Pirate's Alley

by Suzanne Johnson

  Collette wore khaki shorts and a Pat O’Brien’s T-shirt. She was not of Jean’s generation. “So, what do you do here for Jean?” I asked purely as a matter of sentinel business, of course.

  “He’s been nice enough to let me live here part of the time,” Collette said, smiling and holding out a hand for me to shake. Darn it, she was so gorgeous I wanted to hate her but she was perfectly lovely. She also wasn’t human, alive or undead. The energy signature of her handshake was very familiar. “You’re loup-garou?”

  She nodded. “It’s hard to fit in with my old life in New Orleans since I was turned, so I had been living in Old Orleans until I met my boyfriend there a few weeks ago—my fiancé, actually. I moved out here to be with him.” She paused, and what looked like a flash of uncertainty crossed her face. “You both know him. I haven’t gotten to meet his cousin yet.”

  Eugenie and I looked at each other and then back at Collette. “You’re engaged to Jake?”

  “Your rogue wolf has found a mate, Jolie,” Jean said, his (quite good) teeth flashing white in his tanned face as he grinned. “Are you jealous?”

  CHAPTER 9

  If Jean expected me to froth with jealousy over Jake’s fiancée, he had it wrong. I’d always care about Jake, but whatever we almost had or might have had in terms of romance lay firmly behind us due to both temperament and circumstance. My only worry as far as his engagement was concerned had to do with how fast it had happened.

  Then again, Jake had been hanging out in Old Orleans for months now, unbeknownst to Alex or me. He could’ve known Collette for a while.

  I watched through the window as she and Eugenie walked off the verandah and onto the shadowy path toward the pirate village. Jean had summoned her not for an introduction but to keep Eugenie entertained while we talked business, sneaky pirate.

  “Do you like her?” I asked Jean. “It happened awfully fast, but Jake seems happy.” Happier than I’d seen him in, well, ever.

  “Oui, she understands Jacob’s struggles. He has come far in accepting his new life since meeting her, and as I understand it, such attractions happen quickly with the loup-garou.” Jean settled into his favorite chair with a sigh, and I turned to study my host.

  Not just my host, or my job assignment. My friend. How strange that seemed, given that we’d started out trying to kill each other. Although, in retrospect, neither of us had tried very hard.

  “You look tired.”

  Jean smiled, a hint of the old playful twinkle returning to his cobalt eyes. “Such flattering words, Drusilla. I will become overfull of myself.”

  Like he needed help with his ego. I laughed and took a seat on the end of the settee nearest him. “I hate that you got hurt again.”

  He shrugged, then winced. “One grows weary of pain, but it is a temporary thing. However, as pleased as I am to see you once again in my home, to what do I owe the real nature of this visit?” He paused. “Have Etienne or his treacherous Vice-Regent been found? Does your First Elder remain free?”

  I nodded. “So far they’re all unaccounted for, but the Elders are meeting as we speak. They’ll remove Hoffman as First Elder and appoint someone else to take his place, at least on a short-term basis. Maybe Zrakovi.”

  “Très bien. Willem is a fair man, although he is also a man of ambition.” Jean reached toward the side table to pour himself a brandy, but I could tell each movement brought a jolt of pain. His movements were too careful, too slow.

  That I could help. “I almost forgot. I brought something to make you heal faster.”

  While he poured some brandy into a glass, I dug in my messenger bag for the jar of sweet olive and clove ointment that had been infused with magic. Wizards’ physical magic didn’t work in the Beyond, but potions and charms—nice, geeky Green Congress stuff—seemed to work fine. “Spread this on the wound, and it should cut the healing time by about two-thirds.”

  Jean sipped his brandy, studied me a moment, then set the glass aside. “Perhaps you might assist me, Jolie.”

  He stood up and slowly unbuttoned his tunic, and I wasn’t sure where to settle my gaze. He wanted me to look at him, and I wasn’t falling for it. Even though my eyes itched to check him out.

  I studiously examined my cuticles, which really needed a good manicure. Maybe I’d treat Eugenie to a nice, relaxing mani/pedi on the Elder Express card when we got back to New Orleans.

  Jean’s soft laugh drew my gaze upward and there he was, shirtless and sexy, the white bandage wrapped around his belly and a ragged scar on his left biceps only accentuating the tanned skin and firm muscle. He was 230 years old, damn it, and I was in a committed relationship. Never mind that most of Alex’s and my commitment seemed devoted to arguing right now.

  “Would you tend to my needs, Jolie?”

  I gasped. That was outrageous, even for Jean. I cleared my throat and hazarded a fierce look at his face. He was grinning, which sent laughter bubbling through my sore ribcage and I snorted like a pig, which made me laugh harder.

  Finally, with some effort, I got myself under control.

  “You have a charming laugh, Drusilla. I hear it too seldom.” Jean picked up the jar of ointment, unscrewed the lid after some finagling, and sniffed it.

  Come to think of it, I’d laughed twice since arriving in Old Barataria. I don’t remember the last time I laughed in New Orleans; the years since Katrina had been a somber shade of black. Maybe I should visit the Beyond more often.

  Or not.

  “Turn around,” I told him. “I’ll tend your wound since it’s hard for you to see. But the rest of your needs are on their own.”

  He handed me the jar and feigned a hurt expression. “One cannot blame a man for his desires, non?”

  “Whatever.” I waited while he pulled the bandage away from the stab wound and turned to the side so I could get to it better. The skin around it flamed red and angry, but he didn’t flinch as I spread the mixture over the worst of it. The rich, tangy scent of cloves and sweet olive filled the room and blended with the rich scent of tobacco and exotic spices that seemed to accompany the master of the house.

  I replaced the lid and set the jar on the side table. “Put some more on it in a few hours. By morning, it should be mostly healed, although you’ll probably be sore for another day or two.”

  “Merci. I had planned to return to the city this very evening, and your gift will ease my passage.”

  Well, we’d see how the rest of my news eased his passage. “I’m also here on an official visit, to ask your plans toward Etienne Boulard, and toward the others involved in Lily Aleese’s takeover attempt last month.” Never mind that the person who actually killed him was me.

  Jean remained silent for a few moments, and I let him consider his answer while I cleaned my hands at a corner basin. When I turned around, he’d retrieved his glass of brandy and was staring at the rich brown liquid.

  He looked up when I returned to my seat. “Are you certain you wish me to answer honestly, Drusilla?”

  Which pretty much answered my question. He was going after Etienne, and I couldn’t really blame him. The vampire had taken his trust and trampled it like yesterday’s garbage.

  “I do want you to answer honestly,” I said. “In return, I’ll be honest with you. Zrakovi asked me to shadow you and keep you from stirring up a political hornets’ nest.”

  His dark brows dipped and contracted. “Might I assume that colorful turn of phrase means you’re to follow me and attempt to prevent me from seeking the vengeance I deserve?”

  “Follow you, or accompany you, yes.” I hadn’t decided about the prevention part yet. Because to be completely honest with myself, I had to admit that if he was determined to go after Etienne, I couldn’t do much to stop him short of physical restraint. The first time I met Jean, before Katrina had toppled the borders between our worlds, I’d pretended to seduce him in order to trap him and send him back to the Beyond.

  We’d come a long way since those days. I wasn�
�t the same naïve girl and he was a far more complex man than I’d imagined. Plus, we were friends. It would take a lot to make me use my magic against him, especially after what happened last month.

  “Very well, I shall both enjoy your company and honor you with the truth.” Jean sipped his brandy. “I will have my revenge on my old friend Etienne, oui. Such a betrayal cannot go unanswered. But I did not rule my empire by being a stupid man, Jolie. I can afford to be patient, and for your benefit will attempt to bring about Etienne’s misery without casting shadow on myself or jeopardizing the wizards and their politics.”

  That tactic was as much for his benefit as mine, but it served us both well. He was just going to torment Etienne, not kill him. “Sounds fair.”

  “I must add one more thing, however.”

  Intuition told me that one thing would be unpleasant. “What?”

  “The preternatural world, as your wizards call it, is marching toward war, Drusilla. I do not see enough people of unselfish nature and good will to prevent it. At some time, and perhaps soon, you will be forced to decide on which side you will stand.”

  I took a deep breath and let it out, the pain from my bruised ribs, an injury beyond the help of my healing potion, helping to ground me from the worry that sprang up at the talk of war. I’d been privately concerned about the same thing. Power was an intoxicating prize, and no one—including my own people—wanted to share.

  But figuring out the power balance had been the whole point of the council formation. “Surely those of you on the Interspecies Council will do whatever’s needed to prevent a war.”

  “My apologies, but I do not believe this is so.” Jean got up and moved to sit next to me on the settee. He was walking with less stiffness than before, so my potion had already done some good. “Drusilla, you must listen well. The council members might surprise me, and I pray this will be the case. But I believe the wizards will find themselves opposed more strongly than they expect.”

  I twisted to face him. “Now that Melnick’s been exposed, the vampires—”

  “The vampires will side with whoever they believe will win the war.” He propped his arm on the back of the settee. “They wave to and fro like a flag on a storm-tossed vessel. Garrett Melnick is not a reliable ally.”

  Not that Jean was exactly unbiased. Then again, that freaking vampire had bitten me. “I know the elves hate us, but…” I trailed off at Jean’s look of impatience. What was I missing?

  “The elves and the wizards are more closely aligned than you might believe, as long as Monsieur Banyan and your Quince Randolph remain in power. Their alliance with your wizards must hold if the wizards hope to prevail.”

  “He isn’t my Quince Randolph. But if the elves and wizards are aligned, and the vampires go with whoever’s in power, that just leaves the small groups and…”

  Jean raised an eyebrow.

  Oh shit. That left the second-largest group, the fae. They’d stayed out of preternatural affairs for so long I tended to forget about them. Which probably wasn’t wise.

  “You think the people of Faery will oppose us? I’d heard they stayed too busy fighting among themselves to fight anyone else.” They were a huge question mark. Would faeries plus vampires outnumber wizards plus elves? It would be close in terms of numbers. In terms of power, I had no clue.

  How ironic if a war broke out and the tipping point lay with the alliances of small groups like the water species and the historical undead. With people like Jean Lafitte. My friend the pirate could end up being the key to who held power in the entire preternatural world. I wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or bad, but I sure bet he was aware of the potential.

  Jean watched me as I processed it all. “I do not know where the support of Faery will fall,” he said. “There is a struggle between two princes, brothers, as to who will ascend to the throne once their aunt, the Queen Sabine, is gone. She is childless and quite ancient.”

  I narrowed my eyes. Jean stayed awfully well informed about prete politics, and often told me things the Elders hadn’t yet learned. I suspected this might be one of those things. “How do you know all this?”

  He shrugged. “A wise man watches as if he were un aigle and listens as if he were un faucon.”

  Eagles and falcons. Both predators. Appropriate.

  My French predator leaned toward me slightly and twined a strand of my hair through the fingers of the hand he’d stretched along the sofa back. I steeled myself for the wandering fingers or the smarmy comment, waiting to see which would arrive first.

  “You should wear your hair up as the women of my time often did, Jolie. I enjoy seeing the graceful neck of a woman.” He smoothed the strand of hair away from my neck, then frowned and grasped the crew neck of my sweater, jerking it aside and almost pulling me facedown on the sofa. “Mon Dieu, explain this. Tout de suite.”

  I slapped his hand away and straightened up. “Stop it.” How did I seem to always attract bossy men? “It happened last night in the transport. Garrett Melnick decided to have a taste. You were preoccupied.”

  He frowned. “My apologies. Your protection should have been my first concern.”

  Oh please. Who did he think he was, Alex? “I can take care of myself, thank you. Besides, he said I tasted vile.”

  Jean laughed, which made me laugh. Again.

  I tried an experiment. “You also missed seeing First Elder Hoffman trying to fry me before remembering his magic wouldn’t work in the Beyond. He was not a happy wizard when he flung a spell at me and nothing happened.”

  Jean’s smile widened into a grin. “I should have enjoyed seeing his face. He is a specious toad.”

  See? I knew it was funny.

  The laughter faded as my thoughts returned to the fae and the worsening relations among all the pretes. I needed to do some faery research along with my elven-reproduction research. I didn’t know a damned thing about the fae except what I’d learned from Gerry’s sketchy history lessons. At least I still had my collection of black grimoires—the only thing among my personal possessions that had made it through the house fire unscathed. Apparently, the books of black spells and illegal magic were protected with so many dark charms that even a couple of grenades detonated by an undead serial killer couldn’t destroy them.

  Male and female voices sounded from outside, accompanied by footfalls on the verandah. “Sounds like Eugenie’s back.” I got to my feet. “Let me know when you get to New Orleans. I’ll be living in the Monteleone, in the room across the hall from yours. You know, so I can keep an eye on you.”

  He smiled again. “You could keep both of your eyes on me”—great, he’d learned a new modern phrase—“if you resided in my rooms alongside me. Madame Eudora Welty would not object, nor would I.”

  Uh-huh. Madame Eudora Welty would probably mind a great deal that an extremely expensive and lavish hotel suite had been named after her, only to have it occupied long-term by an undead French pirate.

  “Thanks, but you probably snore in French.”

  The front door opened, sparing me what was probably going to be an outrageous comeback, judging by Jean’s animated expression.

  Eugenie and Collette came inside, chatting like they’d known each other forever. Two men walked in behind them. One I knew very well. The merman Rene Delachaise and I had once done a highly illegal and ill-advised power exchange to solve a murder case. The case had been awful and the power exchange had been freaky, but we had ended up friends. Whenever I came up with a harebrained idea and needed backup, Rene was my man. He was fearless and didn’t bother himself too much with the ramifications of whatever scheme we might be undertaking.

  The other guy looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him. About six feet, well built, dark hair flopping over green eyes, LSU T-shirt and jeans. Maybe I’d seen him with Rene.

  “Well, if it ain’t my favorite wizard.” Rene pulled me into a hug, and I absorbed the happy vibes of his shapeshifter energy. Like most of the water folk, the
merpeople hated wizards for past misdeeds, so I was proud of the friendship Rene and I had forged despite all our species baggage.

  “And I am Christof,” his companion said, smiling.

  “DJ.” I smiled back but inside I was racking my brain, trying to place him. I also didn’t detect any aura on him, and a quick scan of his visible body parts didn’t reveal any peridot jewelry—often used by pretes to hide their species. There was quite a black market for wizard-bespelled peridot on eBay, as I’d learned from Quince Randolph, a frequent buyer. Oh well, I’d call Rene later and ask him to dish on Christof.

  After some quick farewells, Eugenie and I made our way back across the verandah toward the transport. I had a few hours to check in to the Monteleone and take a nap before Jean returned to the city, or I could do the responsible thing and track down Alex.

  “Why don’t you come to the hotel with me and hang out?” I asked her as we stepped into the transport, and I used the staff to power us back to New Orleans. “I’ll treat you to a mani/pedi on my Elder Express credit card.”

  “Maybe a rain check? I have something else I need to do.” She didn’t elaborate, but closed her eyes until we materialized behind St. Louis Cathedral, made sure the coast was clear of tourists, and left the transport. “I hate that squished feeling, and I’d forgotten how cold it was here.”

  We quickly bundled ourselves back into our coats and set out to see if Alex’s SUV was still parked nearby. We’d been gone almost four hours, so I didn’t have much hope.

  “So what do you have planned?” Whatever it was, I hoped it didn’t involve going anywhere near Rand.

  “I need to think about things for a while. I want to go home and put my feet up, enjoy the fire, and just think,” she said. “It was good for me to get away from all the worries for a few hours. I don’t feel so much like I’m drowning. But Rene agreed with you about the wizards.”

  “Which part?”

  “He said the wizards will—how did he put it? They’ll stick their big noses in my business and try to control everything, including my pregnancy. So I need to decide what I want and how I’m going to handle things before I get the choice taken away from me. Was he exaggerating?”