Page 8 of Hextreme Measures

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.”