Elysian Fields

by Suzanne Johnson

  “Necromancers are required to be registered.” Adrian spoke up for the first time. “It should be relatively simple to narrow down the suspects. Your assistance would be appreciated, however.”

  “Here’s what I need to know.” I crossed my legs and faltered as Etienne’s eyes tracked the movement like Sebastian’s did when he spotted an interesting bug crossing the porch. He usually followed up the stalk with the pounce and eat. Thank God I’d worn jeans. “Normally, one needs a summoning name in order to call a member of the historical undead to the modern world, and the Axeman’s name was never known. Would the necromancer be able to call him without the name?”

  The vampire pulled a small cigar from his drawer. “Do you mind?”

  Yes, actually, but I shook my head. Fortunately, it was mild and smelled like the rich tobacco Jean used, and had probably been smuggled in by the pirate. Etienne blew a ring of smoke into the air, drawing my attention to his mouth. I could see the very tip of his fangs, and wondered how it would feel to feed a vampire. I’d never know, at least not willingly.

  “He was likely summoned simply by that name—the Axeman— since that’s how he is remembered in the city’s history.” Etienne took a puff of his cigar. “So, if it were my business to discover who the necromancer was, I would begin with the Axeman himself.”

  Interesting. If Etienne was right, I could summon the Axeman as long as I could catch him when he was in the Beyond, and could coax him to reveal the name of the necromancer. I’d had good luck placing magic- infused rubies inside a summoning circle, which compelled the person inside the circle to answer questions truthfully.

  If I could pull that off, we’d be done with this whole thing in time for a normal Thanksgiving. Except for the turningwolf-at-the-full-moon issue.

  If the Axeman were spending most of his time in the modern world, fueled by his own renewed fame and the necromancer, however, a summoning wouldn’t work. Still, it was worth a try.

  I pulled out the small notebook I’d stuck in my bag and looked over my list of questions. “Can a necromancer control a member of the historical undead the same as any other undead—a vampire, for example, or a zombie?” He’d sort of answered, but I wanted him to elaborate.

  Etienne’s cell phone rang with a generic, salsa-themed ringtone. He glanced at the screen, then set it aside. “I don’t know firsthand, never having tried to control one of the historical undead. I imagine it would be more difficult than a zombie, however—more like controlling a vampire. A sentient being is more apt to”—he struggled for the right word—“fi g h t his instructions if they are actions with which he disagrees, so I imagine the necromancer would find it more difficult to maintain control. So you’re probably looking for quite a strong necromantic wizard.”

  And if Etienne was innocent, that left only one other local necromancer, a Green Congress wizard who owned a French Quarter new age shop.

  “Would you be willing to provide us with your whereabouts at the time the attacks have occurred?” Adrian had been watching Etienne closely and guarding his thoughts. He seemed to put less credence in Jean Lafitte’s trust of the vampire’s innocence than I did. It was a fair question.

  “Of course, Mr. Hoffman.” Etienne flashed fang again, and this time I thought it was more scowl than smile. He was growing impatient. “I am here at L’Amour Sauvage every eve ning from nightfall onward except for trips into the Realm of Vampyre, which I believe covers your attack times. You are welcome to question any of my staff, vampire and human alike, to verify my whereabouts, however.”

  We might need the Regent’s help again, so I thought we’d gotten enough information for tonight. At least I knew there was a possibility of summoning the Axeman without a proper name. “Thank you,” I said, rising to leave. “By the way, how long have you known Jean Lafitte?”

  Etienne grinned, and I had a fascinating glimpse of the full fangs. They looked very sharp. “I met Jean as a young man when he was building his empire in Barataria and I owned a riverside plantation through which he smuggled his goods upriver to Vicksburg. After I was turned, I offered to turn him vampire as well. He would have been even more powerful—but he didn’t wish to be under anyone’s control, then as now.”

  A friendship of 250 years. Holy cow. No wonder Jean trusted him.

  Etienne rose and opened the door leading back into the hallway. The three of us walked together into the club, which had grown even more crowded. Terri sat in a back corner table with the pale blonde who’d been in Etienne’s office earlier. They both rose when they saw us, and the blonde faded into the crowd.

  “Perhaps I could offer you a drink before you leave,” Terri said. She spoke to both of us, but only had eyes for Adrian, who practically preened.

  “Who is she?” I gestured toward the departing blond woman.

  “Lily? Just a new acquaintance who wishes to do some business with Etienne.”

  And she was neither human nor vampire. “What is she—?”

  But Terri’s focus had shifted to Etienne. He had walked away from us toward a scene unfolding at a table in the opposite corner. A dark- haired young woman was fangs-deep into the neck of what looked like a college boy, who was having a public orgasmic experience and attracting a lot of attention.

  Etienne touched the vampire on her shoulder, and even from halfway across the room I could feel his power swell. Every vamp in the place fixed eyes on him. The girl immediately pulled out her fangs, sealed the wounds, and sat back in her chair, looking dazed. Etienne spoke to her in words I couldn’t hear, and she gave him a fearful look before walking past us toward his office. The power level in the room dipped, and a wave of relaxation swept over the vampires. The humans hadn’t seemed to notice anything.

  “Glad it’s her and not me.” Terri watched the boneless college boy as Etienne grasped his chin and forced his glazed eyes to focus.

  “He’s erasing the kid’s memories?”

  “Definitely, and will be on the lookout for anyone else who might have seen too much. The boy will go home, fall asleep, and won’t have a clue. But Dani will be punished. We have rooms upstairs for feeding. Nothing’s allowed down here.” Terri shook her head. “Stupid cow.”

  Enough vampire weirdness. Adrian was watching Terri with hooded eyes, so I poked him for the second time tonight. “Are you ready to get out of here?”

  He frowned and blinked at me. “You hurry along. I think I’ll stay a bit longer and do some . . . research. Besides, Terri promised to treat me to the special house Bloody Mary.” Adrian smoldered at Terri, and just like that I ceased to exist.

  If Adrian wanted to drink a Bloody Mary that probably had blood in it, followed by a fine dining experience in one of the upstairs rooms, it was no concern of mine. Maybe he’d be too tired for an elf lesson day after tomorrow. Plus, I’d have leverage. If I’d learned anything from Jean Lafitte, it was that knowledge led to power.

  CHAPTER 15

  I considered stopping for ice cream comfort on the way home, but decided against it. I didn’t want to be a chunky loup- garou, something to consider since I’d be running around wearing only a fur coat. There was an outside chance I might not shift, but from what I’d been reading it was probably inevitable. The virus was active in my system. I was healing fast. Running a fever. Feeling excellent.

  Alex’s lights were on in his little shotgun when I parked out back and made my way into my darkened kitchen, using my new password to get past my enhanced wards: Galadriel. A famous elf queen.

  Sebastian barreled into my shins about halfway to the light switch, so I stopped and dumped some cat food into his bowl. He was only affectionate at mealtime.

  I took a shower, made myself a cup of cocoa, and turned on the upstairs TV, but couldn’t settle down. Maybe it was all the sex in the air at L’Amour Sauvage or maybe it was loup-garou panic, but my mind kept going back to Alex and that kiss at the park.

  We had done a lot of flirting in the years since he’d come blasting through my
front door—literally—right after Katrina. The attraction was intense, but we’d always held back from seeing where a relationship could take us. We’d even talked about it, about how it could hurt our friendship and our working partnership—both of which I cherished. I was so afraid of screwing it up, of losing him, that changing the status quo terrified me. As long as we’d been cosentinels, Alex wasn’t willing to stir the pot, either. Since he’d been moved to DDT duty, though, his whole vibe had changed, and given my circumstances, I couldn’t help but consider what he meant to me.

  I’d clean the house instead. I mopped the kitchen and put Sebastian’s bowls in the sink to wash. The bowls had come from Gerry’s house, where I’d grown up sheltered and clueless as to how to have a relationship. My experience with men consisted of a meaningless fling during college at Tulane and one disastrous affair with another wizard right after I’d made Green Congress. Pathetic, in other words.

  Gerry had taught me many things about magic and self- preservation and thinking on my feet. He hadn’t taught me a damned thing about being a mature adult who could care for someone and be cared for in return.

  I gathered the dish towels that needed washing and took them to the guest bathroom, where I had a compact washer and dryer. From the window, I could see Alex’s house. His lights were on, and I saw a shadow move behind the shade in his dining room.

  When Alex walked into a room, women watched him, and he wasn’t oblivious to it. Jake said his cousin had been quite the womanizer when he worked at the FBI field office in Jackson, but I knew he hadn’t done much dating since moving to New Orleans. Just enough for me to admit I wasn’t nearly experienced enough or sophisticated enough for somebody like Alex Warin.

  But if I turned loup-garou, I was going to lose him anyway. I’d be too dangerous.

  Tears threatened again, and I sucked them down even though it felt like a stone in my throat. I shook out way too much washing powder for my light load, but poured it in anyway. In a week, what would it matter if I had clean dish towels? Why was I wasting my time cleaning?

  I had to be brutally honest with myself. If I only had a week or so until the full moon, how did I want to spend it? Not crying, that was for sure. Not cleaning house. What would be on my pre-werewolf bucket list?

  I wanted to wear boots and go out dancing to zydeco music under the stars, in one of those little river parish towns like Lutcher or Paulina.

  I wanted to spend time with Eugenie doing stupid girl stuff like going to the mall and playing at the makeup counter.

  I wanted to lie on the grass in the mild autumn sunshine before I moved into a lifetime of night in the Beyond or incarceration in Greenland.

  I wanted Alex.

  My heart rate sped at the admission, and all the fear flushed to the surface. God, what I would give for Tish to still be here, to help me sort through these alien emotions. She and Gerry had been together so long, and somehow they’d made their relationship work. Why hadn’t I asked her about it before it was too late?

  Losing her last month, having her murdered because the killer couldn’t get to me, was still raw. But Tish had liked Alex. If I only had a few days left before the virus took hold, Tish wouldn’t want me to spend them alone. She wouldn’t want me to go into a hazy future wondering what I’d missed by being afraid.

  I had a bad habit of overthinking things. I should just go to him. The worst that could happen was I’d humiliate myself and have to move to the Beyond with Jean Lafitte, which I was considering anyway.

  Sometimes, when there’s nothing left to lose, you have to stop thinking and take that hard first step.

  Or at least that’s what I told myself as I brushed my hair with hands that shook, fumbled with the buckles on my boots, and reached for my keys. Don’t overthink. Feel.

  I had a sense of unreality as I walked out the front door and locked it behind me. Crowds sat at the outdoor tables at Marinello’s Pizza across the street, laughing and clinking glasses despite the chill in the air. I tripped at the end of the sidewalk when I noticed Rand at the table nearest the door of the restaurant, sitting with a book and a glass of wine. He wasn’t reading, but watching me intently. At least I only pinwheeled once and hadn’t fallen on my butt.

  Quince Randolph, king of the creepy non-human stalker types, was not on my bucket list. I tossed my hand up in a casual wave and turned left toward Alex’s house. Traffic crawled along Magazine Street, even on a Wednesday night, and my heart took on the rhythm of a hip-hop song blaring out of someone’s open car window.

  I paused at the bottom of his front steps. Was I going to do this? I didn’t have to do anything. Just go in and have a beer. He might be busy, after all. The man wrote reports for the Elders like it was going out of style. Or he might have Leyla in there, or another woman.

  Spurred by the gentle sound of a clucking chicken inside my head, I rang his doorbell and swallowed hard when I heard footsteps crossing his living room.

  And there he was, as big and solid and sexy as the day I’d met him, but more than that. I hadn’t known then what a good man hid beneath the sometimes-Neanderthal exterior. A kind man. A kind man wearing a pair of low-slung jeans and no shirt, with abs to get lost in and hip bones flashing temptation. I was so in over my head.

  “You just gonna stand out there all night?” He moved aside and I had no choice but to go in. He closed the door behind me. “What’s wrong? You look—”

  “A beer,” I said. “I look like I need a beer. Or were you busy? Is someone else here? I can come back another time.” I turned back toward the door. This had been such a bad idea.

  “Don’t leave.” He gave me a puzzled look and walked toward the kitchen. “Nobody’s here. I downloaded some new music—something you’d like, in fact.”

  I stopped in the dining room and smiled at the achingly sweet voice of Zachary Richard. “I didn’t know he had a new CD out.”

  My first real date with Jake had been to see Zachary Richard. That was also the first time Jake had almost lost control of his wolf while he was alone with me. Now, with the clarity of hindsight, I saw that I’d put so much pressure on him to adapt it was no wonder he snapped. Alex and I both had been guilty of it.

  “It’s an older one—found it online.” Alex returned with two bottles of Abita and handed one to me. “So what’s up? How’d the meeting go with the vampire?”

  “The vampire meeting went okay.”

  “It went okay? That’s it?” He watched me for a second, brown eyes intense. “DJ? What the hell’s wrong with you? Do you want to talk about the blood test?”

  I jumped when he put a hand on my arm. “No.”

  He reached over and took the beer out of my hand, set both bottles on the table, and pulled me into the living room. “Sit down and spill it. I’ve never seen you this nervous.”

  No kidding. You’re at the top of my pre-loup-garou to-do list was a little flip. I want to fall into your arms and forget everything else was melodramatic. I had no idea whether I love you was true or not. “You remember the question you asked me this afternoon at Six Flags?”

  He frowned. “You mean about how you set the clown on fire?”

  God, how dense was this man? I punched him on the arm. “Later. On the swings. I changed my mind.”

  Understanding dawned on his face, followed by surprise and a chaser of amusement. He thought I was joking. “Really?”

  “Go for it.” Before the words left my mouth, embarrassment baked my face from the inside, and his dark eyes softened from laughter to heat.

  “Why the one-eighty?” His voice was low and silky, and his gaze dropped to my mouth when I bit my lower lip. This was too damned awkward. What had I been thinking?

  “Well, if you’re going to talk it to death, never mind.” I got up with every intention of marching back to my house and dying of humiliation—it would solve a lot of problems. He reached out and grabbed my arm before I got out of grabbing range, and pulled me onto his lap.

  “Shut
up.” He cradled my jaw in his hands and touched his lips to mine. His body heat enveloped me, and my heart adjusted its rhythm to keep time with his, or the other way around. That wonky shapeshifter energy had gone into hyperdrive, buzzing over my skin and tightening my nerve endings.

  I slid my hands from his shoulders to his hard chest, feeling a mark I’d never seen on his right pec—because I was always chastising myself for looking. A crescent shape faintly lightened his skin, and I ran a finger over its raised edges.

  “What’s this from?” It was too perfectly shaped to be accidental, plus shifters can heal just about any kind of flesh wound without scarring.

  “Enforcer’s mark,” he mumbled, his lips worrying at my neck and his fingers under the hem of my sweater.

  “So when you—”

  He stopped nuzzling and lifted my chin to force me into eye contact. His intensity sent a rush of heat right to my gut, and farther south. “Are we going to talk about work?” His voice was rough.

  Struck mute, I shook my head, and in a movement too fast to track, he reached up, fusing my mouth to his. A soft moan came from one of us, I wasn’t sure which. One hand twined in my hair and the other stroked the bare skin of my back as his lips and tongue made me forget . . . whatever it was I’d been thinking about.

  His light eve ning stubble scratched delicious heat across my neck as he got up with barely an effort, pulling my legs around him. He walked us to the bed and lowered me not so gently, pausing long enough to ease off my boots.

  “Are you sure?” Alex’s eyes were glazed and hungry, his breathing ragged.

  I sat up and hooked my fingers under the hem of my sweater.

  He stayed my hands. “My job.” He pulled it over my head slowly, then pulled down the straps of my bra, following his fingers with his mouth. “So. Damned. Beautiful.” His voice rumbled against my skin.

  “Yeah, you are.” My fingers eased down his chest, across the ridges of his belly, and rested them on his hips a few moments before reaching for his jeans. He pulled back to help.