Rene laughed. “That would almost be worth staying for.” But he got up and checked for his keys and wallet. “You sure? Jean should be back soon.”
I smiled. “Yeah, have fun.”
On his way out, he stopped next to the desk, bent down, and pulled my coat from beneath some papers in the trash can. “Think I’ll take this with me, babe. Force you to find something else.”
Fine. I’d buy an overpriced coat in the Quarter and charge it to the ElderCard. Don’t leave home without it.
Once I had the room to myself, I turned up the TV and finished my dinner to the drone of the local news. I’d fallen completely out of touch the last couple of days. A former city official was being sent to jail on corruption charges, where he’d have plenty of friends waiting for him. I figure politicians made up at least twenty percent of the state’s inmates. Fortunately, his trial had been in the federal courthouse instead of the closed-down parish district court.
Mostly, though, the local newscasters talked about the weather. A guest meteorologist from Baton Rouge had come in to rant about the “once in a lifetime” weather pattern New Orleans was experiencing. We’d gotten two feet of snow, were enjoying a short respite, but could get another two-to-three feet of white stuff tomorrow. Outside a twenty-mile radius in any direction from the central city, however, normal winter weather in the fifties prevailed. They couldn’t explain it.
It wouldn’t go above freezing the next forty-eight hours. What the hell could I wear to avoid a repeat of the hibernation fiasco? Of course I had no car; maybe the concierge would send someone to buy some long johns and polar fleece at one of the sporting goods stores, if they weren’t sold out. Maybe I’d get some for Rand, too.
No, forget that. It was convenient having him essentially imprisoned in his house, and he didn’t deserve special consideration. He could’ve warned me that our bond left me vulnerable to spontaneous hibernation, plus he was being an ass about Eugenie. Surprise surprise.
Sirens are almost a constant in New Orleans, and I’d learned to ignore them. But when what sounded like a whole fleet of NOFD ladder trucks roared by, sirens blasting, I ran to the window. A half-dozen police cars followed, nudging the few pedestrians out of the way and turning toward Chartres Street.
“We have a breaking story from the French Quarter,” the TV reporter said, and I turned to watch video of people pouring out of a building from whose upper windows smoke billowed and flames licked at the night sky. “A multiple-alarm fire has struck a crowded nightclub called…”
I didn’t need to hear the rest. I recognized the place. It was the vampire bar belonging to Etienne Boulard, former friend and now avowed enemy of the unaccounted-for Jean Lafitte.
L’Amour Sauvage was in flames.
CHAPTER 15
Calling Jean every bad name I could think of, I jammed my feet into the cold, wet boots and looked around helplessly. Rene had taken my coat. Going out in wet shoes was risky enough; coatless, I was asking for another round of hibernation.
On the other hand, it should be toasty warm next to the burning vampire club.
I went into the bedroom and opened the armoire where Jean kept his clothes. I considered the heavy terrycloth hotel robe, but if it was already snowing, the terrycloth would just absorb all the cold water. Damn it. The pirate didn’t have anything useful.
More sirens sounded outside. This had to be bad. I grabbed my messenger bag, made sure the staff was wedged firmly inside, and ran down the hallway. The elevator moved at the pace of an elf in Antarctica, but finally it arrived at the lobby. I cut into the gift shop, grabbed a couple of heavy sweatshirts, charged them to the room, and pulled them on as I crossed the shiny marble floor toward the street.
The doorman smiled as if he might be going to make jovial conversation, but thought better of it and rushed to open the door for me without a word. He probably feared I’d keel over in a dead sleep from my mysterious fainting-goat disease and hoped it wasn’t contagious.
As soon as I cleared the doorway, the wind hit me full-force. God, it was cold. My feet began to go numb before I’d taken a dozen steps, but I rushed onward, moving as fast as I dared. I cut over one block to Chartres Street and slowed, not only because the whole area ahead of me lay jammed with emergency vehicles and people, but because the fire roared like a living thing, its flames bright enough to make the snow falling between me and the club appear as a dark, moving curtain.
Was Jean insane? The Quarter was older than him—ancient by U.S. standards. Its venerable buildings were always in some state of disrepair, making us the American originator of urban grunge. Dilapidation was admired and coveted in New Orleans, especially in this part of town. The Quarter was also a monstrous firetrap.
On the positive side, by the time I began working my way through people and got within a block of the fire, the warmth hit me and hibernation was no longer an immediate concern. Every few seconds, I scanned the moving throngs around me, trying to catch a glimpse of a familiar, tall Frenchman dressed in a Daniel Boone coat.
I finally spotted a familiar face. Vampire Regent Etienne Boulard stood still as only vampires can, a rock amid the moving sea of firefighters, paramedics, cops, and ash-covered club patrons. He looked mad enough to chew wooden nails, but at least he wasn’t dead. I wasn’t sure I’d point that out to him as something for which to be thankful, however.
My first instinct was to turn around, return to the hotel, and pretend I’d seen nothing. But damn it, I was the sentinel here. New Orleans was my town, and if anyone was going to set fires in the French Quarter it should be me and my elven staff. I had to investigate. Besides, it might have nothing to do with Jean Lafitte.
I stepped up beside Etienne, hoping he didn’t hold a grudge after the little burning incident in Vampyre. He didn’t turn in my direction and I didn’t think he’d seen me until he hissed, “I hold you entirely responsible for this.”
So much for not holding a grudge. “If by this you mean the fire at L’Amour Sauvage, think again. I just got here.”
When Etienne turned to me, I winced. His blue eyes shone like marbles in a face covered in soot and tight, reddened skin. He’d been close to that fire. “You saved Lafitte, though, and he’s behind this.”
“Did you see him set the fire?” Besides that, we had a bigger issue. Namely, that Etienne should’ve been arrested the second he crossed back into New Orleans. I hadn’t seen the warrant yet, but I was pretty sure conspiracy and attempted murder were on his preternatural rap sheet. Should I call Alex or try to arrest him myself?
“I didn’t have to see him.” Etienne’s French accent had grown heavier. He usually sounded more Louisianian than the Frenchman he’d been back in his wizard days as a plantation owner. He’d lost his magic after being turned.
“Then you have no proof.” I startled as the glass blew out of an upper window and sent a shower of blackened shards to the sidewalk.
“As soon as the club opened this evening, it filled with undead pirates, behaving like ruffians and driving away my regular customers.” Etienne seemed to have forgotten his shaky legal status. He was so angry he’d even flashed a bit of fang, which meant I could add reckless exposure to humans to his list of crimes.
He turned back to watch the fire, the muscles in his jaw working as he clenched his teeth. How that teeth-clenching thing worked with fangs, I wasn’t sure. “Did you see one of the undead pirates set the fire? Otherwise, it could’ve been anyone.”
“God. Are you that stupid or are you being deliberately obtuse to protect your friend Jean?” Etienne motioned to someone in the crowd, and I saw the L’Amour Sauvage assistant manager heading toward us. He was a very polite metrosexual vampire who monitored the entrance of the club, keeping the crowds in check. His usually polished suit and tie were gray with ash, but I could still read his name tag: Marcus.
“Everyone got out,” he told Etienne, who nodded.
“Get my attorney on the phone and tell him to get his ass down
here. He’ll need to deal with the human authorities. I”—he glanced at me—“must return to Vampyre immediately.”
Oh no he didn’t. I needed handcuffs, or a good obedience spell. All I had was Charlie, so I pulled the staff from my messenger bag and discreetly pressed its tip against Etienne’s side.
He stiffened. “You wouldn’t dare use that here.”
He was probably right. “Don’t try me. You’re still wanted by the Elders, so you aren’t going anywhere except…” Holy crap. Now that I had the vampire, what the hell was I going to do with him? Haul him back to the Monteleone to wait for the breakfast buffet? “Except to Edinburgh.”
Etienne Boulard was the Elders’ problem, and it was the job of the area’s enforcer, Alex Warin, to send prisoners to Elder headquarters in Scotland. He’d need orders first, though.
I pulled out my cell phone and managed to unlock my screen. I’d just hit Zrakovi’s number on my speed dial when someone barreled into me from behind, knocking me, my cell phone, and a street busker with an acoustic guitar into a heap on the sludgy street. The crowd edged away so we’d have a clear path to the ground.
“You broke my neck.” The musician sat in a puddle, looking like the last reject from Duck Dynasty; the icy mud dripping from his face did nothing to improve the squirrel’s tail of hair dangling from chin to waist.
“What?” I looked him up and down. “You’re sitting up and talking. I don’t think you can do that with a broken neck.”
“My guitar.” He held up a fretboard with dangling strings and nothing attached. Now I knew what had broken my fall.
“Sorry, hold on.” I rolled to my knees and scrabbled around on the ground until I found my cell phone inside the remains of the crushed guitar. I looked around to see what had knocked us over, and thought Marcus had an awfully guilty look on his grimy face, especially when he looked away the second we made eye contact.
If Etienne hadn’t remained exactly where he’d been before the tumble, I’d have accused Marcus of creating a diversion so his boss could escape.
At least the staff, still duct-taped together after last month’s chaos, remained intact since it had landed on my head. The phone didn’t have a scratch. Alex, who knew me way too well, had bought me a super-indestructible, waterproof case.
I climbed to my feet, turned my back to the whiny musician, and tried my call again.
You have reached the Elders. We can’t take your call right now. If this is an emergency, call your local sentinel.
Seriously? The Elders had voice mail and were sending calls to me? This would never have happened while Adrian Hoffman had been manning the phones.
I made sure Etienne was still in view and got ready to call Alex. I had a missed call from him that had just ended, so he shouldn’t be too hard to reach if …
“Excuse me. Sentinel?”
Marcus stood hesitantly next to me. Last time we’d met, I’d been bleeding profusely from my bullet wound and he’d made me sign a release form promising not to hold any vampires responsible if they got carried away and bit me. Apparently, I tasted vile so it was just as well no one had tried.
“What is it?” I tried to peer around his shoulders at Etienne, who remained in place, watching the fire. I couldn’t believe the arrogant jerk wasn’t concerned about being arrested.
“Can you put out the fire? With your magic?” Marcus cast a worried glance over his shoulder as another window burst from the heat.
Was he nuts? “I’m sorry, Marcus, but this is too big for me to handle, especially with all the humans around. It’s best left to the firefighters. How did it start?”
He shook his head, still pretty and pale and androgynous even with ash smudges on both cheeks. “I’m not sure, but I think it started in the back, either in Etienne’s office or the men’s room or the mechanical room between the two. Our heating unit is old, and it’s been running nonstop this week.”
A slight flame of hope ignited in me. Maybe Etienne was wrong about this being Jean’s handiwork. Maybe it was nothing more sinister than an overworked, malfunctioning central heating unit.
Marcus stood on tiptoe to try and see over the people in front of us. “But we also had a bunch of the historical undead, friends of Jean Lafitte the pirate, filling up the bar tonight. I saw one of them coming from the hallway right before we smelled smoke.”
Or maybe I was kidding myself.
“What about Terri?” I wasn’t sure Etienne’s personal assistant had returned, but then again I’d been surprised to see Etienne. Terri hadn’t been proven guilty of anything except having the bad luck of falling for Adrian Hoffman.
“Terri hasn’t been back since the troubles, and as far as I know, Adrian’s in Vampyre.”
The troubles. That was a nice way of putting it. If I ratted Adrian out, he’d be tossed in a wizard prison until the protocol for an interspecies trial could be worked out, as would Daddy Elderbucks. They could keep Etienne company.
“Sorry about the club. Hope you guys can rebuild.” I edged around Marcus and headed toward Etienne. I wanted him within discreet reach of Charlie while I called Alex.
Etienne turned when I nudged him in the side with the staff again … only it wasn’t Etienne. This guy had the same ash-coated blue suit, the same blond hair, even the same freaking fangs, which flashed openly as he grinned at me. “Sorry, honey. Etienne had to run.”
Marcus patted me on the shoulder, edging past me and standing next to Etienne’s body double. “Kirk looks so much like Etienne, doesn’t he?”
Damn it, I had been played like the busker’s broken guitar.
My phone buzzed again, and I walked away in disgust. W. ZRAKOVI showed up on caller ID.
“L’Amour Sauvage is going to be a total loss, but at least no one’s hurt,” I said, not bothering with a greeting. “We might need a Blue Congress team, but it’s too early to tell.”
“Damn.” Zrakovi sounded as annoyed as I felt. I couldn’t believe I’d let myself be distracted while Etienne pranced back to Vampyre unchallenged. “Where is Lafitte?”
Good question. I pivoted around and stepped away from the onlookers so I could see more people. Heat from the fire baked one side of my face, while the other was wet with snow and already half frozen now that I’d moved away from the crowd.
“He’s been at the hotel,” I hedged.
I hadn’t intended to lie for him, but I also couldn’t cast blame his way without talking to him. Sending his undead pirates to annoy Etienne wasn’t illegal, and there was some chance the fire started innocently. Not much chance, but some.
“The vampires think it could have been a problem with the heating unit,” I added. A long silence on the other end of the call. “You know, overworked because of the cold snap.”
Finally, Zrakovi asked, “Then why might we need a cleanup team?”
God, I was getting in deep snow here. “There also might have been some undead pirates in the club just before the fire started.” I tried to make my voice sound matter-of-fact and unconcerned. “There’s no way to know if one of them had anything to do with the fire, of course, but a Blue Congress team should be on-site, just in case they dropped a rare doubloon or something.”
“Undead pirates. Oh no, they’d never start a fire.” Was it my imagination, or was Zrakovi’s voice more than a tad sarcastic?
“Well, we don’t know yet.” I dug my hole deeper.
“And you say Lafitte was with you?”
Sneaky Elder. “No, I said he was at the hotel. But I did hear about the fire on the TV in his suite, in fact.”
Where I’d been sitting alone, eating andouille.
Since when did I start lying to the Elders to cover for Jean Lafitte? Now, apparently.
“Yes, well, I’ll get a Blue Congress team on its way. And DJ…” Zrakovi paused, and I held my breath, praying I wouldn’t have to lie to him again. “I know you owe Lafitte your life, and that the two of you have gotten … close.”
I thought close
might be stretching it. Especially after the hibernation incident.
“That doesn’t mean I can’t do my job,” I said, wondering if that, too, had become a lie.
“I hope so, because we need you.”
He couldn’t have made me feel any more guilt-riddled had he trotted out the inevitable comparison to my father.
“I wouldn’t want you to make some of the same mistakes that Gerry made.”
I sighed. “Definitely not, sir.”
“Well, we need to get together after the Interspecies Council meeting to talk about your friend Eugenia and the child.”
I didn’t correct him on Eugenie’s name. The fact that he didn’t know it said a lot. “I look forward to it.”
Lies, lies, and more lies.
There was no more I could do here. The fire seemed to be under control and hadn’t spread to the adjacent buildings. Etienne was gone, at least for the time being. I’d go back to the hotel, order a bottle of wine, and figure out what to do. Only then would I call Alex. Lying to Zrakovi was one thing; lying to Alex—not just neglecting to mention something but outright lying—was another matter.
By the time I found the busker and gave him all the cash I had on me to help pay for a new guitar, the snow fell harder and was piling up fast. My teeth chattered again before I cleared the next block, and the entire lower half of my body was as wet as my boots since I’d done the street dive with the bearded busker.
A block from the hotel, I got the same surreal sensation that had overcome me just before the hibernation, and willed myself to move faster. My feet slipped and slid, but I didn’t slow down. If I fell and broke my neck it would solve a lot of problems.
I crossed over to Royal Street and saw the lights of the hotel shining through the heavy snow like a homing beacon. I walked toward them and almost fell when I pushed open the door and entered the lobby. The doorman gave me a fearful look, but I waved at him. No hibernating bears or fainting goats here.
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