Coraline had dropped by once or twice, but seemed to think the baby would be okay despite being so premature as long as we kept him warm and fed and held him a lot. “Try to love him—babies can feel that,” she’d told us. We’d have to figure out the other questions—immunizations, how fast he’d develop compared to a human child, hibernation risks, the extent of his elven magic, how much time Rand would allow him to live humanside—as we went along, or until we found the missing elven midwife.
Whatever those answers, I did love him, because I loved his mother.
His father was another matter. Mr. Transparency hadn’t seen fit to mention he’d been holding the only viable heir to the throne of Faerie in his basement. It was a beautiful suite of rooms, and she’d been cared for, but the door had been locked from the outside. That made it a prison.
Maybe he was, indeed, doing it to protect her from Florian. But he also hadn’t told us Christof was dead. Jean’s friend, the Fae Hunter, had confirmed it. He’d found the prince’s body exactly where Kirian had directed us. I’m glad Eugenie hadn’t known that. She and the Prince of Winter had formed an unlikely friendship.
Kirian had taken the news about Christof stoically, saying she’d known in her heart he was gone. But as we spent more time together, I had grown to understand more about the four children who had started out as equal rivals to the throne of the largest kingdom in the Beyond, and, along with the elves, one of the most powerful. Florian was the eldest and firstborn, but Christof had, since childhood, been the smartest, the most handsome, and the most favored by their late parents and their childless Aunt Sabine, who had ruled Faerie for eons.
We sat in the waning light of a Wednesday afternoon with less than two weeks left until Mardi Gras day. I pushed myself back and forth in a rough-hewn rocking chair carved by Toussaint Delachaise while, in the kitchen, Edmee cooked dinner. Everyone had agreed that no one, not even the patriarch of the Delachaise clan, could know we were here, and that when I returned to New Orleans tomorrow, Kirian and Michael would stay behind.
Soon, I’d introduce Rand to his son, but not until I thought it was safe. His Elfness would just have to deal with my conditions. I had opened my mental blockade to let him in but hadn’t reached out to him, nor had he tried to reach me.
“Tell me about Florian,” I said to Kirian, stroking the tuft of soft, blond hair on Michael’s tiny head. “I know there’s more to him than what I’ve seen.” Which was a crazed, sociopathic killer with a wide streak of immaturity.
“Florian grew up jealous and insecure,” Kirian said. “I was the youngest, and we were close as children because I wasn’t a threat. He wasn’t a bad child at first, just spoiled, but Christof was everything he wanted to be. He didn’t want to work for the accolades, so he took shortcuts. If Christof studied hard and read books to learn, Florian stole from our parents and paid someone to take his exams. Christof attracted followers by his own honesty and sense of fairness, but Florian learned that it took fear to get people to follow him. So he became frightful.”
“I know he killed your sister Tamara,” I said, not wanting to point out that fratricide went beyond frightful. He had stuck her head on a pole in the middle of the ruins of the winter palace; unfortunately, both Rene and I had seen it. “Did he also kill Christof?”
“At least indirectly.” Kirian grew quiet for a few moments. “Christof and I were not terribly close; he kept me locked up in the Winter Palace after our parents died—did you know that?”
“No, I didn’t.” Having Rand lock her up must have stung especially hard. “Why?”
She grinned, and I saw a spark of mischief in her green eyes. Not madness, like in Florian’s, but definitely an up-to-no-good expression. “He thought I’d ruin my reputation if I were allowed to roam free. He was probably right. I like sex. If you get a chance, try Romany the Fae Hunter as a lover—that man knows his way around a woman. Or do you even like men?”
My mouth dropped open, then snapped shut. “Sure, I like men.” Well, some of them. “I’m not involved with anyone right now, though.”
“Involved,” she repeated slowly, frowning. “What does that have to do with sex?”
I wasn’t going to tell her Alex and I hadn’t been together in more than two months or that, before him, it had been two years. “For me the relationship has to come first.” Which was true.
“How very human—or wizard, maybe. But....” She pasted on a Mona Lisa smile. “I think both the pirate and the merman have hopes.”
Yeah, well, Jean had hopes, but we’d agreed to keep things on a friendship basis. As for Rene, that was ridiculous, despite his hallucinatory vision while being drained by a vampire. Besides, his sisters considered me “the one”—the one who’d taken him away from the merfolk’s determined stance of non-partisanship when it came to politics and the one who’d had a hand in the death of their brother, Robert.
Time to steer this subject back to its original path. “I liked Christof and thought him loyal to those he considered his friends,” I said, stretching the truth a bit. I’d also thought Christof had his share of crazy. “He struck me as serious, although he did have a temper.” He’d turned New Orleans into a popsicle for several weeks before Christmas just to annoy the elves since they couldn’t tolerate the cold.
“Yes, well, we all got the temper gene,” Kirian said, staring out the window. “Christof was serious, and he was very smart. And you haven’t asked, but I know you’re wondering. I totally agree with his politics. I think all the species need an equal place at the table—meaning the wizards don’t get extra seats on the Interspecies Council—and I think letting humans know of our existence would be a complete disaster. There would be many casualties on both sides, and in the end, the humans would lose. That would be a pity. They’re so creative.”
Deep inside, I let out a sigh of relief. Gone unsaid had been the worry that somehow we’d get Kirian on the throne of Faerie only to find she was a female version of Florian.
“I am most pleased to hear these things, Princess Kirian.” Jean had slipped in the back door. He walked over and looked down at the sleeping infant. “I also am pleased to see that, but for his unfortunate hair, the boy looks like the lovely Eugenie.”
I looked at Michael’s tiny face. Jean was right. His bone structure looked like Eugie’s, but babies changed so fast. Who knew what he’d look like in even a week? He definitely had Rand’s coloring. His disposition, and how much he was human and how much elf? That remained to be seen.
“Where’s Rene?” I asked. “We need to make plans before I leave in the morning. I have some ideas, but it’s going to take all of us to make them work.”
And the wizards and shifters, but I’d figure that out later. I’d start with the Lafitians, as we who’d been hiding out in Barataria had called ourselves. At the risk of sounding like Rand, I had Kirian and his son, so I had leverage with the elves. I could make him do anything I wanted.
“He just pulled up,” Edmee said, wiping her hands on a dish towel and looking out the back window. “Good—he bought diapers and baby clothes.”
I winced. Rene would punish me, somehow, for making him buy baby clothes. Shopping for a baby was probably worse than shopping for a woman.
He was already bitching when he walked in the door. “How come I’m always shopping for chicks and babies?” He stopped and looked over my shoulder at Michael and didn’t quite turn away before I saw a small smile. He wasn't as annoyed as he pretended.
I handed the baby off to Kirian and went to the kitchen to help Edmee ladle out bowls of rich gumbo and rice, heap small loaves of French bread onto a platter, and open bottles of Abita beer. We settled around her table, big enough for a family gathering though she clearly lived alone. There were a lot of Delachaise cousins and aunts and uncles in the parish.
“You need me to get lost while you talk politics?” she asked Rene. “The less I know, the better, and I can take Michael while you guys talk.”
“
Thanks,” Rene said. “Yeah, probably better you don’t know what we’re planning. But thanks for everything, including letting Kirian stay here and takin’ care of that baby.”
She smiled and disappeared outside with Michael and a plate of food. It was so unseasonably warm, she and Cora had decided it was safe to take Michael out for short stints. Looking out the window, I saw her sit in a folding chair near a bayou that ran along the edge of the yard. She’d set her food beside her on a small round table the size of a TV tray. Far enough not to hear with her mermaid senses. I liked her a lot. I’d also liked no-nonsense Coraline. Toussaint Delachaise and his wife had raised good kids, although Rene’s twin brother had made some very bad choices and paid with his life.
“Okay,” I said, turning to the others. “We need to make some plans. I have a few ideas.”
Jean smiled. “I wondered when you would tire of the games played by the politicians, Drusilla. Although as a seasoned officer, I would like to command these affairs, I must defer to you in this matter.”
I gave the pirate a solemn nod, admiring his willingness to take a backseat. If this were an ordinary war with ordinary fighters, there’s no one I’d rather have planning strategy than Jean Lafitte. But we’d passed ordinary before the last Katrina-driven floodwaters had drained out of the city, back when the Frenchman was still trying to kill me.
“We’re listening, babe.” Rene shoved his empty bowl aside, although I knew he’d be going back for seconds or thirds once the talk had ended. We’d shared a brain and an appetite. The merman could pack away the calories and had the metabolism of a racehorse…or a racing dolphin.
“Well, first, Kirian, will you promise to stay here and remain hidden until this is over?” I asked.
“I want to fight my brother,” she said, getting a very frosty Christof-like look in her eyes. The temperature in the room hadn’t changed, however. Yet. “I want to be the one to bring down Florian.”
“I know you do, but I beg you to stay here and wear the peridot at all times so Florian and his fighters can’t find you,” I said. “We need you safe and ready to step in and take control of Faerie as soon as we are able to neutralize him.”
I didn’t know what would constitute neutralizing Florian, but whatever it took.
“What guarantees do I have that the other groups will agree to equal representation on the Interspecies Council?” Kirian asked.
Beneath her redhaired, sexy exterior was a very astute, focused faery.
“I can’t guarantee anything,” I said, glancing at Rene. “I can only tell you that everyone in this room agrees equal representation among species is the only thing that will bring peace. And I can tell you that the wizards and the elves, while they might fight over many things, agree that the humans don’t need to know our world exists.”
“Princess Kirian, what my dear friend Drusilla says is true. You must trust her in all things,” Jean said. “Christof had placed his trust in her, and as you are aware, he was a dear friend to me as well.”
“You were a bright spot in Christof’s life. I think you were the only person who could actually make the man laugh.” Kirian smiled. “I agree, then. While I dislike having others fight my battles, Florian has made it everyone’s war now. If I can best help by staying hidden and taking care of this beautiful child, then that is what I’ll do. You might let Falconer, Prince of Autumn, know that I am here. He and his lifemate are allies of Christof, as is his chief lieutenant, Romany.”
“I will do this thing,” Jean said. “Monsieur Falconer and myself went together to find my dear Christof and placed him in the hall of your ancestors.”
I kept focusing on my own losses, and Rene’s, but Jean had his own list—Christof was gone, and he’d been betrayed by his former close friend Etienne Boulard. That vampire needed to watch his back.
“What else you got in mind, DJ?” Rene asked. “The parade season starts this weekend.”
“Yes, and we need to cover every parade uptown.” I didn’t think the other parades in the Greater New Orleans area were high-profile enough to attract Florian. If he wanted to do maximum damage—or make maximum impact—he’d focus on the parades that followed the route through uptown and downtown New Orleans. “Can you help me coordinate that, Rene? You know a lot of people. We don’t need fighters; we need eyes on the parade routes and a system of communication.”
Rene nodded. “You got it. We can coordinate out of my new house.”
I stared at him. “It’s finished?”
“I gave the guys a bonus for coming in ahead of schedule.” He grinned. “It still needs a wizard to put some security wards on it.”
I laughed. “I can handle that.”
Jean cleared his throat. “And for me, Drusilla? Do I have a role?”
His aura told me he feared being left out, but my eavesdropper-in-chief had a very important role in my plans.
“We need to have someone on the inside where Mardi Gras planning is concerned,” I said. “I’m guessing the mayor’s office has someone on a planning committee; humans and wizards love committees.” Except this wizard, who considered them a huge waste of time and space. “Jean, would you be willing to work in the mayor’s office?”
I could tell by his raised eyebrows that I needed to sell him on the idea. “It would mean posing as a human and hiding your true identity,” I added. “You can be Jean Lafayette, the same name you use at the Hotel Monteleone.”
“If this is what you wish, Jolie.” Jean frowned at Rene, who’d been unable to hide his laughter. “What would you have me do?”
Something that could get me killed if Zrakovi heard about it, although Z wanted me dead anyway, so I didn’t know why I’d care. “I want to tell the mayor the truth about who and what is living in New Orleans, and what Florian is planning. I want to convince him to take this seriously and agree to bring you onto his staff, maybe as a visiting dignitary—important person. After that, you will be in charge of intelligence.”
“Très bien,” the pirate said, his mouth widening in a smile and a light sparkling in his dark-blue eyes. “I am very intelligent, so this is a job at which I shall be most excellent.”
I gave Rene a warning look. He needed to stop laughing. “You will be in charge of information-gathering,” I told Jean. “You will listen in on conversations, attend meetings, and let us know what people are saying and doing, especially regarding Mardi Gras. They need to increase security.” New Orleans always had heavy security for Mardi Gras, but I was thinking National Guard, not extra units from neighboring parishes.
Rene whistled and leaned back in his chair. “This is a big risk, DJ. Telling the mayor everything could freak him out so much it backfires. He could start a big old war himself. He could call the governor—or the freaking president.”
I took a deep breath. “That’s why I want to convince Rand to go with me when I talk to him. If the mayor gets out of hand, who better than an elf to change his mind?” Or turn him into a gibbering idiot, but I’d stop Rand before it went that far.
The idea was so insane no one dared comment. Go big or go to hell in a Faerie handbasket, I say.
Now I had to find my elf.
Chapter 18
Early Tuesday morning, with only a few days until New Orleans’s intensive Mardi Gras parade season began in earnest, I kissed baby Michael good-bye for now, hugged Edmee, and walked outside toward Rene’s secret transport.
Before I arrived in the middle of God-knows-what situation by transporting to Rand’s house, I decided to try him again.
Rand? You there?
Nothing. I was about to give up when I got a terse reply. Can’t talk—in court. Human court.
The beginnings of a headache pounded behind my eyes.
I’m transporting to your house, I said.
I’m probably going back to jail. Feed Gruffydd and Sebastian, then go across the street and kill Alex Warin, he replied, then shut me down again.
I drew in a deep breath, held it
ten seconds, then released it slowly. It slowed my galloping heart rate but told me nothing about how to handle Alex Warin and get Rand out of jail. Killing Alex would solve nothing.
Theoretically, Alex could help me tell the mayor about the preternatural world by shifting in front of the man, but he wouldn’t. The hound would trot straight to Zrakovi and start barking.
Plus, it was dangerous for the head of Elfheim to be sitting in jail like, well, a sitting elven duck.
The thought of Gruff and Sebastian, alone and hungry, finally got me moving. I stepped into the transport, which had been faintly etched into the grass, touched the tip of it with the staff so my magical signature wouldn’t show up on any Elder radar, and said, “Rivendell.”
Within a few seconds, I was face to face with a steam-snorting, behemoth-sized Pentewyn. I’d forgotten about the stupid dragon. “Hi, Pen. You hungry?”
He shrunk to the size of a VW Beetle, which I took as a yes, although he continued to steam. “Okay, let me see what I can find for you. I’ll be right back.”
The dragon purred, and I felt pleased until I saw Sebastian slinking along the top of his back and coming to rest on his head. He aimed crossed blue eyes in my direction and hissed. “Ingrate. But I’ll get food for you too.”
At least Gruff was glad to see me, judging by his dancing and cavorting. When I got upstairs, I saw that Rand had at least been able to put out multiple bowls of water and food and doggie pads and fresh kitty litter. The first two were empty; the latter two were full. Joy.
“This is some glamorous life, Gruff,” I said, replacing the pads and scooping out fresh litter. I had no time to walk him right now, poor thing, and I couldn’t send him to Elfheim to drown.
Some men took The Rand away and I thought no one would ever come back and I would die here alone except for that feline and the flying lizard and we all would starve, he said. You smell like my uncle; he’s a senior guard in the Royal Canine Corps. Did you meet him?
Frenchman Street_A Novel of The Sentinels of New Orleans Page 16