House of the Rising Sun

by Kristen Painter

  He really, really hoped he found one.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Giselle walked the streets of Treme, returning every side glance with her own version of the evil eye. No doubt, the residents could smell the witch on her, their distrust stemming from that more than her being a stranger. Over the years, the neighborhood had become predominately ruled by the voodoo religion as the most powerful practitioners in the craft made their home here.

  To hell with the neighborhood watch. She had need of their most revered resident, Father Ogun. She’d end up owing the man something for his services, but it was a necessary evil. She could not be connected to what she planned to do and these loose ends had to be tied up.

  She knocked at his door. His house was one of the larger two-stories, painted bright yellow with white trim and square white columns on both front-facing porches. The wood around his royal blue front door was carved with runes and here and there bits of dried flowers and colorful ribbon were nailed into place.

  The door opened and he nodded. “I knew you’d come.”

  She controlled the urge to roll her eyes. “Father Ogun, how nice to see you.”

  “What can I do for you, Giselle?” His brown eyes twinkled.

  “Can I come in? I’m sorry for not calling ahead, but I have a matter of some urgency.”

  “Sure enough.” He moved out of the way and let her pass.

  The reek of incense hung in the air, along with something musty. Trails of smoke curled up from his altar, revealing the source of the incense. Things covered every surface of the place. Feathers wrapped in bright thread, candles, bottles of herbs and liquids, sequined banners, carved wooden figures, a branch with a birds’ nest attached. Everywhere she looked, something filled the space.

  Her skin itched at the amount of clutter and for a spare moment, her lungs seemed incapable of getting enough air. She chanted a calming spell and slowly felt the claustrophobia leave her.

  He sat in a big overstuffed chair draped in kente cloth, gesturing for her to take a spot on the love seat nearby. She sat on the edge, wondering immediately if the spell keeping her dress clean would be enough. Everything looked so grungy.

  “What is it that has brought you into the wilds of Treme to seek me out?” His baritone seemed deeper in the confines of the space. “You are a capable sorceress in your own right, so it must not be my work.”

  “Actually, it is. I have an enemy who seeks to destroy me. I must get to them first, but I can’t be connected with it.” There was no way of knowing exactly what the fae were capable of. The more distance she put between herself and what needed to be done, the better.

  He nodded slowly, then reached over the table beside his chair, took out a cigarillo from a pack and lit it up. He took three puffs before he spoke. “I see.”

  Inwardly, she cringed. The smoke would cling to her hair and clothes, making her smell just as bad. She reminded herself that she didn’t have anyone else to turn to. Which only made her hate being here that much more. “Can you help me?”

  “It’s not can,” he said. “But will.” Another puff. “I must think on this.”

  “I understand that, but unfortunately, I don’t have time for you to think.” She tried to relax. “I’m sorry for the rush, but I’m in a bind. I need help now.”

  “You understand the kind of discretion you require means greater risk on my part.”

  She smiled sweetly. “We both know you capable of the kind of work that leaves no trace.” Yes, he’d be taking a risk, but it would be a very small one. His people had no treaty with the fae, no rules to break.

  He smiled back, clearly flattered, but the sharp glint in his gaze said more than flattery would be required. “The payment for such work is steep.”

  She nodded. “What’s your price?”

  “Besides my usual fee… a flesh debt. To be paid when I require it, where I require it. Without complaint or hesitation.” His smile widened. “I may someday have need of the kind of work you do.”

  She had no doubt. A sick feeling filled her belly. A flesh debt was serious. Breaking one meant grave consequences. “Agreed.”

  He took a pin from a small box and handed it to her. “Any finger will do.”

  She pricked her thumb until blood flowed, then handed the pin back to him.

  He wrapped it in tissue and returned it to the box. Should she break her bond to him, he now had her blood to use against her. A very sobering thought. He studied her, his robes flowing out around him on his chair. He plainly relished this moment of power. “Do you have blood from the person you wish to destroy?”

  “No.”

  “Hair?”

  “No.” She bit back her frustration. “I don’t have anything from him.”

  “Nothing he’s touched?”

  “I have the money he paid me with.”

  Father Ogun nodded. “That will have to work, I suppose. The rest I’ll sell you.”

  “Thank you.” She couldn’t muster the politeness to force a smile. This had ended up costing her far more than she’d expected. But hiring the devil rarely came cheap.

  The crowd at Belle’s was the same group of regulars, plus the usual group of othernatural tourists. Augustine pushed through the crush to the bar and found the person he was looking for. Renny Doucette, Belle’s most infamous bartender and one of the few gator varcolai to make a life for himself outside the swamp.

  Renny smiled, showing off an impressive set of canines, and tossed a bar towel over his shoulder. He clasped Augustine’s hand and gave it a hearty shake. “Augustine! So good to see you, bro.” His smiled faded and he touched his heart. “I am so sorry at your loss, mon ami.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Is it true what I hear? That you’re the new Guardian?”

  Augustine nodded. A few in the crowd cut their eyes in his direction. He lowered his voice. “I was wondering if we could have a little chat?”

  “Need some information, eh?” Renny’s drawl had the soft, rounded edges of the bayou. He nodded to the female bartender at the other end. “Bebe, take over, yah?” He ducked under the service bar and popped out on Augustine’s side. “We can go out back.”

  Augustine followed him through the small kitchen and out the service doors into an alley. Renny shut the door behind them, then took a seat on a stack of crates that looked like it served as the employee break room. “What can I do you for?”

  The dumpster reeked. Augustine pulled out a nequam cigarette and lit it up. “Had any vampires in lately?”

  Renny pulled out a pack of his own smokes and fired one, taking a long draw before answering. “You’re looking for them bastards that killed your tante and Khell, mais yeah?”

  Olivia wasn’t really his aunt, but he knew what Renny meant. “Yes.”

  Renny shook his head. “I’ve seen a few in here, but they don’t hold a regular pattern. I think they know you’re looking for them.” He glanced down the open end of the alley. “You hang out in the Quarter long enough, though, you’ll see one. They gotta feed.”

  “I know, they’ve killed some tourists, too, but I haven’t seen any recently.”

  “Spend some time here, I promise they’ll show.” He exhaled a stream of smoke. “Just walking to my car last night I seen a girl stumbling down the street, drunk as the preacher at Sunday night supper.” He stuck two fingers against his neck where his human skin turned to scales. “Bleeding from a bite from a you-know-what, I swear it.”

  Augustine’s ears pricked up. “Where was she coming from?”

  Renny pointed his cigarette down the alley. “Lucky Frog’s, I think.”

  “That tourist bar on Decatur?” He flicked the ash off his smoke. “That place is blocks from here. What makes you think she was there?”

  “She was carrying one of them plastic hurricane glasses. Had the logo on it and enough drink left in it to make me think it was fresh.”

  “Good eyes, Renny.” The gator shifter grinned. Augustine grou
nd out his cigarette. “I owe you one. And listen, you get any leeches in here, you call me. Let’s go back in and I’ll give you my number.”

  “C’est bon.” Renny flicked his cigarette into a puddle and opened the door. “I’m glad you took over for Khell, bro. We need someone with your skills. I ain’t disrespecting Khell, but sometimes wanting a job and being skilled for it are two different things, you get me?”

  “I do.” A lot of people felt that way about Khell. His heart had been in it, but he hadn’t been the toughest sort of man. “Renny, I have to ask. Is it hard, keeping your half-form like that?”

  Renny shook his head. “It’s no big thing.” For a second, his eyes glittered with the red-gold only a gator varcolai could pull off. “You’d be surprised how much the ladies like it.”

  Augustine tapped one of his horns. “No, I wouldn’t.”

  Renny chuckled softly as he ducked inside. “Speaking of the fairer sex, you see Dulcinea much?”

  Augustine followed. “Almost every day.”

  Renny stopped right outside the kitchen, his face abruptly serious. “I’ll call you the second a vampire steps foot in here. Hell, I’ll hold ’em down until you arrive, but you gotta do one thing for me.”

  “What’s that?”

  He fished into his shirt pocket and pulled out a small envelope. “Give her this. And tell her I’m sorry.” He exhaled. “I’m sorry and I want to make things up, if she just give me the chance.”

  “I can do that.” Augustine took the note, trying hard to keep his expression neutral. Suddenly he had a pretty good idea of why Dulcinea had stopped coming to Belle’s. Kind of crazy to think of her and Renny as a couple, but then again, this was Dulcinea.

  A few minutes later, he’d left Renny with his number and was back out on the street. He walked toward Lucky Frog’s, studying everyone that went past him, looking for some sign that they’d been bitten. Nothing.

  When he got to Lucky Frog’s, he crossed the street and hung out in a doorway, watching the patrons come and go. No sign of vampires, but he stayed, vigilant for any sign that a leech was in the area. He would have loved a smoke, but there was too great a chance the vampires would pick up the scent of the nequam and bolt.

  At least these were fringe vamps and not nobles. Could he handle a noble on his turf? Yes. A whole pack of them? Maybe. Maybe not.

  A group of human beauties walked past, all of them giving him bedroom eyes. They were exactly the kind of women he would have peeled off and followed after in different circumstances. Like not being on a vampire stakeout.

  And having never met Harlow.

  Hell’s bells, she was a conundrum. Came off as straight as an arrow, until he discovered she had prison time hanging over her. Granted, she might have been set up, but she’d still been willing to do the crime. She had mad fae powers, but hated being fae. Seemed to do everything she could to hide how beautiful she was. Liked to kiss him drunk, didn’t like to kiss him sober, but didn’t like the idea of him sleeping with Dulcinea, either, no matter how many years ago that singular episode had taken place. And the wall around her… he shook his head. Just when he thought it was coming down, she slammed it back into place.

  But the idea of trying to get through it… he smiled. There was something very worthwhile about giving that a go. When she allowed herself to be vulnerable with him, there was something so real about her. The kind of woman that wouldn’t put up with his nonsense, but understood he wasn’t perfect, either.

  Now if she could just apply that to his role in getting Olivia killed…

  A couple across the street caught his attention. He went into shadeux mode, the kind of wispy smoke form he’d perfected as a child as a way of hiding from his mother. Against the gray stone of the buildings and with twilight bleeding across the evening sky, he was practically invisible.

  The couple had just come out of Lucky Frog’s and were traipsing down the street, body movements exaggerated by alcohol. Except something about the man’s seemed… too perfectly drunk. Augustine slipped in behind them.

  He listened and just as he’d suspected, heard only one heartbeat. The man in front of him was a vampire. Augustine opened himself to the anger and frustration that had been festering since Livie’s death as he followed the pair down a dark side street. He flexed his hands. He hadn’t been in a proper fight in a long time.

  Better still that this one would result in one less vampire.

  Thanks to the little bug Harlow had planted on Augustine’s LMD, finding him was easy. Trailing him, however, was a very different matter. He moved like a ghost, almost impossible to see and soundless in his travels.

  She clung to the recess of the door, peering out as much as she dared. His dark form followed the pair of tourists into an alleyway. She slipped after them, her heart pounding in her chest so loudly she was sure he could hear it.

  She slipped into the alley and crouched behind a dumpster that stank like fish. Nearly gagging, she peeked around the side. Augustine closed in on the couple. He lost the shadowy transparency he’d had, going solid so quickly she wasn’t sure she’d really seen him transform.

  Then he struck, knocking the man away from the woman. She cried out in confusion and stumbled toward the building.

  The vampire hit the opposite wall, spun and came back snarling, fangs bared. The woman screamed and ran. Harlow dropped behind the dumpster again, but the woman was too busy saving her own skin.

  “You just cost me dinner, fae.” The vampire’s low growl rumbled through the alley.

  Harlow positioned herself to watch.

  Augustine laughed. “I’m about to cost you more than that.” The vampire swung, but Augustine ducked, the air whistling above his head. He grabbed the vamp by the waist and rammed him into the wall. His reward was a grunt. The vampire went limp.

  Harlow almost gasped. Had Augustine killed him? Maybe not. He shoved his forearm under the vamp’s chin, pinning him to the wall with his head smashed back, then Augustine snagged his dagger from his waistband and aimed it at the vamp’s heart. “How’d you get into town?”

  Harlow held her breath for the answer. The vampire barely moved. “I’m not telling you squat.”

  She exhaled, disappointed.

  “Death wish, then. Good to know.” Augustine put pressure on the blade. It glinted in the dim light.

  The vampire tried to retreat but had nowhere to go. “I snuck in.”

  Liar, she wanted to yell.

  But Augustine took a different route. “Why?”

  “Because we’re not allowed.”

  “You came here because you’re not supposed to?”

  “Yeah, something like that.”

  Another lie. Anger coursed through Harlow, tempered only by Augustine’s persistence. “How many are with you?”

  “Just me and another male.”

  “You expect me to believe that story? That this is just a weekend getaway?” Augustine dug the blade in harder. Good. “Where is the rest of your gang?”

  Harlow nodded, mentally urging Augustine on.

  “There’s no gang, I swear.” The vampire’s eyes widened, the whites almost glowing. “You want some kind of payoff? I got almost a grand on me, you can have all of it.”

  She slumped, fearful Augustine would take the money. She bit her lip, praying he wouldn’t.

  He shook his head. She wished she could see more of his face. “You think you can bribe me? I’m the Guardian of this city. Your money means nothing to me. Now I’ll give you one more chance to answer my questions. There’s a vampire gang in this city. Where are they?”

  “I told you, I don’t know nothing about a gang.”

  He shoved his arm higher, scraping the vampire up the wall and lifting his feet off the ground.

  The effort pulled at the vampire’s clothing, revealing a cord around his neck. Augustine looped his sixth finger under the slim leather and pulled it free. At the end dangled some kind of black amulet.

  It must have
meant something to Augustine because he jammed the dagger’s tip into the vampire’s chest hard enough to break the skin. “Liar. Where’s your leader? The one with the scar?”

  Was that who’d killed her mother?

  The vampire jerked forward to head-butt Augustine, but couldn’t close the distance and succeeded only in burying the dagger deeper. “I got nothing else to say to you.”

  “Then your usefulness has ended.” Augustine pulled his arm away as he ripped off the amulet and simultaneously drove the dagger all the way home.

  He backed away from the cloud of ash that exploded from where the vampire had been. “One down… no idea how many more to go.” He held the amulet up to get a better look at it. As best she could see, the medallion was a solid black circle with the letters YB stamped on it.

  “You can come out now.”

  Who was he talking to?

  He looked in her direction. “Harlow, I know you’re there.”

  She stood up and brushed herself off. “How?”

  He just shook his head, a little smile on his face. “Come here and take a look at this. I saw one like it on one of the vampires at the hotel we raided.”

  Feeling a little stupid but happy he wasn’t calling her on it, she walked over to study the amulet. Maybe he was giving her a pass because of what she’d figured out about him and Dulcinea. “What’s YB mean?”

  “Young Bloods. It’s the biggest fringe vampire gang we know of. Not much of a clue. Like finding out the needle you’re looking for in the haystack is a little sharper than the others.” He scratched the edge of the medallion. A waxy substance clung to the underside of his nail. He held the coin out to her. “Smell it.”

  She sniffed. “Kind of sweet and sort of powdery.”

  He nodded. “This isn’t just a gang logo, it’s their way out if they get caught. I’ve seen one in action.”

  “What’s it do?”

  “Vampire bonfire, basically.”

  He tucked it into his pocket. “You know what this means?”