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“I’m not sure this matter doesn’t relate directly to what you’re talking about,” Catalina replied. “But the city and those in it—human or otherwise—are my responsibility, just as much as the fae are.”
For a long moment, the council remained silent, weighing her words. Then, to her surprise, it was Maeve who stood and spoke.
“Be swift, Catalina. Do not lose sight of the larger threat.”
Her aunt rose and turned away, but her voice held a weight that hadn’t been there before—a gentle command, almost, laced with an undertone Catalina couldn’t quite place.
With a nod, Catalina turned to leave, but as she stepped through the council’s grand chamber, something caught her eye. In the far corner, Maeve was already deep in conversation with a cloaked figure. The figure was hunched, its face obscured by the heavy folds of a dark hood. Maeve’s body language was tense, and her voice was low and urgent. The sight sent a flicker of suspicion through Catalina’s mind.
What could Maeve possibly be discussing with someone like that? The cloaked figure didn’t belong in the Fae Quarter, not with the council present. It didn’t register as fae, shifter, or vampire. Catalina strained her ears, but the words were too muffled, drowned out by the hum of ancient magic that filled the air.
The figure glanced in her direction, and the moment their eyes met, it inclined its head toward Catalina and abruptly broke off its conversation with Maeve. The cloaked figure disappeared into the shadows, moving quickly through the chamber. Maeve, too, seemed startled, her face hardening before she hurried off in the opposite direction.
Catalina stood frozen for a moment, her mind racing. Something wasn’t right. Her aunt, the council, the sudden rise in demon activity—it was all connected. She could feel it. And yet, she didn’t have time to pursue it. Not now.
Shaking off the urge to chase after the mysterious figure, Catalina turned on her heel and strode out of the chamber, her wings fluttering faintly as she stepped through the shimmering veil that separated the Fae Quarter from the human world.
“I’ll deal with this later,” she muttered to herself, making a mental note to confront Maeve the next chance she got.
The scent of ozone and charred earth hit Catalina the moment she stepped into the alleyway. Magic had been used here—dark, twisted magic that left a heavy, oppressive weight in the air. She pushed her way through the crowd of officers and crime scene investigators, her eyes scanning the scene with practiced ease.
There was an outline of a body. She had spoken with her sister, Geneva, about the high-profile politician who’d met his end there crumpled in a grotesque heap. His limbs had been twisted unnaturally; his face frozen in an expression of sheer terror. The magic had been violent, invasive—whoever had done this had left no mercy in their wake.
She crouched down near the outline, her hands hovering over the place as she extended her senses. The residual energy was chaotic, sparking like wild lightning. It was the kind of magic that left a scar not just on the victim but on the very air itself.
“That’s some kind of trick you got there,” a deep, gravelly voice cut through her focus.
Catalina didn’t need to look up to know who it was—Detective Zane Riker. The man was notoriously gruff, distrustful of anything remotely connected to the supernatural. And, of course, he didn’t trust her. He’d told her as much himself.
“Not a trick,” she said coolly, standing and turning to face him. Riker stood a few feet away, his arms crossed, his hard expression set in stone. His salt-and-pepper hair was ruffled, his eyes a piercing blue that seemed to challenge her every move.
“We don’t need your kind here, Duvall,” Riker growled, his tone dripping with skepticism. “I’ve got this handled.”
Catalina raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? Because from what your captain and my sister have told me, it looks like you’re in way over your head.”
Riker’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with anger. “This murder is human business. We don’t need fae messing around in things they don’t understand.”
Catalina fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Human business? Then what the hell is a shifter doing here? Believe me, when I tell you what I suspect you already know, this isn’t just human business. Whoever did this used powerful magic—dark magic. If you want to figure out who’s behind it, you’re going to need my help.”
Riker’s gaze hardened, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence imposing, his broad shoulders and tall frame casting a long shadow over the crime scene.
“Fine,” he said after a long pause. “But let’s get one thing straight, Duvall—I don’t trust you. And I don’t trust your kind. So don’t expect any special treatment.”
Catalina smiled sweetly, folding her arms over her chest. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Detective.”
Their eyes locked, the tension between them thick in the air. It was a challenge, a silent battle of wills, and neither of them was willing to back down. Catalina could feel the heat rising in her chest, not just from the irritation at his attitude but from something deeper—something that tugged at the corners of her awareness.
Riker broke the stare first, turning his attention back to the body. “What can you tell me about this magic? I need something to work with.”
Catalina stepped forward, her wings shimmering faintly as she knelt beside the body once more. “The magic used here is raw, chaotic. Whoever did this didn’t just want to kill—they wanted to send a message. This isn’t just a random murder. It’s a statement.”
“A statement?” Riker echoed, frowning. “What kind of statement?”
“That the barriers between worlds are weakening,” Catalina said, her voice quiet but firm. Maybe sharing a little of what she knew that he probably didn’t, would help begin to foster some kind of working relationship. She was pretty sure they were going to need it. “And that someone intends to exploit that weakness.”
Riker was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the spot where the twisted body had laid. Then he stood, his hand running through his hair in frustration.
“Damn it,” he muttered. “This just keeps getting worse.”
