Under the Blood Moon

by Tracie Provost

  She confessed that while the tourists annoyed her, they were what kept the shop in business. “I did not originally carry that junk, but there are so few true practitioners left in the area that they could not sustain me,” she shrugged.

  When I mentioned that I had heard a houngan that met worshippers down in the 9th Ward, she warned me away. “You don’t want nuthin’ to do with that man. He’s bokor. He is very bad. I will not sell to him. Also stay away from Armand Sinclair. He is bad too.”

  When I brought up the fact that I’d been told both men were dark practitioners, Honore dismissed my concerns. “Juliette, you have been gone from the city and voodoo community for a long time. You obviously found the wrong people to talk to.”

  It was true that I had been gone and no longer knew the community. It was also not unheard of for a rival to claim the other bokor just to discredit a person. While I in no way trusted Honore, I did not think she was foolish enough to bring two bokor into the coven.

  I WAS WAITING for my cab after the meeting when Sophie called. “Has something happened?” I asked.

  She laughed softly. “No, although I suppose I do only call you with problems lately. I have the night off and wondered if you wanted to go out for a drink.”

  I knew nights off were rare for her, so I could not help asking, “No plans with Mike?”

  “I must confess, you are my back-up plan. Mike and I were supposed to go out, but he was called in to the station on non-vampire business. You don’t mind, do you? You don’t have plans with Josh?”

  “Plans with Josh? No. Why?” I asked.

  “You guys are together a lot.”

  “He was my escort while I warded the city. That was a nice bit of work, by the way, giving me a bodyguard without officially calling him that,” I said.

  “You did catch that then.”

  “Oh, yes. I may have been in torpor a long time but not that long. As it was, I did need someone with me while I warded. I would have been very vulnerable without his presence, so thank you. You mentioned getting a drink. Where did you have in mind?”

  “How about Arnaud’s? Do you know where that is?”

  “Yes. When would you like to meet?”

  “When can you be there?”

  “I am waiting for my cab in the Garden District, so not too long.”

  “Great, I’ll see you there.”

  I HAD BRIEFLY been inside Arnaud’s once with Josh. Owned by a Sylph, we had stopped in for a drink after I had warded the area. It was very upscale, with waiters in tuxedos, and we certainly were not dressed for the occasion but had been welcomed just the same.

  Sophie was already ensconced in a corner table sipping a martini when I arrived. Smiling, she waved me over. I had just sat down when the waiter appeared. I ordered a Bordeaux I was fond of and turned my attention to Sophie.

  “I am so glad you were able to come out. I get so few nights off that I just hate to waste them sitting at home,” she said.

  “Well, you certainly do not get enough time off, so it should not be squandered,” I replied.

  Sophie looked stricken. “I did not mean to complain. I love my job.”

  I regarded her intently. “I never thought you were complaining. I do not think I have ever known you to say anything ill about your position, but you do work too hard.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m just on edge tonight.”

  “Would you like to talk about it?” I offered.

  She shook her head. “Family business. Just ignore me.”

  It was not easy to ignore how miserable Sophie was, but I knew better than to press. When she wanted to tell me, she would. In the meantime, I did my best to cheer her up. By her third martini, Sophie was ready to talk.

  Forehead propped on the palm of her hand, she moaned, “I am so stupid.”

  “Whatever you did cannot possibly be as bad as you think,” I assured her.

  “It isn’t what I did, it was what I said and to whom.” Sophie raised her head briefly and then placed it back in her palm.

  “What did you say?” I simply could not imagine Sophie being indiscreet.

  “I was talking to Alton, the steward of Montreal, and said something about being busy and not having enough hours in the night and joked that it was a good thing I didn’t need to breathe because there wasn’t time.”

  “I do not see the problem,” I said, truly not understanding.

  “The real problem is that I said it to Alton. He has no sense of humor, nor does he think that women are capable of being stewards. So Alton tells Paul-David that I am complaining about my workload and it is all too much for me.”

  I thought for a minute, trying to draw connections. “Paul-David is your cousin and Grandmaster of Montreal, correct?”

  Sophie nodded her head. “Paul-David called Marc and related this cooked-up story about how I hate my job and want more free time. I tried to tell Marc that wasn’t what I said, but I’m not at all sure that he believed me.”

  I put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I am sure it will all work out. I cannot imagine Marc dismissing you from your post. Who could he possibly get to replace you? And plus, you are his sister. I’d expect that would make for awkward family relations.”

  Sophie looked up again, her face a mask of abject misery. “Alton. He wants my job. And our family dynamics are already awkward. I wouldn’t put it past Marc to fire me if he thought it necessary.”

  “I can’t see Marc doing that. Besides, Alton is already steward of Montreal. It is an older city and more prestigious. Why would he want to come here?”

  “Alton hates Canada. Always has. Something about the cold and snow.”

  “Surely Marc sees through this?”

  Sophie sighed. “The men in my family cannot always see things that are right in front of their faces.”

  “Would you like me to talk to Marc?” I offered.

  “No. That is very kind of you, but I do not want to involve you in this sordid mess. I probably shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “Sophie, we are friends, correct? This is what friends do.”

  “Thanks. I really did not intend this to become some maudlin pity party for me. Let’s change the subject. What is going on with you and Josh?”

  I shrugged. “Nothing. We are just friends.”

  Sophie rolled her eyes. “Please. I heard you two were out at the W last night. That is not exactly Josh’s normal watering hole.”

  “He took me to a movie and when it was over he suggested we go have a drink there.”

  “He took you to the movies?” Sophie asked incredulously. “You had a date.”

  “No, it was not like that,” I protested.

  Sophie gave me a patronizingly knowing look. “So tell me what it was like.”

  I explained how Chris and Josh had debated the merits of the new Star Trek incarnation and that we had all decided to go, but the werewolf attacks had forced a postponement.

  “So you, Chris, and Josh went to the movies last night,” Sophie said.

  “No, Chris was not there,” I admitted.

  Sophie reached across the table and patted my hand. “It was a date.”

  “No . . .” I stopped mid-protest. It probably had been a date.

  “Where did he take you? I didn’t think it was still showing anywhere.”

  When I told her, Sophie smiled. “I don’t know why I even asked. Of course he would take you there.”

  “Why ‘of course’?”

  “He owns the theatres.”

  I was puzzled. “Are you sure? He said he knew the owner, not that they were his.”

  “They are definitely his, although both Marc and Gabe have a small share. Josh is courting you.”

  That I did protest. “No. It was
a movie and drinks. That is all.”

  “Did he try to sleep with you?”

  I was slightly scandalized at the question. Not that she had asked it, but how plainly and bluntly it was phrased.

  “Certainly not.”

  “He’s courting you.”

  “He did not try to bed me,” I said again, emphasizing the not. “He hasn’t even kissed me.”

  Sophie nodded. “If he had tried or succeeded, I would say it was a flash in the pan, but since he didn’t, I think he really likes you.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  “You have to understand Josh. He is easily bored. He rarely takes someone out more than twice. In all the years I’ve known him, he’s never been with someone longer than a month and never as often as he has been with you.”

  “He was with me on business. That is hardly the same thing,” I argued.

  “You did talk while you were together, right?”

  “Of course we did. It would have been dead dull if he had just escorted me to places and then I warded.”

  “And when he no longer had a duty to be with you, he took you to the movies.”

  I could see that I was not going to convince her that Josh and I were not dating, and frankly, I wasn’t sure what we were doing. “Well, I’m sure he will tire of me soon enough.”

  “I rather doubt it. But how do you feel about him?”

  “I am hardly in a position to be looking for a lover,” I said.

  “That is not what I asked.”

  “I like him. A lot,” I admitted. “Unfortunately it cannot work.”

  “Why not?”

  “Aether Elder, Sylph lieutenant? Even if coven difference was not enough, there is the issue of Andre. It would be unseemly for me to . . . replace him so soon.”

  “No one would think that,” Sophie assured me.

  “Honore does.”

  “That’s rich, considering she’s been warming Andre’s bed for the better part of two hundred years.” Sophie snorted. “Ignore that viper.”

  “What?” I sputtered. “Andre and Honore were lovers?”

  Sophie clasped her hands over her mouth. “Shit. I wasn’t supposed to say anything. Ignore what I just told you.”

  “What do you mean you weren’t supposed to tell me? How could you keep something this important from me?”

  Sophie looked chagrined. “Andre was supposed to tell you.”

  “Andre didn’t even bother to tell me where Sanctuary was, let alone that he was bedding my mortal and—damn it—immortal enemy!” I hissed.

  Sophie winced. “I know. We all kept waiting for him to tell you, but then he died and we thought it better to let sleeping dogs lie.”

  “Who’s we?”

  Sophie winced again. “Marc, Josh, and I.”

  “You all knew?”

  “Everyone in town knew. They’d been the ‘it couple’ for decades.”

  I closed my eyes and willed myself not to cry. I am such a fool, mourning for a man who had not been faithful to me for centuries. That certainly explained his lack of amorous activity toward me. Even knowing this, and despite my best efforts, tears leaked out, and Sophie pressed a clean handkerchief into my hand. I dried my eyes, thankful for the shadowy table.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you, but I hate to see you carrying a torch for a man who doesn’t deserve it.”

  “But he said he looked for me. Was that a lie too?” I fought hard to control my emotions.

  “No, that was true. About every twenty years or so, he’d really search.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said miserably.

  Sophie sighed heavily and signaled for another round of drinks. After they arrived, Sophie apologized again. “I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s not my place.”

  “Not your place? I thought you were my friend?” I asked.

  “Of course I’m your friend, but I should have found a less drunk moment to do it,” Sophie said wryly. “All this to say, Andre should not be an impediment to dating Josh.”

  “Andre might not be, but Honore still is.” The shock and hurt were wearing off and swiftly being replaced by anger. Not at Sophie, but at Andre, and most of all myself. That lying, selfish bastard.

  “Times change, Juliette. Dating between covens is no longer the taboo it once was, and unless your Coven Mistress is your sire, she cannot tell you who to see or not see.”

  I was surprised to hear this. “Even so, I am not ready to be in a relationship again. There is a little too much else going on in the city for me to be worrying about my love life.”

  “Juliette, if you think that way, you will wake up in 800 years and realize that you have not been held by a man in centuries. There is always going to be something ‘more important.’ Don’t let there be.”

  This speech seemed very personal, and I wondered if that was what had happened to her, but decided not to ask. Instead I said, “Josh is not exactly my type.”

  “What is your type? Pompous and arrogant like Andre?” she laughed.

  I was a little startled at her characterization of my sire. That was not to say it was untrue. Andre could be an incredible ass sometimes. I was just surprised to hear Sophie say such. The alcohol had loosened her tongue considerably. She was usually far more diplomatic. I chose my words carefully. “I do admire confidence in a man.”

  “Well, Josh has got that.”

  “I favor the intellectual,” I said.

  “Don’t let the ‘aw, shucks’ persona fool you. Josh is as well-read as Marc.”

  I knew that. Josh and I had enjoyed a number of erudite conversations while I had warded the city, and I knew that he always carried a book so he would not get bored. The latest was Politics by Aristotle in the original Greek. Finally I blurted out the real reason I thought it would not work between Josh and me. “He is terribly rough around the edges.”

  Sophie looked at me and burst out laughing. “Juliette, you are a snob!”

  If I were human, I would have flushed bright red. As it was, I looked guiltily down at my wine glass. “Yes, I suppose I am. My grandfather was the Chatelain de Chatillion. I was raised to a certain station in life.”

  “Your father obviously did not think the same way.”

  That was true to a point. My father had loved my mother enough to flout convention and marry the illegitimate daughter of a rice planter and his slave. “It is different for a man,” I said, ashamed of the way I felt.

  Sophie made a dismissive noise. “Perhaps in 1790 but not now and certainly not in America. Josh is rich, successful, talented, and sinfully good looking. Get off your high horse, princess. That man is crazy about you, and you like him just as much or you wouldn’t be this uncomfortable with the conversation. Besides, I’ve seen the two of you together. There is chemistry there. Don’t waste it. And sure as hell don’t mourn Andre.”

  AFTER MY CONVERSATION with Sophie, it should not have surprised me that Josh called a bit after 9:30 the next night, but it did. Somehow I had not taken her seriously, and was still skeptical about him courting me. After all, there was the chance he might try to bed me tonight, and I was not at all sure I would not let him. Especially after what Sophie had told me about Andre and Honore.

  As it turned out, Josh wanted to take me to see a zydeco band he was considering booking into The Cowboy. “I’m not sure if you like the kinda music or not, but the band that was supposed to be playing the next coupla weeks was Pack, and since the entire city is pretty much warded against werewolves, I need a replacement.”

  “I have no idea if I like zydeco music or not,” I answered truthfully.

  “Howzabout we find out? Wear jeans. We’re going to a dive over on Frenchman. I’ll pick you up in twenty minutes.”

  I had been
enjoying a leisurely wake-up and was still in my robe, drinking coffee, reading the paper, and trying not to obsess over my sire sleeping with my mortal enemy. Later, I wasn’t sure how I managed to shower, dress, and be ready when Josh arrived to pick me up a few minutes before 10:00.

  We drove the short distance to Frenchman and found a parking spot on the street. Josh had this amazing ability to always find a place to park in a city that had too many cars and not enough spots to put them. I once teased him about it and he grinned, saying his granny had blessed him with luck the day he was born. I was glad for his luck, because it often saved me a long walk.

  Josh led me up a set of rickety stairs to a dim and dingy bar. The man at the door seemed to be waiting for us because he told Josh that there was a table ready up front. The room was crowded and smelled of stale beer, peanuts, and human sweat. We wound our way to the empty table next to the stage.

  “I know you prefer wine, but I ain’t thinking the swill they serve here is gonna suit you. Howzabouta beer?”

  I did not like beer. I had not enjoyed it as a human, and as a vampire it turned my stomach. I shook my head. “I cannot drink beer. Is it possible to get scotch?”

  Josh thought for a moment. “I know what I can get you. Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

  I settled onto the wobbly chair, trying to ignore the fact that my feet were sticking to the floor and that the table had not been wiped down in recent memory. If this was Josh’s idea of courting, it left a lot to be desired.

  Josh returned a few minutes later carrying an Abita beer and a glass of amber liquid. I took the glass from him and sniffed it. Not scotch, but something related, I thought.

  “It’s Jack Daniels. Good Tennessee whiskey. Kinda scotch’s lowbrow cousin,” Josh explained.

  I took a tentative sip and then a larger one. The liquid lit my mouth and slid down my throat in a cool burn. More raw than scotch, but not unpleasant. I took a third sip and let it warm my stomach. I smiled in satisfaction.