“Who are they?”
“Dulcinea and Beatrice.”
Fenton’s brows rose. “The changeling and Khell’s widow? They’re both powerful enough.”
“And loyal. I trust Dulcinea with my life and Beatrice has very good reasons to want these leeches cleaned out of our city. Right now, I don’t know who else to trust.” Especially since Yanna had told him not to trust anyone—and she was Elektos.
“Your choices are fine with me, but they will need to take the brand before they can be officially recognized.” He looked down at the table, a slight shadow of disappointment darkening his face. “You can trust me.”
Augustine let a few seconds slip by. “I believe that, but put yourself in my position. Look how much has been thrown at me in such a short time. The facts are that someone on the inside is letting vamps into this city and those vampires have already killed Khell, Olivia and a handful of tourists.” He sighed. “I have no reason not to trust you, Fenton. But I can’t be the same person I used to be. I have to think about every decision I make now because it affects so many more people than just me.”
Fenton nodded. “I understand and I applaud that thinking.” He rested his forearm on the table between them, unbuttoned his cuff and rolled up his sleeve. Two faint puncture marks.
Augustine frowned. It took a lot to scar a fae, but caustic vampire saliva could do it if the fae was young. “You were bitten?”
“I was attacked when I was a kid. A pack of vampires very much like the ones running loose in our city now. They were vicious, hunting us out of sport and for the misguided belief that they might gain some of our powers.”
There was no other reason for vampires to hunt fae since the leeches hated the taste of fae blood.
Fenton’s chin dropped, his gaze fixed on the scars. “They killed my little sister in front of me and would have killed me, too, if not for some other fae that heard her screams and came running.”
Augustine swallowed. Cypher fae were some of the most vulnerable of their kind. “I’m really sorry.”
Fenton shoved his glasses back on his nose, then rolled his sleeve down and buttoned his cuff, a hardness in his eyes Augustine had never seen before. “You have to know you can trust me.”
“You’re right. I have to start somewhere.” Augustine tapped the table. It was good to have another ally, even if it was an unlikely source. Did he trust Fenton a hundred percent? No, but after Fenton’s story, Augustine thought the cypher was a safe bet. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the silver cross, then pushed it across the table to Fenton. “I found this in the vampire’s ashes.”
Fenton picked it up and examined it, then just as Augustine had done, he sniffed it. His lip curled. “Dark magic. Black magic.”
“Exactly.” He pointed at the cross. “Someone used that to kill the vampire in that cell before I could talk to him. Someone with access to this place, so that leads me to my next question. Who else can we trust? Which of the lieutenants?”
Fenton set the cross down, then pulled out his LMD and tapped the screen, scrolling through some icons until he came to the one he wanted. He tapped it and a list appeared on his screen. “There are seven lieutenants. There are only three I’m willing to vouch for.” He counted them off on his fingers. “Khell’s cousin, Dreich. Like Khell, he’s got enough wysper in him to channel the scream that kills vampires, but not enough that he’s mute. He and Khell were raised like brothers. He’s chomping at the bit to find these vampires and exact his revenge.”
“Finding the person responsible for letting these vampires into the city is more important. We need to cut them off entirely. Think Dreich would share his ideas on who might be behind this?”
“I’m sure he would.” Fenton continued. “Then there’s Sydra, who is half dryad, half saboteur. Because of her dryad side, she can only decay natural things, but that dryad side is what also makes her completely trustworthy.” Fenton canted his head as if to say there was no question about her loyalty.
“Agreed.” Dryads were a type of fae who were anchored to their place of birth. If they were removed from it, or something happened to their home, they would die. “She’s not going to do anything to hurt the city. Another good one to talk to.”
Fenton held up a third finger. “Last one is Cylo. He’s an ethos fae—”
“That’s a mimic, right? Aren’t they a little rare?”
“Yes. Good job.” Fenton’s smile carried an edge of sympathy.
“I’m not a complete novice.”
“No, you’re certainly not. Anyway, Cy is an ethos, but his real talent lies in his true form. He’s a brute. Enormous. About six eight, neck like a tree trunk with a body to match and a will to fight that doesn’t quit. Fortunately for us, he’s also exceptionally loyal.”
Augustine had a slow, sinking feeling. He whistled low. “This Cy, is he really good with knives? Like blindfolded circus freak good?”
“Yes, do you know him?”
“Sort of.” Augustine glanced at the ceiling. “I accidentally slept with his girlfriend once. Ex-girlfriend now, so hopefully he won’t hold that against me anymore, but damn, that’s not going to be a fun meeting.”
“Accidentally?” Fenton held up a hand. “Don’t explain. If he decides to quit, we’ll make do.”
“That’s our team then. Let’s call them in and see where they stand. I want to hit that hotel as soon as possible.”
Fenton leaned back. “If the vampires are keeping the same kind of schedule here as most mortals do, that means they’re staying out late and sleeping through most of the day, much like they normally would.”
Augustine nodded. “Old habits die hard.”
Fenton traced the grain of the wood in the table. “The best time to hit them would be right before daybreak. It would give us time to get everyone on the same page and map out a plan.”
“I hate waiting, but I also don’t want to waste a trip and tip them off.” Augustine wanted to make this a decisive strike. “Sounds like a plan.”
“Good. I’ll arrange things on this end, you take care of Dulcinea and Beatrice. The goal will be to meet at the hotel at dawn. I’ll make sure Dreich, Sydra and Cy know we want the leader captured alive for questioning.”
“Excellent. Will you be there?”
“No. Elektos rarely engage in these kinds of hands-on missions—”
“I figured. The Elektos are more the paper-pushing, number-crunching, rule-making politicos.”
Fenton shrugged. “We are. But I will make sure the other three lieutenants understand what needs to be done. They’ll be there, ready to go.” He looked at Augustine. “There’s still the matter of meeting with Evander. We can’t put it off much longer. He’ll know there’s a new Guardian soon, if he doesn’t already, and we risk an imagined slight if you don’t go see him soon.”
“I’ll go now.” It wasn’t what he wanted to do, but he understood his new position came with some unpleasant but necessary chores. “Unless you have a better idea.”
“Let me set it up.” Fenton punched in a number on his LMD. “Evander, please.” A few seconds ticked by. “Evander, how are you. Fenton Welch here.” He nodded. “I figured you’d heard. Yes, it was, very unfortunate.” A short pause. “We do as a matter of fact and he’d like to stop in and see you. Right now, actually. You are? Wonderful. He’ll be by shortly.” Then he tapped the screen to end the call, tapped it a few more times and set the LMD down. “It’s all set. I’ve sent the address to you.”
“Can I question him about the magic on the cross?”
Fenton nodded. “Absolutely, just don’t expect much of an answer. The coven is a very closed circle. They protect their own just like we do ours. But good luck.”
“I figured as much.” Augustine stayed seated. “One question. What happens to the lieutenants I no longer want? If they bear the brand, they have access to the Pelcrum. How secure can this place be if that’s true?”
“If you decide not to rein
state them, they will be moved to other positions or retired. It happens.” Fenton cringed slightly. “Some occasionally choose to have their brands removed.”
“That sounds unpleasant.”
“It is. As far as the Pelcrum goes, they’ve been sworn to secrecy. If any of them is found to have revealed this place or even spoken of it in a way that puts us at danger, they will have their tongue cut out before being imprisoned in the Claustrum.”
Augustine raised his brows. “That’s medieval.”
“Perhaps, but that’s how we’ve kept this place safe.”
“How many retired, still-branded lieutenants are out there?”
“In other words, how many other people have access to the Pelcrum outside of current staff?” Fenton nodded as if he understood. “Twelve, I believe. But we keep a very close eye on them. Only five of those still live in New Orleans; two of them are in ill health and one is currently away on an extended stay.”
“If it turns out that one of these lieutenants, retired or otherwise, is behind these vampires getting access to the city?”
Fenton’s expression hardened. “They will spend the rest of their lives in the Claustrum, just as any other traitor would.”
As that sank in, Augustine’s mind turned to Olivia. “Are you coming to the house tomorrow for the funeral?”
“Yes, of course.” Fenton straightened a little. “Tomorrow will be a hard day for you. If there is anything I can do to help, please let me know.”
If anyone could help get Livie’s ashes out of the cemetery, it was the man in front of him. “Actually, there is one thing…”
Giselle thanked the goddess that she’d been in the right place at the right time. She’d stopped by to see her father only to learn the new Guardian was on his way over.
Her father sat in his office, record books strewn about his desk, shelves overflowing with catalogued ingredients, scrying bowls and ancient grimoires. At least his shirt was clean. Not pressed, but clean.
“Aren’t you going to straighten up before he gets here? I thought Cormier kept things up better than this.” Her apartment in the French Quarter was pristine without the help of a butler or any other live-in help.
“This is a workingman’s office, Giselle. I like things the way they are.” Which meant Evander probably didn’t let Cormier touch a thing.
Which was the problem. Nothing ever changed, nothing ever improved. “You know computers can keep track of all this information very easily. You could create spreadsheets to see what spells are the most requested, which coven members haven’t paid their dues, whose licenses are coming up for renewal next. Think how much simpler your life would be.”
He sighed and looked over the rim of his glasses at her. “We’ve been over this. Computers can be hacked. I don’t want the world knowing our business. Why would people come to us for help if they could whip up a love potion from a recipe online?” He glared at her. “No. This is the way we do things. This will always be the way we do things.”
Not after she became coven leader. “Did you invite Zara?”
“No, and I didn’t invite you,” her father answered. “Besides, your sister isn’t interested in such things.”
“She’s not interested in much, is she?” Zara didn’t live that far away, choosing to remain in their late mother’s Garden District home nearby. Zara rarely left the house except to sell her handmade soaps and tinctures at the farmers’ market, but her garden provided the coven with the bulk of the plant materials used in their spells. In that respect Zara wasn’t totally useless. Nor was she much competition.
“Leave your sister alone. She’s happy in her life. You should take a lesson from her.”
Giselle planted her hands on the edge of her father’s desk and leaned in. “What lesson would that be? To be less ambitious? To never want more for myself than a pretty garden? Forgive me for following in your footsteps, Father. I thought that’s what you wanted. I know you wish I’d been a boy.”
He rubbed his forehead. “Giselle, that’s not what I—”
The doorbell’s chime interrupted him. She spun away from her father, already knowing the lie he was about to repeat, and walked toward the front of the house. The Guardian had arrived. “I’ll get it.”
She met Cormier in the hall. “I said I’ll get it.” She shooed her father’s butler away and opened the door, letting a long second pass as she took in the man across from her. Then she forced a smile. “Hello there. I didn’t expect you.”
The fae across from her tipped his head in greeting. “Giselle. If I may call you that.” There was too much mystery in his eyes. What was he hiding? “I’m Augustine Robelais, but you probably already know that. I’m here to see your father, something I’m sure you also know.”
Her smile broadened, but she caught herself before it became obviously faked. “I only know that you are a friend of one of the other readers who work in the square.” Hellfire. Dulcinea’s friend. This was an unexpected twist. “Come in, Mr. Robelais.”
“Please, call me Augustine.” He entered, his eyes on her and not his surroundings, unlike most people who saw her father’s home for the first time. Evander’s collection of antiques was astonishing not only for sheer volume but also for quality. If only they knew what power came from such aged objects.
“That’s very kind of you.” He reeked of power himself, a heavy, smoky metal scent that announced his virility like a blaring trumpet. She’d never been this close to him before, but it explained a lot about his reputation as a heartbreaker. And the way that ratty Dulcinea fawned over him. He probably wasn’t even aware he gave off such a magnetic aura.
She held out her hands. “May I take your coat?”
“Sure.” He slipped off the long leather coat he wore, revealing a gorgeous sword strapped to his hip. The sword had magic. That much she could discern. The fae and their weavers. Such a bothersome bunch.
“My father is in his study. If you’ll just follow me.”
But Augustine didn’t move except to come closer to her. “I understand you’ve been saying unkind things about my friend, Dulcinea.”
She backed up, feigning intimidation. “I would never do anything of the sort.”
He grabbed her wrist, his grip firm but not unbreakable. “I can tell when you’re lying. I can feel it through your skin, little witch.”
A tremor of real panic trilled through her. She was supposed to be charming him, wooing him to her side. This was not going as planned. She swallowed her pride for the sake of the game. “I may have said something about her to a tourist out of anger. She sometimes steals my customers away, you understand. I apologize. It won’t happen again.”
He released her. “Thank you. I appreciate your honesty.”
She rubbed her wrist, all for show. “You didn’t give me much of a choice, did you?”
He winked at her. “I can’t actually tell if you’re lying or not. That ability isn’t in my wheelhouse.” He pointed down the hall. “I assume that second heartbeat I hear is your father. I’ll announce myself.”
The nerve. She stood there, her swallowed pride bubbling back up as anger. How dare he trick her? How dare he? She was next in line to be coven leader. An honest-to-goddess descendant of Aurela La Voisin, the grand witch who’d put the original curse on New Orleans after her heart was broken by a fae. Probably a fae just like Augustine. Giselle charged after him as he entered her father’s office.
“This is the new Guardian,” she spat out before he could say anything. “Augustine Robelais.”
Her father stood and extended his hand. “Good to meet you, Augustine.”
Augustine shook Evander’s hand. “I appreciate you meeting with me on such short notice, but my time is at a premium these days.”
Evander nodded. “It usually is for every Guardian when they take over, especially in a case where the previous Guardian has met an untimely death. You have my sympathies.”
“I didn’t know Khell well, but thank you
.” Augustine glanced at Giselle before looking back to Evander. “A dear friend of mine, Olivia Goodwin, was also murdered. We believe by the same vampires.”
Her father looked genuinely shocked. “I’d heard of Ms. Goodwin’s passing, but the news said it was a mugging. I had no idea vampires were involved. Again, my sympathies.”
Giselle nodded. “I told you there was more to it.”
Evander gestured toward her. “My daughter always thinks there is more afoot than there truly is. In this instance, it seems she was right.”
Augustine turned to her. “You’re always in the Quarter. Have you seen a lot of vampires? Do you know anything about the pack that’s in the city now?”
“I’m always in the Quarter because I live and work there.” She caught her father’s disapproving frown in her peripheral vision. For his sake, she tried for a more demure tone. “I haven’t seen many vampires. One or two, but not enough to call a pack.”
Augustine narrowed his eyes and rested his hand on the hilt of the weapon on his hip. “You’re not lying again, are you?”
She swallowed, sneaking a peek at her father. If he frowned any harder, he’d sprain a muscle. “Of course not. Why would I do that,” she asked. Perhaps she should tell him about some of the fae who came to see her secretly, who used her services because they had business they wished to keep hidden. Guardian or not, he had no idea what really went on in his city.
Evander rapped his knuckles on his desktop. “What’s this about my daughter lying to you?”
“Nothing serious,” Augustine answered. “Just a little self-protection.”
Evander gave her the glare she knew meant trouble. “I am sorry about it, nonetheless.” He came out from behind his desk. “Giselle, get us some wine, please.” He gestured toward Augustine. “We’ll have a glass together, toast your new position.”
“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” Augustine said. “Really, I can’t stay long.”
She hesitated. This should be good.
House of the Rising Sun Page 20
