Pirate's Alley

by Suzanne Johnson

  Good. Lily would go first. She deserved every punishment they could throw at her.

  Hoffman looked up, and I froze when his cold brown eyes came to rest on me.

  “I request that Drusilla Jane Jaco, the sentinel of the New Orleans region, take the stand.”

  Oh, shit.

  CHAPTER 5

  The world around me had turned alien and surreal. I took a deep breath to steady my nerves. The First Elder’s son was in trouble, and he needed a scapegoat. As sentinel, I might as well have cloven hoofs and little nubby goat horns sprouting from my head.

  I just thought it would take him longer to go after me.

  My knees shook when I stood up. Be ready to think on your feet, Rand had said, and I wished I’d pressed him more on what he meant.

  Walking to the front with my chin held high, I kept my eyes on First Elder Hoffman. I hadn’t done anything wrong, other than be born with enough elven magic for both wizards and elves to find it threatening. Hoffman would do everything possible to put Adrian in a good light, which meant putting me in a bad one.

  He wasn’t getting away with it. If he thought I’d stand by meekly and take one for the team to avoid ugly political fallout, he had the wrong wizard. I’d almost died, Alex had been shot, and I’d been forced to kill Jean.

  Jake had shoved the messenger bag containing the elven staff in my hands as I climbed over him to the aisle. I didn’t find it reassuring that he thought I needed to be armed. The tense posture and sudden alertness of both Rand and Jean as I took my seat behind the witness table offered an important reminder, however. I had allies on the council. Strong allies. They just didn’t happen to be sitting in the First Elder’s chair.

  The next surprise came after I’d vowed to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth upon pain of having my powers stripped, or some equally horrible fate. The door behind the dais opened and another security guy escorted the prisoners out of their holding room.

  If I hadn’t been trying to keep a wary eye on the First Elder, I’d have smirked at the vision of Jonas, Adrian, Etienne Boulard, and the Axeman attached to each other with glittering, magic-enhanced ankle shackles. Except there should have been a fifth person in that group. Lily was the guiltiest culprit. She’d hired Jonas to use his necromancy in resurrecting the Axeman to kill me, which had led to the death of Rand’s mother. She’d blackmailed Adrian into betraying a fellow wizard, forced Jean to shoot me, and conspired to overthrow Mace Banyan as head of the Synod.

  I glared at Rand, making use of our ability to telepathically communicate by bellowing, Where the hell is Lily?

  He winced and hunched his shoulders. Stop yelling! Leaning to one side, he whispered something to Mace, and the Elven Synod leader’s dark gaze slid to me before he spoke. “Mr. Hoffman, before we continue, I’d like to address the absence of one of the defendants tonight, Lily Aleese.”

  Hoffman’s face compressed into a sour look very much like his son’s habitual sulk, which told me Lily’s absence hadn’t been scripted. “Ms. Aleese is key to these proceedings, Mr. Banyan.”

  Mace assumed a sorrowful expression that looked about as genuine as a cheap cubic zirconia in a diamond mine. In his gray suit and gray band-collared shirt, with his perfectly matched heather-gray overcoat thrown across the table, he looked urbane and oh so sincere. I knew better; he’d had the same expression when he apologized for kidnapping me and then plundering through my mind with the finesse of Ferdinand the Elven Bull.

  Freaking elf.

  “Unfortunately, the severity of the charges against Lily precluded our waiting for the council to assemble.” He reached across the table and dug in a pocket of his overcoat, pulling out an envelope. “Lily Aleese was executed, as per elven custom, forty-eight hours ago in Elfheim, following a Synod trial. I have time-stamped photos of her body, with and without her head, should you wish to take and examine them.”

  Photos could be doctored. It took a lot of effort for me to remain seated and silent, and I shot a questioning look at Rand. He hated Lily as badly as I did. If he said Lily was dead, I’d believe him.

  He gave me a tight smile and nodded. Inside my head, I heard him as clearly as if he’d spoken aloud: Mace insisted we do it by the old rules, but she’s definitely dead. I killed her myself. And she suffered.

  Somehow that didn’t make me as happy as I would’ve expected. The elves were brutal. I’d seen what they did to Rand after he’d helped me escape Elfheim. He’d been beaten, and badly. The only reason he didn’t get another punishment for bonding with me was that our alliance, and his mother’s death, had made him too powerful. I had no doubts he could dish out suffering as well as the next elf.

  While Hoffman examined the photographs, I looked over at Jean to see how he was taking the news about Lily, but his attention rested with one person only: Etienne Boulard. They’d been friends in their human lives, before Jean had become so famous he earned a magical form of immortality, and Etienne, a French Louisiana plantation owner, had become a Regent of the Realm of Vampyre. Etienne had betrayed Jean, and they both knew it.

  Much like the question of whether or not I’d continue an elven pregnancy should I find myself in that predicament, I had no answers to the question of whether I’d stop Jean if and when he tried to exact revenge on Etienne. That had a much greater likelihood of happening than me getting pregnant with elf spawn. Jean didn’t forgive a betrayal, plus he had a couple of major advantages. He couldn’t be turned vampire and he couldn’t be killed, at least not permanently.

  I didn’t like Etienne’s odds.

  From the vamp-in-dawn’s-early-light look on his face, Etienne didn’t like his odds either. He fidgeted in his seat and looked everywhere except at Jean. His gaze came to rest on me briefly, and I saw a flash of the insolent, confident vampire he’d been a month ago. Only a flash before he looked down at the floor.

  “Very well.” Hoffman passed the envelope back to Mace. “In future, however, I hope the elves will abide by the procedures we’ve established for the council.”

  “In future”—Mace looked at Rand—“we’ll have no more such treachery within our ranks.”

  Rand was starting to look a lot like the Mona Lisa. I never trusted her little smile, and if Mace had any sense he wouldn’t trust Rand’s. I had no idea what my significant elf was up to, but I had no doubt that Rand had a scheme. He always did.

  Then again, Mace deserved whatever he got.

  “Ms. Jaco.” Hoffman slipped on a pair of reading glasses, probably to give him a more scholarly appearance to go along with his silly black robe. Nearsighted wizards used magic to correct their vision. “Is it true that you conspired to interfere with the affairs of the Elven Synod during the last two weeks of November?”

  “Uh … no?” I hoped that little question mark at the end wasn’t evident to anyone but me. I expected Hoffman to accuse me of setting up Adrian, not interfering with Synod business. Where was he going with this?

  He peered at me through his little glasses, which gave him a piggish appearance.

  “Does that mean you deny entering into a blood bond with Quince Randolph, who at that time was the incumbent clan leader of the fire elves? And that the nature of this bond was purely for Mr. Randolph’s political gain?”

  Rand’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t say anything. This was Mace Banyan’s work; he hadn’t wanted Rand on the Synod, much less sitting on the Interspecies Council. Rand had gotten the council seat because our bond gave him an in with the wizards.

  I gave Mace my most evil stink-eye. “I wouldn’t say it was purely political, no.”

  Hoffman took off the glasses and settled them atop his shiny bald head. Now he looked like a pig with glasses on his head. “You’re telling me that you and Mr. Randolph are living as husband and wife, as such bond-mates are called in our culture?”

  He smiled. Evil bastard.

  Damn it. Everyone knew Rand and I weren’t living together, but if I admitted that I only bonded with hi
m to avoid turning loup-garou, Jake would be in big trouble. That wasn’t going to happen.

  “Mr. Randolph and I are working on our relationship after entering the bond based on our intense physic”—I choked and grabbed the bottle of water on the table, wishing it were rum—“physical attraction.”

  Behind me, Alex coughed, or maybe it was Jake. I didn’t dare look. I kept my eyes on Hoffman.

  “I see.” He paused and rolled his eyes heavenward. Pig pig pig.

  “Is it true you refused to cooperate with the Synod when they attempted to determine your powers after you were claimed by the ancient elven staff known as Mahout?”

  “Hey, they kidnapped me.” This was starting to piss me off. I was not the one sitting over there bound in magical ankle bling after being caught with the proverbial smoking gun.

  “And is it not true, Ms. Jaco, that it was you who killed Captain Jean Lafitte last month?” He looked down the table at Jean. “Kill being a relative term, of course.”

  That one was true, and I met Jean’s gaze with what I hoped was an apologetic look. He was beyond apology. His dark blue eyes were hard as the marble on the courthouse floor, and his movements as he got to his feet were slow and deliberate. The pirate was still healing.

  “This is a farce, Monsieur Hoffman. You attempt only to excuse the actions of your son, and every man and woman in this assemblage is aware of it. I suggest we allow Mademoiselle Jaco to tell her story as it happened, and then deal with those who are truly guilty. I can assure you that she, like myself, was a victim. Do not use Jean Lafitte for your perverse behavior. I will not tolerate it.”

  Yeah. What he said.

  Hoffman and Jean stared at each other for what seemed like a week and a half before the First Elder backed down. “Very well, out of respect for you, Captain Lafitte. Ms. Jaco, would you give us the account of your victimization?”

  If ever a word had dripped with sarcasm, it was that one, but I resisted the urge to dish it right back. I’d call him names in private later, and I’d hunt like hell for proof that he needed to be in that lineup of bling-wearing suspects. Tonight, I had the clear moral high ground and I planned to keep it as long as possible without slinging mud.

  So I began to talk. About taking elf lessons with Adrian. Taking him with me to the vampire club L’Amour Sauvage, where he met Terri and where we’d seen Lily talking to Etienne. The meeting with wizard Jonas Adamson, the only registered necromancer in the area.

  “Did you suspect that Mr. Adamson was in league with Lily Aleese?” Hoffman asked. He’d remained bland-faced throughout my story until Jonas was mentioned.

  “I wish I had suspected him, but no. I didn’t see anything to link him to Lily or to L’Amour Sauvage.” I looked over at Jonas, who had kept his eyes on the floor since entering the courtroom. His toast was so burned, I almost felt sorry for him.

  I went through the rest of the story as I had rehearsed it, taking Alex’s advice to stick to the facts and not make any statements of opinion or emotion—until I got to the part where Jean received a direct order from the necromancer to kill me, and instead urged me to kill him first. And then I couldn’t help it. I cried. I would never, ever forget that act of sacrifice.

  “Please, Ms. Jaco, spare us the female histrionics.” Hoffman’s voice was dismissive. “After all, it’s not as if Captain Lafitte really died.”

  Female histrionics? I’d seen Jean’s face when my magic hit him. I’d watched him die. Maybe it wasn’t a permanent death, but he suffered as much as if it had been.

  I’d give the First Elder one thing; he knew just the words to cut off this female’s histrionics. I’d been prepared to move cautiously, build a case against the First Elder, line up the proof that he was involved.

  Forget it. Gloves? Off.

  “Might I ask you a question now, Mr. Hoffman?” My heart still pounded but it was no longer from fear.

  I heard Alex, or maybe it was Jake, hiss behind me. In my peripheral vision, I saw Willem Zrakovi lean forward. Even Sabine, queen of all faeries, who’d been studying her nails for most of the meeting, leaned forward with interest, and the faery guys whispered to each other behind her.

  How far was I willing to take this?

  Hoffman’s eyes danced merrily beneath the faux glasses propped on his head. “By all means. Ask your little question.”

  Amused, was he? I kept my tone conversational. “Is it true that the whole time Adrian was being blackmailed by Lily Aleese to keep you from finding out about his vampire girlfriend, you already knew about it? Is it true that you were already in league with the vampires yourself, conspiring against the elves while the vampires pretended to be their ally?”

  The heavy silence that followed was so deep my rabbit-racing heart was probably audible in Old Orleans.

  Is this true? Rand shot me a mental zing. Do you have proof?

  I’m sure of it. Somebody needs to question Jonas. The more time I’d had to think about the First Elder’s involvement, the more certain I’d become. Adrian wasn’t good at keeping his mouth shut, for one thing, and he and Terri hadn’t been secretive about their affair. Plus, Etienne Boulard was a Regent; he would never have turned any wizard into a vampire without approval from higher up. Which meant either from his Vice-Regent or the First Elder.

  Hoffman had sold out his own son. And with Lily dead, Jonas might be the only one who knew the truth.

  “That is ludicrous.” Hoffman wasn’t twinkle-eyed anymore. “I should have you brought up on charges of treason. Return to your seat immediately. This council doesn’t want to hear your desperate lies.”

  Get Jonas on the stand, I told Rand as I grabbed my bag and returned to my seat. Jake scooted down next to Alex, putting me on the aisle. Good. The way things were going, I might need to make a run for it.

  “I believe we’ve heard enough,” Hoffman said, straightening his stack of papers and setting his glasses on top of them. “I vote the council makes a recommendation on the proper punishment for—”

  “Excuse me, Elder Hoffman. If I might make a request?”

  Hoffman looked as if he’d swallowed a lemon. He turned his head slowly to the left. “Mr. Randolph?”

  “I’m sure my mate was mistaken about her allegations. She’s just overwrought.”

  I gritted my teeth and refrained from shouting at him, at least until I figured out his angle. Then I’d show him what overwrought looked like.

  “No need to defend her—”

  “But,” Rand interrupted, “I would be interested in hearing at least one other account before we decide the prisoners’ fates. These are serious charges, particularly against Jonas Adamson. I’d like the chance to question him using elven methodology, if I might.”

  Jonas raised his head for the first time, staring at Rand in horror. Mace leaned back in his chair and looked thoughtfully from Hoffman to Rand to Jonas. If I was right, and the First Elder was conspiring against the elves and the vampires were playing both sides, Mace would want to know.

  So, apparently, would Elder Zrakovi, who spoke for the first time. “Geoffrey, I think Mr. Randolph’s suggestion is a good one. It’s the most expedient way for us to conclude this matter and move on. Perhaps we should let the council vote on it.”

  Sabine reached a wrinkled hand to her microphone stand and slid it toward her. When she spoke, her voice was husky and made my skin crawl. English was not her first language. I definitely needed to do some faery research. “The entire delegation from Faery agrees with the elf. Let the necromancer speak.”

  “I see no reason for it.” Vampire Vice-Regent Garrett Melnick’s blue eyes turned frosty, and he flashed fang. “We have the sentinel’s testimony against her fellow wizard. What more do we need?”

  “I agree.” Hoffman gave Zrakovi a thunderous look.

  “You’re right. He knew.”

  Silence fell as everyone looked for the source of the voice, breathless and a bit squeaky. Jonas Adamson stood, his fists clenched at his sides.r />
  “You will sit down!” The First Elder looked like a water balloon on the verge of a big, wet explosion, but on either side of him, Mace Banyan and Jean Lafitte jumped to their feet. Hoffman settled back and took a deep breath. I held mine.

  “Fine, Mr. Adamson.” Hoffman put his glasses back on. “Have your say.”

  Was it my imagination, or did Big Daddy Hoffman look nervous?

  I leaned forward to get a better look at Adrian. He’d been stone-faced through the entire proceedings, but now he stared at his father with wide eyes. Initially, I’d thought Adrian and his father might be coconspirators, but that look told me he was a victim, too.

  One of the wizard guards released the magical shackles, and Jonas made his shaky way toward the witness table. I dropped all my mental barricades to gauge his mood. He was scared and depressed. No kidding.

  Rand edged around the table and walked from the dais to stand in front of Jonas. He looked over Jonas’s shoulder at me. Ideas?

  If Jonas felt doomed, the thing that would get him to open up without force was the possibility of survival. Reassure him. Make him calm. Make him think that if he talks, we can save him. Don’t dig the memories out of him unless you have to. I hated what Jonas had done. I had no respect for him as a wizard, and little sympathy for the chaos he’d created. But I didn’t wish that kind of suffering on anyone. Having elves dig in your mind and memories was painful, something I knew from hard experience.

  Rand pulled a chair next to Jonas and sat down, reaching out his right hand and placing it on Jonas’s arm. Within seconds, the wizard’s posture relaxed, his shoulders dipped, his rapid breathing slowed. Even from one row back, I sensed the tension diminishing around his aura. Rand’s happy vibes were working.

  “Jonas, was Drusilla Jaco’s account of the last two weeks of November accurate?”

  Jonas nodded his head. “Yes.”

  I wished I could see his expression, but I’d have to be satisfied with gauging Rand’s reactions.