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“Trouble?” he asked.
“Maybe,” Catalina muttered. “That was Maeve. She wants to meet.”
“Your aunt? What’s that look on your face? Has she done something that makes you not trust her?”
She changed her expression to a neutral mask. “No. Just family stuff.”
Glitch didn’t look convinced as he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “You want backup?”
“No,” Catalina said after a moment. “I’ll go alone. But keep digging. If Maeve is involved in this, I need to know everything.”
Glitch nodded; his expression grim. “Be careful, Catalina. If your gut’s telling you something’s off, you’re probably right.”
The meeting place Maeve had chosen was in one of the older parts of the city, far from the usual hustle and bustle of the French Quarter. Catalina arrived at the location Maeve had sent—the Warehouse District. The building was an old warehouse near the river, its windows boarded up, and the paint on the walls peeling from years of neglect. The perfect place for a clandestine meeting.
As she stepped inside, Catalina called out, “Maeve? Maeve?”
Nothing but silence greeted her, and Maeve was nowhere to be found.
Catalina’s senses went on high alert. She scanned the room, every inch of it, for any sign of her aunt. The air felt thick with magic, but not the comforting kind she was used to. This was dark, twisted, and wrong. Her gut clenched, and she realized with growing certainty that something was very, very wrong.
Catalina's heart raced as the doors of the warehouse slammed shut behind her, echoing through the dimly lit space. The air was thick with anticipation, magic buzzing just below the surface. She scanned the room, her eyes narrowing at the shadows that danced between the broken beams of light filtering through the cracked windows. The oppressive, malevolent energy in the room screamed danger. She wasn’t alone, and it was clear now that Maeve had led her straight into a trap.
"Traitor," a voice hissed from the shadows.
Catalina whipped around just in time to see a group of fae purists step into the dim light. Their cold, calculating eyes burned with disdain. There were five of them—tall, imposing figures, their faces contorted with the kind of hatred that only comes from centuries of deep-seated prejudice.
"You and your sisters have tainted our kind," one of the purists snarled, his silver hair catching the faint light as he stepped forward. "Your mother betrayed us by choosing a mortal. You and your sisters should never have been born."
Catalina’s pulse quickened, her hands curling into fists at her sides, sparks of violet magic already crackling at her fingertips. "You think you can erase what my mother did? Her legacy is stronger than you’ll ever be."
The purist sneered, raising his hand. Dark magic rippled from his palm, coiling like a serpent before shooting toward her with blinding speed.
Catalina reacted on instinct. Her wings unfurled in a burst of brilliant light, and she leaped into the air, narrowly dodging the blast. It struck the ground where she had been standing moments before, leaving a charred, smoldering crater.
"Is that all you've got?" she taunted, her heart pounding with adrenaline.
The purists wasted no time. The warehouse erupted into chaos as they unleashed their magic—dark, twisted energy that crackled and hissed through the air like venomous snakes. Catalina’s wings flared, and she dodged left and right, weaving through the onslaught of magical attacks. She summoned her own power, lightning sparking from her hands as she retaliated, sending bolts of energy streaking toward her attackers.
The first bolt struck one of the purists in the chest, sending him flying backward into a pile of debris. He crashed against the wall with a sickening thud, crumpling to the ground in a heap. But there were still four more.
"You'll pay for your mother's sins!" another purist shouted; his voice filled with venom as he summoned a swirling vortex of energy in his hands.
He hurled it toward her, but Catalina was ready. She spun in mid-air, her wings giving her the speed and agility she needed to evade the attack. The vortex missed her by inches, crashing into the wall behind her and sending a cloud of dust and debris into the air.
Before she could catch her breath, another purist was on her. This one was faster, more precise, his dark magic swirling around him like a deadly storm. He raised his hand, and tendrils of shadow shot out from his fingertips, snaking through the air toward Catalina.
Her heart skipped a beat as the shadows wrapped around her ankles, pulling her down toward the ground. She slammed into the floor with a grunt, the impact knocking the wind from her lungs. The purist tightened the grip of his magic, the shadows coiling around her like a noose, squeezing the life from her.
Panic flared in Catalina’s chest, but she forced it down, her mind racing for a solution. With a sharp inhale, she summoned all her strength and let out a furious scream, her wings flaring with a blinding surge of energy. The raw power of her magic exploded outward, shattering the tendrils of shadow and sending the purist stumbling backward.
Catalina wasted no time. She launched herself to her feet, her hands crackling with lightning as she sent a bolt directly into the purist’s chest. He screamed as the electricity surged through him, his body convulsing before he collapsed, unconscious.
But the remaining three purists were already closing in, their dark magic swirling around them, hungry and dangerous. One of them—a tall woman with eyes as cold as ice—raised her hand, summoning a wall of fire that roared to life in an instant, cutting off Catalina’s escape.
"Do you think you can fight us all?" the woman taunted, her voice low and dangerous.
Catalina’s pulse raced as the wall of fire closed in around her, the heat licking at her skin. She could feel the power radiating from the purists, dark and suffocating, but she wasn’t about to back down. Not now.
