Ev finally returned to the office the next Monday. He looked like hell warmed over and didn’t bellow nearly as much as usual. It probably hurt to draw in that much breath. Thank goodness.
Two weeks later, he was pretty much back to normal. And off on one of his crazy-train rides. Remember that movie investment? He decided to go watch it being filmed…and more than likely put his two cents’ worth in. I felt sorry for the director and actors. But since he was an investor, there was really nothing they could do to stop him from observing.
So, he took off for New Orleans and that’s when the shit hit the fan – again.
CHAPTER SEVEN
After that fateful call from John, Gregory and I had a brief conversation (argument) about whether I would accompany him to New Orleans. He insisted he could find Ev and bring him home on his own. I reminded him that I was the one who found him when he went missing in Atlanta and wasn’t about to be left out of the hunt. He finally acquiesced and while I called Sally to fill her in and ask her to work full time for a bit, made his own calls to arrange a flight to New Orleans and someplace to stay.
That night, I had to have another argument with my cat.
“You could be in some danger. Or you may get upset enough to lose control. You must take me with you.”
I had no carrier for my cat and doubted any airplane would let him wander around the cabin. On the other hand, he had a point. I knew he was in my head wherever I went but that his ability to help diminished with distance. It would be easier for him to tamp down my temper if he were close by. That way, I wouldn’t have to worry about the Witches’ Council lopping off my head for causing an earthquake or something. I called upstairs to my witch neighbors who had cats.
“I need to go out of town and Fudge needs to come with. Do you have a carrier I can borrow?” I asked Marge.
“Of course. I’ll get one out of the closet and one of us will bring it right down.” She hung up and in just a couple of minutes, there was a brief knock at my back door. Elinda didn’t wait for me to answer but just came right on in.
“Here you are. I brought the large one so he has room to move around a little. Do we need to bring in your mail or anything?”
I shrugged. “I have no idea how long I’ll be gone. Ev’s gone missing again. So, yeah, probably. Just in case.”
She gave me a hug. “Your ogre certainly does get himself into a world of trouble, doesn’t he? You be careful, darlin’. We’ll keep the home fires burning.” She closed my door quietly behind her.
Fudge hopped off the sofa and inspected the carrier. “Must I?”
“You must. If you want to travel with me on an airplane, that is. They don’t let any animals but service animals on a plane without a carrier.”
“You should look into that. I could be a seeing-eye cat.”
“But I’m not blind. So, a carrier it is.”
I started packing – after I’d checked the weather forecast. It honestly sounded much like I was accustomed to: hotter ‘n Hades and enough humidity to make it soupy. Plus, afternoon thunderstorms but luckily, no tropical storms or hurricanes in the immediate forecast. Although I knew buildings had air conditioning, who knew where we’d end up? Sleeveless tops, a lightweight sweater and a raincoat all got crammed into my carryon.
Gregory picked us up at dark-thirty and much to my surprise, headed toward Minneapolis-St. Paul International rather than Flying Cloud where the charter service Ev used flew out of.
“Our normal company is fully-booked and I was able to get us on a commercial flight that would get us down there faster than waiting for them. We have a layover in Atlanta, but we’ll still get to New Orleans three hours before they could. I have a feeling time is of the essence.”
Six hours after leaving my place, we were checked into the Omni and ushered into a suite. Nice but it only had one bed. I looked at Gregory after the bellhop had collected his tip and left. “One bed? I like you but…”
The corners of his mouth quirked. “Last minute reservations? The sofa pulls out. You get the bed, I get the sofa.”
“I’ve slept on my share. Sofa beds suck. Couldn’t you have found accommodations with adjoining rooms or something?”
His mouth corners turned a little further up. “Sofa beds are heaven compared to cots or even the ground. It won’t bother me in the least. Be thankful I was able to book a suite with two bathrooms. Now, while you unpack, I’m going to get Fudge’s things. Then I have to see if I can home in on Ev.”
(It always weirded me out that Gregory knew exactly where in my apartment everything was. He’d even retrieved a suit out of my closet once. The right one on the first try. Someday I’d have the gumption to ask him exactly how he knew all that.)
I’d let Fudge out of the carrier as soon as the bellhop had closed the door. In the time it took me to open the closet doors to unpack the few things I’d brought, I heard his belongings plop onto the bathroom floor.
“Water and food would be welcome.”
Ignoring the cat for the moment, I went back into the sitting area to find it empty. The balcony doors were open, letting in the noise of the city plus the damp of hot, humid air. Gregory was out on the balcony with his eyes closed, turning this way and that. I joined him, closing the doors to preserve the comfort of our air-conditioned room.
“He’s somewhere in the French Quarter. I think. Rather near, though. With so much magic floating around, it’s difficult to get a fix. I need to call John. Order a late lunch from room service, will you? Whatever they have in the way of a muffeleta will do for me.”
A what? I grabbed the room service menu from the desk. Ah. A sandwich. A sort of Italian sandwich. It actually sounded good, so I ordered two. While Gregory chatted quietly on his cell, I filled Fudge’s litter box, put food and water in their dishes, and basically tried to make us at home.
We each ate half of our huge sandwiches and put the rest in the fridge for later. “Put your walking shoes on. Let’s go find Ev,” Gregory suggested.
“What did John say?” I asked as we made our way down the stairs.
“Nothing’s changed since yesterday. I’m going to see if I can weed out Ev’s signal from all the magical interference. Stay close so I don’t lose you in these crowds.”
As soon as we left the air-conditioned hotel, I longed to go back to the room. I’d been outside for less than a minute and was starting to melt in the heat and humidity. On the sidewalk in front of me, Gregory closed his eyes again, turning left and right. Opening them, he turned right and started walking. At the street corner, he turned right again. After trying to skip my way around people to keep up even in just a half block, I finally just grabbed his hand – it was a zoo!
I tried to sightsee a little while Gregory tugged me this way and that to avoid people. I’d never been to New Orleans and although the view from the taxi that transported us from the airport made it seem like any other city, the French Quarter was quite a sight. The buildings were much older than I was accustomed to seeing, most of them cheek-by-jowl but a few with tiny courtyards visible through gates, and a lot of lacy wrought iron balconies. Some of those balconies had gorgeous ferns draping over the railing. A lot of them were flying the French flag with plenty of red-white-and-blue bunting; many of them boasted flags with a black-and-gold fleur de lis. (For the New Orleans Saints – an American football team, if you didn’t know.) Glancing in the shop windows as I walked by, I could see artwork and jewelry, as well as the menus for some restaurants. The strains of Dixieland jazz came from somewhere nearby. Over it all was the cacophony of a dozen languages from hundreds of tourists on this street alone.
After the fourth time tripping on an uneven sidewalk, I stopped gawking and started watching where I put my feet. Gregory stopped at each street corner to search but continued walking straight down…Royal Street, the sign said.
We walked several blocks, the crowds thinning somewhat the farther we went. Gregory suddenly turned right at a corner, pulling me with h
im. This area looked more like warehouses and not quite as prosperous as where we’d been earlier. Scaffolding covered the façades of a couple of buildings that, to my eye, looked like they were about to fall down. He halted in front of a door under an arch of pipes and boards so quickly that I ran into his back.
“Here. He’s in here. Now, to get him out?” Gregory eyed the building up and down.
“Just go in, smack around whoever is guarding him and untie him?” I helpfully offered.
“The building is warded and it’s elven magic. This is more complicated than Ev pissing off a wizard over a woman. I can’t unravel the spell without it backfiring onto us. I need to make some calls. Let’s go back to the hotel.”
“But Ev,” I protested as he dragged me down the street and around the corner.
“He’s fine for the moment. They won’t do anything to him until and unless whatever it is they want doesn’t happen. And it wouldn’t do for us to get hurt and not get him. Come on.”
The crowds thickened up again as we walked back toward our hotel along a different route. I smelled coffee!
“Hey, I smell coffee! Where is it coming from and can we get some?”
Gregory slowed down but never stopped wending his way through the throngs. “You’ve never been to New Orleans? We will come back later, perhaps after dinner, and you can sample the famous coffee and beignets from Café du Monde. It will be less crowded then, anyways.
Ooh. I’d heard about Café du Monde and definitely wanted to pay it a visit. “Yes, but what about Ev?”
“It will be tomorrow at the earliest before I can figure out what is going on and how to extricate him from whatever he’s gotten himself into. After I’ve made my calls, we will undoubtedly have the evening free. I will take you to dinner, we can do some night sightseeing, and have a cup of coffee. Will that suffice?”
It would. If he wasn’t that worried about Ev at the moment then I wouldn’t be either, although the “elven magic” comment concerned me. The handsome Perchaladon’s face popped into my head. It had been a few weeks since he’d made an appearance and I thought we were done with him. Perhaps not? Or maybe it was some other issue. With Ev, one never knew.
Once back in our room, Gregory warded it from overly-large ears and made a few calls while I listened in on his side of the conversation. It consisted mostly of him trying nearly all his contacts to figure out how to break the magic surrounding the building Ev was in. Apparently, elven magic was completely different from how human-types went about things.
About halfway through one conversation, Gregory stifled a curse, looked at his phone with disgust, then jammed the charging plug into it.
“May I borrow your mobile, please? I’ve killed my battery once again and do not wish to use the hotel phone where listening in is easy.”
I wordlessly handed my cell over. It was nice to know I wasn’t the only one who drained cell phone batteries. Ever since my magic had manifested, I could only get about a half day of use before I had to plug it in – and that was with the ugly, rubberized case Gregory had given me, which was identical to the one covering his. That only prevented me from frying the delicate electronics.
Gregory finished his calls and plugged my phone in next to his on the desk. “Where would you like to go for dinner? New Orleans is full of good restaurants.”
I opened my mouth to reply that I didn’t care when there was a knock on the door. “Were you expecting someone?” I asked.
“No. Back away. I will answer it,” came the terse reply. He moved toward the door, his right hand behind his back, a ball of carmine energy glowing in his palm. He looked through the peephole, gave me an odd look, then opened the door.
My jaw hit the floor. An elf stood there, decked out in not a custom-tailored suit but long, midnight blue robes embroidered in silver and gold. His long black hair had white streaks through it. Crows’ feet crinkled the corners of his eyes, but no other wrinkles creased his face.
“Close your mouth. You will attract flies.”
I closed my mouth with a gulp but couldn’t help continuing to stare.
A baritone voice intoned, “You may release your energy, wizard. I mean you and the lady no harm.”
“I will release it when you tell me who you are and what you are doing here,” Gregory rejoined.
“My name is Nelion. I believe we have a common adversary in my son, Perchaladon. I have come to offer my help.”
Gregory released his energy and with a wave, ushered Nelion into our room.
“Offer him some refreshment. Women are supposed to do these things in his world.”
I mentally snorted. A misogynistic society?
“No. Their women are artists and warriors, just like the men. However, they have a lower opinion of human women and in this setting your role is unknown, so he probably thinks you are just the wizard’s woman. Better to keep on his right side.”
I decided to do things my way. Setting up the cup-at-a-time coffeemaker, I remarked that I wanted a cup of coffee and would anyone else like one while I was at it? Both men accepted a cup so after I’d made three, we got down to brass tacks.
“First,” Gregory said, “How did you find us? Second, why do you think your son is involved in our business here?”
Nelion grimaced. “To the second: There are rumors in my world that Perchaladon has, once again, attempted to entice non-elven investors for one of his schemes. I will admit to you that he is a source of embarrassment to me. I also heard that an ogre of your acquaintance is or was involved with him and said ogre has disappeared. I believe the two may be related.
“As for how I found you, I own this hotel. The desk staff is well-trained. Any non-human guests are automatically catalogued. To be frank, most every hotel in this city does the same. Given the, shall we say, boisterous atmosphere, sometimes things can get out of control and it is helpful to know who is capable of what. It was a simple matter to discover your relationship to the ogre.”
That did not sit well with me, but I could tell Gregory took the cataloguing with a grain of salt. I slid him a look and he just shrugged his shoulders.
“It is possible your son is mixed up in Evander’s disappearance,” Gregory told him. “I know where Ev is and the building is warded with elven enchantments which, as you know, I cannot break without consequences. Can you?”
Nelion shrugged his shoulders. “Possibly. If not me, then one of our senior mages. However, I would prefer to handle my son and have him release your ogre and whomever else he may be holding for whatever reason. If you will agree to give me twenty-four hours to find my son and bring him to heel.”
Gregory stood. “I will give you that but no more. If Ev has not been released by tomorrow evening, you or one of your people will accompany me to the building and break the wards. Are we agreed?”
Nelion bowed. “We are. You will hear from me within a day’s time one way or the other.” He turned to me. “Thank you for the coffee, Miss McCollum,” and strode out of the room.
After we’d heard the “click” of the door latching, Gregory let out a breath. “Well, wasn’t that interesting?”
I fumed. “Cataloguing? They can do that? Isn’t that a breach of privacy or something?”
“Ah, Amy,” Gregory sighed. “You have much to learn of our world. Yes, they can do that and no, it’s no more a breach of privacy than you ordering nothing but fruits and vegetables through room service and them determining you’re a vegetarian. In a hotel like this, that would go in a file and if you stayed here again, the room service menu would probably be customized.
“And, as he pointed out, things do get out of control in New Orleans and it does help to know who’s visiting your town. Not that the mundane police care but the paranormal enforcers want as much knowledge as they can get.
“Now, as I was saying before I was interrupted, where would you like to go for dinner?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
After dinner (which was yummy), he did indeed t
ake me on a nighttime tour of New Orleans where I learned the true meaning of sultry summer nights in the south. The air temperature was somewhat cooler than when the sun was out, but it was still hot and sticky. Even the slight breeze generated by the air flowing by as the horse pulled the carriage wasn’t cooling enough. I used the carriage company’s flyer as a fan.
The driver kept up a nonstop commentary as he navigated his way through the narrow streets of the French Quarter, dodging the already-drunk revelers, then down the wider boulevards in the Garden District with its antebellum houses, all lit up as if to welcome us to the city.
Gregory, who had seen it all before (some of it more than a century ago), seemed lost in thought during most of the ride. He finally turned toward me. “Would you like that coffee now, or perhaps a cocktail? There are some fine musicians in this city and I think you’d enjoy having a listen.”
I don’t drink iced coffee and something cold sounded wonderful, so I agreed to the music. Gregory tapped the driver’s back, interrupting his narrative. “Drop us anywhere on Frenchman Street, if you would.”
Paying little or no attention to tipsy pedestrians and impatient car drivers, our host double-parked his carriage on a street that rivaled Bourbon Street’s reputation. Bars lined both sides of the street, with people walking in and out at will, many with cocktails in their hands. Strains of different types of music mingled with the boisterous tones of partiers. Sunday evening, when most people were winding down their weekend and getting ready for the workweek, held no meaning here.
Gregory shoved a wad of bills into the driver’s hand and helped me down from the carriage. We stepped over to the sidewalk, but it was no less crowded than the street. “What’s your preference? Jazz? Southern rock? Straight-up country?” He raised his voice to be heard over the noise.
“Southern rock. Somewhere with air conditioning?”
Transformation! Page 6
