Chapter 24
Chapter
Twenty-Four
The carnival floats were still rolling when Summer and Rowan emerged from the cathedral alley, skeletal juggernauts glowing neon green and violet against the Halloween night.
Dancers twirled fire batons overhead, casting wild shadows across the crowds while a jazz band in full zombie regalia performed from a flatbed truck decorated to look like a cemetery.
“Stay close,” Rowan murmured, his arm around Summer’s waist. She squeezed his hand knowing he was clinging to her for support as well as protection.
The weeks of silver poisoning would make every step excruciating, but adrenaline and his alpha impulses would keep him moving through the chaos.
The claiming bite pulsed under the heat of his breath.
It was stronger than it had been in days and she reached up to find it warm under her fingers.
Rowan stumbled, and she glanced back at him. “Are you okay?”
“Noise,” he mumbled. “Cold. People.”
“We have to keep going. We have to get away. We’ll find somewhere quiet where you can rest and recover your strength.”
Rowan pressed his lips to her shoulder. “Where we can rest,” he corrected.
Summer pulled him closer, her body still trembling from the power she’d channeled in the underground facility.
She was going to have to dig deep. On the other side of Rowan, Vincent propped the heavy wolf up, taking some of the weight from her.
The Blood Moon blazed overhead, invisible through the city’s light pollution but pulling at her chest like a second heartbeat.
Every emotion was amplified, every sensation overwhelming.
They pushed into the crowd on Bourbon Street, using the Krewe of BOO!
parade as cover. Tourists dressed as devils stumbled past, bloodied and glitter-slick, while someone on a balcony above screamed—whether in terror or celebration, it was impossible to tell.
The air reeked of spilled alcohol, fake blood, and underneath it all, the scent of real fear.
“There,” Summer pointed as a figure in black tactical gear appeared at the edge of their vision, mask blending seamlessly with the costumed revelers. “Vatican hunter.”
They changed direction, ducking around a group of tourists posing with a performer juggling actual knives. The blades flashed in the strobing parade lights, adding real danger to the night’s manufactured thrills.
A massive parade float shaped like a haunted mansion rolled between them and their pursuer, speakers blaring music so loud Summer’s enhanced senses recoiled from the assault. She pressed her hands to her ears, the sensory overload making her power spike unpredictably.
Streetlamps flickered in response to her distress, their normal yellow glow shifting to deep red. A glamour on one of the parade floats dropped for just a moment—revealing genuine decay beneath the festive decorations—and the crowd gasped with delight, thinking it was part of the show.
“Summer, control it,” Rowan warned, his voice tight with concern. “You’re affecting everything.”
“I can’t.” Magic leaked from her hands in visible filaments, making the air shimmer. “The Blood Moon, the emotions—it’s all too much.”
They ran. Past a stilt-walker who stumbled into Rowan’s path—he shoved past, barely catching Summer’s arm before she collided with a man juggling real fire.
The stilt-walker crashed sideways into a group of tourists in celestial attire, his rig tangling with their elaborate angel wings while they screamed and laughed in equal measure.
“Damn it,” Rowan muttered, realizing they’d drawn attention with the collision.
Behind them, a Vatican hunter spoke into the collar of his elaborate vampire costume.
Magic surged through Summer again as panic flared; this time the effect was impossible to ignore.
Every streetlight on the block flashed red simultaneously, electronic music from nearby floats distorted into feedback squeals, and several tourists’ elaborate illusion-enhanced costumes flickered and failed.
“Whoa!” someone shouted. “How are they doing that? Is it part of the show?”
The crowd pressed closer, phones appearing to record what they assumed was an elaborate performance. Summer found herself trapped in a circle of excited faces while power continued to leak uncontrollably, reality bending around her emotional state.
“The pale lord said you’d be unstable,” said a voice directly behind her.
Summer spun to find a Vatican hunter so close she could see his eyes through the skull makeup of his Day of the Dead costume. Real weapons glinted beneath theatrical props, blessed silver mixed with carnival paint.
Rowan moved with speed despite his weakened condition, his fist connecting with the hunter’s jaw in a blow which sent the man crashing into a nearby hot dog cart. Mustard and ketchup erupted as the vendor screamed and tourists scattered.
“Run!” Rowan shouted, grabbing Summer’s hand and pulling her toward the relative safety of the crowd.
They sprinted down Royal Street, weaving between groups of revelers while more hunters closed in from all directions.
The parade continued around them—music and laughter and the scent of overpriced street food—but Summer felt like they were running through a nightmare where celebration masked systematic hunting.
A float decorated as a haunted graveyard rolled past, its speakers blasting organ music so loud it seemed to vibrate through Summer’s bones. She stumbled, her supernatural gifts overwhelmed by the assault, and magic flared again in response to the sensory chaos.
This time, the power surge was too strong to dismiss as special effects.
Streetlights exploded in showers of sparks while electronic systems throughout the block frittered and died.
The haunted graveyard float’s sophisticated sound system emitted one final shriek before going silent, leaving only the acoustic jazz band playing from the next float.
“There!” Another hunter appeared in front of them, he’d abandoned all pretense of costume. Body armor gleamed under the malfunctioning streetlights, his weapons clearly visible.
Summer’s restraint snapped. The careful control she’d maintained all her life, the medic’s need for precision and safety, shattered under the lunar influence. Heat spread from her flaming hands, shooting up her arms and inflaming her torso. Vincent leaped aside and was swept away in the crowd.
Power poured from her. Every piece of electronic equipment within a three-block radius failed. Car alarms wailed and died, traffic lights went dark, and the remaining parade floats ground to a halt as their generators overloaded.
In the sudden technological silence, while acoustic instruments continued playing, creating an eerie soundtrack for the chaos. Tourists cheered and applauded, convinced they were witnessing the most elaborate Halloween show in New Orleans’ history.
“Summer,” Rowan’s voice cut through the craziness. “We need to move. Now.”
She let him guide her through the darkened streets, her power still crackling unpredictably while Vatican hunters pursued them through the confusion. They’d lost the electronic advantage, but it wouldn’t stop the Vatican’s supernatural hunters for long.
Behind them, someone shouted orders in Latin while flashlights cut through the darkness. The hunters were regrouping, adapting, and closing in; theirs was the patience of predators who knew their prey was weakening with each step.
Summer’s legs shook uncontrollably, her body finally succumbing to the cost of channeling cosmic forces through her all too human body. Rowan’s strength was flagging too. Weeks of torture and the impact of the silver poisoning his blood stream finally took their toll.
They stumbled into a narrow alley between two antique shops, both breathing hard while the sounds of pursuit echoed from the surrounding streets. Trapped, exhausted, with nowhere left to run.
“End of the line,” Rowan said quietly, his back against the brick wall as he scanned for any possible escape route.
Fabian stepped forward into the alley’s mouth. The shadows relinquished him reluctantly, and he stood alone and elegant despite the surrounding chaos. He’d dismissed the Vatican hunters, Summer realized. This confrontation would be personal rather than professional.
“Hello, ma chérie,” he said softly, his pale eyes reflecting the dying glow of the streetlights falling under Summer’s uncontrolled power.
“Remember how I told you, love makes monsters of us all?”