by Cutter, Leah
“Ru Yi, Wei Nu,” Mama said, her smile now pasted on. “My daughter, Sai Wen.”
The tall one, Ru Yi, said with a sniff of disdain, “We’ve met.”
“That’s right,” Mama said.
Kai looked at her sharply. She’d never have expected Mama to use that “sugar wouldn’t melt in her mouth ’cause she’s too sweet” tone. What was she up to?
Mama continued. “You were being held at reception, weren’t you? Someone had turned you in to the police for walking the streets again, trolling for mates.”
Kai raised an eyebrow at her mama. Was she accusing the other fairies of being hookers?
The two girls looked unrepentant. “You wouldn’t understand, old woman,” Wei Nu said dismissively.
Kai bristled at them calling her mama names. You didn’t do that, not to a mother, particularly not in front of her daughter. Even if she barely knew Mama, she’d still defend her.
“Ask your daughter how many partners she has, regularly,” Ru Yi suggested.
“Humans,” Mama said dismissively.
Kai wasn’t about to tell her that Caleb was xita. It wasn’t any of Mama’s business, crazy plans about the prince aside.
“Excuse us, there are other people for my daughter to meet,” Mama said, tugging on Kai’s arm and pulling her away.
Kai smiled demurely at how well Mama implied “people more important than you.”
The next hour was a whirlwind for Kai. She couldn’t possibly keep track of the names of all the beings Mama introduced her to. Fortunately, the court seemed to share Kai’s aversion to being touched: No one expected her to shake hands, they all just bowed their heads.
“Mama, we have to go,” Kai finally said as her tiredness from the day started to catch up to her, despite her long nap that afternoon with Orlan. Plus, Mama had continued to say that the person who’d told her the rumors wasn’t there.
“The prince hasn’t come in yet,” Mama hissed.
“Too bad,” Kai said. “I’m leaving.” She started walking toward the door, Mama in her wake.
As they left, Mama said, “Maybe it is better, yes, if he meets you another time. Maybe at tea with the king.”
Kai shook her head, marveling at Mama’s plots and plans. She was tenacious, and Kai regretted going along with her as long as she had—Mama would never give up on her dreams of power.
But Kai didn’t have to return here, either.
They hadn’t gone more than a few feet from the door when a cute Asian guy came rushing up. He wore a plain black Asian jacket over jeans and white sneakers. His skin was lighter, but his hair was so dark it had blue highlights. He gave Kai the same feeling of cold crystal as the king.
“Prince Zhi Ming,” Mama called, stopping him.
Kai had to give the guy credit: Not only did he stop, he appeared to be interested in anything Mama had to say.
“I was presenting my daughter this evening,” Mama said proudly. “Sai Wan Ming. This is Prince Zhi Ming Wang.”
“Kai DuPrie,” Kai said, giving him a friendly smile. It was the least she could do.
“You can call me Jimmy,” the prince said, his face beaming. “You’re from outside, aren’t you?”
“She has a human father,” Mama said.
“How interesting!” the prince said. “Please. You must tell me all about it. The grand boulevards, Canal Street and St. Charles. Jazz music all the time. People dancing in the streets!”
Kai stared at the prince, puzzled. He sounded like a tourist brochure. “It’s a place, with concrete and people and tourists,” she said. “Like most others.”
At his crestfallen look, she added, “There is music playing most of the time in the Quarter.” She didn’t add that it was rarely jazz, at least in the Quarter. “And you can have a real jazz brunch at Buffa’s on Sundays. It’s an all-girl brass band that plays there.”
The prince beamed at her. “Do you ride the streetcars?”
“Yep. Most every day. The cars are old, and the seats are all wooden slats. And reversible, too.”
“Gosh, I’d like to see them sometime with you.”
Kai didn’t have to look at Mama to know how much her smile must resemble a cat’s who ate the cream.
“Sure. You can come along now. I was just leaving,” Kai said.
The prince gave her a sweet smile. “Some other time, chérie. I do have to make an appearance at court.” He turned to Mama. “Madam,” he said, with a deep bow. “Mademoiselle,” he added to Kai, with an imaginary tip of his hat, then he walked away.
“Is he for real?” Kai asked after Mama had hustled them down the hall.
“That was perfect!” Mama said, her smile showing teeth that Kai would bet were sharp. “He’s grown up here, at the court. He seems quite taken with you. Maybe we can arrange dinner, tomorrow—”
“Whoa, Mama,” Kai said. “He seems nice and all, but…” Kai shrugged, then told her the truth. “I date men, Mama. Not boys.”
“He’s older than you think,” Mama countered. “And a prince isn’t good enough for you?”
“It isn’t that,” Kai said. She’d known they’d be having this conversation as soon as she let Mama talk her into coming to the court at all. “It’s—”
“Ah. Madam Ming.” A tall figure in an all-black robe stepped out of the shadows and approached them.
Kai stiffened to stop herself from retreating. The creature’s pale face floated above his black robes, round and soft and utterly alien. Red tinted his dark eyes, and sharp points capped his teeth.
While Blind Randall had given Kai the feeling that he’d bathed in blood, this man had rolled among corpses all day, ruining the sleeping places of the dead for fun.
“Hello, my dear,” he said. “I’m Bao Deng.”
Kai actually bit her tongue so she wouldn’t tell him off. She wasn’t his dear anything.
“This is my daughter, Sai Wan Ming,” Mama said formally.
Kai was relieved that all he did was bow his head at her. She would have run screaming if he’d held out his hand, expecting her to touch him.
“I’m glad you’ve found her,” Bao Deng said. “Now, there will be no more searching for that siren, eh?”
What the hell did he mean? Kai was about to ask, but Mama grabbed her arm, sinking her nails through the silk sleeve and into Kai’s skin.
“I will talk with her. I will,” Mama said simply.
Fear rolled off Mama.
Whatever Bao Deng was, he’d managed to stop the unstoppable force. Kai felt a surprising surge of protectiveness flow over her, and she kept her mouth shut.
Just barely.
“Good evening, then,” he said solemnly, sweeping past them.
“Who was that?” Kai hissed as they hurried along.
“One of the Taoist priests,” Mama said. “And my partner.”
* * *
Kai fumed all the way back to Mama’s rooms, through the long corridors lined with beautiful porcelain vases, exquisite lamps, and pots holding tropical plants. Thick rugs covered the old wooden floors and muffled their hurried steps. Incense mingled with scents of fantastic creatures, silk, and rosewater. If this had been any other place, Kai would have loved to come back and explore.
Now, she was pretty sure she never wanted to come back.
Once Mama shut her doors, Kai exploded. “Your partner? What do you mean? What was that thing?”
“As I said, he’s a Taoist priest,” Mama said coolly. “They’re very important at the court.”
“Are they the ones who have Gisa?” Kai didn’t wait for Mama’s admission. “They want to drown the city!”
“But not the court,” Mama said earnestly. “We’ll be safe. You’ll be safe.”
“What about Papa? And my aunts, and cousins? Kith and kin,” Kai repeated, figuring that meant something here. “Will they be safe?”
“It wasn’t supposed to be the whole city,” Mama said softly. “I never would have helped them find a siren in t
he first place if they’d said it would be the whole city again.”
“You found Gisa, got her alone so the priests could take her, didn’t you?” Kai said. “You started all of this.” She knew she was right.
“You don’t understand,” Mama accused.
“You’re going to kill my city. What more do I need to understand?” Kai asked, not bothering to keep the bitter tone out of her voice.
“Not everyone, no. They—” Mama sighed, deflating. “Come. Sit. Let’s talk.”
“No,” Kai said stubbornly. “Just tell me.”
Mama walked only to the stairs leading to the alcove and sat down on them, next to the piles of papers neatly stacked there. Sadness poured from her like tea leaking from a cracked cup.
“When Katrina hit, the Taoists were caught off guard,” Mama said. “They kept the court safe, but they weren’t able to use it. They couldn’t capture the storm’s power, or the aftermath, effectively.”
“How do they use the storm?” Kai asked, knowing she wouldn’t want to hear the answer.
“The reason the court, and we who stay here, live for centuries is through the Taoists, and their continual search for immortality.”
“How, Mama?” Kai asked flatly. “How do they keep you young?”
“It wasn’t always this way,” Mama said earnestly. “They used to be all about their smelly potions and elixirs. Living in the same wing with them was awful! The stench!”
“You live off the lives of others, don’t you?” Kai accused Mama.
“No, not exactly.” Mama looked down at her hands, not meeting Kai’s eye. “It’s the misery of others that the Taoists feed off of now.”
“So a whole city drowns again, just so you can live?” Kai asked, sick to her stomach. “All those people, trapped on rooftops, no help coming? And the Superdome—the misery there? You would feed off of that?” Kai was also disgusted with herself. She’d been enjoying her time at court, curious about all the marvelous creatures and beautiful things.
They’d all been bought with blood, her people’s blood.
“They call New Orleans the city that hope forgot,” Mama said. “The priests want to keep it that way. They’ve gotten so powerful here. No one in the court likes them. But no one can move against them, either.”
“And you aligned yourself with them, didn’t you? Because of their power?” Kai lashed out.
“It kept me alive. And here. Not trolling the streets for mates.” Mama shuddered.
Kai didn’t know how to reply to that. “That’s why they’re connected to the drug runners, isn’t it? So they can keep spreading the misery?”
Mama spread her hands out on her legs, her elegant nails gripping the silk. “They claim the drugs are for their potions as well. But they weren’t always this way,” Mama stressed. “They’ve changed. Grown more powerful. And we let them.”
“If you stop them—you, yourself—will you die?” Kai asked.
“We aren’t immortal,” Mama clarified. “We will all die someday. But instead of the court living and flourishing for centuries, it will die off, slowly, starved of power. There won’t be any heirs.”
“So the priests also help y’all have kids?” Kai asked, horrified. “I’m the result of some kind of hope-stealing priests?”
“No, no. They can’t help us have heirs. Nothing helps. Do you know how many suitors I went through to have you?” Mama asked. “Decades of trying. No. The court is too weak in this modern age. We’d die off slowly, fade away in despair.”
“But so might the city,” Kai said. She remembered the heartless commentary from those damn Yankees after Katrina, who said that New Orleans wasn’t worth saving and should just be razed to the ground.
“I had to make a choice,” Mama said, staring hard at Kai. “I chose to live.”
“And so do I,” Kai said. “I’m going to find Gisa and stop them before the storm hits.”
“You’ll get no help from me,” Mama said matter-of-factly. “But…I won’t stop you, either.”
Kai wasn’t about to thank her for nothing. Instead, she walked to the door. “Goodbye, Mama. You’ll never see me again.”
“Wait…” Mama said.
Kai paused, just by the door.
“I can try to find another way for the court,” Mama said. “We survived without all this misery before. We can do it again.”
“And that way they’ll all be beholden to you, right? Great plan,” Kai said, heading out the door. Her nose led her back out to the reception and through the door, out to the alley, in just a few minutes.
So Mama couldn’t help. And Caleb was probably out of the picture, too. Orlan wasn’t magic, so he wasn’t of much use either.
No matter what those other fox fairies had called her, Kai wasn’t a warrior.
But she was a fighter. And until the rains came, she’d fight for her city.
Chapter Seven
Kai slept restless and hot. The humidity had risen with the coming storm, making the air sticky and oppressive. Though Kai wanted to go back to sleep, she made herself call Rilke as soon as she figured she was conscious enough to make sense.
“We need to meet,” Kai told Rilke directly.
“You have news?”
“Yes. We need to meet.”
“My room—”
“No,” Kai said immediately. What if another siren waited for her there? Not that Rilke had ever threatened her, but still. Better to be cautious. “Harry Royale’s Coffee Shop,” she countered, giving the address.
Kai lay stretching on the bed for a few minutes after they hung up. Though Kai wouldn’t necessarily impress Harry enough for one of the reserved seats out on the patio, she was certain Rilke would.
The fancy silk jacket from Mama hung on the corner of her footboard. Should she return it? Fuck that. Mama was partially responsible for the upcoming disaster. Kai would just keep it—and maybe sell it, when things got tight again.
Should she tell Papa? Kai sighed. Probably, but maybe not until after the storm had passed. Right now, Kai was still too steamed.
Kai didn’t regret finding the Floating Court, or meeting Mama. Maybe someday Kai would be able to forgive Mama—Mama was xita, through and through. Human kindness just wasn’t high on her list of social graces.
It took Kai only minutes to shower and get ready, choosing a light purple tank with a white shirt over it, and her usual black skirt and sandals. She got her breakfast ready—runny eggs with cold, fried chicken, leftovers from the day before—then settled herself in front of the TV, switching to the local news, trying to learn about the storm.
It had a name now: Tropical Storm Ingrid.
Figured. Another German.
Clouds swirled off the coast, widespread and angry. But Ingrid seemed to be in a holding pattern. The announcers stressed that was even more of a danger: They couldn’t predict which path she would take. Would she hit New Orleans directly? Or curve to one side or another, missing the city completely?
It wasn’t time to call her family and warn them. Not yet, and hopefully, not this time. Kai was determined to find Gisa in time.
* * *
Kai waited outside the coffee shop, on the quiet end of Royale, away from the tourist bars and the endless music, near the antique stores. Kai shook her head and rolled her eyes after doing a little window shopping.
Who in their right mind would pay $12,000 for an antique chair you couldn’t even sit on?
Kai could live for almost a year on that.
Rilke came down the street the way Kai had predicted, from the direction of her hotel. She wore the same Manolos, but a skirt and blouse today, in soft, blue-green, underwater pastels. Rich radiated from her. Even among these expensive shops, she seemed like she was still slumming.
Kai carefully checked the hem of her skirt: It wasn’t wet. So somewhere in her purse, maybe, was a bottle of river water. Rilke wore her shining blond hair up today, not anything as common as a ponytail, no, but a French twist. Her
eyes were so pale it was hard to see the color, but her pinched expression hadn’t gone away at all.
“You have news? Of Gisa?” Rilke asked as way of greeting.
Kai grimaced. Damn Yankees. Always in such a hurry. That sense of rushing water pushed at her again, trying to get her to hurry along.
Although, Kai could admit that finding Gisa was important.
“Yes,” Kai said. “Let’s go get coffee. We’ll talk inside.”
“Tell me now. Have you found her?”
“I haven’t,” Kai admitted. “But I may know who has her. We’ll talk after coffee.”
Rilke glared at Kai, crossing her arms topped with her perfectly manicured nails (French polish, of course) over her chest.
“I’m not talking to you about it in the street,” Kai said. “You can either follow me inside and talk like a civilized being, or you can just leave.” She walked into the shop without saying another word.
Rilke followed, her anger brewing like a storm cloud.
Tourists crowded the tiny tables that hugged the rough yellow walls. A great espresso machine hissed a welcome. It took up most of the counter. Kai almost pointed out its beautiful chrome scrollwork to Rilke, but she knew that would be pressing her luck.
As Kai had predicted, Henry wasn’t too impressed with her. But he stood up straighter at Rilke’s approach.
Henry was human. But he must have been able to recognize the xita. Had he ever gone to the Floating Court? Had dealings with the king?
“We would like one of those tables,” Rilke told Henry after she ordered, indicating the patio.
“Of course,” Henry said. He finished their espressos, then removed one of the signs himself.
When a young woman moved to follow Kai and Rilke to the patio, Henry grabbed her arm and said, “Not for you.”
The tourist sighed and slinked back inside.
Kai sat with relief, the water-cooled breeze misting her skin. It was peaceful back here. Serene.
It also had high walls topped with razor wire. It was unlikely someone could surprise her here.
Rilke waited until they’d both taken a sip and savored their bitter rich coffee before asking, yet again, “You know who has my sister?”
