Chapter 2

Louisiana Supreme Court Associate Justice Leonie Moreau turned on the lights in her chambers. The warm glow of the brass chandelier over her desk filled the space. The walnut desk and paneling gleamed, and the light reflected off the windows.

It was early. Her daughter probably wasn't even up yet, as it was still nearly dark outside, but Leonie liked to get a good start on the day. Court wasn't for another two hours, so she'd review the cases on today's docket, go over any outstanding requests, check in with her clerks, and answer any mail or email that awaited her.

There was always plenty of both.

A stack of mail sat on her desk, delivered by one of her clerks after she'd left yesterday. She paused by the door. Would there be another letter?

The two that had already come could be ignored, for the most part. But a third? Three had to be taken seriously. That was the number of bodies it took for a murderer to be classified as a serial killer.

Death threats were nothing new. Judges got them. That was part and parcel of the job. At least if you were doing it right. It wasn't her responsibility to make people happy, just to dispense justice, something she took very seriously.

No matter the outcome of a trial, someone was going to get bunched up over it.

She carried her travel mug of coffee to her desk and sat. Putting things off was pointless, no matter what the thing was. She turned on her computer, then shuffled through the stack of mail, looking for the one particular envelope she hoped she wouldn't find.

It was second to the last item in the pile. Cheap ivory paper, the computer-printed address label smudged from its travel to her office, and yet there was no stamp, no postmark, so it hadn't come via standard routes.

That was worrying, obviously. She'd pondered this since receiving the first letter the same way.

Someone was getting these letters to her without using the United States Postal Service. Which meant … what? They worked in the court system? Had access to someone who worked in the court system?

The mail room was a big place. It could be someone there. But it could also be someone who worked on the janitorial staff. Maybe one of them had been paid to drop the letter off in her office.

It couldn't be one of her clerks. She refused to believe that. They were good, trustworthy people, and all had worked for her long enough that she felt she knew their characters. Each one had been through intensive background checks, as well.

Besides that, none of them had any reason to threaten her or her daughter's life. None she could think of, anyway. And Leonie had done nothing but think since receiving the first letter last week.

She turned the envelope in her hands. She should take these letters to the police, but the letters had said specifically not to or there would be consequences. She wasn't a woman who was easily scared off. She was an Associate Justice of the Louisiana Supreme Court. If she'd been timid in any area of her life, she'd never have made it this far.

But it wasn't herself she was concerned about. It was her daughter, Ephelia. Ephie was a sweet young woman. She did charity work and minded her own business. She'd never done a thing in her life to deserve this kind of vitriol.

Whoever was behind these letters sounded serious. And Leonie had a pretty good idea who that was. Which meant that as much as she'd like to keep ignoring them, she couldn't.

What Leonie needed was a way to protect her daughter first. Then she could go to the police. But Leonie didn't know quite how to protect her child. She couldn't take time off. It just wasn't feasible with the current docket.

She'd thought about sending Ephie to her grandmother's in Metairie for some plausible reason, but that would only put Leonie's mother in danger as well. And if they could get to Ephie in New Orleans, they could get to her in Metairie.

Leonie sipped her coffee, not ready to open the envelope and see what new threat had been leveled against her and her daughter. The hot chicory coffee fortified her. She used the letter opener from the top drawer of her desk to slit the envelope and dump the contents onto her desk.

Just like before, a sheet of plain white paper, triple-folded. The computer-printed words visible through the paper but not readable.

She unfolded the paper.

Time is ticking. Soon it will be too late. Support Abraham Turner's parole at his next hearing or what you value most will be taken from you.

Leonie drew in a ragged breath. If that wasn't a direct threat, she didn't know what else to think. Ephie was clearly in danger. But there was no way Leonie would support the man's parole. He was a criminal and a killer. She'd helped put him away. Whoever was sending these letters obviously thought they could convince her to help, but they were wrong.

Was there a chance it was Turner himself? He was currently serving a lengthy sentence for manslaughter. Appeal after appeal had been filed on his behalf, but those things took time, and if there was any justice, they would all be struck down.

In the meantime, he was up for parole. Ridiculous, in Leonie's mind.

But Turner was a powerful figure steeped in the dark aura of voodoo. At six-four and nearly three hundred pounds, his stature had little to do with why most people feared him. The Haitian immigrant was a self-proclaimed voodoo priest. He'd used that to build his reputation.

That and a crew of degenerate associates who would do whatever he told them to. Regardless of whether or not he was in prison. But prison was definitely where he belonged. If he were freed…

She shook her head, not wanting to think about that.

Despite his incarceration, he still had plenty of friends on the outside, and his name carried weight with a great deal of people. If he wasn't doing this directly, he was certainly behind it.

Leonie felt confident of that.

A soft knock came through the heavy wood office door.

She tucked the envelope and letter under her blotter and glanced at the time. "Come in, Mervin."

Mervin Cross, her senior clerk, entered. "Morning, your honor."

"Morning, Mervin."

He had a white cardboard envelope in his hands. It bore the insignia of an overnight delivery service. He brought it to her and held it out. "This just arrived for you by special messenger."

She took it from him. "Thank you."

"Fleur's about to make the breakfast run. Your usual?"

"Yes, please," Leonie said. She wasn't especially hungry at the moment, but she didn't want the slightest hint that something might be wrong or out of sorts. The egg and cheese croissant sandwich could sit in the refrigerator. The café au lait she would drink.

"Very good. I'll be back when it's here."

"Thanks." As soon as the door was shut, she pulled the strip at the top of the envelope to open it. A single sheet of paper was inside, a photocopy of a registration book. Scrawled in black ink beneath the photocopy were three words.

Hotel Du Palais

She read the names listed on the registration, which was the reason she'd been sent this information. One immediately popped out.

Remy Lafitte was not the name she'd been looking for, not the vampire she'd been dreading to find, but he might be exactly the vampire she needed. She made a quick phone call to confirm he was still in town.

He was.

Now all she had to do was wait for sundown, then try to convince him to help. It wouldn't be easy. They had no love for one another.

But they did share a love for someone else. Ephie. Leonie just hoped Remy still had those feelings for her daughter. Otherwise, she wasn't sure what she'd do.