Frenchman Street_A Novel of The Sentinels of New Orleans

by Suzanne Johnson

  To Jean, a necktie was a noose; a lot of men likely felt that way.

  This was very bad, though. “Sounds like Alex served Rand with a search warrant, so they’re looking for evidence.”

  “What’re they gonna find?” Rene asked.

  I thought about it. “Nothing implicating. That house is too heavily warded for Zrakovi to have planted fake evidence, but something could have been planted at the scene to make it look like Rand was involved. The house, though? The only thing Alex will learn is that Rand and I aren’t sharing a bedroom.”

  “This is a good thing, non?” Jean grinned.

  “DJ, you’re turning red again. You need ice water?” Rene put a hand on my forehead.

  I slapped it away. Couldn’t a girl blush in peace? “What are you, my mama? I’m just mad at Alex. He knows Rand has nothing to do with those fireworks shows. I told him at the council meeting it was vampires working for Florian. He’s just going after Rand to get back at me.”

  “Alex is an asshole.” Eugenie spoke softly from the corner. I’d gotten loud enough to wake her up. “He used to not be that way, when you guys first got together. I don’t know what happened to him.”

  I smiled at Eugenie, my anger draining away. “You called it yourself, Eugie, back before you left New Orleans. Alex likes a world he can understand and control, and that’s not our world anymore. The only way he knows how to deal with it is to dig in his heels.”

  Her returning smile was weak, sending my worry back into a flare. “I knew you guys would end things eventually, and I thought you’d end up getting hurt,” she said. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

  I’d thought I would be more hurt too. I guess there had been enough advance warning that, when the breakup came, it was almost a relief. For me. Alex was acting like a vindictive brat.

  DJ, we need to get Eugenie outta here. But I’ve gotta show you something first, and she don’t need to know about it.

  I glanced at Rene, but his face gave away nothing.

  “I want to explore the house a little, and Rene promised me a tour. Jean, would you mind staying with Eugenie? I’ll let you know if there’s something I think you’d enjoy seeing.”

  Shrewd, dark-blue eyes pierced me with a suspicious look, but he nodded. “As you wish, Jolie.”

  I gave him a smile, hugged Eugenie, and followed Rene into a wide hallway with more polished wood and heavy carpets. “What are we looking for?”

  He didn’t answer but handed me the elven staff and proceeded to a gleaming wooden stairway. “You need help on the stairs?”

  I’d like to say no, but I felt about six hundred in elf years. “Yeah, sorry. Rand told me we should stay in this wing, though.”

  Rene’s laugh was grim. “Yeah, I just bet he did.”

  “You’re scaring me. What have you found?” I took his arm and leaned on him as we made our way slowly down the staircase. The image of us together, the one I’d seen in his mind in Vampyre, came back to me. How did I feel about Rene? About my best friend becoming more than a friend?

  “That elephant in the room can wait until we aren’t in danger,” he said, catching me when I tripped and almost took a tumble. “Don’t forget I’m still in your head.”

  “Back at ya. So why are you thinking about dogs?”

  “You’ll see.”

  We entered the main hallway of Chez Randolph, and Rene led me to a small alcove overlooking what normally might be a scenic view of ancient hardwood forest to the left and rolling green hills ahead and to the right. Today, the land was covered in water. Thank God for transports and elven staffs.

  “Look at this,” Rene said. To the left of the window, disguised within the decorative wood of the alcove’s side, stood a door with a small, inset handle. “It’s a pocket door into a basement. When we get downstairs, listen very carefully. You should still have at least some of my shifter hearing.”

  I nodded, following him down the narrow stone stairs into a cavernous basement hallway, with doors opening off all sides. Most were closed; the few that stood open revealed sparsely equipped bedrooms. “Staff quarters?” I asked.

  “Probably. But not the one at the end. The one with the guard dog.”

  At the end of the hallway was a carved wooden door much more elaborate than the others, and in front of the door sat a corgi. He was older than Gruff, on the chunky side, with black marks on his coat and a sour expression. The low growl and curled lip didn’t help.

  “Listen,” Rene whispered.

  I closed my eyes and tried to hear with my borrowed merman senses. Beyond the dog’s growls, very faint, came the sound of a woman crying.

  I switched to mental conversation. The corgi was no ordinary dog. Do you know who’s crying or why she’s here?

  No, I wanted to see if you knew anything about it. You know, if it was Randolph’s evil grandmother or something, she could stay there.

  Wait. I focused on the corgi and summoned my most imperious impersonation of Quince Randolph.

  What is your name? I demanded. I sounded obnoxious even to myself.

  The dog stopped growling and fixed sharp eyes on me.

  I am Swnllyd, head of the Royal Canine Corps.

  I gave him a solemn nod.

  Do you know who I am?

  He cocked his head. You are Lady Randolph?

  Oh, good grief. Yes. I want you to move aside and let us enter that room.

  Swill, as I decided to call him, wrinkled his nose and showed sharp little teeth. Lord Randolph said to let no one in.

  Is Lord Randolph here?

  Swill gave a whine of frustration. No. He is humanside.

  And who is in charge of this house when he’s gone?

  I could practically see the poor little guy wrestling with his dilemma. Finally, he ducked his head and waddled away.

  “Whatever you told him, you deserve an Oscar for that one, babe,” Rene whispered. “Except you were glowing like Randolph does when he’s pissed off.”

  Come to think of it, I was feeling overheated.

  Chapter 15

  I waited until Swill headed back up the stairs, then nodded at Rene. He tried the doorknobs, but the heavy door was locked. The crying stopped abruptly.

  I grasped Charlie and touched the staff to the lock on the righthand door, not sure it would work. The staff was more about fire and brimstone, less about the channeling of the magic needed to turn a deadbolt. The lock began to smoke, and I changed angles until I’d burned a round hole in the door. The deadbolt fell on the floor, taking the door handle with it.

  Rene tried the door again and pushed it open. We stood side-by-side, taking in the sight of a room so opulent it made Eugenie’s suite look like a cheap roadside motel. Heavy wooden furniture, embroidered burgundy and gold silk draping, crystal chandeliers that sent light dancing on all the polished surfaces. The décor had Quince Randolph’s touch all over it. The only things missing were windows and a beautiful view—it had neither. We were underground.

  There also was no sign of a person, crying or otherwise.

  I closed my eyes and reached out my senses for any power signatures. I’d learned the very subtle whisper of power that the elves gave off, the buzzy energy of shifters, including the one beside me, and the emotional overload of humans and the historical undead. I looked at Rene and shook my head, then touched my nose and ears. We might be sharing powers, but mine were still miniscule compared to his shifter senses.

  Like me, he closed his eyes and stood still for a few moment, then looked at me and pointed toward one of two doors on the left side of the room, probably a closet or bathroom.

  She made a run for it just before Rene reached the door, then stopped cold when she saw me blocking the exit.

  I wished I’d taken a snip of Swill’s fur before he’d left, but even without it, I’d swear we were looking at a woman of faery. She had the telltale green eyes tipped up at the corners, the flawless skin, and the high cheekbones shared by every faery I’d met. Her hair,
a brilliant dark-red, fell almost to her waist. She looked young.

  And she had definitely been crying.

  None of us spoke for a few moments, then she and I said, “Who are you?” at almost the same time.

  “My name is Kirian,” she said, her voice quiet but authoritative. “Your turn.”

  Holy crap on an elven stick. “You’re Princess Kirian of Faerie?”

  She gave a slight nod. “And you are?”

  I went through the introductions as quickly as I could. When she heard our names and pedigrees, she broke into a smile. “You are friends of my brother Christof. I’ve heard him speak of you. Please help me. The elven lord has kept me here for weeks, and I’ve had no contact with anyone. Is Christof here as well?”

  Rand was such a colossal, non-transparent ass. I stared at her until Rene poked me in the arm. “Babe, you’re turning red again. Stop it.”

  Clearing my throat, I willed myself to calm down. “Kirian, I have a lot of questions for you, but let’s go upstairs near a transport. It will be safer for all of us.” I wasn’t sure how far my Queen of the Elves act would take us, and the stakes had just gone into the ozone. If Christof was dead, Kirian was Florian’s only rival for the throne of Faerie.

  Moving as fast as my sore body would take me, I took the lead while Rene followed Kirian.

  I didn’t see a soul all the way back up to Eugenie’s room. The manor house really was empty, and I don’t think Rand knew that. He was so preoccupied with his trumped-up legal charges in New Orleans, he didn’t realize the center of Elfheim was under attack. I’d warn him. Maybe.

  “Mon Dieu, Princess Kirian!” Jean had been deep in conversation with Eugenie when I opened the door, but he rushed to the faery princess as soon as she cleared the door. “It gives me great pleasure to see you well. Have you news of Christof?”

  “No, my friend.” Kirian hugged Jean, standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. Rene and Eugenie and I exchanged amused looks. I swear, Jean Lafitte made it his business to know everybody.

  “Let’s sit down and talk,” I said. “We need to plan our next move carefully.”

  Once we were all seated, I turned to Kirian. “Are you telling me Quince Randolph has held you here for weeks? Why? And why did you think Christof might be here?”

  “He and some other men of Elfheim came to Faerie and found both Christof and me being held prisoner by our brother Florian,” she said. “They brought me out first and I thought they’d go back for Christof, but I haven’t seen him.” She looked down at her hands, at a peridot ring Rand had probably asked her to wear. “Jean, Christof was badly injured, and I fear he might not have survived.”

  I watched anger and sorrow war on Jean’s face, but I couldn’t console him now. All my inner warning signals were going off. Florian might be trying to influence Elfheim to support him. Or Florian might know his only remaining rival was almost alone here with the mother of Rand’s child. Win-win.

  As if to confirm my fears, a crack of lightning hit the house heavily enough for the chandelier to loosen from its base and drop a foot, dangling by its cords. The room went dark as the electricity went out. I’d been impressed that Elfheim had its own power grid, but was more impressed when dim emergency lights blinked on after a few seconds of darkness.

  “Okay, I think Florian is making a statement. We need to figure out where to go.” I started at another loud boom of thunder. “Kirian, do you know why Rand was keeping you here?”

  “Rand?” Kirian frowned. “Oh, the elf. He kept saying it was for my safety, but he had me locked in that room with only guards bringing food each day.” She got up and looked out the window at the storm. “I need to search for Christof, or, if the worst has happened, I need to rally the Courts of Winter and Autumn around me to oppose Florian. The Spring Court is already his because he offered to marry the ninny Princess of Spring. He can’t take the throne of Faerie, or we’ll all be lost.”

  I needed to talk to Rand, and I needed to think. There was time for neither. “Jean, Rene, any ideas about where the safest place to send both Kirian and Eugenie? I’m thinking New Orleans, but not Jean’s hotel—it’s too well-known that he makes his home there. It has to be somewhere inconspicuous, and Rand can’t know about it. At least not yet.”

  “I been thinkin’ about it,” Rene said. “I have a transport outside my sister’s house in Delacroix, in St. Bernard Parish. There ain’t nothin’ around there, and as far as I know even my papa don’t know about that transport—just me and Edmee. I set it up as an emergency escape route.”

  I wondered what wizard had helped him power it, but now wasn’t the time to ask. “Eugenie, do you think you can make it?”

  “I’ll make it.”

  The idea of moving her frightened me, but I also couldn’t leave her here to be either revenge or leverage or collateral damage for Florian.

  Just in case, I dropped my mental barricades and screeched: Rand! Answer me! Emergency!

  Nothing. That self-centered elf was going to have a lot to answer for.

  I walked to the door and looked out into the hallway just as another crack of lightning struck and sparks flew from the overhead light fixture. “Okay, come on. We have to go now. The transport is on the stairway landing a half-floor down. Don’t take anything with you unless it’s urgent. It’s going to be a tight fit.”

  Using Charlie as a torch and wearing my messenger bag cross-body, I led the way to the landing. We crammed into the transport as if we were overloading the last elevator out of hell.

  “Well, what have we here? So many nice targets, all standing together. Do I see my sweet sister back there?” Florian had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, at the bottom of the stairway below us. Jean, Rene, and I closed rank, pushing Kirian and Eugenie behind us as well as we could. Kirian shoved me aside, formed a giant ball of ice in her hand, and threw it with stunning accuracy—Florian took it right in the face.

  Florian’s first fireball went wide, causing the wooden stairway railing below us to explode in splinters. I instinctively covered my eyes, but my scalp took a few hits.

  “I don’t have time for your shit,” I muttered to Florian, raising Charlie and taking quick aim. As soon as I saw the red ropes of fire appear—especially strong here in Elfheim where the staff had been made millennia ago—I knelt, touched the gold threads that marked the edge of the transport, and said “Delacroix.”

  Gasps came from around our tight little circle as the transport activated, and the last thing I saw before we left Elfheim was Florian batting out a fire that had engulfed the sleeve of his blue velvet tunic.

  The first thing I saw when we landed in Delacroix on a beautiful sunny afternoon was Eugenie in Rene’s arms, a heavy, smoking piece of wooden railing protruding from her side.

  Chapter 16

  Oh no, no, no. “Get her in the house!”

  I wasted my breath. Rene was already halfway to the back steps of the modest wooden home, carrying Eugenie as if she were a delicate leaf. The land around us looked a lot like lower Plaquemines Parish—flat and unmarked, with a lone two-lane road that seemed to stretch into eternity, water encroaching on both sides. It would take help forever to get here, even if I knew who to call.

  Edmee’s house sat on high, strong stilts built to withstand flooding and was probably as hurricane-proof as possible on this broad stretch of wetlands with only a few bits of solid land to break it up. A shiny red pickup truck was parked beneath the house.

  Jean and Kirian ran alongside me, trailing Rene. Jean reached around and knocked on the door, then tried the knob. It was unlocked.

  “Edmee!” Rene shouted. “You here?”

  “Rene?” A petite woman rushed from a back room and froze when she saw him. “Oh my God, take her to the back bedroom. I’ll call Coraline and see if she’s close by.”

  “Madame Coraline is another of Rene’s sisters,” Jean whispered to me. “She is a healer for the merfolk, but I do not know if she can help Mademoiselle Eugeni
e. You must prepare yourself, Jolie.”

  “No.” I would not prepare myself for anything other than a healthy Eugenie and a healthy baby.

  “She is your friend, and her baby is that of your mate?” Kirian asked. “I would save my friend before the spawn of that elf, no matter how handsome he is. I’m sorry if that offends you.”

  “I hear you,” I said, and pushed past her and Jean into the back bedroom. Faeries were known for being blunt and honest. Literally. They couldn’t lie outright. That didn’t mean I wanted to hear her opinion, even if I agreed with her.

  The room, like the rest of the house as near as I could tell, appeared as simple and uncomplicated as Edmee herself. Her black hair, thick and wavy just like Rene’s now that his was growing out, was pulled back in a short ponytail. Her olive skin was smooth except where it wrinkled in concern around her mouth and eyes while she tried to cut the fabric away from Eugenie’s wounds. When Edmee glanced up at me, her eyes were the same dark, dark brown as her brother’s. They could almost be twins themselves.

  Rene’s phone rang. Our brain meld wasn’t as strong as it had been in Elfheim, but I could still hear enough to know the call was from Coraline, she was halfway between Chalmette and Delacroix, and she’d be here in fifteen minutes.

  Edmee didn’t take her eyes off Eugenie. “Coraline is a midwife, but your friend needs a…I don’t know if she needs a human doctor or an elven healer. What’s her name?”

  “Eugenie.” I stretched out beside her on the bed, jostling her as little as I could. “Eugie, can you hear me? Eugie?”

  Her eyelids fluttered and opened, then she gasped and grasped her side. “What happened?”

  “Florian attacked us just before we transported out.” Whether he would have done it so quickly without Kirian firing the first shot, I didn’t know. Casting blame solved nothing.

  Eugenie doubled up in pain, holding her belly. Blood seeped around the jagged wood still protruding from her side. “Take it out,” she whispered. “The baby is hurting. He’s crying in my head.”