His human shape formed again on the other side of the fire. He had lost his jovial demeanor, and his smoky eyes had darkened to black pools. They weren’t aimed at me, but at Jean, who’d come to stand at my right. I felt a presence on my left and looked around at Dominique, who flicked a brief glance my way before training his gaze back on Samedi.
“Jean, you are smarter than this,” the old god said, his voice soothing, persuasive. “You would not side with the wizards against your own kind.”
Jean’s mouth was drawn into a tight line. “The wizards are arrogant, but you are un mal bête—evil. You are not my kind.”
I handed the vial in my right hand to Jean and said, “Throw it if you get close enough.” I pulled the next-to-last vial out and handed it to Dominique.
“What will it do?” he whispered in heavily accented English, taking off the top.
“I have no idea.”
He exchanged a look with Jean and grinned, and they began walking in opposite directions, circling toward Samedi with swords in their scabbards and mystery charms in their hands, leaving me in the middle. The old divide-and-conquer strategy.
Samedi looked at all of us and laughed, pulling a long knife from his belt. He circled behind Gerry and his loup-garou guard, putting himself farther from the pirates who approached from either side.
Blooms of sweat had appeared on Gerry’s shirt as his eyes moved rapidly from me to Samedi and back again. “We had an agreement, Baron. My daughter wasn’t to be hurt. You agreed.”
Samedi rested a hand on the side of Gerry’s face and captured his gaze, and my father’s body grew still. My father.
“Gerald Michael St. Simon, sacrifice your power to me,” the Baron said softly, running a finger down the side of Gerry’s neck. A wound gaped in the trail of Samedi’s finger, and Gerry sank to his knees, blood washing his neck in crimson.
“No!” I didn’t recognize the feral sound that came from my throat, but Samedi wasn’t listening anyway. He raised his voice in a howl, and the wolves answered. The one closest to Jake sank its teeth into his right thigh and dragged him from the tombstone. The leg that had already been so damaged.
With Gerry out of the way, the remaining wolf looked from Dominique to Jean, and began slinking toward Jean.
“So it’s me you want?” The pirate’s grin shone in the firelight, and he pulled his cutlass from its leather scabbard, wielding the blade in his right hand and my potion vial in his left. “Come then, wolf. I have a taste of silver for you.”
The loup-garou launched itself with a snarl.
Time seemed to slow down, each movement frozen in a series of moments. Jean saw the wolf coming and threw his potion as it struck. It left a ragged tear in his chest just before it froze, icicles of blood and saliva hanging from its mouth, frost covering its red fur. Jean rolled from underneath it as it fell. The arctic charm.
Dominique had rushed at the wolf attacking Jake and unleashed both the potion and his own silver blade. He had the sleep charm, and the combination of the sudden drowiness and the blade took it down.
My final charm had to be the torch, and I rushed Samedi, getting as close as I could before throwing it. His top hat and coat burst into flames. He cursed and threw his arms out, then was gone again. I leaned against a tombstone, trying to catch my breath, and looked around for the snake.
Jean and Jake lay a few feet apart, both still, and Dom knelt next to his half-brother. Gerry hadn’t moved since Samedi cut him.
A blow hit my right temple and knocked me flat, sending the staff on a graceful arc into the darkness. A turkey vulture, black as the snake, sat atop a crypt a few yards away, staring through crimson eyes.
Pain shot through my head and blood pooled in the dirt beneath me. I gulped in deep lungfuls of air to keep my vision from darkening. I’d have to faint later.
As I struggled to sit up, the emotions poured back in to join my fear. Dominique’s anger, Jean’s confusion, Jake’s burning, agonizing pain. If they were feeling, they were still conscious. Nothing from Alex or Gerry, but I couldn’t focus on them yet. Had to stay upright. Had to find the staff.
Which way had it gone? I groped around me in the dirt, keeping an eye on the vulture. Samedi’s voice floated through my head, quiet and alluring, burying all the emotion. You’re alone now, little wizard. You have lost.
The bird spread his wings and fluttered toward me, settling on the ground at my feet and morphing back into Samedi’s human shape. I scrambled backward and hoisted myself to my feet using a headstone, reaching in my pocket for the lifesbane. I might not have saved anyone, but I wouldn’t let Samedi win. As long as he didn’t kill me, he still lost. I had to believe that. I pulled the tiny bottle of orange liquid from my pocket and smiled.
Maybe we were all acceptable collateral damage, every single one of us.
His eyes blazed as he realized what I held. “No …”
I popped the lid off the bottle and raised it to my lips.
Then I was on the ground, the bottle rolling away from me, and I scrambled for it. Something had barreled past me and I turned to see Gandalf, blood matted in his fur from snout to tail, with his teeth buried in Samedi’s neck.
The old god screamed and struggled, then went still as he morphed back into the mamba, striking at Gandalf but missing. Before he could strike again, Dominique tossed me the staff, which I turned on Samedi in one motion. I was too close to miss this time.
Sparks flew from its tip and the blinding crimson threads flowed out, wrapping themselves around the snake. I smelled burning flesh as Samedi screamed and morphed back into his human form again. I felt his power crumbling, burning to ash. Anger, then defeat, echoed on his face, and he faded into nothing.
I sat on the ground for a few seconds, smelling the damp earth and scorched flesh. Samedi wasn’t really dead and gone. The Beyond doesn’t work that way. But he’d been weakened, and it would take him a long time to regroup. He’d probably never have another opportunity like the one he’d just missed. I could only hope.
Gandalf had disappeared again, and so had Dominique. If they’d resumed their fight from the Napoleon House, I’d kill both of them myself.
I stumbled to Gerry and rolled him onto his back. He was unconscious, pale, his breathing rapid and shallow. I looked around for something to stanch the bleeding, pushing the anger aside and focusing on how much I loved him. I needed to get him out of here so we’d have time to settle our issues and see what was left.
I spotted one of Marie’s scarves on the ground, folded it, and pressed it against Gerry’s neck. He’d lost so much blood. The ground was muddy with it.
I half-crawled to a spot between Jake and Jean. Jake was unconscious, his breathing rasping but steady. One leg had been savaged, and bite wounds covered both arms. I touched him helplessly, not sure what to do.
Jean had managed to sit up. I turned to find him propped against a crypt, the gaping tear to his chest already beginning to heal around the edges.
“Your friend will survive this, Drusilla. Dom has gone to find help.”
I crawled over and sat next to him, taking his hand. “Thank you. I owe you one.”
He chuckled, dark eyes gleaming in the dim light. “Yes, you do, Jolie. Perhaps more than one. When you—”
He fell silent as his gaze shifted past me to what must be the world’s strangest second line parade heading toward us across the shadowy grounds. Dominique walked in front, Gandalf limping beside him. Behind them marched Pierre Lafitte, Louis Armstrong, and a motley band of musicians and pirates. New Orleans’s immortal culture.
I closed my eyes in relief at the sight of Gandalf. I was even glad to see the surly pirate. They’d obviously reached some temporary truce.
Gandalf limped to Jake’s side, sniffed at his face and whined, dropping into a pant beside him. He began shifting almost immediately, and I crawled to sit beside him as he curled into a ball and groaned.
“Talk to me, Alex.” I smoothed his hair off hi
s face and ticked through the injuries I could see. Deep shoulder gouge, and another in his thigh that had exposed muscle. Lots of blood.
“Unh.” He pushed himself to a seated position and looked down at his thigh, and at the half-dozen bite marks across his chest and stomach. I’d already seen the ones on his back. “Shit. A few more minutes and I’d have been hamburger.”
He was bitching too much to be dying. Hysteria and relief kicked in—until I saw Dom leaning over Jake.
My breath caught, then released in a whoosh as Jake moved his head and twitched a hand. He was still alive.
Dom leaned back and studied Alex. “The loup-garou bit Jean and your friend, and your shifting dog as well.”
The dog grumbled something unintelligible as Louis came over with his pants and began helping him dress.
“I do not think it will affect Jean or the shifter, but that one …” Dominique jerked his head toward Jake. “You should watch him on the next full moon. If he lives, he will be loup-garou.”
I stared at Jake in horror and stroked his shoulder. He moaned and turned his head toward me but didn’t open his eyes. His lashes were dark against pale cheeks, and his blond hair was bloody and matted. I looked at the leg that always gave him such pain and couldn’t tell where the denim of his jeans ended and the torn flesh began. It had been gnawed.
No one deserved this, but especially not him. He had walked through the hell of war already, and somehow managed to come out strong and decent and kind. And what had it gotten him? Pain and lies and the promise of a fresh new struggle in a world he couldn’t imagine.
I took a deep breath and stuffed my feelings back inside. We had to get out of here before we attracted attention from the other denizens of the Beyond. The scent of blood alone would attract vampires or other loup-garou. There would be time for hysteria later.
“We need to get to the transport at Burgundy and St. Louis,” I said, struggling to my feet. “They all need doctors.”
“You too, my friend.” Louis dabbed at my face with a handkerchief. I looked in confusion at the blood on my shirt, and wiped my hand across my nose. It came away bloody. A nosebleed. All this, and I had a freaking nosebleed. I’m sure there was irony there somewhere.
I felt dizzy again, but it was a regular kind of dizzy, from the buzzard’s beak and blood loss. With the staff in my hand, my emotional walls felt strong and solid, and while I was tired, I wasn’t nearly as exhausted as I should have been after using that much magic. I looked at the staff again, and I thought it purred.
Pierre Lafitte stayed to help Jean, but Dominique lifted Jake like he was no heavier than a baby—maybe a baby wolf—and one of the other pirates carried Gerry. Alex had managed to get back into his jeans and was able to walk on his own, albeit slowly. The wound in his thigh had already drenched the jeans scarlet, but his face had darkened from sheet-white to something just south of eggshell.
I fell in beside him. I wanted to tell him how worried I’d been, and how I wouldn’t have wanted to survive this if he hadn’t made it. I wanted him to know how important he’d become to me—as a partner, a friend, maybe more. I didn’t know how to start.
Instead, I reached for his hand. His fingers curled around mine and squeezed.
“You okay?” I gave him a poor imitation of a smile.
He managed his own twitch at one corner of his mouth. “I will be.”
We both looked behind us at Dom, carrying Jake. Alex’s eyes met mine, and an unspoken promise traveled between us: We’re getting him through this.
We finally reached the transport, sticking to side streets and bypassing the busy sections of Rampart. The transport was too small for all of us, so I took them across one at a time, using the staff for energy. My own magical battery was drained.
Gerry was in the worst shape, so I took him first, trying not to think about the way he was breathing—shallow, rapid breaths followed by what seemed like long stretches with no breath at all. Back in his bedroom, I pulled him outside the circle, stroked his cheek, then forced myself to go back.
As Dominique laid Jake inside the transport, he leaned close and spoke softly. “I do not share Jean’s fascination with you, wizard. Should you hurt him again, remember that.”
I didn’t reply, but locked gazes with him as I fired up the transport. Great. Another immortal enemy.
I dragged Jake onto the bedroom floor next to Gerry, whose pulse was thready. Then I went back for Alex, my muscles aching.
When I got to the Beyond again, Dominique was gone. Good. I owed him one, too, but thought I might find his price too high.
Alex leaned on me heavily as we got ready to leave. He didn’t talk, just grunted when I asked how he was doing.
I gave instructions for Louis to break the transport as soon as we were gone. “We wouldn’t have made it without you,” I said, trying to smile. I don’t think I did a very good job of it, but he was a kind man and didn’t judge.
“It’s okay. I got to walk in the sunshine again,” he said. “I got to play some music for a new bunch of people. I’m ready to stay here now. I’ll break that symbol once you’re gone, and that’ll be the end of this spyboy’s adventure.”
I held on to Alex as I fed the transport one last ragged burst of energy from the staff.
When the light and pressure subsided, we stumbled into the bedroom. Gerry lay on the floor where I’d left him, but Jake had regained consciousness and managed to prop himself against an armchair with his eyes closed. His breath was ragged.
Gerry wasn’t breathing.
I sat on the floor beside him, looking at his face, those so-familiar features. I wondered if I’d ever really known him, if we ever know anyone beyond what they’re willing to show us. I leaned over and kissed his forehead, and tears tinged with my blood dropped on his face. I wished I’d known how to make this end well for him, or if he might have survived had I made different choices. I would have to live with that.
Alex had staggered to the bathroom, and I heard him rummaging around in the medicine cabinet. His injuries had worried me at first, but I kept forgetting about the shifter genes. He’d probably heal by morning. Jake was another matter.
I turned to him and found him watching me through half-closed lids.
“Hey, you’re awake.” I pulled a throw off the bed and crawled to sit beside him, putting pressure on his leg and telling a big old lie. “We’re going to get you to a hospital—everything’s going to be okay now.”
He put a hand on top of mine, his strong, tanned fingers shaking.
His voice was little more than a rough whisper. “What are you?”
A month ago, I could have answered that question. Before the storm, before Gerry, before finding that blasted staff. Now I couldn’t.
I whispered back: “I don’t know.”
FRIDAY, OCTOBER 7, 2005 “After the Storm: Louisiana death toll [to date]: 988 … Percentage of Entergy customers in the New Orleans metro area without power, Orleans Parish 59% … For now, only first-class letters will be delivered into the New Orleans region … Water on the east bank of New Orleans west of the Industrial Canal has been declared safe to drink … Limited medical care is available.”
—THE TIMES–PICAYUNE
CHAPTER 42
I said good-bye to Gerry about a mile from the pile drivers and helicopters of the Army Corps of Engineers as they worked to piece the broken 17th Street Canal levee back together again. That was one big engineering Humpty Dumpty if ever I’d seen one.
The mud covering the grounds of the park along Lakeshore Drive had dried and cracked. I guessed eventually the brown and gray landscape of mud would give way to green shoots of weeds and grass. Life would go on, even in this land time seemed to have forgotten. The rest of the world had moved on but we wouldn’t be able to leave Katrina behind for a long time.
The ground crunched as I walked to the edge of the water and looked at the mild blue waves washing on breakers of gray stone. In a small wooden box, I carrie
d Gerry’s ashes, thanks to a quiet cremation courtesy of the Elders. It had taken a week, but Zrakovi finally calmed down enough to talk to me and Alex instead of shouting. The powers-that-be weren’t happy with either of us, and I didn’t know what our future held. Zrakovi said we’d talk soon.
Right now, he didn’t have time. The Beyond was in the middle of an uprising, and the Elders were fighting to retain control of the preternatural borders. Ironically, Gerry might get his wish about magic re-entering the world of humans, at least in New Orleans. Rumor had it several preternatural groups were already moving across, and the vampires and fae were running the negotiations. The elves were also said to be involved, and the Elders were making concessions.
The old gods of voodoo hadn’t been invited to the negotiating table, and Samedi had been stripped of all power. His preternatural buddies had thrown him under the proverbial bus as an opening concession to negotiations.
Detective Ken Hachette had arrested a West Bank resident with a history of mental disorders after catching him setting up a voodoo ritual in Broadmoor. Souvenirs from every one of the dead guardsmen had been found in his house. The guy was probably as much a victim of Samedi as anyone, but I couldn’t muster a lot of sympathy. He’d have a nice new home courtesy of the state of Louisiana.
I wished I’d handled things better, but whatever the Elders had in store, I wouldn’t make excuses for saving Jake. As for Gerry, I’m wrapped up in guilt and grief and anger. I feel responsible for his death, and I miss him, and I’m angry with him. Given enough time, people say, everything heals. We’ll see.
I wished I’d known more about my own abilities and their limits, and how I’d managed to use elven magic against Samedi. So do the Elders. The staff, Charlie, follows me around like a lethal, spark-spewing pet.
I wished I knew what kind of relationship Jean Lafitte thought we had now, and how he expected to be repaid for helping me. With the borders in flux, I had no doubt he’d be back sooner rather than later. I’d have to decide how to break it to the Elders that I promised the pirate a house and a business deal.
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