Two
Screams rocketed through the park and only half the people reacted appropriately, Ofelia realized. The guests who had been invited by Madeline were either paranormal or knew about the paranormal world. The ones invited by Marie were a different story.
“We need to create a perimeter,” Sully barked as several tall men raced to his side. They looked enough like him that Ofelia was convinced they were family members. Which meant they were shifters.
“Should you guys shift?” Ofelia asked it without thinking.
Sully didn’t get a chance to answer. A woman Ofelia knew through her mother took the option away from him.
“It’s not even Mardi Gras,” Agatha Nixon complained. She was dressed in a pink suit that was straight from Ofelia’s nightmares. “This town used to stand for something other than partying.”
“When?” Angelique barked back. “New Orleans has always been the city that knows how to party.”
Agatha looked over the rim of her bejeweled glasses, smarminess permeating her aura. “I don’t believe I was talking to you, young lady.”
“Then who were you talking to?” Even when they were about to be descended on by banshees, Angelique couldn’t let an argument go. It was one of the things Ofelia both loved and loathed about her friend.
“Ofelia.” Agatha gestured toward the witch in question. “This is a nice party. You shouldn’t let the rowdies in.”
Under different circumstances, Ofelia might have been conciliatory to Agatha. She was in no mood tonight. “I don’t think we’re going to have a choice on that. Go over there,” she barked, pointing to where Marie and Madeline were standing and staring into the distance.
Nobody had seen the banshees yet. It wouldn’t be long, though.
“Excuse me?” Agatha was used to being spoken to in a specific way. It certainly wasn’t the way Ofelia was speaking to her now.
“Go.” Ofelia gave her a shove. “Get over there.”
“Don’t you push me, you … ruffian.” Agatha gave Ofelia a shove back, but the witch barely registered it. “I will not be talked to in this manner.”
Ofelia did the only thing she could do. “Mother!” she bellowed at the top of her lungs.
It wasn’t Marie who swooped in to save her. It was Madeline.
“You screeched?” Madeline said just as another scream ripped through the park. It was closer this time.
“Get her out of here,” Sully replied. He was gentler when giving Agatha a shove. Firm, but gentle at the same time. “Also, anybody who can fight should be sent to us.”
Madeline opened her mouth, then seemed to reconsider what she was going to say. “What is going on? What is making that noise?”
“Ruffians,” Agatha replied. “It’s the sort of people who shouldn’t be allowed out of their homes.” She lowered her voice. “It’s the type of people who should be in jail.”
Madeline managed a smile despite the circumstances. “Ruffians are the worst,” she readily agreed. “Marie just mentioned that. You and she should talk it over.”
Agatha made a face. “Why does it feel as if everybody is trying to get rid of me?”
“Because we are,” Angelique barked. “Buy a freaking clue, you moron.”
“Thank you, Angelique,” Madeline said in a steady, if somewhat cold, voice. “We appreciate you being so vocal this evening.”
Angelique didn’t bow down to Madeline as the very rich woman was used to. “Stuff it.”
Madeline glared.
Angelique glared right back.
“Stop,” Sully ordered. He was at the end of his rope. “You guys aren’t helping matters right now.”
“What are we supposed to be helping?” Agatha asked.
Ofelia didn’t have the hair-trigger temper that her best friend boasted, but she was at the end of her rope. “Go away, Agatha.” Discomfort rippled beneath her skin as more screams ripped through the New Orleans evening.
“There are a lot of them,” Sully said as he lifted his nose. He was no longer paying attention to Agatha. He’d moved on to bigger and more important things. “They’re coming in this direction.”
“How do you know that?” Madeline demanded. “I mean … I’m not doubting you,” she added hurriedly. “I’m just curious how you think you know that.”
“Because that’s how it works in our world,” Ofelia replied.
Her eyes were on the entryway to the park.
When she looked over her shoulder to scan their options from the rear, she didn’t like what she saw.
The park featured a water barrier. It was really a small lake.
It was big enough that it could prove a detriment for fleeing guests.
“How many could we realistically be dealing with here?” Angelique asked. “Normally, you don’t get more than a trio of banshees working together.”
When the screams took over again, it was obvious there were more than three overlapping.
Ofelia rolled her neck. “What do they want?” she asked Sully. “That’s what I can’t figure out.”
“You’re sure they’re banshees?” Madeline pressed.
Sully gave his mother an impatient look.
She held up her hands in supplication. “I was just asking.”
“Well, don’t ask again,” he snapped. He wasn’t really angry with his mother — not about the banshees at least — but the hair on the back of his neck had started to dance. His instincts were telling him to shift. There were too many witnesses to do that, however.
As if reading his mind, Ofelia leaned in and snagged his gaze. “Maybe you should take some of your friends and find a place to … suit up,” she suggested.
Sully glanced over his shoulder. “How did you know they were like me?” he asked as he turned back.
She smirked. “I’m good at that sort of thing.”
“Right.” He rolled his neck. “Okay, well, we can do that.” He didn’t run off and follow her suggestion. “I don’t particularly want to be separated from you, though.”
Ofelia appreciated the sentiment — she felt the same way about him — but there was no choice.
“You have to. There’s enough of them that I don’t think I can take them all.
” She paused a beat, then continued. “My guess is they’re coming for somebody specific.
Has your father been sleeping around again? ”
Sully made a face. “My father is a total idiot when it comes to that stuff.” He darted a worried look toward his mother, who was listening with rapt attention. “I don’t think that’s what happened here today, though.”
“Really, Zach,” Madeline chastised her only son. “I’m well aware of your father’s proclivities. You don’t have to treat me as if I’m made of glass.”
Ofelia had questions for Madeline. The biggest was why she would put up with her husband running around on her. Zeke didn’t even try to hide it. Now was not the time for that conversation, however.
“Banshees only attack when they’re getting revenge on a specific man,” Ofelia interjected. “If it’s not Zeke, it’s somebody else.”
“Oh, well, there are a lot of options.” Madeline tapped her bottom lip as she surveyed the crowd.
Only some of the guests — a fraction of the paranormals even — were reacting to the noise.
Everybody else was carrying on as if trouble wasn’t about to descend in a wave of destruction.
“Maybe it’s Fred.” She pointed toward a pot-bellied man in an expensive suit.
“He owns one of the largest oil companies in the state, and he has a wandering penis.”
“Does it wear a backpack when it wanders?” Angelique asked. “Or, better, a raincoat?”
It took Madeline a moment to suss out what Angelique was saying. “Oh. Is there a procreation factor to these attacks?”
“It depends,” Ofelia replied, forcing herself to remain calm even as her heart rate sped up.
The banshees were almost upon them. If they could find the target, they might be able to set a trap.
“Women become banshees when they’ve been wronged to the point of no return.
Their rage, their hurt, turns into a beast that consumes them. ”
“Really?” Madeline wrinkled her delicate nose. Ofelia was convinced she’d gotten it from a surgeon because all of her children had different noses, and only two of them had their father’s nose. “Well, that’s kind of tacky.”
And that was all Ofelia had to hear to end the conversation. She raised her hand to shut down Madeline. “We’re going to need numbers,” she said to Sully, doing her best to keep her voice even. “The banshees might try to hurt male shifters, but they can’t turn them like they can females.”
Sully balked. “What do you mean?”
“A scratch or a bite can infect a woman.” Ofelia gave him a sidelong look. “How do you not know that?”
“Because it’s not a thing.” He vigorously shook his head. “I’ve seen women who were attacked by banshees before, and they never turned.”
“That’s because the woman in question has to be predisposed to it happening,” she replied, choosing her words carefully. “She has to be angry. She has to be holding a grudge. She has to be paranormal.”
“Wait …” Sully felt as if he was really behind now. “I’ve taken on banshees who were normal women. Their anger overtook them, and they turned into banshees. They weren’t scratched or anything.”
“There’s more than one type of banshee.” Ofelia didn’t believe she had time to explain this, and yet there was no choice.
“I’m going to nutshell it. We can talk about the intricacies later.
” She took a deep breath. “Some banshees are born of their own pain. Others are sought out by already existing banshees and infected because the hive knows that they’ll be good candidates. ”
“What hive?”
Ofelia did not want to snap at her fiancée, especially considering the night they’d just had and what was to come. She was out of patience, though. “Zach, trust me,” she implored him. “You need to keep the women from being scratched. Just in case.”
“But …” He trailed off, searching her face for signs he was missing something.
He was missing a lot, apparently, and he wished he hadn’t glossed over banshee mythology when he was studying during his younger years.
“Okay.” He grabbed Ofelia’s shoulders and gave her a hard kiss. “I’ll put together a team.”
Ofelia exhaled heavily, relief coursing through her. “Thank you.”