Bayou Fairy Tale (17 page)

Taylor blinked, bleary-eyed, as Corentin came into focus over him. He grunted with a half squeak. “You never call me baby,” he said, offended and confused.

“Taking it for a test drive,” Corentin said and eased Taylor into sitting up. “You like it?”

Taylor rubbed the back of his head and smacked his lips. He was in the St. Louis Cathedral and had been laid out in a pew. Corentin brushed Taylor’s hair away from his face, and Taylor scowled at the contact.

“No,” Taylor groaned and tried to focus. “Where’s Ringo?” He hissed from the stabbing pain between his eyes.

“Getting donuts,” Corentin said, then smiled. It was a genuine smile and a welcome bit of encouragement since they’d arrived. “You know how he is, stress-eating.”

“Ah, he lives,” an elderly man said as he slipped into Taylor’s peripheral vision.

Corentin pulled away, and the man held out a cup of steaming broth to Taylor. There was kindness in his jade-green eyes, a striking contrast to his deep mahogany skin.

Taylor smiled shyly as he accepted the hot cup of chicken broth. “Thank you.” He raised the Styrofoam cup in a slight toast and then sipped.

“I never thought I’d see you down here.” The old man’s voice was a rumbling growl from a life of cigarettes, but warm like a scratching record. “Always a welcome sight to meet another princess.”

Taylor shot a glance to Corentin, and Corentin gave a small nod in confirmation. Taylor pointed to himself and then discreetly pointed to the man. Corentin smirked.

The man laughed under his breath. He pulled off his wool cap and rubbed his bald head. “Yeah. I got it. Mother Storyteller found the irony in a bald Rapunzel.”

Taylor choked on his chicken broth and it went up his nose. He swallowed and then smiled. “You?” He coughed again. “Rapunzel?”

The man nodded. “Name’s Raymond. Raymond Valentine. Call me Ray.” He reached into his pockets and plucked out hand-warming chemical packets. “I run a barbershop over in Crescent City.”

Taylor extended a hand toward Ray. “Nice to meet you. I’m—”

“Taylor Hatfield. Sleeping Dragon. You slayed Idi a few years back. I know all about you.”

Bashfulness made Taylor’s face heat. He hooked a thumb toward Corentin. “It wasn’t just me. I had help. This is—”

“Yeah. I know him.” Ray interjected again. His displeasure made Taylor reconsider if the meeting was a good idea after all.

“Corentin?” Taylor asked, uncertain yet trying to stay positive. “He’s my true love.”

Ray arched a heavy brow at Corentin. “Oh. Really?”

“Taylor,” Corentin said tersely. “There will be time for this later.”

Ray glared at Corentin, and the instant animosity between them filled Taylor with dread.

Taylor took it upon himself to advocate for Corentin. He put on his best smile. “I know he’s a huntsman—”

“Oh, I know all about that,” Ray said, his acidic glare remaining on Corentin.

“This isn’t going to be a problem.
Is it
?” Corentin asked in irritation and a subtle hint of a threat.

“As long as you don’t become a problem,” Ray warned, refusing to compromise.

Taylor waved a hand, trying to ease the tension. “Guys. Please. Stop. We can sort this out.”

Corentin nodded briefly to Taylor, then returned his attention to Ray. “What can you tell us about the storm?” he asked, taking charge.

“Let’s take a walk,” Ray said, and they followed him out to the cathedral’s porch. A drum fire blazed a few feet away. Ray offered the chemical packets to Taylor and then hesitantly to Corentin. “Shake ’em until hot and stick them in your gloves.”

Taylor set down his broth and quietly shook the packets. He glanced at Corentin as he likewise obeyed Ray’s instructions.

“Storm came on so fast, the only footage is on traffic cameras or smartphones. A few news crews got footage,” Ray said as he returned his hands to his pockets. “But of course, every mundane in New Orleans lost their damned minds in the process.” He looked over his shoulder at the relief station. “The local volunteers are like us. The volunteers from outside the city were never exposed. They’re still sane, and local Enchants are keeping the true nature of the storm quiet.”

“Good call not to risk it,” Corentin said as he slipped the heat packets into his gloves.

Ray watched Corentin with a stoic expression. “Yeah. Good call,” he repeated, unamused.

Taylor adjusted his packets in the palms of his gloves and then folded his hands together. His fingers soaked up the radiating heat. He nodded for Ray to continue.

Ray sighed, and his breath coiled around his mouth like a fog. “She came on so fast, the storm never got a name. Of course, kids want to call it something silly like Snowpocalypse Now.”

“Seriously?” Taylor asked, arching a dubious brow.

“There goes my faith in humanity,” Corentin added with a frustrated sigh.

“No one was prepared for this kind of weather,” Ray said. “There’s no infrastructure in New Orleans—or Louisiana, for that matter—to deal with snow. The power grid is fried. The city took a licking with Katrina, but against a blizzard? That’s something else.” He toed the slush. “We don’t have to worry about the levees breaking this time. But the Mississippi is frozen solid. Lake Pontchartrain too. But then you got this.” He swept out an arm, gesturing to the surrounding snowbanks. “Ten feet in some places, more in other places. Lots more. In the city limits. And—”

“Where’s it going to go when it melts?” Corentin filled in the rest.

“Ain’t you a smart one?” Ray asked, narrowing his eyes.

Corentin clenched his jaw. “Just trying to help,” he said curtly.

Taylor frowned at the slow-brewing dislike Corentin and Ray shared for each other.

“And then what are we going to do with the bodies?” Ray asked. “You’ve seen them. Most of ’em are frozen over in glaciers of ice. Retrieving them, identifying them, and putting them to rest will be another challenge with the limited resources we have. What do we do? Take blowtorches to the ice to get them loose?”

Taylor pressed his warm hands to his cheeks. “Especially if the next of kin are mundane survivors.” He sighed.

Ray wouldn’t look away from Corentin. Taylor nibbled at his lip as he watched the two of them refuse to back down. Corentin’s clenched fists at his sides were his only tell, informing Taylor he was plenty pissed.

“No need to tell you guys this has the Witchking all over it.” Ray looked Corentin in the eye. “Of course, you’d know, right?”

Corentin lunged for Ray with a snarl, and Taylor sprang into action, blocking Corentin from tackling Ray.

“Hey!” Taylor snapped as Corentin pushed against him. He pounded against Corentin’s chest and shoved him back. “Knock it off!”

Corentin relented and slipped back, but Ray didn’t flinch. Corentin’s irritation bloomed into clear hatred. He spit into the snow in agitation.

“Are you okay?” Taylor growled as Corentin stalked away. “I’m talking to you!”

Corentin shot up his hands in surrender. “I’m fine. I’m
fine
,” he said when he obviously wasn’t.

Ray crossed his arms. “New Orleans has the highest concentration of Enchants in the Southern US. Predominantly witches,” he said, as if nothing had happened.

Taylor blinked and Corentin ran a hand over his face, watching Ray through his fingers.

“New Orleans is a wellspring of magic. It’s a strategic point in the US for all Enchants. For someone like Idi to waltz in and eliminate the nonessential mundanes and then subjugate the witches, it’ll all go to hell,” Ray said.

Taylor knitted his brows and shook his head. “Idi’s dead.”

“For now.” Ray nodded. “You know you can’t kill him. Only slow him down.”

Corentin took a long breath and then puffed in exasperation. “Say hypothetically Idi’s behind this, the important question is, why?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Ray held out his hands, indicating the ruined city. “Raising an army. Launching a large-scale attack on the US and her neighbors. Anyone not an Enchant exposed to magic of that magnitude? Yeah. No fixing that. So much widespread pandemonium, not all the Prozac in the world could cure it.” He nodded to Taylor. “And if you can’t do your Blooming Lullaby here right now, you sure as hell can’t do it on that scale.”

Taylor cupped his cheek and considered Ray’s words. “Seems like a pretty convincing theory. But it’s just a theory.”

“It’s the best one I got right now. And I’m pretty sure I just got proof about the army.” Ray tilted his chin toward Corentin. “I see you’re here reporting for duty.”

Corentin took a step forward, and again Taylor blocked him. Corentin growled as he lost his temper. “You listen to me, you fucker—”

“That’s
enough
!” Taylor barked and held Corentin by his coat lapels. “Stop.
Now
.”

Corentin and Taylor locked gazes, and Taylor kept his expression stern as Corentin’s wrathful glare made him internally cower. He refused to show how Corentin was getting under his skin. Corentin batted Taylor’s hands away with a hard flick and stepped away.

When Corentin didn’t say anything, Taylor returned to the topic in question. “Idi is not behind it. Only one Enchant can cause a nor’easter like this. It’s my brother, Atticus. This is the Tranquil Frost.”

“You don’t know that,” Corentin said with a growl.

“I know it!” Taylor snapped back.

Corentin fell silent, crossed his arms, and looked away with a scowl.

Taylor watched him check out of the conversation.

Ray, on the other hand, seemed to let them quibble and remain unflappable. “Atticus Hatfield went missing after Idi’s death in Kansas. Or was that a lie?”

Taylor sighed. The truth would come out sooner or later, but if his father had his way, it would be never. “Atticus was committed to a mental institution specializing in Enchants after I took down Idi,” he said sadly. “My parents spun the story, of course. Snow White in a psych ward doesn’t sound particularly PR-friendly in their circles.”

Taylor looked to Corentin for support, and Corentin’s expression softened as Taylor stepped toward him. Corentin rested a hand on Taylor’s shoulder, and Taylor nodded, thankful for the kindness.

“Early this morning, I got the call that Atticus went missing,” Taylor said. “The storm led me to believe this was his doing. We came here to investigate and get him back.”

“You’re telling me he escaped,” Ray said, but something in his expression looked like he wasn’t buying it. “You don’t think he was let out? So, it’s true he went over to the witches.” He shot a glance to Corentin. “I’m sure you know about that.”

Taylor tightened his grip on Corentin before he could lash out again.

Corentin growled. “Don’t group us all together.”

“A witch is a witch, Axeman,” Raymond said in derision, but the name made Taylor stumble.

“What did you say?” Taylor looked at Corentin, silently asking for clarity, but Corentin’s grim expression wouldn’t provide the answers.

“Both of you,
stop
. Just stop, okay?” Taylor growled. “I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but if Ray can help, I’m willing to hear him out.”

Corentin narrowed his eyes. Taylor knew he was moments away from completely losing control of his temper. If he did, Taylor would have to unleash Zee to put him in his place. Ringo was right: Taylor had a deadly weapon that he didn’t know how to use. If push came to shove with Corentin, Taylor didn’t know if he would stop him or mash him into a paste.

“I think the royals should talk,” Ray said, glaring a challenge at Corentin.

Taylor’s grip eased on Corentin’s arm. He gave Corentin a silent pleading look.

“Right,” Corentin grunted. “It’s a princess thing.” The way he said it was like a slap across Taylor’s jaw. He turned sharply on his heel. Before Taylor could get a word in, Corentin stalked off across Jackson Square to Café du Monde.

Taylor turned helplessly to Ray. “We have the same goal, to get to the bottom of this. You need to knock this off,” he pleaded.

“Knock what off?” Ray asked, and Taylor balked. “Do you have any idea what that thing is?”

“Hey now,” Taylor said as his indignation rose. “His name is Corentin Devereaux. Him being a Cronespawn doesn’t mean he’s evil. He’s a good person and I love him.”

Ray whistled. The sound set Taylor’s teeth on edge. “He’s got you good.”

Taylor squeaked in disgust. “Excuse me? What the fuck gives you the right to judge him like that?”

Ray narrowed his eyes. It seemed his irritation had shifted from Corentin to Taylor. “You really don’t know?” he asked dubiously. “He’s a legend here. I never thought I’d see him in person, and with a princess at his side, of all things.”

Taylor pressed his lips together in a tight line and clenched his fists. “He’s a huntsman. I know. I’m aware of what he’s done in his past.”

“He’s not just a huntsman.”

Taylor halted, silenced by Ray’s words. He shook his head once and searched his mind for what Ray meant. With the terse tone of the conversation, Taylor wasn’t sure what Ray could say next and if it was simply to get a reaction.

“What are you talking about?” Taylor asked softly, whispering his question, though he wished he could take it back and remain ignorant.

Ray looked him in the eye, his green eyes like burning acid, and Taylor’s bravery waned. “That
man
, as you call him.” Ray pointed to Corentin, pacing back and forth in front of the café, clearly frustrated. “You say you love him, but he’s lied to you so much you’re blind. That’s his thing. Blinding people to the truth, where they feel nothing but sympathy for him. You even go to bat for him. It’s just how he wants it.”

“You seem to have a lot of opinions about him,” Taylor said and doubted Ray’s explanation. “From the theory about Idi, to who Corentin is, you thought these theories so far out, you’ve convinced yourself they’re true.”

Ray wiggled his hand in a gesture of uncertainty. “The theory about Idi is the best so far. But I could be wrong. And I’m open to being disproved about it.” He pointed toward Corentin as Corentin ran both of his hands through his hair and then shook them out. “Now that
thing
? I’m not wrong.”