After all, not even the great Acheron could be in two places at once, nor could he stand against the assault that was about to begin.
Desiderius paused outside of a small voodoo shop. It was quaint and charming, and to most tourists, it looked like all the others.
The only thing that separated this store from all the rest that occupied designated areas of the French Quarter was the fact that here he sensed real power.
Closing his eyes, he inhaled the rich, musty scent of it. As a Daimon, he'd need her soul to live, but since he was in the body of a Dark-Hunter...
Killing humans was done for simple pleasure now, not for sustenance.
He smiled to himself as he stepped inside to find his target. It only took a second to locate her behind the counter, where she was waiting on a tourist who was buying a love potion.
"Hi, Ulric!" his victim said excitedly as the customer walked out of the store and left them alone.
Ah, good, she knew the Dark-Hunter. It would make killing her all the easier.
"Hi," he said, stepping up to the counter. "How are you tonight?"
"I was just about to close. I'm really glad you came by. After everything that's been happening around here, well... it's good to see a friendly face."
Desiderius's gaze went past her shoulder to a small snapshot hanging on a calendar that advertised scented candles. It was of nine women, two of whom he knew instantly.
His gaze darkened.
"How are Tabitha and Amanda?" he asked.
"They're doing okay. All things considered. Mandy's afraid to leave the house and Tabby... you've probably met her on the street."
Yes, Amanda was afraid to leave her house, which made their getting into it almost impossible.
But there was one way he knew to draw the sorceress out of her home.
He gave the woman behind the counter a tight-lipped smile. "Would you like for me to walk you home?"
"What a sweetie. Thanks, that'll be great. Just give me a sec to grab the money envelope and I'll do the paperwork at home."
Desiderius licked his lips. He could already taste her blood...
The night was eerily quiet as Ash walked alone through the St. Louis Cemetery No. 1 searching for Daimons who often came to claim the souls of the dead who had refused to move on.
The New Orleans natives called these impressive stone cemeteries the Cities of the Dead, a title that was wholly apropos. Because the town was below sea level, no one could bury the dead without the bodies making a most unwelcomed reappearance.
The full moon above cast distorted shadows of the statuary along the brick, stone, and marble crypts-some of which were taller than even he was. Although in places rather haphazard, most of the tombs were arranged into blocks that did in fact strangely mirror the layout and design of a city.
Each crypt was elegantly crafted as a monument to those whose remains it contained. There were three classifications for the tombs: wall vaults; family vaults; and society vaults that were reserved for specific groups, like the round Italian Society tomb, which was the largest crypt there, and one that dominated the cemetery.
Most of the tombs showed signs of their age by having broken pieces of masonry either missing or askew, along with collapsed roofs, and blackened mold that grew all over them. Many held scrolled wrought-iron gates and fences.
It was beautiful here. Peaceful. Although the strategically placed holes in the exterior walls that allowed muggers to come and go at will were a constant reminder of how some of the occupants had come to reside here.
Ash reached out and touched the grave of Marie Laveaux, the famous voodoo maven of the city. Her grave was marked with Xs from those who would pay tribute to her.
She'd been a remarkable woman and in his long life, she had been the only human to know him for what he really was.
Sirens sounded off in the distance as police headed for a new crime scene.
As he turned away, Ash felt a ripple go through him like a debilitating blow. He hissed in pain as he felt a fragile, forbidden doorway opening and felt the evil pouring out of it.
The Illuminati were leaving Kalosis...