The walk to St. John’s was a long one, but it gave her time to think.
The Elders had given her and Viv hell when the Triad’s familiars had ratted them out about Evee’s intimacy with Lucien and Viv’s with Nikoli. They’d reprimanded the sisters, and warned them to forgo all intimacy with the Benders.
She and Viv had given the Elders a half-hearted agreement that they’d stay hands off, but that didn’t do a damn thing to keep her from thinking about Lucien. The man could wear an Eskimo coat and hood over an armored bodysuit, and Evee would still be able to feel the strength of all that made up the man. The bulk of his muscular arms, the ripples of muscles that ran down his chest and stomach. The width of his hands. The length of his fingers. How he towered over her, a gentle, protective giant that turned her insides into mush.
After meeting with the Elders and all but being blamed along with Viv for the turmoil and suffering unleashed in the city, Evee had tried to stay resolute.
She’d met Lucien at the cathedral as they’d agreed upon, and attempted to keep her distance from him. Remain aloof. Her resolve had vanished, however, the moment she saw his strong, finely chiseled face and the fierce emerald of his eyes. Every time Lucien had spoken to her, Evee had trouble concentrating on his words. She’d watched his lips, which made her thirst for him in the worst way. She wanted to kiss his full, beautiful lips again.
The fight with the Cartesians had been fierce, and it had terrified her. But for the first time since they’d been paired together, along with Ronan, she felt they’d operated as a team. It made Evee feel good to contribute the way she did.
Still feeling a sense of remorse over Ronan’s death and with Lucien on her mind, Evee soon found herself on Canal Street before she knew it. She took a right on Chartres, then made her way to the cathedral and into the catacombs.
The electric canopy that Lucien and Ronan had recharged with their scabiors was still intact. The Nosferatu beneath it paced restlessly. They all looked over at her questioningly, and Evee could almost hear their collective mental questions.
Now? Is feeding time now? Will you release us from here—now?
The only one Evee made eye contact with was Pierre, her lead Nosferatu. Evee mouthed to him, “Very soon.”
Pierre gave her an almost imperceptible nod, then went about his business.
With that, Evee quickly left the catacombs and cathedral and headed for the docks to check on the ferry.
Evee had barely walked fifty feet when she heard someone call her name. A man.
“Miss François.”
She froze, then turned slowly in the direction of the man’s voice.
Standing about a half block away was Shandor Black, one of the three sorcerers who lived in New Orleans. He walked in her direction, his tall, lanky body stiff in motion, a body that appeared more comfortable settled in a chair than chasing a Triad in the wee hours of morning.
Shandor was one of the sorcerers that the Elders had mentioned often. One they didn’t trust any more than they trusted Trey Cottle, Shandor’s usual sidekick.
As he drew closer, Shandor pushed his eyeglasses up on his long, hooked nose, closer to his beady eyes. The glasses did little to enhance the man’s thin, drawn face that carried a perpetual scowl.
“How lovely to meet you out here, Miss François,” Shandor said when he finally reached Evee.
Evee nodded politely. “Mr. Black. What brings you out at such an early hour?”
“Well, actually,” he said, pressing his glasses against his eyes again, “I was looking for you.”
Evee felt her head jerk up in surprise. “What on earth would you want with me?”
“I hear that you and your sisters were facing quite a dilemma,” Shandor said. His voice held a nasal stuffiness to it. “I wanted to offer my assistance.”
“Where did you hear about this so-called dilemma?” Evee asked, eyes narrowing.
“Oh, you know,” Shandor said, absently rubbing his chin. “Word gets around rather quickly in this city. Well, the Quarter, anyway.” He attempted a smile, but the gesture appeared to make his face hurt.
“So,” Evee said, and put a fist on her hip. “If I understand you correctly, you’ve heard a rumor about me and my sisters and decided to seek me out at what...two thirty in the morning?”
Shandor shrugged. “I don’t sleep well these days. Insomnia. I often walk the city at night when I can’t sleep.”
“And what made you think I’d be out here this early?”
“Oh, I’ve seen you out in this area this early from time to time on nights when I can’t sleep. Figured it’d be worth a shot, looking for you here, I mean.”
Evee felt gooseflesh rush along her arms just thinking that Shandor had been watching her without her knowledge. And now confronting her here.
Stiffening her spine, Evee said, “Tell me what it is you think you know.”
“I’d be happy to,” Shandor said. He pointed to a stoop near a darkened building. “Why don’t we sit over there for a chat? I’ll tell you what I’ve heard, and you can decide whether or not my services might come in handy.”
They walked the few steps to the stoop, which was little more than three cracked brick steps, and Evee said, “Feel free to sit. I’m fine standing right here.”
Shandor shrugged again and sat on the stoop with a grunt, then drummed his fingers on his knees. “Aging is no fun, I’ve got to tell you. These old knees have seen better days.”
Anxious to get to the ferry and wanting to rid herself of Shandor, Evee put her hands on her hips. “Please get to the point. I have business to take care of.”
Shandor squinted up at her. “Oh, of course, of course.” He looked down, continued to drum his fingers against his knees. “Well, let’s see. I’ve heard that the Originals, not all of them, but some, have gone missing. I’ve also heard about the human and the Nosferatu killed. Plenty of human witnesses from what I was told. Plenty.”
Evee felt fury roil through her body. “When did you hear such things?”
“Today.”
“From whom?”
“As I said, word travels, and my source for the information is very reliable.”
“Bullshit!”
Shandor stopped drumming his fingers and peered up at Evee. “Why, Miss François, such language from a nice young lady like yourself. I must say, it’s not very becoming.”
Evee’s hands rolled into fists on her hips. “Tough tits, Shandor. Your ‘word travels fast’ excuse is bullshit. We both know it. You had to get that information from someone specific, and I want to know who.”
Shandor held up an indignant chin. “Who gave me the information is truly irrelevant, especially with the problems all of you are experiencing now. And really, Evette, I truly believe I can be of service to all of you.”
Evee remembered the discussion she and her sisters had had with the Elders. How they’d argued back and forth about getting any of the sorcerers involved. Evee had felt strongly about not allowing them into their lives.
She glared at Shandor, who still sat on the stoop, his back resting against the building behind it. He crossed his arms and placed them in his lap. As relaxed as a man waiting for the city bus.
“Hypothetically,” Evee finally said, “suppose what you heard was true—and I’m not saying it is. What do you possibly have to offer anyone who might be in such a state?”
Shandor let out a snort of laughter. “We have many spells and incantations that are different from yours. And since we’re sorcerers and not witches—and I’m not meaning that in any sexist way or implying any inferiority of one to the other,” Shandor assured her, “we might add some extra punch.”
Evee opened her mouth, ready to ream out Shandor, but he blabbered on before she was able to get a word in edgewise.
&n
bsp; “Just hear me out,” Shandor said. “Don’t think that me, Trey or Gunner don’t know how the Triad feels about sorcerers. No matter those feelings, wouldn’t calmer heads prevail? I know that collectively we can put a stop to all this. No more deaths. No human deaths. You, once again, in full control of all that’s yours. I’m quite confident we can help make that happen.”
“We are in control of our Originals and each other,” Evee said through clenched teeth. “Thank you very much for your concern, but I assure you it’s unwarranted. Your information and whatever reliable source you think you have are wrong.”
“You’re only saying that because I won’t reveal my source,” Shandor said, then struggled to his feet. “Let me assure you, Miss François, despite what you think, my information source is as reliable as your familiar.”
Evee frowned. “What about my familiar?”
Shandor held out a hand. “Nothing, really. Only a point of reference. Think about what you’re asking. It would be quite crass of me to divulge the name of my source who specifically asked to remain anonymous. I’m only here to offer my help, and I don’t know how my revealing that information, thus breaking my promise, would cause you to trust me more. In fact, the opposite would be true, would it not? It would cause you to mistrust me all the more.”
“You’re right,” Evee said. “I don’t trust you. Any of you. Why should I? All I’ve ever seen from you and Trey are spells and incantations that served no one but yourselves. Not once have I seen either of you open up to help other people in the community. Your motives have always been self-serving. Why come to me now if you think there are issues? What would you gain out of this, Shandor?”
“Truthfully,” Shandor said, looking wistfully down the street, “to save this city, the one we both love. Look, Evette, we both play baseball, so to speak, only we play in separate fields. It only makes sense that if one team winds up in trouble, trouble big enough to affect both playing fields, both teams should merge to conquer the problem.”
Evee sighed, noting time getting further and further away from her. “I appreciate your metaphor and offer to help, Mr. Black, but I assure you that we have things firmly in hand.”
Shandor pursed his lips and studied Evee for a few seconds. “Do you plan on assuring the police officers who’ve made numerous trips to the Elders’ home in the same way?”
Evee felt her brows lift in surprise. She didn’t allow herself to give Shandor the satisfaction of asking how he knew about the police.
Shandor clicked his tongue against his crooked front teeth. “What do you think the Elders will tell them when they finally do decide to open the door? Or worse, if the officers obtain a warrant and force their way inside?”
Evee only stared at him, working hard to remain expressionless.
“If we join forces, Miss François, we can certainly have the police officers turn the other cheek, so to speak. Point them in a completely different direction. The Triad and Elders remain safe that way.”
Unable to stop herself, Evee huffed. “Trust me. Whatever you think you can do with your powers, we can do three times as much. The Triad is not a simple cluster of witches. We have our own ways and powers.”
“So I’ve heard,” Shandor said. “But from what I’ve heard recently, those powers seem to be slipping, for whatever reason. If that’s true, then imagine you having the help of the sorcerers in this war you’re fighting. You would be able to conquer these problems in a day, two at the most. Think of it. No more sleepless nights. No more having to watch the catacombs, where you’re keeping the Nosferatu cloistered.”
“How do you know where my Nosferatu are?” Evee demanded.
“Oh, there are many things I know. I’m aware that the Chenilles are collected in the Louis I Cemetery, and the Loup Garous have been gathered in the North Compound out in Algiers.”
Without a second thought, Evee spat, hitting the ground and missing Shandor’s shoes by a couple inches. “I’m going to ask you once more, Black. Where are you getting your information?”
“And once more, I have to reiterate that I cannot divulge that information. But all of it’s true, isn’t it?”
Evee heard a low growl come from the bowels of her throat. “In a million years, how can you possibly expect me to ever trust the likes of you?”
Shandor eyed her. A glint in his milky brown eyes. “Because you have no one else to turn to. Because you’re at a loss and afraid. Because we’re your only hope. There’s no one else who could possibly understand where you’re coming from or how the challenges you face affect you.”
“Except the opposite sex of witches?” Evee nearly shouted. She leaned into Shandor to make certain he heard every word she said, and that he wouldn’t miss the determination in her eyes. “This is the last time I’m going to repeat this. I don’t know what you’ve heard or who you’ve heard it from, but it’s all bullshit. We take care of our own. It’s not like sorcerers don’t ever run into challenges of their own. When was the last time you called on any of us for help? Never! Whatever situation we may face, we’ll conquer it as a Triad with our Elders.”
“And your new friends?” Shandor smirked.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Oh, we see more in this city than you give us credit for. I’ve seen those four handsome young men following the Triad’s every footstep.”
“Who told you about the Benders? Your fastidious, reliable source?” Evee taunted.
“What was there to tell? Who could possibly miss those handsome men in this city? They truly stand out, and I’ve personally seen two of them following you through the Quarter. Their appearance here is certainly no secret. They’re—”
Evee finally held up both hands, stopping his rant. “As I stated before, Black, I have business to tend to. I would ask that you mind your own business, and we’ll take care of our own.”
With that, Evee turned on her heel and stormed away from Shandor Black. She had to let her sisters, the Elders and the Benders know that word was on the street, and worse, in the hands of the sorcerers. That was a problem they certainly didn’t need. For this one held the potential to turn things a lot uglier than they were now or make them far worse than anyone expected.
Chapter 15
After making his call to Ronan’s father and the rest of his family regarding his cousin’s death, Lucien paced about the hotel room, unable to think. All his brain focused on was the sight of Ronan, the long black claw that had been shoved into his left temple and came out of his right. His face bloody, eyes open and void of expression, mouth slightly open from the shock.
The only comfort Lucien had to offer Ronan’s family and his own was that Ronan’s death had been quick. There’d been no struggle, no death throes. Lucien’s cousin had simply hung from that goddamn claw like a ragdoll.
Aside from his cousin’s death, the worst part would be the lack of closure for Ronan’s family. They’d have no body to bury. Only memories, which they planned to share in a memorial mass to be held as soon as the Benders’ mission was over.
Gavril and Nikoli had been right. Although he was grieving, Ronan’s father had insisted that the other Benders carry on with their tasks despite this horrid event. He specifically said Ronan would have wanted it that way, as well. When Lucien had spoken to his father about the news, he also reminded his son to complete their mission. It was the Benders’ way. Always had been. Always would be. They’d make time for emotions later.
Still, Lucien couldn’t help remembering the huge smile Ronan had had on his face when he’d announced that Evee would have dinner with him once the mission was over. Lucien wished Ronan had spoken up sooner, at least to show Evee he was interested in her. The problem was, and aways had been, that doing so wasn’t Ronan’s style. He wasn’t like the rest of his cousins. He looked at life much more seriously and q
uietly than they did.
Shaking off the thoughts of Ronan and women, Evee specifically, Lucien began to feel like a caged animal in the hotel suite. He left the room and the hotel.
Since the front of the hotel emptied out onto Royal Street, he had but a block to walk before he reached Bourbon. Not that he felt like looking for Originals. He simply needed to hear people right now. Normal people. Laughing, singing, talking, all of them seemingly without a care in the world.
Lucien couldn’t remember ever feeling that way. Not only did he go about life with many cares, but sometimes it felt like the entire world rested on his shoulders. Feeling the stirrings of self-pity, he frowned and forced himself to study the streets. He walked down alleys, peered behind buildings, looking for any of the missing Originals.
It was eerily quiet in the Quarter at this time of morning. Aside from a handful of drunks, some singing while staggering along the sidewalk, a couple of others puking in the middle of the street, the streets were all but empty. The air smelled of garbage, booze, vomit and urine. Not a place anyone would care to hang around in for very long.
As hard as he tried to keep Evee off his mind, she popped back in without his permission, and this time, Lucien couldn’t shake her off.
He wished he could turn back time and do things differently. Instead of playing the martyr and suggesting that Ronan ask her out, Lucien should have shot his own gun straight and on target. He really liked Evee, thought she was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever known.
Lucien knew that Ronan’s slow approach to women was due to fear. Fear of rejection. He had easily faced Cartesians, one of the most dangerous creatures in the netherworld. Yet when it came to speaking his mind to a woman, he froze. Out of all the other cousins, Lucien was probably the only one who knew that Ronan had been more afraid of being rebuffed by a woman than of getting attacked by the monstrous creatures the Benders had hunted for years.
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