Elysian Fields

by Suzanne Johnson

  “You look lovely, Jolie. The gown shows off your . . .”

  I held up a hand, my face growing warm. “Don’t finish that sentence. I know what it shows off.” The dress weaved provocatively around my legs as I walked through the room, making me wish I’d worn the chemise as well as a shawl to cover the cleavage. “Where is Rand?”

  “Bah, do not concern yourself with the elf.” Jean pointed to a side table that had been laid out with bread, cheese, and some type of dried meat. “You must eat.”

  I didn’t even ask what the meat was, but took some of everything. I knew ladies should be proper and eat like birds—at least that’s what Mammy told Scarlett in Gone with the Wind— but I thought the rule should be suspended when in the company of the undead. Or so I told myself. Plus, I hadn’t eaten since lunch at Liuzza’s yesterday, or today, or . . .

  “What time is it? What day is it?”

  Jean handed me a snifter of brandy, and I took a sip. “Time is irrelevant here, Jolie. But in your world, it is Sunday morning.”

  We’d been gone more than twelve hours. “Did someone reach Alex? Where is Jake?”

  Jean shook his head. “You have too many men with whom to concern yourself, Drusilla. Had you availed yourself of my offer to live here, your life would have been much simpler, oui?”

  Couldn’t deny that, although I suspected life with Jean Lafitte, even an immortal Jean Lafitte, wouldn’t be without its challenges.

  He’d returned to his armchair, and I sat on the nearest end of the sofa with a small plate in my fabric-covered lap. I asked the question that had been needling me since I’d seen him stretched across his bed. “Do you keep gowns and underwear for women in all sizes and colors for whenever the need arrives?”

  He smiled. “I had hoped you might come to my home one day and wear these garments chosen especially for you.”

  Uh-huh. He was so full of crap. “And about Alex?”

  I stuffed another bite of bread in my mouth and washed it down with brandy. It was good brandy; my head was already buzzing. There was probably a rule of etiquette about ladies guzzling brandy on a Sunday morning too, but we were in the Beyond and it was dark outside.

  “Oui, Drusilla. Word was sent to Monsieur Warin that you are safe. What has happened to bring you here with this elf?”

  Well, that dampened my appetite. The memory of my home in flames sat heavily on my heart, and the pain of loss outdid the bruised ribs in making it hurt to breathe.

  I’d have to mourn later. I set the plate back on the table and gave him the short version of the Axeman’s activities so far. “We know the necromancer is targeting me. Rand helped me escape into the transport at his house.” I swallowed hard and blinked back white-hot tears. “The Axeman burned my house down. I doubt anything is left. I guess if it weren’t for Rand, I’d have burned up with it.” I remembered trying to run back inside and him hauling me physically away from it. I needed to be nicer to him.

  Jean’s eyes narrowed. “Monsieur Randolph claims to be your husband. Is this true?”

  I choked on my brandy, coughing out a quick “no!” I wasn’t sure how, but I had to get Rand under control and rid him of the notion that we were going to be more than business partners, sort of, apparently forever. Good Lord, Alex was right; I did attract chaos like flies to bad chicken.

  “I bonded with him to give him leverage within the Synod, in exchange for getting rid of the loup-garou virus. Mace Banyan found out I’d been exposed to the virus, and planned to use it against me. It was my best option.”

  Jean stared into space a few moments. “It might have appeared to be your best option, but I fear this bonding will make you a more serious threat if the rumors about power struggles within the Synod are true. Some say the elves wish to challenge the wizards for control of the borders by taking over the Interspecies Council.”

  Holy crap. “You think Mace Banyan kidnapped me, thinking it would get the wizards to break the truce and start a war?” If so, the staff was nothing but an excuse. And Rand had complicated things more with this bonding business, of which I’m sure he was aware.

  “I do not know, but it would not be a great surprise.” Jean leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees. His indigo shirt matched the bodice of my gown, and his fawn-colored pants were the same color as my skirt. It couldn’t be coincidental. “Do you wish me to kill Quince Randolph? It would be my pleasure to do so, and rid you of this burden.”

  “No!” My heart stuttered, and I realized that no matter what a mess I’d made of things, it could always get worse. “He’s a member of the elven Synod now. Killing him would be a disaster. I’ll figure some way out of this. You haven’t done anything to him already, have you?”

  “Of course not, Jolie.” Jean’s smile left me pretty sure that wherever Rand was, he wasn’t basking in comfort, being supplied with a bath and luxurious clothing and plates of food. On the other hand, Jean would realize helping a member of the elven Synod would work to his favor. He was piling up IOUs like a banker during a recession.

  As annoyed as I was with the elf, I thought he’d suffered enough physical pain. “I don’t want him hurt, especially since he saved me from the Axeman.” Well, unless I hurt him myself. “Promise me.”

  To seal the deal, I trotted out Jean’s favorite three-word endearment: “I’ll owe you.”

  He laughed, getting up to pour himself more brandy. “Very well.” He held up the decanter and raised an eyebrow.

  “No, thanks.” I’d had just enough liquid courage to plow into my next request. “Speaking of owing you, I need your help.”

  With a total know- it-all smirk, he planted his smug (and quite attractive) butt next to me on the sofa. I hated owing Jean. He had no boundaries when it came to repayment.

  His arm rested alongside mine as he leaned toward me. “Tell me your heart’s desire, Jolie, and I shall be pleased to provide it.” His voice was husky and silky at the same time. It made me uncomfortably aware of how close he was sitting, and annoyed with myself for noticing.

  I stared deep into his eyes and said just the thing to cool his ardor. “Come back with me to New Orleans, to lure out the necromancer.”

  Worked like a charm. He got up and prowled behind the sofa, eventually throwing himself into his chair again and slinging a long leg over the side. “Why would I do this, Drusilla? If the maître des mortes controls me and you are the target, he could force me to kill you, or worse. Why would you wish this?”

  What was worse than dead? “I can’t go back without a plan to flush out—”

  The beachside door flew open and Mace Banyan burst into the room, apparently shoved by Jake, who followed closely behind. “Keep your hands off me, you rabid hound!”

  Talk about bad news blowing in. Mace straightened his clothing and glared at Jake. I liked seeing Mace wolf- handled.

  “Monsieur Banyan, to what do we owe this . . . pleasure?” Jean rose from his chair like Sebastian when he’d spotted a squirrel outside the window. Playtime and dinner, all rolled into one package. I felt another pang of guilt, wondering if Sebastian had survived the fire.

  “Mr. Lafitte, I have cause to believe two of my people are being held in Barataria against their will. I demand their release.” Mace didn’t glow, but the air around him literally shimmered with power, giving him a not-quite-solid, wavery look. Like the Princess Leia hologram in Star Wars.

  “Help me, Obi-Wan. I have an elf that needs caning.” I held my brandy snifter up in salute. It really was excellent brandy.

  Mace noticed me for the first time and didn’t seem pleased. “You. I should have known when we learned our transport had been used to go to Old Barataria that you’d be up to your . . . cleavage in it. Glad to see you’re dressing for the only part you’re fit to play.”

  I’d had about all the elven nonsense I could handle for this week, so I did what any self- respecting Green Congress wizard would do in my situation. I hurled the heavy cut-glass brandy decanter at his h
ead.

  Surprised, he didn’t duck in time and it glanced off his forehead with a satisfying crack before crashing to the floor and shattering into a brilliant carpet of glass.

  “Sorry about your decanter, Jean. I’ll buy you another.”

  “It is of no concern, Jolie.”

  Mace rounded on Jean, rubbing his forehead. “Release my people immediately—both of them—or suffer the consequences.”

  “What do you mean, both of them?” I propped my hands on my hips in my best impression of a pirate stance. “Who do you think is here?”

  Mace’s eyes narrowed. “I told Quince Randolph to stay away from you, but he is stubborn and ambitious.” His anger sent an uncomfortable electrical charge into the air. “I thought Vervain would talk him out of using you to drive a wedge into the Synod by involving the wizards in our affairs. Since she’s here with you, apparently you’ve corrupted her as well.”

  He took a step toward me, a move echoed by both Jean and Jake. “Consider this a declaration of war between the wizards and elves.” His voice was low and menacing. “And you will not win.”

  CHAPTER 35

  War? What was the Elf King smoking? “Look, Mace, I don’t know what you think has happened, but I haven’t done anything to interfere with the Synod. You kidnapped me, remember? All Rand did was get me out before you killed me.” He took another step toward me, causing both Jean and Jake to visibly tense, but I closed the rest of the distance between us myself. I had no tolerance for bullies, and that’s all Mace Banyan was—a bully who could make the air around him shimmer. Plus, I’d been drinking.

  “No one is being held here against his will, you arrogant ass.” Unless Jean had other prisoners, but I didn’t want to go there. “Rand is here with me by choice, and after what you did to him, if anyone should be declaring war, it’s him.”

  Mace sent an eyebrow northward. “Defending him, are you? Then where is he? Why are you dressed”—his eyes traveled to my chest and paused, his mouth quirking in a way that made me want to slap his lips off his face—“like a pirate trollop? And where is Vervain?”

  My breath hitched, not at the pirate- trollop moniker, since that was regrettably accurate, but because he didn’t know about Vervain. How was that possible? I searched his face for some sign of duplicity, but saw only anger and that elven arrogance I’d come to detest. Normally, I’d have been absorbing emotions like crazy since I was in the Beyond and didn’t have the staff, but I couldn’t read elves.

  Jean’s anger fed into mine, however, as he stood to my left, feet apart and arms folded across his broad chest as if he were commanding a ship. Jake leaned against the wall behind Mace, his posture casual but his eyes sharp.

  Well, wasn’t this fun. “Jean, where is Rand? He needs to tell Mace what happened.”

  With a curt nod and a wave of his hand, Jean dispatched soldier Jake to fetch my big, blond, elven albatross. I sure as hell hoped Rand knew how to defuse this situation. I was starting to think life on Grand Terre as Jean Lafitte’s pet wolf might have been preferable to this political circus, and that was without factoring in the Axeman.

  We stood in a triangle of tense silence for a couple of minutes, until Rand finally stalked through the door ahead of Jake, his pretty face now only marred by a scowl. All that glowing and chanting must have helped him heal. He wore jeans and a shirt of soft golden-brown flannel I recognized as Jake’s.

  Rand got in Mace’s face without a pause. “What the hell are you doing here, threatening war? Threatening my mate?”

  God help me. To keep my mouth shut, I literally had to bite my lower lip so hard I tasted blood. If I had to play the mate role to back Mace away from warmongering, so be it. I forced myself forward to stand beside Rand and didn’t flinch when he took my hand. Mace had to be neutralized until I could talk to Elder Zrakovi and find out what the hell was going on. Assuming he knew.

  Mace looked at our joined hands and laughed. “Nice try, but I will not formally recognize her as your mate until I’ve talked with Vervain.”

  Rand looked at the floor and began chanting softly. When he looked back up at Mace, his skin had taken on a golden glow, and the hand I held grew uncomfortably hot. I was beginning to suspect the fire elves did more than rub two sticks together to kindle a flame.

  Mace took a step backward, his eyes widening as the meaning of Rand’s display hit him. “Vervain is dead.” He didn’t ask it, simply said it in wonder. “As her eldest, you are Synod.” He bowed slightly, as if it pained him. “So be it.”

  That was it? It was that simple? And did “eldest” mean Rand had siblings? Did I have elven in-laws?

  “You must accompany me to Elf heim. The Synod must meet and hold the ceremony.” Mace turned mocking eyes to me. “Along with your mate, of course.”

  “As leader of the Synod, you’ll recognize our union now, in front of these witnesses. We don’t need your recognition for it to be valid, but I won’t have you going back to Elf heim and pretending you know nothing of it.” Rand had stopped glowing but his voice, which with me was either flirtatious or petulant, deepened with a weight of power. Who was this guy?

  The two men silently engaged in some kind of long, mental pissing match.

  Mace blinked first. “If you insist.” He pulled a small folding knife from his pocket and flicked it open. In my peripheral vision, I saw Jean straighten.

  Mace drew the blade across his left palm and dragged his right index finger through the blood that welled along the cut. That finger was not going anywhere near my mouth. As if sensing my thoughts, Rand clasped my hand more tightly.

  Chanting the same language Rand had used earlier, Mace reached toward Rand, who lowered his head. Mace traced a figure in blood on Rand’s forehead. It looked like a cross between a peace symbol and a stick figure. Continuing to chant softly, Mace swept his finger through the blood again and turned to me. His voice was calm and even, his finger unhesitant as he traced something on my forehead I could only assume was the same figure as Rand’s. But when they met mine, his dark eyes held pure hatred.

  He might have agreed to this, but he didn’t like it, and his expression told me he’d never accept it.

  Damn it, I felt like a clueless pawn in the middle of some elven power war whose outcome would be monumental. And I didn’t even understand the rules.

  “Wait for me outside and let me say good-bye to Dru,” Rand told Mace. “I’ll go back to Elf heim with you to meet with the Synod. She has business to attend to in New Orleans.”

  “You can say your good-byes in front of me. Surely your mate isn’t shy.”

  I recognized a dare when I heard one, and so did Rand. He turned his back to Mace and pulled me in front of him, out of Mace’s view. Fiddling with the button of his shirt, he reached inside and carefully slipped out the staff. Still cracked, unfortunately.

  Pressing it into my hands between us, he pulled me to him and kissed me. I kissed him back through gritted teeth—not easy, but possible. Finally, he pulled his mouth up to my ear. “The wood is cracked, but the core is repaired. Stay out of Elfheim, no matter what.”

  I hid the staff in the folds of my billowy skirt as he turned and stalked out the door, leaving Mace to direct his parting shot at Jean. “This is twice you have opposed us, Mr. Lafitte, first in Antoine’s last month, and now again. We will not forget.”

  CHAPTER 36

  After Mace Banyan’s performance, convincing Jean to return to New Orleans had proven surprisingly easy. All it took was sharing Rand’s theory that the elves—maybe even Mace himself—were behind the necromancer who was controlling the Axeman. Mace had made it onto the pirate’s most- hated list, and Jean had both a long memory and unlimited time in which to wreak havoc.

  Neither would fight fair, but I’d put my money on the pirate, if for no other reason than Mace could be killed and Jean couldn’t. Plus, once Jean’s true enemy in his mortal life, always his enemy. I can’t imagine his immortal self had changed that much. Jean could
wait, plan, and get revenge at his leisure. While Jean tended to some mysterious, pressing business—I always thought the fewer details I knew about his dealings, the better—Jake walked me back to the transport. I had Jean’s keycard to the Eudora Welty Suite at the Hotel Monteleone in my pocket since I didn’t know what kind of shape my house was in.

  Besides, we’d all agreed it would be better for me to stay off- radar until we had our plan set.

  “You coming back to New Orleans once the elves have settled down?” I’d promised myself I wouldn’t pressure Jake. For one thing, it always backfired. For another, there was Alex to consider. I’d done my share of sending mixed signals between the Warin cousins, but I had made my choice and he was back in New Orleans.

  Jake walked a bit farther before answering. “I like it here, DJ. I like working for Jean, at least for now.” He gave me a sidelong glance, and I could sense his trepidation. He was afraid I’d argue with him.

  I took his hand. “I understand. You do what you need to do. I’ll tell Alex you’re okay.”

  He smiled, and I caught my first glimpse of the dimples that had done me in the first time I met him, back in the first days after Katrina. In hindsight, those days— which had seemed so chaotic—had been much, much simpler. “I doubt he’s worried about much besides wringin’ my neck, sunshine.”

  I laughed. “You guys can pretend you don’t care about each other all you want. I know better.” Bottom line: no matter how angry Alex got at Jake, he’d want whatever was best for him, and vice-versa. Jean had made me realize that, for now, Jake needed to stay here. He needed to be a good soldier. He needed to fight off his anger. He needed to stay out of his own head. As for Alex and me, we had to smooth things out, whether it meant being together or just relearning how to back away and be friends again. The close call with the Axeman, and this forced separation, had made me realize I wanted to see where our relationship could go. I wanted it so desperately my chest ached. But I couldn’t be someone I wasn’t, and only Alex could decide if the chaos of my life was something he could live with. Whatever conclusion he came to, we had to come out as friends on the other side. We had to.