Pirate's Alley

by Suzanne Johnson

I looked back up at Zrakovi and said the only thing I could.

  “Do what you think is best, sir. But I am not my father.”

  I was, however, my father’s daughter.

  “Go home, Drusilla Jaco. But watch your step.”

  I pushed my chair back and stood. God, I was so tired. The floor even felt shaky, and I staggered a little as I edged my way around the table toward the exit.

  “What was that?” Zrakovi stood up, looking around the room.

  A muffled boom sounded from the hallway, and I ran toward the door.

  I’d just grasped the knob when the ceiling came down and blackness descended.

  CHAPTER 24

  I came to consciousness in a pitch-black world of choking, chalky dust. The taste and smell of old, dislodged plaster was one I’d come to associate with those horrible months after Hurricane Katrina, when New Orleans had become one massive, sweltering site of both destruction and construction.

  Coughing, I rolled to my knees and cracked my head against something solid. Damn it, where was Charlie? I’d pulled the cross-body strap of my messenger bag over my head before the ceiling came down, so it had to be nearby. I felt along my chest for the strap and followed it to the bag, but no elven staff stuck out the top.

  I focused on the staff, calling it to me using an elven phrase Rand had taught me: Dewch i mi, Mahout. Instantly, a spark of red fire shot out near my left foot. I reached back and felt along the debris where the light had been, and when my fingers brushed against the polished wood, it heated to a soft glow.

  Now I could see that I was in a cave with walls formed of plaster and broken lathing and wire.

  “Elder Zrakovi? Can you hear me?”

  It took a few seconds, but finally he answered with a muffled “I’m a few feet to your left, I think. I’m all right. Are you hurt?”

  I did a mental body check. “I don’t think so.” At least not beyond the throbbing shoulder and ribs that seemed a constant these days. And maybe a new lump on my head.

  “I’ll try to make my way to you,” I said, holding Charlie up to see how to best dig my way out. I needed another source of light, preferably one that wouldn’t set the room on fire.

  Wedging Charlie between two boards with the glowing end closest to me, I felt inside my bag for the smooth wooden surface of my portable magic kit. Pulling it out, I held it closer to Charlie’s glow and picked out a small packet of crushed bioluminescent mushrooms. I tapped a small amount into a plastic container, added an ounce or two of holy water, and used my finger to stir it and also shoot a bit of my native magic into it. The phosphorescent green glow sprang up instantly, so bright that I had to blink a few times so my pupils would adjust.

  “What the hell is that?” Zrakovi sounded closer than before, and debris fell and shifted somewhere to my left.

  “I made a light so we could find our way out.” I stuffed Charlie back in my bag and held the container of light above my head. There was a beam just above me—that’s what I’d cracked my head on—but open space on either side of it.

  I began pushing debris out of the way in front of the beam, careful to stay clear so it wouldn’t hit me if it shifted again. By the time I’d cleared out a space big enough to crawl through, Zrakovi had made his way to me and peered in the opening. “How did you make the light—is it elven?”

  “No, just good old potion magic.” If not for his voice, I might not have recognized him. He was covered head to toe in white dust that glowed a little in my phosphorescent light. He held out a milky hand to help me crawl clear of my rubble cave. “I keep a portable magic kit with me most of the time.”

  Crap like this happened often enough that I needed it, sadly.

  “Enterprising.” Zrakovi stared at the light a moment, then around the room. “Let’s see if we can get the door open to the hallway and find our way out of here.”

  I did a quick rundown of who might be left in the building.

  “Alex?” I stilled, straining my ears for a response, but crackling wires and shifting rubble was all I heard. He’d probably been gone long enough to transport out before the explosions, or whatever they were. But my elf probably hadn’t.

  Rand! I felt a mental stirring through the pain that stabbed through my temples, but no answer. Rand—are you okay? Are you still in the building?

  His answer was faint and sluggish. I’m stuck near the transport. I need help getting free.

  We’re on our way. Have you seen Alex?

  He left before the explosion.

  I hoped he was right. “Rand is stuck between here and the transport; he needs help getting clear.” I held the light nearer the door, from which Zrakovi was methodically clearing rubble. “That’s too slow. Stand back.”

  He gave me a sharp look, probably not liking my pushy attitude, but moved to the side. I pulled Charlie from my bag and pointed the staff at the door. I couldn’t shoot it full force or I’d start a fire, so I fed the tiniest trickle of magic into it I could, and willed it to singe rather than flame.

  The end glowed like the tip of a lit cigarette, and I touched it to the door, moving it in widening circles until there was a big, round scorched hole in the middle. Then I punched my fist through it. It wasn’t pretty, but it was big enough to climb through.

  Or it would have been for anyone not wearing a freaking elven hippie dress.

  “Damn it.” I used the staff to burn a hole in the dress about mid-thigh and ripped off the bottom. Once my legs were freed, I stepped through the hole in the door and was glad to see the hallway beyond wasn’t nearly as wrecked as the meeting room.

  I looked back to find Zrakovi examining the hole in the door and stepping cautiously through it. “Enterprising,” he said again.

  Yeah, well, some of us were working wizards whose skills hadn’t rusted from too much political nonsense. Zrakovi was Green Congress, and had to be a strong wizard to have made Elder. Or maybe not. Maybe one only had to be ambitious and politically savvy.

  The ceiling hadn’t collapsed in the part of the U-shaped hallway leading to the elevator, but the walls had lost their plaster and part of their lathing. The footing was tricky, and we moved slowly over land mines of nails poking out of wooden strips and enough white dust that it was hard to tell the floor from an uneven invitation to a sprained ankle or pierced foot.

  Rand, where are you?

  About six feet ahead of you to the left, I think. I’m trapped.

  With Zrakovi crunching behind me, I held the light up and began searching for my elf. I finally spotted him against the wall with some kind of support beam over his legs. It had to be heavy. Elves had a brutish, preternatural physical strength. I’d seen Rand pick up a sofa without straining.

  “You can’t kick it off?”

  “Sure I can. I just wanted to see you try to lift it.”

  “No point in being a smartass.” I settled the light onto a pile of rubble and studied the beam. Wooden, solid, thick. “Did you see what happened?”

  “I’m not sure. Bombs, maybe. The first blast was back where you were; the second was between here and the transport. I saw Jake Warin just before the second blast.”

  A chill stole across my shoulder blades. Why was Jake still here?

  I turned to my silent accomplice. “Elder Zrakovi, could you dig through some of that blockage while I try to free Rand? Jake Warin might be over there.”

  He didn’t respond, but walked toward the cave-in a few yards in front of us. I didn’t think Zrakovi appreciated me barking orders at him, but he’d proven himself fairly useless so far. Not that I’d be sharing that opinion.

  I saw somebody else, Dru.

  Who? Obviously somebody Rand didn’t want to identify in front of Zrakovi.

  Garrett Melnick. He was fighting with your loup-garou friend.

  Another chill stole across my scalp. The thought of Jake with that bloodsucking freak made me ill, but if Jean had taught me anything, it was that Jake could take care of himself.

 
I think Melnick was trying to take out Zrakovi, and maybe you and probably me. There’s not much he can do to Lafitte.

  Wait. That didn’t make sense. How could Melnick be here? It’s daylight.

  “What in thunder’s name are you two doing?” Zrakovi abandoned his excavation job and stepped up beside me. “Are you so besotted that you can’t take your eyes off each other? We need to get out of here.”

  Zrakovi didn’t know Rand and I could communicate telepathically, and that was for the best, even if it meant he thought there was besottitude at work. “I’m trying to figure out the best way to move that beam,” I said.

  Zrakovi leaned over and grasped the beam, but couldn’t budge it. “We will have to go for help.”

  “No, no. I can find something.” I squatted down and pulled my portable kit out again. “Rand, is there some elven thing that can mimic telekinesis?”

  He frowned, his facial movement cracking off a marble-size chunk of plaster from his forehead and sending it tumbling down his cheek. “The air and earth elves can do it, but not fire elves.”

  I studied the neatly labeled vials in my kit, then the pocket containing three recycled mint tins filled with different gemstone chips. Aha.

  Pulling out the tin marked BLUE, I scanned the blue and blue-violet stones. Maybe a sapphire, but … I picked up the small blue-green mineral chip called spinel. Its element was fire. I dropped it into an empty vial and poured holy water over it, then touched the edge of Charlie to the liquid. Might as well infuse it with the magic of the fire elves rather than that of a wizard.

  Because no way would it strengthen me enough to lift that beam, or even Zrakovi. Rand was already super-strong, however. With him, it might work.

  Once the mixture had boiled, then cooled off a little, I crawled over the rubble and held it out. “Drink this. Don’t swallow the stone, but just hold it in your mouth. Wait a few seconds and then try your hardest to push off that beam. I don’t have much of the mixture because the stone chip is so small, so it won’t last long.”

  Rand sniffed the vial, and for a moment I thought he was going to put on his petulant I-Am-Elf face. But he nodded, upended the vial, and waited a few seconds. Gritting his teeth, he jerked his left leg up toward his body. As soon as the beam lifted from that leg, he slid his right leg free and pushed on the beam with his foot. It tumbled away from him with a crash.

  He spat out the stone and grinned at me. “It worked.”

  I smiled but it was halfhearted. Jake might be over there somewhere, and instead of digging, Zrakovi stood there with his thumb up his ass, giving me a weird, assessing look. Useless.

  “Can you walk?” I turned back to Rand, but he was already on his feet.

  “Yeah, that stuff even cleared up my headache.”

  Great. It hadn’t done a thing for mine. “Then help me dig.”

  The potion wore off quickly, but Rand still had his prete-strength, so with his help we made quick work of moving rubble from the blocked-off area. Zrakovi finally got with the program and helped pull away pieces of lathing and chunks of plaster.

  The closer we got to whatever was on the other side, the tighter my throat grew and the more labored my breathing, not from plaster dust but from fear. Jake had to be okay; he had to. He’d been through too much, and was finally finding happiness.

  At last, Rand lifted off the last big barricade, and I heard the sounds of a struggle to our right. I ran ahead, stopped at the corner, and peered around, with Rand and Zrakovi right behind me.

  Traces of two images disappeared so quickly I wasn’t sure I’d seen them—at least not until Rand said, “Melnick. And a big red wolf.”

  “Jake,” I said. “Let’s go.”

  I started toward the transport, but Zrakovi grabbed my arm and pulled me back. “You aren’t going anywhere.”

  Excuse me? “Melnick just bombed Tulane University’s history building and tried to kill us. Jake Warin’s gone after him and we’re not going to follow?”

  “We don’t have a warrant to arrest Melnick in Vampyre, only in New Orleans. We don’t have jurisdiction. And we don’t know there were bombs. It could be a coincidence. Besides, it couldn’t have been Melnick. It’s daylight.”

  Voices wafted up from the stairwell. “And there’s another coincidence: the arrival of the fire department and a boatload of cops to an Interspecies Council meeting,” I said. “Do you want to stand here and explain things to them?”

  “We’ll transport to Mr. Randolph’s house and continue our discussion there.”

  Rand and I looked at each other.

  Help me.

  He nodded and walked to stand next to Zrakovi, placing a friendly hand on his shoulder. “Don’t you think it would be wise for you to go to Edinburgh to report to the Elders, and send DJ to Vampyre to make sure Jake Warin is safe? He’s one of your enforcers, after all.”

  Halfway through that speech, Zrakovi’s eyes had glazed and lost focus. “Yes,” he said, “I should go to Edinburgh. DJ should go to Vampyre.”

  “Is that a direct order, sir?”

  “It…”

  It might have been, if Jake hadn’t rematerialized in the transport right in front of us. He was still in his wolf form, and sat with golden eyes blazing and blood dripping from his teeth.

  Judging by the mangled, crimson-covered body of Geoffrey Hoffman lying at his feet, it wasn’t Jake’s blood.

  CHAPTER 25

  As soon as Rand released his arm, Zrakovi looked around in confusion, heard the approaching humans, and snapped back into Elder mode.

  “You fools, get in the transport.” We all crowded around the wolf and the former First Elder. I grabbed the bristly ruff of Jake’s wolf to keep him from bolting, which he seemed inclined to do, judging by his wide eyes. Now that I’d bonded with Rand, I couldn’t be turned loup-garou, but the humans rushing up the stairwell toward us certainly could. The first firefighter crashed through the emergency exit, ax first, just as we dematerialized.

  I’d suggested the safest place I thought of to go—Alex’s house.

  Poor guy. When we all materialized in the middle of his living room, Alex was sacked out on his sofa a few feet away from the transport, wearing a pair of baggy camo shorts and a black T-shirt, barefooted, his head buried in a copy of Sports Illustrated. He pretended to be cool about our arrival, barely raising an eyebrow, but his shifter vibes went from mellow to startled to confused in a matter of seconds, finally settling into annoyed.

  I really, really needed to get back to Gerry’s frozen house in Lakeview and replenish my mojo bag. My own emotions were exhausting enough; adding so many others made me want to hibernate, and not from the cold.

  “Mr. Randolph, if you don’t mind, we need to discuss matters of concern to the wizard community.” Zrakovi was all brisk business now, back in charge and ready to herd Rand toward the front door. “I’m sure we’ll set up another council meeting right away to complete our business.”

  I wondered what building we’d destroy next time? And what business was left?

  Rand, would you call Jean Lafitte at the Monteleone and tell him Jake might be in trouble?

  The elf looked out the front window, where the snow fell heavily again, the flakes coming down at a wind-driven forty-five-degree angle. Sure. Think Alex would let me use the transport to my house?

  I glanced at Alex, who’d returned from ushering a bloody Jake to the bathroom and now stood with evil eyes fixed on Rand. Zrakovi had knelt next to the body of Geoffrey Hoffman, whom I assumed was dead. No transport, I told Rand. Just run fast.

  At least he had his coat, dirty though it might be. My four-grand lambskin would be found amid the rubble of F. Edward Hebert Hall. Coatless again.

  As soon as he left, I collapsed into one of Alex’s wooden dining chairs. I was too filthy to sit on his sofa.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “I’m not hurt—just a bump on the head, thanks for asking.” I rubbed my aching shoulder, which hurt wors
e than my head. I’d undone all the benefits of my healing potion.

  “Sorry.” He didn’t sound it. “What happened to Hoffman? Why are you guys covered in … dirt?”

  “I’m not sure about Hoffman, the building exploded, and it’s ashes and plaster dust.” I went through my version of things, omitting the details of my dressing-down by Zrakovi and the mental conversation with Rand. “It looks like Garrett Melnick set off the explosives, but who he was after—Rand or me or Zrakovi or all of the above—I don’t know. When we got clear of the rubble, Jake and Melnick were dematerializing in the transport. Then Jake reappeared in wolf form with Hoffman and no Melnick.”

  I left out the part about Rand using elven mind control on the Elder, too.

  “How’d Jake get in the middle of it?”

  “By doing my job, asshole.” Jake emerged from the bathroom, his face covered in cuts and bruises but clean, which was more than I could say for me or Zrakovi. I’d kill for a shower.

  Jake sat at the table. “I didn’t kill Hoffman, no matter now it looks. I caught Melnick triggering the last explosive and tried to stop him. The bomb had a short trigger; we were fighting when it went off. We eventually fought our way into the transport and off we went. He threw the body in the transport in Vampyre and sent us back.”

  Nobody had answered my burning question. “How could Melnick be there during the day?” I knew vamps could move around in light-tight areas and the Hebert Hall attic had no windows, but how had he known to transport directly into the attic?

  “Melnick must have an open transport in Vampyre and knew where the meeting was being held,” Alex said.

  Great. Future meetings should be held outdoors, where there would be no buildings to destroy and thus no surprise visits from bomb-happy vampires. The NOFD would appreciate it, no doubt.

  Zrakovi joined us at the table. “Hoffman’s dead, and doesn’t appear to have been drained. He appears to have been chewed on. What would you know about that, Mr. Warin?”

  Jake went through his story again, and I could sense Zrakovi’s doubt just as I could tell Alex wasn’t sure what to believe. He loved Jake; they were more like brothers than cousins. Jake was two years older, but Alex had always been the golden boy. Star athlete, star student at Ole Miss, star FBI agent, star enforcer. Jake was divorced, had been badly injured in his first tour of duty as a Marine, drank too much, and struggled with his identity as loup-garou—a rogue, non-pack werewolf with control issues. It would be easy to set him up for killing Geoffrey Hoffman, but why? Jake was a non-player in the grand scheme of prete politics.