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that had allowed him to push aside his conscience. One that had allowed the seeds of wrong to fester inside him. His diseased body now bore witness.
    And so he lived in a world between heaven and hell, fighting the demons that wanted to take his soul.
    Crystal was his salvation. If he could hang on long enough to save her, he just might escape the wrath of Satan….
    Yet, even as regrets for the evil he had done burned his throat, the thrill of the blood hunt still seized his soul.

CHAPTER TWO
    A NTWAUN D UBOIS HATED THE way his brother was looking at him. As if he didn’t trust him enough to confide the truth.
    Dammit, trust had nothing to do with his silence.
    If anything, Antwaun had to keep his secrets to himself to protect his brother. Every aspect of undercover police work involved putting up fronts. Pretending to be something you weren’t. Lying.
    Sometimes he told so many lies he didn’t know the truth himself.
    As the Chameleon, he could change his appearance to blend in anywhere. No job was too dangerous or too edgy for him to tackle. The risks be damned.
    Unfortunately, the fact that he melded with the dregs and crooks of society meant it would be easy for him to cross the line, and almost as easy for him to hide his indiscretions. His poker face kept him alive. It could keep him from revealing his motives if needed.
    He silently cursed as sweat trickled down the side of his face. He’d been warned how enticing the other side of the law could be, and he had been tempted more than once….
    Hell.
    How could he blame his big brother for scrutinizing him when Antwaun had a reputation as a troublemaker?
    Anger churned in his belly as he and Damon walked up the clamshell-lined entry to his parents’ house. How the fuck could he ever live up to his older brothers?
    â€œBon à rien, toi, ’tit souris,” Jean-Paul had said to him when he was younger, meaning “good for nothing, you, little mouse.”
    It had been true. But he’d tried to change that reputation since he’d been on the force.
    Jean-Paul and Damon had always been good. As a detective, Jean-Paul had been decorated for bravery and saving lives during Katrina. Damon, the special agent in the mix, had received commendations from the military and goddamn president for bravery and heroism.
    Antwaun…he was the screwup.
    A rookie on the police force, and now that position might be in jeopardy.
    The door swung open, and his mother squealed as if she hadn’t seen them in years. God, he loved his boisterous family. Just wished he fit in better and didn’t disappoint them so much.
    Damon, quiet, methodical and intense as always, bent to hug their mother, Daniella, a short, roundish woman who ran the show at home and at the new restaurant they’d opened in New Orleans. She and their father made the best Cajun cuisine in the state.
    All the boys were over six feet, and towered over Daniella, but she boasted that she would turn them over her knee if she needed to, and Antwaun believed her.
    Damon finally released her from the bear hug, and his mother yanked Antwaun close, enveloping him in the heavenly scents of her spicy jambalaya, fresh bread and sinful chocolate cake. He leaned into her, allowing her to rub his back and pat his cheek, but his stomach clenched when she looked into his eyes with a fine sheen of tears.
    â€œIt’s so nice to have all my wonderful boys here together.”
    Wonderful? If she only knew…
    But neither he nor Damon would discuss the mutilated corpse of the woman they’d discovered earlier, or the implications of his involvement. The unspoken rule—they left their weapons and gritty police talk at the door and didn’t bring either to the dinner table.
    Yep, act like a chameleon. Put on a pretty coat. Smile as if the world wasn’t all gray. Pretend not to have seen the monsters encountered in the bayou and on the streets.
    Damon cleared his throat,