Garden of Dreams and Desires

by Kristen Painter

  Giselle spoke a single word and the vines withered and fell away. She looked at Zara and shook her head. “You tire us.” In one swift move, she snapped Zara’s neck.

  Zara’s body fell lifeless to the ground. Giselle turned to face Ian. “Drag her body into the house.”

  He nodded like an automaton, eyes as blank as a doll’s. It was as if fear had rendered him numb to everything else.

  “Good.” Giselle started for the house. “As soon as you’ve done that, you will come with us to the French Quarter house. This property must be destroyed.”

  “Wha-what about the bodies in the pond?” he managed to gasp out.

  She whipped around. “What about them?”

  “Aren’t you concerned that they’ll be traced back to you?”

  “No. This will all be on Zara’s head. It will be clear that she was attempting something she shouldn’t and died as a result of it. Her body will be found in the ashes of the house and that will be that. Are you concerned for another reason? Something we should know about?”

  He shook his head but looked utterly unconvinced. “No.”

  “No, what?”

  “No, my Lady?”

  “Very good, Ian.” With that horrible, toothy smile stretching her face, Giselle strode out of Augustine’s sight and into the house.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Harlow’s heart ached with the horrifying loss of Cy, but along with that ache came anger. The kind that made her care not about the consequences, only the results. “We can’t leave Cy’s body here,” she whispered. “He wouldn’t leave one of us.”

  “Agreed,” Dulcinea replied, the cry in her voice echoing the pain in Harlow’s soul.

  “As soon as Giselle and Ian leave,” Augustine added.

  “She’s going to set the house on fire,” Harlow hissed back. Below, Ian lifted Zara and carried her into the house. Her head lolled at an unnatural angle.

  “I know, but we’ll have time. There’s no way it’ll reach the second floor before we can get down.” His gaze was fixed on Ian as well. “Once we’re on the ground I’ll get Cy and the senator’s son out of the pond while you and Dulce see if you can put out the fire.”

  Dulcinea pulled her LMD out. “We should call the cops.”

  “So Giselle can kill them, too?” Augustine shook his head. “We’ve had enough death. Let her and Ian leave, then I’ll call Fenton and Grantham.”

  Dulcinea tucked her LMD back in her pocket. “You’re the boss.”

  “I smell smoke,” Harlow said. She looked at Augustine. “And for once, it’s not you.”

  The sound of doors closing, first the house, then the car, reached them. Augustine shifted, lifting up slightly, his gaze tracking something down below. “And… they’re gone. Let’s go.”

  She and Dulcinea followed him to the edge. Thin streams of smoke curled over the guttering. He jumped down first, then reached his hands up to her. “Dulce, give her a hand down.”

  “I can do it.”

  “C’mon,” Dulcinea said softly. “Now’s not the time to break something. Grab hold of my wrist.” She held out her hand.

  Harlow took it, clasping her gloved fingers around Dulcinea’s wrist as Dulcinea did the same to her, then Dulcinea lifted Harlow and lowered her over the side until Augustine caught her around the thighs.

  “Got her,” he called up.

  Dulcinea released Harlow and jumped down next to them.

  Harlow planted her hands on Augustine’s shoulders and looked down at him. He still held her around the waist. “You can put me down now.”

  “I know.” He loosened his grip so she slid down his body. “I just don’t want to.” He looked toward the pond. “I’m tired of losing people.”

  She held on to his arm. “We all are. Look, you call Fenton. Dulcinea can look after Cy and I’ll see what I can do about the fire, okay? After you fill him in, come help me in the house.” Bright orange fire danced behind the sheers covering the windows. “You’re part smokesinger. You should be real comfortable in all those flames.”

  He nodded, a gentle smile forming on his face. “All right then.” His serious demeanor took over as she walked toward the house and heard him say, “Call Fenton.”

  She tried the door. Locked. She picked up a rock and smashed one of the French door’s panes, then reached through and unlatched the door. As she pushed it open, a wave of heat hit her. Inside, flames licked the walls and smoke pooled on the ceiling. She blinked and got her bearings.

  Plants filled the house. The kitchen was off to the left and to the right was the sitting room. Zara’s feet were visible on the other side of a large leather sofa.

  Harlow almost felt sorry for her, but the woman had tried to kill her and planned to kill Augustine. She’d gotten what she’d deserved. Harlow made a run for the kitchen and started digging under sink cabinets for a fire extinguisher. She found it behind a stack of towels. The crackle and thrum of the flames grew louder. She grabbed the extinguisher and stood, about to run down the source of the fire, when Dulcinea dashed into the house.

  “We’ve been calling you. Forget the house.” Her face lit up. “Cy’s alive.” With a tip of her head toward the garden, she left as quickly as she’d come in.

  “What?” Harlow dropped the extinguisher and ran after her. As soon as she got outside the house, she realized how much smoke she’d been breathing in. Augustine crouched by the edge of the pond, obscuring Cy’s body, which didn’t look any more alive than the last time she’d seen it.

  She jogged to catch up with Dulcinea, trying to ignore the bloated, floating corpses of those who hadn’t made it. As they rounded the tall growth of reeds and grasses on the pond’s backside, she realized that while Cy was still lying down, he was talking to Augustine.

  She fell to her knees beside him. “Cy! How are you still alive?”

  A massive smile greeted her. “You’re not going to believe this, but I think Father Ogun had a lot to do with it.”

  “Really? After he sold me out to the witches?”

  “But he didn’t know they were going to turn on him, too. He had no love for them, I promise you that.” Cy coughed, spitting up a little water. “Once he came to, he spent the rest of our time down there chanting spells over both of us and drawing lines of protection around us in the dirt. Did he make it?”

  Harlow looked at Augustine. He glanced toward the pond for a moment, then back at her and shook his head.

  “I think you’re the only survivor,” Harlow said. “Queen Jewelia, a voodoo mambo I talked to, said you might not be affected by the witches’ spell the same way as the humans because you’re fae. Ogun’s voodoo doesn’t seem to have had the same benefit.” Harlow grabbed Cy’s big hand and squeezed it. Sirens pealed through the air. The good guys were on their way. “Whatever the reason, I’m so happy you’re still alive.”

  “Might need a few days of recovery.” He smiled weakly. “Feel like I’ve been run over by a jun-jun.”

  She laughed, knowing she was the only one who’d get his reference to the enormous, armor-shelled beast that roamed the badlands of the RPG they both played. “At least you don’t smell like one.”

  He nodded, then went serious. “I guess you managed to get rid of Ava Mae?”

  “Yep. When you tossed me out of the pit, she got stuck behind. Although, she didn’t entirely disappear.” She glanced at Augustine before answering. “There was a lot of other stuff that went down first, which we’ll explain later, but the wrap-up is Ava Mae seems to have taken up residence in Giselle, the witch who tried to kill you.”

  “Wow.” He stared at the sky, his face illuminated by the fire now engulfing the first floor of the house. “I guess we’re not rid of her yet.”

  “Nope.” A loud crack erupted behind her. She turned. Firemen had smashed the garden gate off its hinges and were dragging hoses through the yard. Augustine and Fenton, heads bent in deep conversation, stood halfway between the house and the pond. Emergency pole lights
, set up by the firemen, flared brightly turning the night into day.

  Dulcinea was directing two paramedics toward Cy’s location. She ran along beside them. “He’s right here.” She pointed at Cy but looked at Harlow. “They’re going to take him to the hospital, check him over, probably keep him the night. Make sure Cy knows.”

  “You hear all that?” Harlow asked Cy.

  He nodded. “I’m not much on human hospitals but considering how I feel, I’m not going to argue.”

  The paramedics lowered the stretcher. “Excuse us, ma’am, we’re going to need you to give us some space.”

  Harlow gave Cy’s hand a final squeeze, then pushed to her feet and backed up. “You take good care of him.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” They went to work doing whatever paramedics did. Dulcinea helped them lift Cy’s enormous bulk onto the gurney, then they wheeled him across the grass and into the waiting ambulance.

  Harlow walked to Augustine’s side, but it was Fenton’s attention she wanted. “They’re taking Cy to the hospital.” She nodded at the ambulance. “Are those human doctors going to have any idea what to do with him?”

  Fenton smiled. “Not sure, but there are fae doctors there, too. Always have been. They’ll take good care of him.”

  “Thanks, that’s reassuring.”

  Grantham joined them. Behind him, uniformed police were trickling in. “You people don’t do anything on a small scale, do you?” He glanced at the house. The firemen seemed to have the fire under control. He shook his head as he pulled out his tablet and stylus. “Want to give me the short version?”

  Bits of soot and ash floated down onto them. Harlow flicked a piece off her arm. “People are dead, the house is on fire and our witch problem is not yet solved.”

  Grantham looked at her. “Maybe not that short.”

  Augustine nodded. “Robbie Pellimento’s body is in the pond, along with nine others including Rufus Ogun. One of my lieutenants was in there, too, but he’s the only one who survived and the EMTs are taking him to the hospital. Zara Vincent’s body is in the house. Killed by her sister. Who is now most likely at her house in the Quarter with her boyfriend, Ian, but she’s got a little possession issue that’s going to make it tricky for you guys to handle. Probably ought to leave her to us.”

  Grantham stared at him for a moment, then slowly started to shake his head. “Damn.” He scratched his forehead. “Pellimento’s dead, huh? That is not going to go down well.”

  Augustine held his hands up. “His blood is on the witches, not the fae.”

  Grantham sighed. “I wish I thought that was going to matter.”

  Fenton pulled off his glasses and wiped them clean with a hanky. “What sort of fallout should we expect exactly?”

  “I’ll assume you’ve been monitoring the senator’s track record?”

  Fenton slipped his glasses back on. “We have. We’re well aware of her hatred for othernaturals despite her clever attempts to hide the actions she’s taken against us through her shell corporations and connections.”

  “Then it won’t come as a surprise to you that she’ll use her son’s death to make some public noise about this.” Grantham brushed a piece of ash off his suit coat. “My guess is she’s going to try for something big, like all othernaturals have to be registered, that sort of thing. Or…”

  When Grantham didn’t immediately finish, Harlow spoke up. “Or what?”

  “She threatened me with martial law,” Augustine offered.

  “That.” Grantham took a deep inhale. “Or she’ll keep to her usual MO and try to force her will upon the fae in private.”

  “In what way?” Augustine asked.

  “Blackmail. Extortion. Something of that nature.” Grantham frowned. “She’s a senator. That’s just business as usual for her.”

  Augustine put his arm around Harlow’s shoulders. “Let her try. We’ve got bigger issues right now than a racist politician.”

  Grantham nodded. “I hear you. Just let me know if I can help.” He pointed at them. “And watch your back. Her goons are still in town.”

  Augustine snorted. “I can assure you they will not get the jump on me twice.”

  The coroner arrived. Grantham gave him a wave. “If you’ll excuse me, I better get to work. I’ll let you know if anything interesting turns up.”

  Harlow spoke up. “Zara’s neck is broken.” Grantham looked back at her. She shrugged. “Just thought you should let the coroner know.”

  “Will do. You take care now.” He took off, leaving the three of them alone.

  Fenton put his hands on his hips. “This is a mess.” He looked at Augustine. “You have a suggestion on what to do next?”

  “Yes,” Augustine said. “But not here. We need to regroup at the Pelcrum.”

  Fenton nodded. “All right. Do you and Dulcinea want to head over there? I can run Harlow home.”

  Augustine pulled Harlow a little closer to him. “About that.” He looked at her. “I can’t do this without you, but I’d like to make it official. How’d you like to be one of my lieutenants? You’re doing a good part of the job already without the title.”

  “Well, when you put it that way…” The idea scared her witless, but she grinned anyway. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Sydra and Yanna were waiting for them when Augustine entered the Pelcrum’s war room.

  “This place is so cool,” Harlow whispered. She ran her hands over the huge table that hosted their meetings. The large fleur-de-lis inlaid in the center gleamed, the wood polished to a high shine.

  Augustine grinned at her. Hell’s bells, it was good to have her back and at his side. “You don’t have to whisper, babe.”

  Her cheeks flushed, making her freckles pop. She looked down and a curtain of hair swung over her face. If that’s the response “babe” got him, he was going to have to try out a few more terms of endearment.

  “Yanna—I mean…” Augustine hesitated. “I guess I should call you Prime Quinn now.”

  She smiled at him. “I think we’re past that, Augustine.”

  “Whatever you’re good with, so am I. How’s Blu working out?”

  Yanna tipped her head back and forth. “She’s adjusting. I don’t need the level of protection Loudreux did, but I think she’s pleased not to be working for him anymore.” Her gaze shifted to Harlow. “I’m not opposed to Harlow’s presence, but isn’t it a little unusual to allow someone into the Pelcrum who hasn’t been sworn in?”

  “It is, but she’ll be sworn in soon.” Augustine took his seat. “She’s agreed to become one of my lieutenants, and in light of recent circumstances, I felt we could use all the help available. Hell, I would have brought Lally in if I’d thought about it sooner.”

  Yanna nodded. “I see. And I approve.” She leaned forward. “Now that I’m Prime, I have no intentions of turning into Loudreux. I’m not going to cramp your style as Guardian. It might be a bit unorthodox at times, but you’re doing a good job. I would ask that you keep me informed, however. I want to help. I’m not interested in the disdainful, hands-off approach of my predecessor.”

  “Good.” Augustine spread his hands on the table as the others took their places. “Cy is in the hospital. Fenton, they sent you a report, didn’t they?”

  The cypher cleared his throat and pulled out his LMD, swiping his finger across the screen. “Yes, here it is. Cylo is dehydrated and suffering from what the doctor is calling blood poisoning.” He looked up from the screen. “Dr. Carlson took on Cylo’s case and he’ll be scheduling the shift nurses assigned to Cylo as well. For those of you who don’t know Dr. Carlson, he’s fae. He believes this blood poisoning is a result of Cylo’s system fighting off the witches’ magic.”

  “It’s my fault,” Harlow muttered. “He was only in there because of me.”

  Augustine shook his head. “He was in there because he was doing his job, which just happened to be protecting you. Someday, as a lieutenant, you may do the same for him.”
r />   She nodded solemnly. “With pleasure.”

  Augustine looked at Fenton. “Thank you for the update. Let us know if there’s any change.”

  “I will,” Fenton answered.

  “Now,” Augustine said. “We need to focus on the issue at hand. Giselle Vincent. Based on what we saw happen at Zara’s house—”

  “They were trying to perform chaos magic, correct?” Yanna asked.

  “Yes. Fortunately, they failed. As soon as it became clear the spell wasn’t going to work, Zara shoved Giselle into the pond holding the sacrificial souls.”

  “They also floated a paper with a strange design onto the same water,” Harlow added.

  Yanna’s brows lifted. “Did it look as though it was drawn in blood?”

  “Maybe.” Harlow looked at him, then Dulcinea. “What do you think?”

  Dulcinea nodded. “Definitely could have been blood.”

  “It was a sigil,” Yanna said. “They would have used one to focus the spell and direct the chaos energy toward their goal.” She frowned. “I wonder why the spell didn’t work.”

  “Because,” Harlow said. “Cy got me out of the pond without the witches knowing about it. They thought they had the right number of souls.”

  “So that’s why Zara pushed Giselle in? To add the soul they needed?” Yanna clucked her tongue. “Those witches are a cold, calculating lot.”

  “It gets worse,” Augustine added. “Adding Giselle to the pond didn’t work the way Zara had hoped. Something went wrong. Giselle emerged from the pond with one of the sacrificial souls melded to hers.” Explaining this without mentioning the lightning tree was growing more difficult. “It seems to have grown her power exponentially. She killed Zara like it was nothing. She also set fire to the house. And she’s got another wizard working for her, under fear of death most likely, by the name Ian.”

  Yanna’s expression held many questions. “How do you know she has this other soul? Why would that give her more power? I don’t understand how this all happened. A failed casting of a chaos spell should have killed them all.”