River Road

by Johnson, Suzanne

  The line went dead. My next report was going to have a lot to say about Adrian Hoffman.

  On the rest of the drive home, I tried to come up with a plan. Doug Hebert had married a nymph and kept a charmed peridot around her neck to hide her species. I had no proof, but it would explain the amount of magic active in her house the day we’d questioned her. Why Libby killed both of them, I hadn’t figured out. But she’d done it.

  I needed to find her, and the best way to do that was to find the Delachaise twins, especially Robert. Did he and Rene know what Libby was up to, or had she fooled them as she claimed it was so easy to do?

  Grabbing the mail out of my box, I unlocked the back door and went in the kitchen, noting the slight pressure of my protective wards as I entered.

  I sat at the table, watching Sebastian bat the magic-infused eyeglasses off the table and around the floor until he batted them close enough for me to bend over and grab them. “Find your rubber mouse,” I told him. “I might need these again.”

  He jumped on the table and sat a few feet in front of me, giving me the feline stare of death from his crossed blue eyes. I slid the glasses across the table at him. “Fine, have at it.” He batted them onto the floor and chased them into the living room.

  I dug out my cell and tried to call Alex but got voice mail. I started to call Jake back, but remembered Alex’s concerns about sending Jake into the field. What if he wanted to storm off to Plaquemines to find Libby himself? As much as I wanted this enforcer job to work out for Jake, I wasn’t going to be the one to throw him into a trial by fire, or by nymph.

  What about the twins? Robert, especially, could be in danger from Libby. He also might not believe me. But Rene might. I scrolled through my phone’s contact list for Rene’s number, cursing as the low-battery icon began blinking.

  Jotting the number on a napkin, I plugged in the cell charger and went to my desk phone. I was surprised to see the message light blinking on the antiquated answering machine I had hooked up to it. The annoying computerized menu said I had two new messages.

  The first was from the Tour Blood office, inviting me to sample the company’s new vampire-led French Quarter ghost tour.

  I erased it and moved to the next message, freezing at the sound of Libby’s dusky voice. “Drusilla Jaco, are you there? This is Libby. I would like to meet you at Pointe a la Hache this afternoon to discuss some things that might help your investigation.” I just bet she did.

  “Hello? Libby?” I stared at the machine, my pulse thumping in fear as Alex intercepted Libby’s message. “DJ’s not home, but I can meet you if it’s important.”

  She practically purred. “That would be a lovely diversion, Alexander.” She gave him instructions on where to go.

  “I’ll meet you at three.”

  The call ended. I stood frozen to the spot, ignoring Sebastian as he methodically untied my shoelaces with his teeth. The clock on the wall over the range hood said three thirty.

  I grabbed the receiver and punched in Rene’s number.

  “Yo, wizard. Where y’at?”

  Any other time, I’d have laughed at Rene’s mix of Urban-Cajun greetings, but I could barely breathe. “Have you talked to Alex? He was supposed to be coming out your way.”

  “Yeah, babe. He left here and was heading over to Tidewater to talk to those asshole Villeres.”

  “Have you seen Libby today?”

  “Ain’t you full of questions? She was here till about two, but ain’t here now. Why you wantin’ Libby?”

  I told him my theory. That Libby might be related to Melinda Hebert, that she’d been the one to kill the professors. And she’d killed Tish, trying to get to me. I didn’t know why yet, but I knew in my gut I was right about all of it.

  There was a long silence on the other end. “You sure about this? I mean, Libby’s been out here with me and Robert a lot these last two weeks, and I ain’t seen nothing to make me think she’d kill anybody.” He paused. “She don’t like wizards much, babe, but lots of us don’t, especially the ones who were around in seventy-six.”

  I was tired of hearing about old grudges. “I’m going out to find Alex. If Libby comes back to Orchard, call me, okay? Don’t tell her. And be careful.”

  “We can handle ourselves, wizard.” He hung up.

  So he was annoyed. He’d have to get over it.

  Before I left, I went upstairs to my library. I had to see where, exactly, Alex was. I pulled a black glass bowl from a shelf and a bottle of purified water I kept in the little refrigerator in the corner. I also grabbed one of Alex’s protein bars he kept stashed in the fridge.

  Taking my loot to the bathroom and closing the door behind me, I lit candles and sandalwood incense, then doused the lights. Outside under a full moon would have been better, but this would do. Water in bowl, right finger in water, protein bar belonging to Alex in left hand. Time for a little hydromancy. I leaned over the bowl, closed my eyes, and willed a bit of magic into the water as I visualized him.

  Hydromancy came in handy for finding missing things—or, in this case, people. Libby had told Alex to meet her in Pointe a la Hache, a tiny riverside community in Plaquemines Parish that spanned the east and west sides of the Mississippi. It was near the last breach site and had about thirty residents before Katrina, most of whom reached the rest of the parish by ferry. I wasn’t sure how much the population had rebounded, but Libby had said she’d be at an abandoned building just downriver from the ferry landing.

  I opened my eyes and watched the water cloud, then clear. I should have been able to see Alex, no matter where he was. I closed my eyes and fought the panic trying to claw its way into my head. It didn’t mean he was dead. It could just mean … I shook my head to erase a similar conversation I’d had with myself while trying to scry Gerry after Katrina. He hadn’t been dead either, but he’d been in a lot of trouble.

  I cleared my mind and visualized Gandalf instead, sending more power into the bowl. This time, an image appeared in the water—the big golden dog on the ground, not moving. I fought back tears as I watched the image, desperate to see movement.

  Think, DJ. Alex couldn’t be dead—he’d have shifted back to his human form. If he was injured, he could be staying in canine form to heal faster. I moved my fingers around in the water gently, trying to shift the image to see where he was. The river ran to his left, a lot of generic trees and grass around him, some kind of white square building behind him. I’d just have to go to Pointe a la Hache and work from there.

  CHAPTER 31

  I grabbed my keys, cranked the Pathfinder, and drove east. Traffic clogged all the lanes of the Crescent City Connection bridge crossing the river onto the Westbank, and crawled all the way to Belle Chasse. Finally, I was able to get out of traffic and head down Highway 23 into Plaquemines. Banks of clouds gathered overhead, and rain looked inevitable. Our first really cool weather of the year was due overnight.

  The rendezvous spot Libby had chosen was easy enough to find. The big ferry terminal came first, crossing the river to Point a la Hache, and then a quarter-mile later a small cinderblock building with a missing roof sat surrounded by piles of rotted hurricane debris. Alex’s black Mercedes sat in front.

  I jumped out of the truck, reached in for my backpack, and gave a startled yelp. The elven staff lay on the front seat. It had been a while since the damned thing had followed me outside the house. I stared at it for a few heartbeats, then grabbed it and approached the building, scanning the area as I slipped around the side. The last thing I needed was Libby to see me before I saw her.

  I flattened myself against the building and peered around the corner to the back. I saw Gandalf on the ground, but no sign of Libby.

  Oh, thank God. Gandalf raised his head, and sat up. He moved slowly and didn’t make any attempt to stand, but looked toward where I was hidden and whined.

  I walked toward him him, looking around me and keeping the staff ready. Finally, I dropped to my knees beside him and took on
e more look around for Libby.

  “What happened?” I asked Gandalf. No, wait. He couldn’t talk. But he could understand me.

  “Are you hurt?”

  Panting heavily, he grunted as he got to his feet, holding his right front paw off the ground. I moved around him and took it in my hand. The paw, sticky and wet with blood, took up my entire palm. A deep gash creviced the top of the paw almost to the elbow joint. Libby and her famous knife. Dried blood was already flaking off of it, though, so he was healing. An hour, and he’d be good as new.

  “Can’t you shift back?”

  He whined and flopped back to the ground, giving me a look of pure misery.

  I’d take that as a no. “Stay here, I’m getting the car.”

  I pulled my Pathfinder behind the cinderblock building, hidden from the road, and tucked the keys inside above the wheel—somebody would have to come and get it later. It was seven years old, driven to death, and got suckalicious gas mileage. If it got stolen, I’d buy something tiny and eco-friendly.

  Alex’s clothes and gun were on the ground near Gandalf, and I rifled through his pockets for his car keys. I drove the Mercedes around the building and parked it beside him.

  “Do you think you can climb in? I can’t pick you up.” Maybe me and a forklift.

  He huffed to his feet and limped on three legs to where I held the passenger door open for him. He stopped and whined.

  “You can jump up there, it’s—” What was I thinking? This was Alex. It wasn’t that he couldn’t jump in the car. He didn’t want to get blood on his upholstery. We had a murderous nymph on the loose, Alex was stuck in Gandalf mode for some reason, and he was worried about his car interior. “Oh, good grief. Wait a minute.”

  I got his clothes, pulled out his wallet and cell and put them in my pocket, then spread his pants and shirt over the car seat. He turned and looked at me, and stuck his nose at the edge of the passenger floorboard.

  I shook my head. “Fine.” I pulled off my light jacket and spread it over the floorboard. Satisfied, he used his three good legs to hop in the car and climb onto the seat.

  Once we were settled and I’d started back toward Orleans Parish, I decided to see how far my dog-whispering skills could get me. “Okay, I’m going to ask you questions. Bark once for yes and twice for no. Got it?”

  He gave me a withering look, then yipped once.

  “Good. Can you shift back?”

  Two barks.

  “Did you meet Libby here?”

  One bark and a curled upper lip.

  My sentiments exactly. “Did she do something to keep you from shifting back?”

  One bark, a deep growl, and hackles that visibly rose across his shoulders.

  I wondered what kind of magic nymphs had. “Was it a potion?”

  Two yips.

  “A spell?”

  He cocked his head and looked at me. Okay, something like a spell but he wasn’t sure …

  “A curse?”

  Yip.

  Okay, a curse. So Libby had put some kind of curse on Alex to keep him from shifting back. I looked at his paw. The bleeding had slowed, so whatever she had done to him hadn’t impacted his shapeshifter healing. “Do you need to see a doctor or … a vet?”

  I swear he narrowed his eyes before giving me two snippy yaps.

  “Okay, in that case, I’m calling the Elders.” Again. Twice in one day—or was this the third time? They were probably making bets on how long it would be before I called with another crisis. Hope Adrian Hoffman lost his shirt on that wager. I needed to get Zrakovi’s number on speed dial.

  Hoffman sounded as snippy as Alex. “Who do you suspect is not human now, Ms. Jaco?”

  Asswipe. “Alex—he’s stuck in dog mode after being cursed by the nymph you claim there’s no reason to distrust because she’s so simple and sweet.”

  He didn’t have anything to say? Well, I had plenty to fill in his silence. “Libby called my house while I was out, wanting to meet with me. Alex intercepted the call and met her out in Plaquemines Parish. She used some kind of hex on him after he’d shifted into a dog and now he can’t shift back.” Or she made him shift into a dog. Same result.

  “Bloody hell.” That was as close as Hoffman would get to admitting he was wrong, so I got a smug sense of satisfaction from it. “Where is he?”

  “Sitting beside me in the car, looking like a big unhappy dog.” Gandalf’s tail thumped slowly against the door. “I should be able to do a general counter-hex on him and change him back, but it will take a while. If you know a faster way, I wouldn’t mind hearing it.”

  “Hold please.” I heard him talking sharply to someone in the background, then he returned to the phone. “Without knowing exactly what she did to him, the counter-hex is probably the only thing we can do,” he said, sounding resigned. “Anything more drastic might backfire and make the curse permanent. Elder Zrakovi will inform Mr. Jacob Warin of the situation and he can pursue the murder suspect. Your job is to get Mr. Alexander Warin back to normal.”

  “I also need someone to get my SUV from behind an old closed convenience store in West Pointe a la Hache.” I gave him directions and the location of the key. “I’ll let you know what happens.”

  “You do that.”

  Jake was going to be sent to hunt down Libby after all—by himself, on his first field assignment as an enforcer? What a freakin’ mess.

  * * *

  Gandalf walked despondently beside me as I unlocked the back door and entered the kitchen. Inside, he stilled as Sebastian came galloping out of the parlor to greet him and laid the rubber mouse at his feet. Sweet. The cat always did like him better.

  I’d asked Alex once how much his human sentience stayed in place when he shifted into canine form. Most, he’d told me. He could understand conversation and situations, but higher reasoning could spin away if he didn’t really concentrate. He’d be trying to figure out what to do about the bad guy coming his way when suddenly he’d be thinking: Hey, that lady has a hamburger!

  He and Sebastian now sat in tandem, staring at me as I flipped through my mail.

  “What?” They were ganging up on me. “Are you hungry?”

  I dumped some cat food into Sebastian’s bowl, and pulled out a big Pyrex bowl for Gandalf, filling it with cat food as well. I didn’t have any dog food.

  While Sebastian inhaled his own dinner, then moved over to the big bowl for part deux, Gandalf stared at me.

  “It’s all I have,” I told him. “You know I don’t keep much food in the house. You want a protein bar and some Cheetos?”

  He curled his upper lip and showed me a row of shiny white, very large teeth.

  I sighed. “Fine. I’ll order a pizza. You want your usual vegetarian?”

  Two barks.

  “Pepperoni?”

  One.

  Good. As Gandalf, he was much less worried about his sodium and fat intake.

  I called in the pizza order, then got a warm washcloth from the bathroom and washed off his leg and paw. “Most of this blood is dried—it’s already healing. Want me to use a potion on it to speed it up?”

  Two barks.

  “Okay then, shifter. Heal thyself.” I went upstairs to change into pants and a sweater that didn’t have blood on it.

  When the doorbell rang a half hour later, Jake Warin stood on the porch with the pizza, which he’d intercepted and paid for, a couple of oyster po’boys, a six-pack of Abita, and the keys to the Pathfinder, which he and Ken had picked up. I wondered what he’d told Ken.

  He grinned as he took in the sight of Gandalf sitting on the sofa. “Where’d you get the big ugly dog?” he asked, coming inside the front parlor and piling the food on the coffee table. He flashed dimples at Gandalf, who flashed big white teeth in return. Jake kissed me on the cheek, earning a low, rumbling growl from Gandalf. I almost growled myself.

  “Don’t piss him off more. He’s had a hard day.” And besides that, buddy boy, you haven’t called me on
non-business since our disastrous date, so don’t use me to tick off your cousin.

  Jake chuckled his way to the kitchen to fetch plates, a bottle opener for the beer, and a diet soda for me.

  I put pizza slices on the plate and set it on the floor. Gandalf turned his head and stared in the opposite direction.

  “You are totally dependent on me right now, so it would behoove you to stop being such a pain in the ass,” I said, picking up the plate of pizza, setting it on the coffee table, and dragging the whole thing in front of him so he could eat from his perch on the sofa.

  “You forget who you’re talking to,” Jake said, stealing a slice of pepperoni and sitting on the sofa next to Gandalf. “He specializes in pain-in-the-ass behavior.”

  Gandalf ignored him, holding the crust of the pizza between his paws and eating it almost daintily like an ice cream cone.

  I settled into one of the armchairs with a po’boy. “Did Zrakovi call you about Libby?”

  “He did. My job tonight is to keep an eye on you in case she shows up.” He took a sip of beer and smiled at me. “That’s an assignment I didn’t mind at all.”

  I wanted to hug him, and then slap the shit out of him. Talk about running hot and cold. I didn’t know whether he was still interested in me, or if I was just an assignment and he was a born flirt, or if this was all a show to get a jab at Alex while he couldn’t defend himself. Probably a little of all three.

  Worse than not knowing how Jake felt, I wasn’t sure how I felt. Even if I could do a little empathic mojo and figure out Jake’s motives, it wouldn’t help with mine.

  After dinner, we put on some music and went upstairs to the library. I filled Jake in on the case while I pulled out books and notes on hex reversals. “Since you have to babysit, want to help me bring Alex back?” I wished I hadn’t said the word babysit; it reminded me of what happened to the last person who stayed with me to make sure I was safe. It hadn’t worked out well for Tish. I couldn’t live with one more person being hurt or killed on my account, and Jake had already had his turn.

  “I don’t know, short stuff. I kind of like Alex better this way.”