Frenchman Street_A Novel of The Sentinels of New Orleans

by Suzanne Johnson

  I dropped Gruff’s leash, told him to stay, and pulled out the staff. “Rene, move!”

  I screamed in the voice I used to hurt Rand’s eardrums, and without hesitation, the merman flattened himself against the alley wall. I used a shooter’s stance and aimed for the werewolf’s right leg. I didn’t want him dead; I wanted to talk to him.

  The red stream of fire that shot from the end of the staff was thinner than the one I produced in Elfheim, but it still did the job. Wolfie literally howled as he tried to limp a couple of steps farther before giving up and hitting the asphalt. I’d caught him in the back of the right knee, and red, scorched skin showed through the hole I’d burned in his jeans.

  Rene and Gruff reached him first. Gruff sank teeth in his ankle, while Rene pulled off a pair of steel handcuffs that had been hooked on his belt loop and slapped them on the guy. I picked up Gruff’s leash when I got there, and gave him some mental praise.

  “You okay?” Rene asked.

  I nodded. “Gruff warned me in time, and I ducked. The woman next to me took the shot instead. I doubt she’s alive. This guy wasn’t playing around.” I looked up and down the alley and spotted the gun on the ground near the fire escape. He must have tossed it when he realized Rene was after him. I walked back to pick it up, keeping my fingerprints off it by using a receipt from a restaurant someone had dropped. It was probably wasted effort; the wolf, of course, wore gloves.

  We needed a confession.

  Chapter 31

  “Let’s transport the werewolf to Rand’s house until we decide what to do with him,” I told Rene. “Florian told me Zrakovi had a secret bounty out on me and this guy has hit man written all over him.”

  Rene frowned and thought a minute. “Don’t bring in the elf. If you’re right, it’s a shifter and wizard screwup, so let’s keep things simple. Create a transport, and we’ll take the shifter to my house. The Hunters can finish the parades. I don’t think Florian’s gonna bother with Barkus.”

  I handed the rifle and leash to Rene, who I noted was also wearing gloves. I needed to improve my security outerwear. Pulling a stick of chalk from my pocket, I sketched out a quick transport around the werewolf, who tried to weasel away until Rene stomped on his injured knee. “More of that if you don’t shut up,” he said. “Or worse.”

  Chalk made a fragile transport. Anyone walking across it would break it without knowing what they’d done. Left alone, its power would dissipate within a few hours. Perfect for our situation, in other words. I picked up Gruff, who’d somehow managed to keep his hat on during the excitement, touched Charlie to the transport, and glanced up at Rene. “Where are we going?” I didn’t know his transport name.

  “Happy Jack,” he said, grinning. I was still smiling when we transported into his living room. Happy Jack was a community in Plaquemines Parish where Rene and Jean had exchanged some cash for a stolen cherry-red Corvette last fall. It was the day Rene and I had met.

  Dru! Rand’s mental shout killed my smile. I heard there was a shooting at Barkus. What happened?

  A werewolf sniper was aiming for me, or at least I think so. Gruff warned me in time. Let me send him to Rivendell; Rene and I going to try and get the wolf to talk.

  Once we arrived at Rene’s, I left Gruff in the transport and told him to tell The Rand everything that had happened. Be sure you tell him you saved me, I added. I loved everything about that little dog except that he now called me The Dru.

  Once he was gone, I turned back to the werewolf. Thanks to the silver cuffs, he’d been unable to shift earlier, and now, Rene had forced him into a chair and cuffed his hands behind the ladderback. His ankles were tied to the front chair legs. That wolf wasn’t going anywhere.

  “My knee needs treatment, you assholes. It’s burned, thanks to that freak.” I guess I was the freak. Mr. Whiny stood at least six-three, same as Alex, and had overtrained to the point where his black t-shirt’s short sleeves strained to cover his massive biceps. He’d heal faster if we let him shift, but my pity had gone far beyond its limits. It was bad enough fighting Psycho Faery. I didn’t need to worry about plots by Psycho Wizard as well.

  Rene walked around him with his silver knife. “Who were you trying to kill out there today, wolf?” He flicked a cut against the guy’s neck, drawing blood. “And why?”

  We needed a confession. “Rene, don’t forget who I have across the street. You want to know the answers, he’s the man who can get them.” Whether the wolf wanted him to or not.

  Rene stared at the wolf, then out the window beside his kitchen alcove. “Call Alex first—his truck’s there. Then call your uncle before you call your elf. We want witnesses.”

  I nodded, dug out my cell phone, and called Alex.

  “What now, DJ?”

  Jerk. “I survived the attack by Florian fine, thank you, although I suffered painful burns. However, this is business. We have one of your werewolves here at Rene’s. You might want to talk to him before I force a confession-by-elf.”

  I hung up, glad to know Alex and I were as mature in our breakup as we’d been during our relationship.

  He arrived in under two minutes, still barefoot, pulling on a t-shirt, and looking like he’d been awake about, well, about two minutes. I opened Rene’s door without a word, and he stomped inside, stopping short when he saw the wolf. “Carl?”

  “Thanks, we needed a name,” I said, phone poised to call Uncle Lennox. “Does he have a last name?”

  Alex ignored me.

  Lennox answered the phone on the first ring. “DJ, I heard there was a shooting in the French Quarter? Did it have anything to do with Florian?”

  Nobody I knew answered the phone with “hello.” I wasn’t sure whether that reflected more on me or on them.

  “No, I did have a run-in with him yesterday and can fill you in. The shooting was a sniper attack, I suspect against me upon orders of Elder Zrakovi. He hit the woman beside me, and I would like to lodge a formal complaint to the Elders.”

  Lennox cursed. “I just heard on the radio that the woman died.”

  I closed my eyes and took a breath, trying to be still in my mind and soul. “Rene Delachaise and I captured the shooter and have him here at Rene’s house. Alex is here as the shifter representative to the Interspecies Council. I’d like you to be here as well before we question him. You understand why.”

  A long silence followed. “I want Elder Sato there as well,” Lennox said. “He’s in town in case of problems during Mardi Gras, and is head of the Elders’ judiciary council.”

  “We can wait. Transport to Happy Jack.” If this is what it took to get Zrakovi off my back, we’d play formal wizard politics.

  Rene joined me on the living room sofa. “Alex is trying to get him to confess, but the guy’s more scared of whoever hired him than he is of Alex,” Rene said softly, although we knew they could hear us if they tried. They were deep in their own conversation, though.

  I told him what Lennox had said. “Think I should call Rand?”

  “Maybe have him on standby, but wait and let Elder Sato and your uncle call the shots. Lennox is the sentinel now. It’s his job, and Sato’s the senior guy behind Zrakovi.”

  Reaching over to snag the cell phone, I found Rand’s contact info and hit send. I wanted everyone here to know what I was saying.

  “Dru? Why are you calling on the phone?”

  See? No hello.

  I gave him a rundown. “I just wanted you to be prepared, if you’re willing, to come over to Rene’s and force a confession out of this guy. I don’t want to do it until the wizards think it’s their idea, or at least they authorize it. I want Zrakovi held accountable.” Unless I was wrong, in which case Zrakovi would really have it out for me.

  Rand agreed. “But contact me without the phone next time. They need to remember who you are.”

  Right, because I-am-Sort-of-Elf.

  We waited in awkward quietness for a while, or at least as quiet as New Orleans ever got, before Alex fin
ally wandered over. “What happened with Florian?”

  “I went to Elfheim to reroute all the faery transports,” I said, deciding I wouldn’t share with the wizards’ favorite shifter the fact that I’d routed them all to an area near the wizards’ prison. “Florian was prowling around Rand’s house, and we had a fight.” Or two, or three.

  “I assume you didn’t kill him, and of course you went without backup.”

  I sighed and rose above the familiar dig. “Jean Lafitte went with me, as well as my dog.”

  “The one with two-inch legs?”

  I’d never wanted to zap anyone so badly with my staff, but it would weaken my case against Zrakovi. “The one who let me know a shifter sniper was aiming for my head this afternoon.”

  “No sign of Florian’s people at the parades today,” Alex noted, changing the subject. “Guess you injured him too badly.”

  He was making another joke at my expense, but I no longer cared. My foot was throbbing, and one-upmanship was too petty to waste time on.

  “Lennox and Elder Sato should be here soon,” I said.

  “Sato? Why’s he coming?”

  “He’s chairman of the judiciary council of the Elders,” I said. “In case Carl over there says something that implicates a wizard.” Not mentioning any names, of course.

  That ended the conversation and sent Alex back to sit with Carl.

  “Was he always this big an asshole, or is this a new development?” Rene asked. “Oh wait, never mind. He’s a great guy when he’s in control, and he ain’t in control.”

  Thankfully, Lennox and Sato arrived in about a half-hour. They glanced at me, then at the werewolf still tied to the chair. His drawn brows and downturned mouth had given way to a blank face and pale, sweaty skin.

  Uncle Lennox didn’t look a lot like my father, his elder brother. Gerry’s hair, almost black in youth, had been silver as long as I could remember, and he wore it long. Lennox wore his light-brown hair short, letting it gray at the temples. Lennox’s look said businessman, while Gerry’s had read more bohemian. Until a few months ago, Lennox had spent his entire life in England, whereas Gerry had been banished to New Orleans by the Elders long ago to get him away from Elder headquarters in Edinburgh.

  But those two brothers who’d never gotten along shared a tilt of the head, a wry sense of humor, and the same blue-gray eyes. They also both had unruly daughters with magical skills and headstrong ways. I suspect Gerry would have found that funnier than Lennox.

  Elder Sato also had the businessman look down. He had a tech business of some kind in Tokyo, had dark hair and eyes, and wore his strong magical aura like a cloak. He was a powerful Red Congress wizard, with heavy-duty magical powers. He didn’t need a staff, elven or otherwise, to amp up his abilities.

  He was a quiet man, or that was my impression, but now he dragged one of Rene’s chairs over to face Carl and sat down. “Do you know who I am, Mr….”

  “McCord,” the werewolf said. “Yes, sir. You’re one of the Elders for the wizards.”

  “I am Asahi Sato.” His voice was soft, but commanded attention. His accent was very light. “You are correct. I am the Elder representing the wizards of Asia and the Middle East. I also am in charge of the judiciary council of the wizards. Do you understand what that means?”

  Carl paled even more, and the golden eyes of his wolf peeked out. “Yes, sir.”

  “I suggest you answer my questions and do so honestly. Then it will not go so badly for you.” He waited for Carl to nod before he continued. “Were you at the Barkus parade today?”

  “Yes,” Carl said.

  “Were you on the roof of the Café Bourbon today with a rifle?”

  “Yes.” Alex had apparently schooled him to keep his answers short.

  “Why were you there?”

  “To provide security for the Barkus Parade. We’ve been covering all the parades,” he said.

  “And did you take a shot into the crowd, at Ms. Jaco?”

  Carl looked at me and almost smiled. “I took a shot at someone with faery features approaching Ms. Jaco from behind. Hated to shoot in a crowd, you know, but she’s married to that elf and they’re not our targets.”

  Rene put a hand on my knee. I hated to tell him, but I wasn’t in danger of jumping to my feet because my foot was on fire. I was in danger of my head exploding, however.

  “So it is your contention that you were protecting Ms. Jaco, not targeting her?”

  “Exactly.” Carl leaned around to see me more clearly. “Sorry you misunderstood, ma’am.”

  I preferred The Dru to ma’am.

  “Mr. Sato.” Lennox abandoned his seat in the chair next to my end of the sofa and went to stand next to his fellow Elder. “I know it’s rather unorthodox, but would you object to having the head of the Elven Synod question Mr. McCord as well? As you know, elves can more effectively question a witness than we can.”

  Sato considered it, then turned and looked at me. “I will not accept Mr. Randolph’s direct involvement, as he has an obvious bias in this case. I will accept another elven questioner, however.”

  I thought it was probably a bad idea to contact Rand mentally. The less close we appeared, the better, despite his desire for a show of power. So I called him on the phone again.

  “Why are you using the phone?”

  “Hello,” I said, because someone needed to. “I’m going to put the phone on speaker. Elder Sato, head of the Elders’ judiciary council is here, and he feels you are too close to the situation to question the suspect. Is there someone unbiased who could do it?”

  Rand paused, smart enough to measure his words. “I would suggest Dr. Ginger Bowen. She is the senior healer of Elfheim and, as such, has no allegiance to any clan or individual.”

  No wonder she hadn’t bowed or scraped for Lord Randolph.

  “Elder Sato, would she be acceptable?”

  “Yes. Please have her come at once if possible. We need to resolve this while there’s a break in the Mardi Gras schedule.” A nice reminder that we had a few days’ break before the biggest days of carnival began.

  “I’ll bring her over as quickly as possible.” And then the elf was gone.

  Chapter 32

  Dr. Ginger must have been nearby, because she and Rand arrived after fifteen long, silent minutes.

  She wore the same no-nonsense style of clothing as last night—simple black pants and a tailored, sage-green blouse that fit her perfectly. Her style and carriage reminded me a bit of the man who’d been the previous Synod leader, the air elf who’d ended up beneath the twin-engine Cessna. If I had to bet, air had been her original clan.

  Rand introduced her to Elder Sato and Uncle Lennox—make that Elder St. Simon—then to Alex. After a pause, he introduced her to Rene and to me. It was a good call; no one knew we’d met last night.

  Rand came to sit beside me on the short sofa, wedging me between him and Rene. It seemed a common position for me these days.

  Elder Sato held up a hand, and any quiet chatter fell silent. “Mr. McCord, this is Dr. Bowen, the healer of Elfheim. Elves are able to do mental magic, and therefore are very effective at questioning witnesses. I’ve given permission for her to question you, to verify that the account of events you gave me earlier is accurate. Do you wish to change your testimony beforehand?”

  Carl had broken out in a heavy-enough sweat that beads of it sat on his forehead. He’d begin dripping soon. It formed dark circles under the arms and down the front of his t-shirt. “N…No.”

  “Very well,” Sato said. “Dr. Bowen, would you sit here, please? I will question him, and you can verify his answers.”

  He got up and ceded his chair to Dr. Ginger. She leaned forward and rested a hand on Carl’s knee. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  “Mr. McCord, you told me earlier that you were at the Barkus parade to help with the security against interference from Faerie. Is this true?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “He speaks truth,
” Dr. Ginger responded.

  “When you fired your rifle into the crowd, who were you trying to shoot? Earlier, you said it was a suspected faery. Is this true?”

  “Yes.” He closed his eyes and winced. For the first time, I almost felt pity for him. I’d had elves plunder in my brain against my will before, and it hurt, both physically and spiritually.

  “I’m sorry, but that is untrue.” Dr. Ginger paused. “Elder Sato, it will be less painful for Mr. McCord if he voluntarily offers the truth than if I pull it from him.”

  “Very well,” Elder Sato said. “Mr. McCord, would you like to alter your statement?”

  “I thought it was a faery,” he whined, looking at Alex. “Help me.”

  Alex looked at me, at Sato, and back at Carl. “Tell them the truth.”

  Carl tried to tip over his chair, although I’m not sure what good that would have done. Most people didn’t know that elves were as physically strong as vampires. I did, so it didn’t surprise me when Dr. Ginger reached out and held him still with a hand to each side of his head. The werewolf struggled briefly, then he seemed to give up.

  “Speak the truth,” she said softly.

  “Elder Zrakovi met with those of us covering the parades, calling us individually so Alex wouldn’t know,” he said. “He offered a million-dollar bonus to anyone who could kill Drusilla Jaco. I have a lot of debt, and we don’t get paid shit.” Tears seeped from the corners of his eyes, and he looked at me. “I’m sorry. I got nothin’ against you personally. My family needed the money.”

  He wept, and I found my pity. My anger was intact, but it was not aimed at Carl McCord; it was aimed at the man who had dangled the carrot.

  “Thank you, Dr. Bowen,” Elder Sato said after conferring with Lennox. “Would you stay a bit longer?”

  She looked at Rand, who nodded.

  Do you think they’re going to bring Zrakovi here? he asked me.

  The air felt too thick to breathe, and I wanted to run. Don’t they need the full Council of Elders for a trial?

  How would I know? You’re the wizard.