[ade Calhoun Series Book 9] - Dragons of Bourbon Street

by Deanna Chase

  A man in a purple robe with long, bony fingers tapped on my window, making me jump. “Hell on fire,” I breathed and pressed the button to lower the window, trying to keep my magic from shorting out the electrical system of Kane’s car.

  “Mrs. Rouquette?” the man asked, crouching down to peer into the window. His face was so white he seemed almost ghostly, and he had a thin smile and beady, dark brown eyes.

  “It’s Ms. Calhoun, but I am married to Kane Rouquette,” I said, fear suddenly making my stomach churn. Did this have to do with the Brotherhood? Had Kane been called to deal with another demon while Pyper and I had been visiting Mati? “Is this about Kane? Is he okay? What happened?”

  “Kane?” the man asked, confusion rolling off him in waves as he glanced at the electronic device in his hand. His eyes narrowed, and when he glanced back at me, all the kindness was gone and replaced with pure disdain. “Demon hunter. No wonder. Okay.” He opened my door and ordered, “Out of the car.”

  I clutched Flame closer and glared at the man. “Not until you tell us who you are and why you forced us to pull over.”

  “I’m an agent of the Witches’ Council, and you Mrs. Rouq—err, Ms. Calhoun, have been summoned for questioning. You can either get out of the car and come with us peacefully or I can magically bind you and force you. Your choice.”

  So they were from the council. Was this division new? I’d never heard of them before, but that didn’t exactly mean very much. The council was a secretive bunch who were charged with overseeing the magical community and policing black-magic users. They were also the keepers of magical relics and weapons. But I wasn’t a black-magic user. I was a white witch and one of the good guys. “You do realize I’m the New Orleans coven leader, right?” I asked, my tone full of righteous indignation.

  He gave me a flat stare. “And I’m the king of the Krewe of Ghoul. So what? You’re still wanted for questioning. Are you cooperating or are you going to make this difficult?”

  Everything inside me screamed to resist, and if I hadn’t been seven months pregnant, I just might have. But as I was getting ready to open my mouth and tell him to shove his questions where the sun didn’t shine, my little girl kicked at my ribs and thick, dark gray rain clouds rolled overhead. I glanced up, knowing that the peanut and I had caused the weather change. It happened lately, especially when I was upset.

  “Jade,” Pyper said gently. “Why don’t we just go to the council and let them ask their questions? It’s not like you did anything or even know anything, right?”

  I turned and looked into her brilliant blue eyes. “We don’t even know what this is about.”

  She cut her gaze to Flame and then back to me and raised one eyebrow.

  I shrugged, unable to answer her unasked question. If I had to guess, I’d say this had everything to do with Harper, but there was no way to find out unless I went with them. And the fact was we both knew that if I resisted, they’d force me anyway. Crap. I really had no choice.

  I turned my attention back to the witch glaring at me. “Can we at least follow you there? I’m not under arrest or anything, am I?”

  He took another look at his electronic device. “Says here you must be taken into custody. You’ll be released after our questions are answered.”

  I ground my teeth. “I’m not talking without a lawyer present.”

  “This isn’t a court of law, Ms. Calhoun. The mundane laws don’t apply at the council.”

  I knew that, of course. I’d already stood “trial” with them once before. Lucien had been my representative. Still, I wasn’t navigating this alone. “Pyper, call Lucien. Tell him to meet me there.” Then I handed her Flame. “Take care of this one and call Kane. Tell him what’s happening.”

  “I’m on it,” she said, already tapping on her phone.

  I swung my legs out of the car and barked at the council witch. “You better take a step back unless you want me to tackle you. A seven-months-pregnant witch needs a little space to haul herself out of a car.”

  He glanced down at my belly and frowned. “Son of Zeus. You’d think you witches could take a break from bullshit for at least a few months while you’re pregnant. At least until the baby’s born. Don’t you care at all about what happens to it?”

  Rage surged through my veins. His disgust was crawling all over me, and my skin itched with it. I grabbed the frame of the door and hauled myself out of the car, spitting mad. “My baby isn’t an it. She is a baby girl, and there isn’t anything in this world I wouldn’t do to protect her. And that includes cursing the man bits of a self-righteous asshole who has no ever-loving clue what he’s talking about. Now step off before I shrivel your member into a brittle piece of charred leather just because you opened your mouth and spoke without letting your brain in on the decision.”

  “Oh, Jade. Christ,” Pyper said from inside the car with a chuckle. But then she let out a sigh and added, “That’s probably not going to help matters.”

  “No it isn’t,” the council witch said, grabbing my wrist and twisting me around so that my hand was behind my back.

  My instincts kicked in, and the magic I’d been holding in check burst from my free hand. Only instead of shooting straight toward the witch’s chest as I’d intended, my magic fizzled and faded into the ether, impotent and useless. Then I felt it. A neutralizing band had already been slapped around my wrist, causing that small flame of magic that flickered inside me to vanish. The baby kicked harder, and I doubled over, holding my stomach with my free hand.

  The sun beat down on my neck, and I knew the rain clouds had vanished. The baby kicked again, letting me know she was not at all happy with this new development. I couldn’t blame her. I wasn’t fond of it myself.

  “That’s quite enough,” I said through clenched teeth. “I said I’d go with you. There’s no reason to manhandle me.”

  “Right.” The witch grabbed my other hand, secured it with magical zip ties, and hauled me to the black sedan, making me stumble slightly over the pavement.

  A group of people had gathered on the nearby porch of a shotgun double house. A woman wearing too-short shorts and a bikini top took a drag of her cigarette, her eyes focused on the witch opening the back door of the car.

  After blowing out the smoke, she took a step forward and leaned over her railing. “What’s wrong with you, mister? You can’t restrain a pregnant lady with her hands tied behind her back. If she falls forward and hurts herself or the baby, your department is gonna be in deep shit.”

  “Mind your own business,” the council witch said and shoved me forward again.

  My toe hit something hard, and I started to fall forward. I thrashed as I instinctively tried to pull my hands free of my restraints to break my fall. But fear rendered me nearly paralyzed as I realized there was no way that was going to happen. The asphalt was coming far too fast, and my belly was going to break my fall.

  Only just before I hit belly-first on the hot ground, strong hands grabbed my shoulders, holding me up. Instead, my knees hit the road and pain radiated through my kneecaps, but my only cry was one of relief. My peanut was safe. At least for now. I glanced over my shoulder at a second witch, a younger, larger one with dark skin, who was gently lifting me back to my feet.

  “I told you so,” the woman with the cigarette said in disgust. “You hurt her and her child and that is gonna be one helluva lawsuit.”

  The jerk who’d manhandled me shouted, “Mind your own business or you’ll be dragged in, too.”

  A string of colorful curses left her lips, but sudden waves of fear rippled from the porch, and the group slipped back into the house. New Orleans law enforcement wasn’t exactly known for their stellar ethics. No one wanted to mess with them especially if they had a less than squeaky-clean record. I couldn’t blame any of them for backing off.

  “Are you all right, Ms. Calhoun?” the man steadying me asked, his voice soft and full of concern.

  “She’s fine. Just put her in the car,” m
y abuser ordered.

  “Cool it, Fitch,” the second one barked. His hands touched my wrists and the restraints vanished, freeing my hands. But before I could call my magic, ice-cold bands snaked around each one, cutting off my ability to use the power still flowing in my veins. “We can’t have you cursing us,” he said pleasantly in my ear. “But I see no need to treat you with anything less than respect.”

  I supposed I should’ve been grateful. He’d certainly been the voice of reason between the two, but just because he was playing good cop didn’t mean I trusted him. “There’s no need for any of this,” I spat out. “If the council has questions, I would’ve come in willingly. I don’t have anything to hide.”

  “That’s what they all say, Ms. Calhoun,” Good Cop said. “But I’m sure you realize that in our position, we just can’t take chances. You coven witches are far too resourceful. Now, please do me a favor and don’t fight me on this. I’d rather we just all calmly go to the council without any other hassles.”

  Since I’d already been manhandled and almost toppled over belly-first, I gritted my teeth and calmly climbed into the back of the car. “Pyper?”

  “Yes,” she was standing off to the side, her expression set in a scowl. I imagined if my magical gifts were working that a red tornado of anger would be swirling around her. “I’m right here.”

  “Will you follow us to the council?” I asked her.

  “Of course.” She glared at the two witches still hovering over my open door.

  “There’s no need—” Good Cop started, but I cut him off.

  “Yes. There is. I don’t want anyone to get ‘lost’ on the way to the council headquarters.” I glanced over at Pyper once more. “Call Bea on the way. I want her to know where I am and how I got there.”

  Pyper, who already had her phone in her hand, tapped the screen. Just as she spoke into the phone, Flame shot out of the car and went for Fitch’s leg. Her teeth sank in, and Fitch kicked out and roared.

  The dog went flying, landing right at Pyper’s feet. Flame spun around and let out a stream of fire, scorching the patch of grass lining the sidewalk.

  “Get that demon,” Fitch ordered Good Cop. “Now. It needs to be eliminated before it hurts someone.”

  “It’s not a demon,” I cried, certain he was wrong. I’d felt demon energy before. It didn’t resemble the dog’s at all.

  “Yes, it is,” Fitch snarled. “Only demons can breathe fire.”

  And dragons, I thought to myself. But it wasn’t a dragon either. A dragon’s familiar? A magical creature that had been spelled to breathe fire? I had no idea other than it for sure wasn’t a demon, and they weren’t going to destroy it if I had anything to say about it. Not that I was in any position to help at the moment.

  But Pyper was. Without missing a beat, she bent down, picked up the dog, and whirled around. In a flash, she was back in Kane’s car with the door shut. She turned the engine over with Flame still sitting in her lap and growling at Fitch through the window.

  Fitch reached for the door handle, jerking on the latch, but it was obviously locked. Pyper put up her middle finger and glared. That probably wasn’t the most productive move ever, but it still gave me a petty sense of satisfaction. These agents were completely over the line, hauling me off to the council when I hadn’t done anything other than take care of a fire-breathing dog.

  Gray magic seeped from Fitch’s fingertips, and in the next moment, the door swung open and he hauled Pyper out. His ugly, pasty-white hand was gripping her arm as he reached into the car for Flame. The dog opened her maw and let out a flash of fire, singeing his robes.

  He jumped back, using Pyper as a shield. But the second she was in the dog’s line of fire, Flame closed her mouth and darted out of the car, disappearing behind it.

  “That thing had better run. The minute I get my hands on it, it’s dead,” Fitch said through clenched teeth, dragging Pyper to the car I was sitting in. She stumbled and was unable to get her feet back under her.

  “Stop!” she ordered, her feet scrambling to find purchase.

  The magic inside me strained for release. I was spitting mad, so angry that I could barely think straight. My senses were too clouded.

  “Let go of her,” I ordered, but neither of the witches were listening to me. Fitch was hauling Pyper to the other side of the car, her hands restrained behind her back, while Good Cop shook his head and sighed.

  “Was that necessary?” Good Cop asked Fitch.

  “Yes,” he said, not bothering to explain himself. He opened the car door and shoved her in beside me.

  “Oomph,” she said and winced as her head grazed the doorframe on her way down.

  “Dammit. What is wrong with you, Fitch?” I asked. “Pyper is just a bystander. Why is she being hauled in?”

  Fitch ignored her and slipped into the driver’s seat.

  Good Cop took his place beside him and glanced over his shoulder. “Are you all right, Ms. Rayne?”

  “No, I’m not all right. I probably have a lump on my head, and I’m being hauled into the Witches’ Council. I’m not even a witch. This is bullshit, and I demand a lawyer.”

  It didn’t escape my notice that they already knew who she was. That probably meant they knew she was Julius’s fiancée. But why would they mess with the future spouse of a fellow witch who worked at the council?

  “Here.” Fitch tossed Pyper’s phone to Good Cop. “Hold on to this. Find out who she called so we know who to expect.”

  Good Cop glanced at it and scowled. “Beatrice Kelton. Fuck me. She’s going to be trouble.”

  I sent the witch a self-satisfied smile. Damn straight she was. Bea didn’t fuck around. “I hope you’re ready for her.”

  They both ignored me as Fitch put the car in gear and hauled us off to the council. I eyed Kane’s car as we sped past the Lexus. The door was still open, and likely still running from when Pyper cranked the engine. I cringed. There was a really good chance the car would be jacked within minutes. But there was one small victory. Flame had found her way back into the car, and neither Fitch nor Good Cop had noticed. Good. At least she was safe… for now.

  5

  “It’s a good thing you stuffed yourself full of carbs earlier,” Pyper said, pressing her hand to her stomach as it growled with hunger. “How long do you think we’ve been stuck in here?”

  “A few hours maybe?” I shifted on the wooden bench, trying to ease the ache in my backside. We were in a barren holding cell with just the bench along one wall and a sink in the corner. No other bathroom facilities. Which was starting to become an issue. I hauled myself up to my feet and started to pace, hoping to take my mind off my bladder.

  “I’m going to pass out if I don’t get a sandwich soon,” Pyper said, pressing her fingertips to her temples.

  I moved to the cell door and eyed the guard at the end of the hall. “I need a restroom.”

  He stared straight ahead and ignored me.

  “And I need a burger,” Pyper called.

  I glanced over at her. “When’s the last time you ate?”

  “I had a yogurt for breakfast.”

  “I’d have died by now.”

  “You’d have eaten your own hand by now.” She got up and moved to stand next to me. “Yo, asshat,” she called to the guard. “We have needs. Food and bathroom breaks are imperative.”

  No answer. He didn’t even twitch. It was as if he couldn’t hear us at all.

  “Get someone down here within the next five minutes, or I’m going to tell everyone about your plushie fetish,” Pyper said.

  “What?” His head snapped up for the first time since we’d been unceremoniously dumped into the cell.

  “You know, the brightly colored ponies tucked into the bottom drawer of your nightstand?” She narrowed her eyes and added in a fake seductive tone, “And the fact that the fuchsia one is your favorite.”

  “I… What? You… That’s ridiculous,” he sputtered, glancing around him as if someo
ne had just spilled all his deepest darkest secrets.

  If I had to guess, I’d say that someone was spilling all his secrets to Pyper. Only that someone was a ghost only Pyper could hear. And whoever they were, they were giving Pyper all the ammunition she needed to get under the guy’s skin. Which would mean he really did have a plushie fetish. Ew.

  I grimaced and shook my head at him. “Plushies? Really?”

  His face turned bright red and he stammered again. “I-I’m, uh, be right back.”

  Pyper and I were silent as he struggled with the key in the door. Once he finally got it open, he tripped over his own feet as he scrambled out.

  The door slammed shut and Pyper said, “Thanks, Kimmy.” After a moment, Pyper laughed. “Oh, good one. I’ll keep that tidbit in my back pocket in case I need it later.”

  “New friend?” I asked her.

  She smirked. “Kimmy used to own the creepy guard’s old Victorian in Mid-City. She doesn’t like him much. Says he does a shoddy job of maintaining her house. Apparently he doesn’t fix anything. The leak in the roof ruined the wallpaper she put up herself in the master bathroom twenty-five years ago, and she is not happy about it. She’s been dunking his toothbrush in the toilet for months now.”

  “Oh, gross.” I pressed one hand to my belly and tried not to gag at the thought.

  “Yeah. Really gross. But he hasn’t noticed, so it’s been a quiet rebellion. She was more than happy to tell me about his… ah, private desires.” She cackled. “Kimmy is ready to haunt his ugly ass for the next hundred years if he doesn’t find some way to let us out of here. She’s particularly worried about you, mama-to-be.”

  “Thanks, Kimmy,” I said, raising my voice. “The peanut and I appreciate the help.”

  Pyper cocked an ear, chuckled, and nodded. “Kimmy says he’s begging someone to move us to a conference room as we speak. Apparently he’s terrified we’ll say something about his pony collection.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to force the vision of molested stuffed ponies out of my mind. It was the most disturbing thing I’d heard in months.