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"You underestimate me," Catalina growled, her voice steady despite the panic tightening in her chest. "And that’s your biggest mistake."
With a flick of her wrist, she summoned a gust of wind that ripped through the flames, parting the fire just long enough for her to leap through. She landed in a crouch, her wings glowing with violet light as she unleashed a torrent of lightning at the nearest purist.
The bolt struck true, sending him crashing to the ground in a heap, smoke rising from his singed clothing. Two left.
The woman sneered, raising both hands as she summoned twin spears of fire. They spun in her palms for a brief moment before she hurled them at Catalina with deadly precision.
Catalina’s wings snapped open, and she shot into the air, the spears whizzing past her as she dodged the attack. She spun in mid-air, her magic thrumming through her veins as she sent another blast of lightning streaking toward the woman.
The purist screamed as the lightning hit her, her body convulsing as the energy coursed through her. But before Catalina could strike again, the last purist—a hulking man with black tattoos snaking up his arms—charged at her, his fists crackling with dark energy.
Catalina barely had time to react. He was fast—too fast. He swung his fist, and she barely managed to raise her arms in time to block the blow. The impact sent her skidding across the floor, her wings flaring as she tried to regain her balance.
The purist didn’t let up. He was on her in an instant, his fists swinging in a flurry of brutal attacks. Catalina dodged and weaved, her heart pounding as she struggled to keep up with his speed and strength.
But then she saw it—a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye. Maeve. Her aunt was slipping away through a side door, a small, glowing artifact clutched in her hands.
No. No, it can’t be.
The realization hit Catalina like a punch to the gut. Maeve had set her up. This whole ambush had been nothing more than a distraction, a way to keep Catalina busy while Maeve made off with some magical artifact.
Rage flared in Catalina’s chest, hot and furious. She was done playing defense. With a guttural scream, she let loose a blast of pure, unfiltered magic, her power surging through the room like a storm.
The hulking purist was caught off guard, his eyes widening in shock as the wave of magic hit him full force. He was thrown backward, crashing into the far wall with enough force to splinter the wood. He didn’t get up.
Catalina didn’t wait to see if he was still conscious. She bolted toward the door where Maeve had disappeared, her wings propelling her forward with blinding speed.
But when she reached the hallway, Maeve was already gone.
The warehouse was eerily silent, the only sound the ragged beating of Catalina’s heart. She stood there for a moment, her chest heaving, her mind racing. Maeve had betrayed her, and whatever artifact she had stolen, it was powerful—dangerous.
Catalina clenched her fists, her magic still crackling in the air around her.
This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. Maeve was gone, and Catalina could sense the powerful magical artifact her aunthad taken. It pulsed faintly in the distance, but it was already slipping out of her reach.
With one last glance at the fallen purists behind her, Catalina turned and stormed out of the warehouse. She didn’t know what Maeve was up to, but she was going to find out. And when she did, there would be hell to pay.
Chapter
Six
RIKER
Riker leaned back in his chair at the precinct, staring down at the file of the murdered politician. The late afternoon sunlight slanted through the blinds, casting long shadows across his desk. There was something gnawing at him, something he hadn’t seen at first. This case wasn’t just about dark magic or a supernatural power grab—it was bigger, more twisted.
The victim, Simon Daltry, hadn’t just been a well-known public figure. He was connected to groups with a history of racial and religious rhetoric that leaned heavily toward being anti-magic if one was inclined to know of or believe in such things. And the deeper Riker dug into the politician’s background, the more disturbing things became. Beneath the layers of campaign speeches and polished public appearances, Daltry had been linked to a powerful extremist group. They were vocal, dangerous, and had one goal: to rid New Orleans of anything or anyone they deemed to be ”abominations.”
Riker flipped through the files. Daltry’s ties to these groups were buried deep, hidden behind layers of charity work and political maneuvering. But Riker had seen this kind of thing before. People like Daltry, never acted alone. Extremist groupsdidn’t operate in a vacuum, and if he wasn’t mistaken, there was a bigger, more organized threat lurking just beyond the shadows.
He leaned forward, tapping his pen against his desk. He needed to get out there—find the people who ran these groups. And the only way to do that was to go to the place no human had ever dared set foot in—the Undercity.
The Undercity was a hidden world beneath New Orleans, a labyrinth of tunnels, sewers, and forgotten places where magical beings who didn’t fit in aboveground, scraped out a living. The fae, half-bloods, and creatures who didn’t conform to the polished façade of the supernatural world were often forced into the shadows. They lived in squalor, cut off from the wealth and privilege enjoyed by those who fit into human society’s neat little boxes.
Riker grabbed his jacket and left the precinct, inhaling the faint traces of Catalina’s scent that her magic left behind, his mind set on finding answers.
The entrance to the Undercity was hidden in plain sight, concealed by a network of alleys and dilapidated buildings in the oldest part of New Orleans. Riker had only been down there once before, years ago, during a case that had left him with more questions than answers. He didn’t relish the thought of returning, but he knew it was the only way to get the information he needed.
The descent into the Undercity was like stepping into another world. The sounds of the bustling city above faded into a distant hum, replaced by the steady drip of water and the quiet rustle of creatures moving in the dark. The tunnels werenarrow and damp, the air heavy with the smell of mildew and decay. Flickering lights, powered by a combination of magic and scavenged technology, cast eerie shadows on the walls.
