“Well yeah, I mean, I’m half demon so…” Thorn cringed. “Birds of a feather.”
“Not a word to him. Not a word to anyone,” Viktor lowered his voice. “We have a situation. It may be a small situation or a large situation. Waverly has a friend missing in Miami. She was hanging with some dudes who said they were in some kind of a human blood-drinking brotherhood.”
“My friend’s name is Teagan,” Waverly said.
“On her trip to find Teagan she was contacted by an anonymous donor who sent her a painting,” Viktor continued.
“I love art,” Ilsbeth said, her expression flat.
“Ooh, so do I.” Thorn smiled.
“Viktor donated a painting to our new exhibit,” Waverly told her. “A Monet.”
“Did he now?” Ilsbeth gave a cool smile, staring at Viktor.
Waverly ignored her and continued. “During the donor preview party, there was a shooting.”
“A human shooter. Looking for Waverly,” Viktor told them.
“Humans with their silly guns. If they only knew what true power was,” Ilsbeth said.
“Long story short. He shot her. I healed her. When we went back to the museum to collect the painting, the detective wanted to see it and then went full-on demon, although I suspect she was possessed. Seemed nice enough before we went to the office.” Viktor retrieved his phone and tapped at the screen, holding up an image for them to see. “We took the painting and found something in it. A fleam. But just the tip.”
“That’s what she said.” Thorn’s chuckle was met with hard stares. “What? Just offering a bit of levity.”
“Bloodletting.” Ilsbeth smiled. “Those were the days.”
Waverly clenched her jaw, irritated. What the hell is wrong with these people? As soon as the thought popped in her head, the answer hit her. Immortals. Paranormals.
“This fleam is unique.” Viktor’s lips tightened in a straight line and briefly glanced at Greyson who nodded. “It has initials on the blade. B.A.O.”
Waverly’s pulse raced as Ilsbeth’s eyes widened. Fear? Anger? Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.
“Baxter.” Ilsbeth spoke softly.
“I saw him die,” Viktor replied.
“But—” she began.
“But nothing,” Viktor insisted. “He’s dead.”
Waverly reached for Viktor and gently rested her hand on his arm. She gave a gentle squeeze.
Thorn and Ilsbeth exchanged a knowing look but remained silent.
“I’ve got a friend who works for a museum in the city. He thinks he’s found the handle,” Waverly said.
“May I see the fleam?” Ilsbeth asked.
“No,” Viktor replied. “It’s in a safe place. I couldn’t risk bringing it here. Too many eyes.”
“I don’t recall any bloodletting fleams that carry magical properties, but as you know, my memory, since Hell…it’s not quite what it used to be. That being said, if I hold it in my hands, I may get more information,” she explained.
“Since you’re here I might as well ask you this.” Viktor scrolled the pictures on his phone and selected an image, holding it high so they could view it. “Someone left this in Dr. LaFleur’s apartment. Do you recognize this work? The same pattern was also found on the shooter. A tattoo. To me, this looks human in nature, but I’d like to know its origin.”
“May I see the picture again?” Ilsbeth asked.
Viktor obliged, holding his phone closer. Waverly’s stomach rolled at the sight of the blood, recalling the intrusion into her home.
“Goat heads are used for rituals in many a religion, but this pattern of the blood. It shows a rudimentary knowledge of black magick. Perhaps in an effort to hex her, which would be the best scenario. But if it’s being used by humans, worn by humans, they may be attempting to conjure a demon. It depends on the spell. And before you look at me, it doesn’t necessarily have to be done by a witch. With the right training and direction, any paranormal or human could carry out a sacrifice. Or a conjuring. What they did appears crude, but it’s an attempt at a spell. Have you noticed anything odd?”
“Who? Me?” Waverly gave a nervous laugh. “You’re kidding me, right? All of this is odd. No offense.”
“None taken.” Ilsbeth turned to Viktor. “She’s a virgin?”
“I’m sorry, what?” Waverly exclaimed. “Um, no. How is that even relevant?”
“I’m not talking about sex, child. I’m talking about the experience…walking among us.”
“I don’t frequent blood clubs. Or hang out with vampires. Or witches. Or wolves. But now…Viktor is a friend.” Lover. She laughed and shook her head. “Look, I don’t know either one of you, don’t really have anything I can offer to thank you for helping but I have this feeling in my gut, something bad is coming.”
“Premonitions?” Thorn asked in delight.
“I have visions,” she confessed.
“Don’t say another word,” Viktor interrupted.
“The way you act with this human, Viktor. So quickly it’s happened. How are you not bonded?” Ilsbeth smirked.
“Bonded?” Waverly asked, her voice raised in surprise. What in the fresh hell is bonding?
“This is none of your business,” Viktor snapped at Ilsbeth.
“Bring me the fleam,” Ilsbeth ordered. “Preferably both pieces. We’ll meet again in New Orleans.”
“I’ll check around. See if I can find more about this brotherhood. I may know a few humans in secret societies. Some of which you may be familiar with. Some not.” Thorn shrugged.
“You expect me to believe that in this day and age a group of humans could still get together to plot all our deaths and we wouldn’t know?” Greyson scoffed.
“Don’t ever underestimate the power of humans,” Viktor told him, his gaze falling on Waverly.
“Humans are probably known for carrying out some of the greatest atrocities. History has shown us they are capable of evil well beyond what one could conceive of.” Waverly straightened her spine, claiming her presence and power in the situation. “Regardless of whether they are human or paranormal, it doesn’t matter. We have to find out who this fleam belongs to.”
“Of course, darling.” Thorn snapped his fingers.
“She’s correct,” Ilsbeth agreed. “It’s important we find out who owned the fleam. If they are playing in the occult, they could be hoping for a much bigger spell. From the looks of it, they’re trying to conjure up something.”
“You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Mom?” Rafe sneered.
“Before you judge, junior, there are times we need demon energy to fight,” she told him.
“You almost killed Dimitri,” Rafe replied.
“We’ve already discussed this. We all have lapses in judgement. I’m talking about other times, times of long ago. You are young. There are times we make trades in order to fight for our existence. Where we make judgement calls in order to capture power. To win. The human is right.”
“We shall reconvene. I’m done now. It’s time for the show,” Thorn announced.