but he’s acting…strange.”

I froze mid-step, my rage turning to ice in my veins. Another murder. DuPont breaking free. The timing wasn’t a coincidence, it couldn’t be. Balthazar. I turned back to Gianna, moving with the kind of deliberate slowness that made lesser vampires retreat. “What do you mean, strange?”

She swallowed hard. “His eyes…they’re…wrong. And he keeps scratching his arms like something’s crawling under his skin?—”

“Get everyone out of the main hall. Now.” Trystan would have to wait. If what I suspected was happening to DuPont was true, it needed to be handled before the detective became something far worse than just a compromised human. My fangs ached at the thought of what could be nesting inside him, using him like a puppet.

The blood drained from her face. “But Enzo and Dimitri?—”

I clasped her arms. “I won’t let anything happen to either one of them, but I can’t be worrying about you and Elena. Take her and go to my library and lock the door. Don’t let anyone in until you hear my voice. Do you understand?”

“I… I understand. I’ll take Elena to the library, Angelo.”

I waited until I heard Gianna’s footsteps fade down the hall, heading toward Elena. Only then did I let my mask slip, letting the beast inside me surface. My power filled the corridor like a living thing, making the crystal chandelier above tremble. Two of my family were in that room with what used to be Detective DuPont. And if anything had happened to them while I’d been upstairs plotting revenge against Trystan...

I moved toward the living room, each step silent. No more displays of temper, no more broken doors or shattering glass. This kind of hunting required stealth. Control. Everything I’d been struggling to master since I stopped being Death’s perfect killer.

But Enzo and Dimitri weren’t the only ones in danger. Balthazar was trying to seduce my Serenity. So my next move had to be flawless.

I entered the living room where Detective Flanagan, a tall man with glasses, paced impatiently.

Detective DuPont stood perfectly still, and I knew my sister had been right. His eyes were almost black, and beneath his pale, stretched skin, something shifted—like fingers pressing up from inside, testing for weakness. Whatever dwelled within him was growing too large to contain, something dark, something like a demon."

"Cold rage warred with disbelief as ancient memories clawed their way back to the surface. I'd sealed them myself—the twisted bodies, the screams, the way human skin would bubble and stretch as things from the void took possession. I'd buried it all so deep even Death couldn't have extracted them, wrapped each memory in spells of forgetting until they were nothing but shadow and dust. Yet here DuPont stood, his flesh barely containing whatever ancient evil had not only found those buried horrors but had shattered my most powerful spells to possess him. The power it must have taken... I'd seen possession before, but nothing like this. Nothing strong enough to break seals that had held for decades.

The power it must have taken... I'd seen possession before, but nothing like this. Nothing strong enough to break seals that had held for decades. Serenity would ask me to save him—she always believed everyone could be saved. But I knew better. When something this ancient took hold, there was no person left to save. DuPont was already gone.

I wondered if the same thing happened to his son, Steve. Or was he dead? Maybe Serenity’s best friend, Joy, had fallen under the demon’s possession too.

I kept my movements casual as I crossed the room, deliberately placing myself between the detectives and Enzo and Dimitri. The thing wearing DuPont’s skin tracked my every step, its black eyes gleaming with an intelligence that held no humanity. The scent coming off him was pure decay masked by expensive cologne.

Behind me, I heard Enzo’s sharp intake of breath. Dimitri leaned forward in his armchair. “Detective DuPont,” he drawled. “You’re looking a bit…under the weather. Must be something going around.” His light tone belied the tension in his posture. He’d caught the rotting scent radiating off DuPont, too.

“Gentlemen.” I gave them my best smile, easy and businesslike, one I’d perfected over the centuries of hiding what I really was. “I’m afraid this isn’t a good time. I have a rather urgent meeting to attend to.” Flanagan might or might not buy the excuse, but as our gazes locked, I let the creature inside DuPont see what lurked behind my carefully constructed mask. Let it glimpse the monster that had made Death himself wary. The thing’s borrowed pupils dilated, and for just a moment, DuPont’s skin rippled like something was trying to crawl out of it.

“Your meeting is going to have to wait, I’m afraid,” Flanagan said. “I assume your sister told you that one of her friends, Nancee Lane, was found at St. Charles’ Wharf at approximately three A.M.” He pulled out his notepad. “Her body was completely drained, just like Emily Bastion’s. Just like all the others.”

DuPont’s mouth turned up in a cold smile and hunger flickered in his eyes. I could smell the evil. Whatever was rotting in DuPont had been part of that girl’s death and set me up to be the villain.

I kept my gaze on DuPont. “What’s your point, Flanagan?”

DuPont slipped in front of Flanagan. “Interesting timing, wouldn’t you say, Santi? Considering our sources place you and your two associates here at a meeting with Keir Rankin and Trystan Hunter at that very dock last night. What time was that meeting, Mr. Santi?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Nine o’clock. Why?”

Flanagan pulled out his phone, scrolled through it. “According to the harbormaster’s log, Rankin’s yacht didn’t dock until eight p.m. The meeting lasted until eleven. That leaves plenty of time for...” He glanced up, his eyes flinty. “Other activities.”

“We found this near the girl’s body.” DuPont reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold ring with a ruby. I recognized it immediately. It had been my father’s. “This yours, Mr. Santi?”

I didn’t answer. DuPont was trying to set me up. How did the foul thing get into him? I gathered my powers of compulsion, let them slide through my mind like ice water, and pushed them toward him. It should have felt like silk against his consciousness. Instead, it hit something rough and ancient, something that shouldn’t be there. And in that brief contact, I got a name—Petar Dragan.

Rage exploded behind my eyes. Of course the treacherous bastard would have a hand in this—first Serenity's kidnapping, now this thing wearing DuPont's skin. My fangs ached to descend, my power begging to rip through the room until I had answers. But with Flanagan watching, I could only stand there, centuries of practiced control keeping my mask in place while my mind raced. How deep did Petar's betrayal run? The DuPonts were old blood in New Orleans, their family tree spreading through the police force like roots. If Petar had given this demon access to one DuPont, he could have given it access to them all. Every officer with DuPont blood could be a potential vessel, waiting to be filled.

Flanagan stepped in front of me, square and solid. “Mind telling me how Ms. Lane fits into this? And you didn’t answer my partner’s question, Mr. Santi: is that your ring?”

I could feel the noose tightening around my neck, but I remained cool. Not-DuPont had orchestrated this perfectly— the dead girl, the ring, even using these particular detectives. It knew Flanagan already suspected me from the previous murders. More importantly, it knew exactly what I was. I couldn’t act against DuPont without revealing myself to his partner.

“It looks like my ring, but mine is locked up in my safe.” Each word came out measured, controlled. Behind Flanagan, I saw DuPont’s black eyes flash—not out of hunger for blood, but seeing the game we were now playing. The thing smiled, and something twisted beneath its skin. “Would you mind producing it?”

“As I told you, I have a meeting.” Let the creature think it had me cornered and its little scheme was working. “If you want to see what’s in my safe, you’ll have to produce a warrant.”

“All right, if you want to do it the hard way,” DuPont grinned, his flesh stretching unnaturally over whatever lurked inside him. “We’ll get a warrant.”

“Very good. Until then, I’ll have to ask you to leave my home.” I wasn’t looking at Flanagan. My gaze was still focused on DuPont, and I let my power surge forward like an arctic wind, invisible to human eyes but unmistakable to the thing wearing the detective’s skin.

DuPont’s eyes turned pure black and he hissed, too inhuman to pass as normal, but Flanagan was already turning toward the door. In that split second when his partner’s back was turned, DuPont’s face contorted, flesh rippling as something pressed against it from within. Our powers clashed like steel on steel, and the air between us crackled.

Flanagan stopped as if he had felt something and turned. Instantly, the creature in DuPont contained itself and gave Flanagan an innocent smile that turned my stomach upside down.

Flanagan cleared his throat. “We’ll be in touch, Santi.” He clearly wasn’t buying my story, and he looked at his partner uneasily, as if he realized something was different with him.

He’d better be careful or he’d end up like those girls—drained and dead.

I escorted Flanagan and the thing to the door. After I shut it, I turned to face Dimitri and Enzo. “Trystan is behind this. We’re going to end it. No more games. No more politics. It ends now.”

I glanced at to Enzo, my voice carrying a lethal edge. “Get Elena and Gianna.” He nodded and disappeared down the hall. I looked to Dimitri, who was already on his feet. “Tell me what you sensed.”

“Besides the fact that thing was wearing DuPont like a cheap polyester suit?” Dimitri’s attempt at humor couldn’t mask his tension. “It reeked of old magic. So old that it shouldn’t exist anymore. And...” He hesitated, which was unlike him. “It knew things. About us. About you. I could feel it reading everything in the room.”

I pressed my palm against the door where I could still feel traces of the creature’s power lingering like oil shimmering on water. “Trystan must have been planning this for longer than we thought. He’s not just working with Petar—he’s found something ancient that can break my compulsions and steal memories.” My fangs descended fully now that no humans were present. “Call Keir. I want to know if he knows about a demon playing dirty in the French Quarter and how Serenity fits into the game. And get me whatever you can about Trystan’s movements in the last month.”

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