“I realize it.” I just wasn’t sure how to feel about it.
“Is your concern about lying to Monsieur Warin because you wish to protect him, or because you do not trust him to keep your innermost feelings safe from those who would harm you and those you care about? And is trust not necessary for the success of your liaison amoureuse, your relationship, as you call it?”
I needed that brandy after all, and propelled myself off the sofa and straight toward the decanter. My hands shook so badly some of the amber liquid splashed on the top of the bar. Jean had drilled down to the heart of the matter in mere seconds. The issue wasn’t how he felt about me. It was all about Alex.
I loved Alexander Warin. There, I’d put words to it, finally. I loved the idea of Alex, and of being with him. I loved the way he smelled, and the way he growled in the morning before his coffee. I loved the way he touched me and made me feel like the most beautiful woman on earth. I loved the way his long lashes rested on his cheeks when he slept. I even loved that he got possessive and overprotective, although he still sold me short most of the time.
I loved Alex, but I didn’t trust him to put me first. Because he might love me in return, but I didn’t think he was capable of putting love before duty. He wasn’t wired that way. Oh, I’d dragged him off course a few times for minor things, but our lives were changing. The foundations of the wizards’ place in the prete world stood on quicksand. The stakes rose daily, and if Alex had to decide between supporting me and doing his duty for the Elders, I would either lose or he’d rip himself apart trying to choose, in which case he’d end up hating me for it.
There was the truth of it, in all its knife-edged glory.
Alex would never hurt me deliberately. He would protect me from physical harm with his life, and I’d do the same for him. But I had to follow my heart, whether it was beating in time with the Elders or not. Whether it was beating in time with Alex’s or not.
“I don’t know what to say.” I looked up at Jean, and felt his sympathy. I didn’t want pity. I wanted clarity, damn it. For once, I wanted to see things in black and white.
“Then I shall tell you the truthful answers to the questions you asked, about my own intentions and motivations. They are not so simple.”
Somehow, that came as no surprise.
Jean twirled the brandy glass stem between his fingers as he spoke. “Do I find your value as an ally to be an alluring thing? Mais oui, Jean Lafitte is not a stupid man. But is that why I help you? Why perhaps I make sacrifices for you? No, Drusilla. If I only needed an ally in politics, there are many ways in which I could achieve such a thing. Gold will buy many allies.”
Well, okay. That was probably true. Since he’d begun his navigation work with Zrakovi, he had a lot of contacts, maybe even wizard allies who were a lot less trouble than I. Although, like me, he might not fully trust them.
“Then why?”
He cocked an eyebrow and his cobalt eyes took on a playful sparkle. “If I were to avow that you are my immortal life’s great passion, that I would give up immortality itself to be at your side and in your bed, you would not believe me, n’est-ce pas?”
I bit my lip to keep from laughing. Damn straight. In fact, had he proclaimed his undying love and devotion, I’d have slapped him for lying to me after all our soul-baring. Even now, thinking about it, I couldn’t keep a straight face. I snorted out a burst of laughter. He was so not the Lord Byron type.
Jean laughed with me. “And there is your answer, Jolie. I am not the type of man to fall upon his sword for the love of a woman, nor do I want a woman who wishes for such devotion. Yet my feelings for you are matters both complex and serious.”
My laughter died. “And those are?”
His face grew solemn. He put his glass down and paced to the window, standing with his back to me. “The world is a bigger and more wondrous place than ever I dreamt as a mortal man.” He pulled back the curtains, and over his broad shoulders I could see the heavy fall of Christof’s snow piling on the windowsill. “But to live into eternity is a lonely enterprise, Drusilla. I might find companionship with a human woman, but she could never know who or what I am, and I do not wish to live such a lie. I might find companionship among my kind, yet many of their lives exist only due to my memories, and that is shallow company. They offer no surprise.”
He turned and looked at me, and his aura radiated genuine affection tempered with something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Loneliness, maybe. Longing.
“When I see you, Jolie, I see a woman who is far more than she realizes but who will someday grow into her powers. One who is much stronger than those who would trap her inside their cages or try to put her to harness. One with a bold intelligence, with whom I can laugh. One who surprises me.”
He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was so soft I had to strain to hear. “I see a woman who makes me feel alive again, like a man, and not like a wraith who has lived beyond his usefulness in a world that no longer needs him.”
I didn’t even try to stop the tears his words drew from me. Whatever I’d thought he might say, it wasn’t this flaying open of his soul, laid bare for me to stomp on.
Jean walked to sit beside me on the sofa, and leaned in close, so that he had only to whisper for me to hear him. “Of course, Jolie, you would make me feel even more like a man should you throw aside le petit chien and allow the famous privateer Jean Lafitte to woo you like a proper suitor. I should like to understand more about the signs on the shirt you wore earlier. What was it: Eat the tail and suck the head?”
I blinked up at Jean through tears that dried quickly when I saw the laugh trying to escape his twitching lips. Thank God. If ever a serious moment needed a bit of smarmy relief, it was this one. I had no doubt the things he’d told me were true; I felt the honesty of them. But he’d saved us from diving so deeply into that pool we’d both drown.
I smiled. “It isn’t crawfish season yet; I’ll show you then.” By spring, hopefully he’d forget.
“And now, Drusilla, I must ask for you to be equally honest with me. What is Jean Lafitte to you, and how will you use the information you have been given?”
Good question, and I didn’t know the answer. I’d come here to find out how Jean felt, but instead of the clarity I’d hoped for, all it had done was show me what a muddle my own feelings were.
Love and friendship, duty and loyalty. Sorting them out shouldn’t be this hard.
“Pardon, Jolie. I did not wish to bring you pain.” Jean wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me against him. I inhaled the scents of tangy cinnamon and exotic spices and rich tobacco that was unique to Jean. He was solid and warm, and the auras of our affection for each other mingled. But it wasn’t romantic love, not what I felt for Alex. Not for either of us. Lust, I could handle.
After a few seconds, he leaned in and kissed my forehead. “You perhaps should return to your room, Jolie. You have much to consider. I only ask you this: If you decide you must tell your Alexander about my involvement with Christof and the burning of L’Amour Sauvage, will you tell me of this decision before the council meeting? Surely you will allow me adequate time in which to prepare my defense.”
I finished the last sip of brandy, set the glass on the table, and turned toward Jean. “I won’t betray you.” Jean Lafitte had given me a precious gift tonight: his trust. I had to treat it with respect, however I decided to handle things.
On my way back across the hall to my door, I pulled my cell phone from my bag and checked the call log. Two more missed calls from Alex.
It had been a night for revelations, not that they’d proven helpful. What Jean’s eloquent words had done, however, was underscore how much Alex and I needed to sort things out. We needed to talk calmly, without a looming crisis. That didn’t seem to be possible, so I’d have to settle for whatever I could squeeze out between now and tomorrow’s council meeting.
I didn’t listen to the messages but called him instead. H
e picked up on the first ring.
“Where the hell are you? Why the hell haven’t you taken my calls? If that goddamned Lafitte has been—”
“Stop it.” My tone could cut ice and, to my surprise, he shut up. After a couple of seconds of silence, I said, “Can I come over? We need to talk.”
“More than you know.” He waited a few beats. “You need a ride?”
“I can take a cab,” I said, hoping he’d offer to come anyway.
“Let me come and get you. It’s rough out there and my SUV handles the roads pretty well.”
I smiled. Just the fact that he’d offered was enough. “No, keep the fire lit and the house warm. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
I called the concierge desk to see if any cabs were running, and the über-efficient Monteleone staff person assured me he would conjure a taxi from snow if he had to. Everybody was into drama tonight.
I brushed my hair and put on a touch of makeup. For Alex, I’d at least make an effort to look like I hadn’t been crying. I wouldn’t go out coatless, though, and I looked at the white plastic bag containing the coat that had cost more than my monthly salary from the Elders. If I wore it to talk to Alex, what would that say about me? That I was choosing my friendship with Jean over my love for Alex? That I was willing to take a bribe?
I decided it would only say that I was a practical wizard with elven blood, who chose not to risk spontaneous hibernation in a taxi. I pulled the tag off the coat and ran my fingers along its buttery leather, then slipped it on. It was a little wide in the shoulders, but otherwise pretty close to a perfect fit. And Jean was right; teal was a good color for me.
By the time I reached the lobby, a yellow Metry Cab sat in front of the door, ready to dash me through the snow to see the man I loved.
Why did I dread it so much?
CHAPTER 19
The three-mile taxi ride took almost forty-five tense minutes. After twenty minutes, with signs of a familiar mental fugue setting in, I asked the driver to please roll up his window.
“What, you don’t like da fresh air?”
“Only when it’s above thirty degrees.”
He grumbled but rolled it up, and slowly my mind came back online.
I tipped him extra when I got out at Alex’s. He might have to come back for me in an hour or two, open windows and all. I hoped not. Just in case things went well, I’d gone ahead and set up the transport in my hotel room, powered it up, and left my extra key card under Jean’s door, reminding him to pronounce Hebert Hall, our meeting place, as “aye-bear” like a Frenchman and not “hee-bert,” or he might end up somewhere in Mississippi.
I went to Alex’s front door, glancing catty-corner across the intersection of Nashville and Magazine at Plantasy Island. There was no sign of Rand. A few times during the evening, I’d sensed him trying to make contact, but I definitely didn’t want to deal with the elf tonight. The undead pirate, the merman, Truman Capote, and the freaking Faery Prince of Winter were bad enough.
By the time I got out of the cab, Alex had already opened the door and stood waiting, and my heart melted a little. Damn it, I wanted our relationship to work, and I wanted to be loyal to Jean Lafitte, and I wanted to protect Eugenie, and I wanted to be a good sentinel. How was I supposed to accomplish all of that?
He gave me his crooked smile as he moved aside to let me in. “Nice coat. I’m glad to see you got rid of that ugly plaid thing. That’s a sexy color for you.” As if to prove it, he kissed me, then kissed me again. I should have told him Jean bought me the coat, because it was entirely possible that Jean would mention it himself to annoy Alex, given the chance. Jean might trust me with the truth, but his ability to resist poking at le petit chien was another matter.
Then, after another kiss, soft and sweet, Alex turned faster than a starving gator after a piece of rotten chicken. “Where the hell have you been? Why weren’t you answering your cell phone?”
I took off my jacket and hung it over the back of one of his dining room chairs, then walked toward the kitchen. I pulled a soda out of the fridge and took my time returning to the living room. He hadn’t moved, his body fixed in a wide stance with his arms folded over his chest and his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Sort of piratelike.
I decided on the truth. What a novel concept. “I spent most of the afternoon in bed, trying to recover from spontaneous hibernation.”
That hadn’t been the answer he expected, obviously, because his face blanked. “What?”
“I tailed Jean Lafitte through the Quarter today, just like Zrakovi told me to do.” I sipped the soda and wished I’d taken the time to make hot chocolate. “Until we’d traipsed all the way to Jackson Square and halfway back to the Monteleone in the cold, I didn’t realize that I also had that freaky elven hibernation thing, probably because of the bonding with Rand.” I wouldn’t mention fainting-goat disease. “I don’t go down as quickly as a pure-blooded elf, but if I get cold enough? Bam. Hibernation sucks.”
God, had the scene with Rand only been last night? No wonder I was exhausted.
Alex grunted like a caveman. “You hibernated?”
I nodded and grinned. “Right on Royal Street in front of God, man, Jean Lafitte, and the Hotel Monteleone bellman. How humiliating is that?”
Alex didn’t come close to smiling. “It’s not funny, DJ. Although you seem to be okay, and I’m sure Lafitte was happy to ride in and be the hero.”
Not taking the bait. I wasn’t going to let this be about Jean, at least not unless I had to. “Actually, Rand was the one who tipped me off as to what was happening—you know, through his mental communication thing. But by the time he got through to me, I was down for the count.”
Of course it would’ve been nice if the elf had warned me that our bonding might leave me open to such a thing.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Alex tipped my chin up to look me in the eye, maybe to see if I had dilated pupils or any other sign of hibernation hangover. “I was worried when I couldn’t get you. You should put a tracking device on Lafitte; it would make trailing him easier.”
I stepped back and stared at Alex. My mouth probably hung open in sheer awe. “That is freaking brilliant. Why didn’t I think of that?” I was a Green Congress wizard; making charms was my thing. I should have thought of it. Of course, not having a heated space in which to make potions and charms was cramping my style.
“Because you need me.” He kissed me again and treated me to a quick flash of that sexy crease at the side of his mouth before it disappeared. “We do need to talk, though.”
“Yeah, we do.” So much for romance. I followed him to the dining room table and we took chairs facing each other. Before me lay a massive sea of earth tones. Alex was all about subtle colors, from the dark brown hair to eyes the color of dark chocolate to the warm caramel color he’d painted his walls and the pale cream of the molding and woodwork. The only splash of true color in the tidy, comfortable middle room of his classic New Orleans shotgun house was the signed poster of Sir Ian McKellen as Gandalf I’d given him as a housewarming gift.
“I guess while you were hibernating, Lafitte trotted back out to burn down L’Amour Sauvage,” Alex said. “Unless you know of an alibi. I’m sure he has one.”
I looked up at Sir Ian, his wizard’s staff raised above the bridge at Khazad-dûm, making his stand as the Balrog approached. You shall not pass. Of course, then the Balrog dragged him off the cliff. Unlike Gandalf the Grey, I didn’t think I’d be resurrected as DJ the White.
I planted my feet on the Magazine Street version of Khazad-dûm and held out my imaginary staff, because Charlie was too short to bang on the ground. Then I reconsidered. I had other options. No point in facing the Balrog yet. “Actually, as soon as I woke up and realized what happened, I went to the fire scene and talked to Etienne.”
That sentence had the desired effect. Alex sat up straighter, his enforcer face on alert, Jean Lafitte a distant memory. “Boulard is in New Orleans? Why didn’t yo
u call me?”
I’m sure we’d get back to the subject of Jean’s guilt but for now, Alex was distracted. Score one for the master procrastinator. “I tried. I called the Elders first, but got voice mail.”
I waited for that to sink in, but it didn’t get the response I’d hoped for. I thought it outrageous that the Elders’ hotline even had voice mail.
“Yeah, and?”
“Just as I was calling you, one of Etienne’s vampires knocked me over in a puddle of icy sludge, along with a street musician. By the time we got untangled, Etienne was gone.”
I left out all the bits about the broken guitar and Etienne’s body double. Gone was gone.
This time, Alex did smile. “You’ve kinda had a rough day.”
“Tell me about it.” I said a silent prayer for forgiveness. “When I got back to the hotel, Jean was sitting in the Monteleone bar. It looked like he’d been there awhile, and he was with Truman Capote, who’d definitely been drinking awhile.”
Alex blinked. Twice. “Truman Capote.”
I nodded. “Did you realize his mother was living at the Monteleone when she went into labor with him?”
The muscles in Alex’s jaw twitched. One of these days, he’d crack his molars from clenching them together. “So you’re telling me Lafitte’s alibi is Truman Capote and that as far as you know, he didn’t set the fire?”
You shall not pass.
“I’m telling you that by all appearances, Jean was at the Carousel Bar with Truman Capote when the fire took place. I can’t say for sure, of course, because I was hibernating.”
Alex wanted to roll his eyes; I could see it on his face. “That’s the testimony you’ll be giving tomorrow morning at the council meeting?”
God help me. “Yeah. I mean, maybe Jean set the fire or maybe he didn’t. But innocent until proven otherwise—isn’t that the way it goes?”
Alex leaned back in his chair, and we stared at each other for what seemed like a month. Finally, he shook his head and almost smiled. “Okay then, that’s the way we’ll play it. Nobody was hurt, and it’s good to know Boulard is hanging around. I’ll put a couple of guys at the bar to see if he comes back. See if I can get my hands on one of those old trackers I used to carry.”
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