“Yep, and pretty powerful, I hear.” Alex moved back to the bed, kicked off his boots, and stretched out again. This time, I crawled up beside him and snuggled in tight. He was warm and solid, and I savored a flash of contentment before letting my mind veer back to this newfound relative.
“Did Zrakovi say what he’s like? Does he look like Gerry?”
“Don’t know what he looks like, but Willem described him as the anti-Gerry in terms of attitude. Very buttoned-up and proper.” Alex traced lazy circles up and down my arm with his fingers. “He’s against making concessions to the pretes, and thinks New Orleans is the place to make it clear they don’t belong in our world.”
Great. We’d no doubt get along famously since everyone told me I was just like my father, and I thought the pretes had as much right to a say in magical affairs as the wizards. Well, almost as much. “Does he know about me?”
“Only recently, since the borders dropped in October, and he’s been asking a lot of questions. Willem says he’s curious about you, but thinks it’s awkward. If he becomes an Elder, though, he’ll be here in New Orleans for the council meetings. You’re bound to meet him soon; it’s why Willem wanted you to know. They’re trying to pull another council session together for day after tomorrow.”
I snorted. “Somewhere besides the courthouse, I assume.” According to the news, the trials scheduled for the next six weeks were being rescheduled or moved to other venues, and the building had been closed to repair the water damage. We’d have to find another public building to destroy.
“Dunno.” Alex yawned. “Oh, and Lennox is divorced, but you do have a cousin.”
I sat up. “What? Where? He has a kid?”
Alex smiled. “You’re gonna love this. Her name’s Audrey and she’s twenty-three, with physical magic as her dominant skill set.”
Strange way of putting it unless … “She isn’t Red Congress?”
His smile widened. “She’s flunked the congressional exam twice, and is apparently driving her dad crazy. She has a reputation for being undisciplined.” The sexy crease beside Alex’s mouth appeared. “Willem told him it seems to run in the St. Simon family, and I don’t think he was talking about Gerry.”
I slowly formed a solid fist, made sure Alex saw it, and then punched him in the stomach. “Stop laughing.” Which made him laugh harder. “I am not undisciplined. I’m creative. I’m sure poor Audrey is as well.” I liked her already.
Settling back into the warmth of Alex’s arms, I pondered this newfound family. Uncle Lennox sounded like he’d have a serious stick up his backside, but I liked the idea of a cousin, and she was only five years younger than me.
“Do you think he’ll bring her to New Orleans with him?”
When Alex didn’t answer, I noted his steady breathing and raised my head enough to confirm he’d fallen asleep, so I snuggled in again. I didn’t dare go to sleep because I didn’t want a visit from Rand, but I could close my eyes and listen to Alex’s heart beating beneath my cheek and …
I’m gonna get in trouble; I’m gonna start a fight.
Alex and I both sat up, blinking. “What the hell is that?” His voice creaked with sleep.
I leaned over him, wincing at the pain in my ribs. “It’s my phone.”
“What happened to your Zachary Richard ringtone?”
I finally raked my fingers across the phone and got hold of it before Pink started another fight. “It’s part of my new attitude.” I looked at the caller ID. “Uh-oh.”
Punching the screen to put the call on speaker, I said, “Eugenie, what’s wrong?” The clock on the nightstand read one a.m.
“Rand’s on the porch, banging on my door.” She must have held the phone out because a loud pounding sounded through the speaker, along with a strident male voice. It sounded like Rand was shouting in his guttural elf language. Good Lord. So much for waiting until the two p.m. meeting, although I’m sure it was two o’clock somewhere in the world.
Alex had already rolled out of bed and begun pulling on his boots.
“Say whatever you need to say to keep Rand calm,” I told Eugenie. “Alex and I are on the way.”
I dug under the bed for my own boots and tugged on the ugly coat. “You got a gun on you?”
Alex raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, why?”
“Make sure it’s loaded for elf.”
CHAPTER 12
The two-block walk to Alex’s SUV was treacherous. The Quarter lay deserted, odd even for one a.m. on a weeknight, and we didn’t talk as we trudged through at least a foot of snow that had a layer of ice underneath it. The temperature had dropped, and part of what hit my face stung like pellets of sleet.
Mostly, we kept our eyes on the ground, sticking close to buildings so we wouldn’t accidentally tumble off a curb and break an ankle. The sea of white across Royal Street lay flat from building to building, with no street or sidewalk edges discernible except for snow-covered lumps I could only assume were cars.
My head had begun to pound after the first five minutes, and a couple of waves of dizziness had me wondering if the stress was finally getting to me. Mostly, though, my limbs ached and I had an overwhelming urge to lie down. I blamed it on the physical exertion of trying to walk in this mess, because the other option was an impending case of the flu, and I didn’t have time to be sick.
After almost ten minutes, with the big lump Alex identified as his Range Rover finally in view, I stopped trying to keep up with him. He’d gained a block on me and had begun freeing the SUV’s doors from their prisons of snow and ice by the time I caught up.
“You okay?” He jerked on the passenger-side door and helped me climb in. “You look kind of green.”
“I’m freezing. Nothing a little heat won’t cure.” Because, I told my body, you are not getting the flu. You have pirates to chase, elven non-husbands to pacify, political shenanigans to avoid.
Once inside, Alex ran the defroster and we waited while the layer of ice on the windshield melted enough for the wipers to operate. Within a few minutes of the heater turned on high, I’d finally begun to thaw, my energy flooding back with a gratifying rush.
I’d never again make fun of this behemoth of an SUV, even if I did need a ladder and an altitude-sickness potion to climb in it. It was big and heavy, had heated leather seats, and its vents shot out enough warm air to melt the snow that had frozen into crystals on our eyelashes and hair.
“I can’t believe Rand went out in this mess.” I reached over and brushed ice off Alex’s shoulder. Even Mr. Hot-Blooded Shifter had pulled a leather jacket out of the backseat and put it on. I wiped the cold water off on the leg of his jeans, earning a playful swat.
“I would say Randolph is a horse’s ass, but that would be unfair to the horse.” Alex pulled carefully out of his parking space and inched through the Quarter. “I’m gonna stick to the main roads just in case there are other idiots out here who’ve plowed a trail. I can’t see the edges of the street.”
We maneuvered the pinball arcade of Canal Street, filled with abandoned cars and people who’d parked on the neutral grounds like they did when they expected a flood, and headed to Uptown along St. Charles Avenue. Alex navigated the curving road by aiming the SUV at the midpoint between the ancient snow-laden live oaks lining both sides of the street and using the overhead streetcar electrical lines running through the middle of the neutral ground to stay on course.
Finally, we cut over toward Magazine Street, dodging stalled vehicles. Alex lurched to a stop by letting the truck slide its right front tire against the curb in front of Eugenie’s house—at least we assumed it was a curb.
The house was a big, solid early-century Victorian painted light blue, with cream-colored hurricane shutters, a broad front porch ringed by a gingerbread rail, and a side entrance for her Shear Luck salon. The porch light was on, and through the thick fall of snow and ice I saw a dark lump near the door, but no sign of Rand. Maybe he’d left a package and gone home like a good elf.
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The snow here was deeper, up to my knees, so I waited for Alex and his long legs to blaze a trail to the house and I followed in his wake.
“What the hell?” Alex’s voice took on its gruff enforcer tone.
I couldn’t see around him until he got up the stairs, and I realized the big dark lump on the porch was covered in fur. “Is it a dog? Must be a stray, poor thing.”
He bumped the lump with the toe of his boot, and it rolled over. “No, it’s an elf in a fur coat.”
Rand’s eyes were open just enough to be covered in ice crystals and look creepy as hell. He would be a perfect elven mortuary display. “Is he dead?”
I hope my words didn’t sound like wishful thinking, because while I wanted Rand to leave me alone, I didn’t want him dead. His bonding scheme had almost gotten me killed, but it also had kept me from turning loup-garou. We could probably be of help to each other if he’d get over the notion that we were married. The very mistaken notion, at least in any real sense of the word.
There was also the possibility that if Rand died, it might kill me as well because of the bond, so I had a practical reason for wanting him alive.
“He’s not dead,” Alex said after spending a few seconds with two fingers placed over Rand’s carotid artery, assuming that’s what elves had. “I think he’s just unconscious. Call Eugenie and tell her to open the door; if we knock, she’s gonna think it’s him and not answer.”
I placed the call, and in a few seconds the dead bolt clicked, the scrape of a chain latch sounded, and Eugenie pulled open the heavy cypress door, wielding a butcher knife. She looked from Alex to me and, finally, down at Rand.
“Is he dead?”
Okay, Eugenie definitely sounded hopeful.
“No, he’s sleeping off his stored fat, like a bear in hibernation,” I said, looking down. He didn’t have an ounce of fat on him.
“Let me drag him in,” Alex said, grabbing Rand’s ankles and pulling him toward the doorway. His head bounced on the rough wood.
“Good grief, Alex. You’re a shifter. Pick him up.” It wasn’t the same as little ole weakling me dragging two hundred pounds of Jean Lafitte across a field in Vampyre, which had given new meaning to dead weight.
“Goddamned elf.” Alex scooped up his unconscious nemesis and hauled him through the doorway. The way he let Rand’s head crack against the doorframe had to be intentional.
“Where do you want him? Never mind, I see a spot.” Alex carried Rand to a rug in front of the fireplace and unloaded him in a heap, and none too gently. Eugenie kicked Rand’s calf as she walked past to turn up the gas flames. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
Alex and I sat on the sofa and Eugenie in the adjacent armchair, and we watched Rand intently as if he were a circus act. I had no idea what to do with an unconscious elf, and was fresh out of smelling salts. As his body warmed, he gradually lost the stiff, embalmed look and instead turned into a pretty sleeping elf prince. He was cute enough to set on the mantel for decoration as an Elf on a Shelf. Well, if the Elf on a Shelf spontaneously spouted outrageous pronouncements without warning and had the potential to set off a preternatural war.
I stretched out a leg and nudged his shoulder with the toe of my boot. “Rand. Wake up, honey bun.”
Alex poked me in my sore ribcage.
Rand turned his head in my direction, but didn’t open his eyes for another minute or so. When he did, they were the clear, cerulean blue of a tropical sea, but not quite focused. “Hi, Dru. You look beautiful.”
Alex made a low growling sound and poked me in the ribs again.
It was enough to make Rand wake up and realize he wasn’t in friendly territory. He sat up and looked at me, then Alex, and, finally, Eugenie. He started that scary glowing thing. Whenever he was angry, his inner fire started up. Too bad his lack of consciousness hadn’t knocked that out of him.
“You would have let me die out there,” he said to Eugenie.
She raised an eyebrow as if to confirm it.
Oh, good grief. “Let’s start over. Rand, are you okay? What happened out there? Do you want something hot to drink?”
And could you quit glowing?
He wrenched his glare from Eugenie and looked at me. The anger drained quickly. “Elves don’t tolerate cold weather well. Our systems shut down to protect our vital functions.”
I stared at him. “You mean you really do hibernate?” My earlier comment had been a joke, or so I’d thought. “Like a bear?”
“Elves are not like bears. Bears are like elves. It’s a very advanced survival system.” He looked offended at being compared to Yogi and Boo-Boo.
“Right.” I wondered if I had enough elven DNA to blame for my flagging energy on the walk through the snowy French Quarter, and set that aside to ponder later. “Would it help to have something warm to drink?”
Rand smiled. “Tea would be nice, Dru. Thank you.”
“I’ll get it.” Alex sprang off the sofa so fast it was almost preternatural. Unlike vampires, however, shifters couldn’t do that speed-of-light thing. Now that Rand was awake, Alex was just trying to escape a scene that was likely to be messy and emotional. Alex hated messy and emotional.
He wouldn’t be gone long, though. As much as he hated emotional stuff, he’d want to monitor anything with political overtones.
Rand looked down for a moment, seeming to gather his thoughts. Then he climbed to his feet and approached Eugenie slowly, as one might walk toward a skittish puppy. I moved to the edge of my seat and put my left hand in the vicinity of Charlie, just in case I needed reinforcement.
But he knelt in front of her and reached his hand toward her abdomen, still moving cautiously. “May I?”
Eugenie looked at me and I nodded. Rand touching Eugenie was probably the next best thing to a prenatal exam, given the fact she couldn’t see a human doctor and wizard doctors wouldn’t know crap about elven reproduction. Thanks to Adrian, I now knew a lot more than before; I just hadn’t had a chance to tell Eugenie.
“Okay.” Her voice shook. “Don’t do anything to me.”
“I won’t. Promise.” Rand reached out gently and slid his long fingers beneath her sweater, resting his hand on her belly. He closed his eyes and sat perfectly still for what seemed like a week and a half.
“It’s a boy. I have a son.” He opened his eyes and looked up at Eugenie, and then at me, his face lit with genuine joy. I realized I’d never seen him truly happy. Scheming, angry, playful, and petulant, but not happy.
“Only…” He cocked his head at Eugenie. “You had another baby boy, one who died. It still hurts you.”
Eugenie’s eyes widened and she again looked at me. I seemed to have become the referee and interpreter here, whether I wanted the job or not. Again, I nodded. She knew in theory about Rand’s mental magic, sensing moods and reading thoughts, but she hadn’t experienced it. Before we were bonded, he’d used it on me a few times, but it no longer worked. He was being very gentle.
He also could manipulate people’s feelings, which was not acceptable in my book and I was on the lookout for it. So far, he hadn’t tried it.
“Yes, it was a long time ago.” Eugenie blinked away tears. “It wasn’t my fault.”
“No, I can tell that. You loved him.” Rand withdrew his hand and settled on the floor. “My son will have a life worthy of a prince. He will be the heir to the Tân chieftain title and powers as my eldest son—unless, of course, Dru and I have one within the next year or two who might rival him for power as a legitimate heir.”
He looked at me, took my gaping mouth as an assent, and nodded. Alex, who’d returned with a cup of steaming something-or-other, poked me again on his way to hand the cup to Rand.
Alex needed to find a new way to express himself; I’d have bruises.
“And of course you’ll have the very best medical care in Elfheim,” Rand continued. “Our clan midwife is excellent, I’m told.”
“Uhhh…” Eugenie gave me a panicked loo
k.
“Rand, would it be possible for your midwife or doctor to see Eugenie either here or at your house across the street? It would be a lot less stressful for her and the baby than traveling to Elfheim.”
I was going to change my name to DJ Kissinger.
Rand frowned a moment as he considered it, then nodded. “I don’t see why not. The midwife probably won’t agree to come until the weather warms up, but that’s okay because I can tell the baby is healthy. He’s strong.”
Good news, then. “What else does Eugenie need to know, in the meantime?” I’d see if Adrian’s book-learning matched reality.
“Yeah.” Eugenie cleared her throat. “Are there things I need to be eating or doing?’
Rand considered this. “Just the usual things, I think, but I’ll find out. Plenty of rest, fresh air, no caffeine, lots of smoked meat.”
Alex coughed and cleared his throat, probably swallowing some inappropriate comment. I moved farther away from him on the sofa lest he decide to poke me again.
I pretended this was a surprise. “Smoked meat?”
“Sure. Protein, cooked on an open fire or smoked. We are the fire clan. She’ll crave it.”
Eugenie put a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God. I ate a whole package of smoked salmon this morning. I thought I was going nuts. I couldn’t get enough of it.”
Great. I saw lots of steakhouse dinners over the next … “Do elven pregnancies last nine months?”
“Oh, right. Forgot about that.” Rand pulled out his phone. “Our gestational period is seven months. I can tell you’re four weeks along, plus averaging out human and elven times…” He punched the screen a few times. “My son should be here in the middle of July, give or take a couple of weeks.”
“No,” Eugenie said, frowning. “Not your son. You’ve said that three times now. Our son. Yours, but also mine. Ours.”
He studied her with his eyes narrowed, and I sighed. I knew that look of challenge, where his eyes focused like a laser and his mouth curved up just at the edges. He was going to say something horrendous. Something that would undo all the goodwill he’d built up in the last half hour.
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