House of the Rising Sun (25 page)

She was about to scream for Augustine when the library door flew open and he charged in.

“Get the hell off her!” Augustine shoved Branzino away, knocking over a side table and breaking a lamp.

She scrambled to her feet. Branzino punched Augustine, pushing him back. She grabbed a small marble figurine and chucked it at Branzino, catching him in the shoulder. He reached back, giving Augustine an opening. He landed a fist across Branzino’s jaw. A second punch caught the man in the ribs.

Branzino howled and bent as if trying to catch his breath. Augustine tackled him, knocking them both into one of the bookcases before they went down.

She edged around the couch to see Augustine lift Branzino’s chin with a short blade, his other hand and one knee pinning the man to the library floor. “Your time here is done.
Done.
Come back and I’ll make sure you regret it. Now apologize to Harlow.”

Branzino’s eyes almost glowed with hatred. He kept his gaze fixed on Augustine. “You’re the one who should apologize. This is
family
business.”

Augustine shoved the blade higher, lifting Branzino’s chin. “I said apologize.”

Branzino’s nostrils flared before he spoke in a halted, begrudged tone. “I’m sorry.”

Holding the blade in place, Augustine pulled Branzino to his feet. “Harlow, get his coat.”

She nodded, unable to say anything, and ran for the coat. She held it up like a piece of old fish.

“Awesome. Thanks. Walk with us to the door.” He pushed Branzino into the hall.

Without being asked, Harlow went ahead of them and opened the front door. Her heart pounded as Augustine shoved Branzino onto the porch, then took the coat from Harlow’s arms and tossed it at him. “Get the hell out of New Orleans.”

“Or what?” Branzino slipped his coat on, stiff with rage.

“Or I’ll remove you.”

“That’s my daughter. I have a right to—”

“You have no right. Come at her again and I will kill you.”

“You wouldn’t da—”

Augustine slammed the door. His twisted expression smoothed out the second he faced her. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, on the verge of an angry, scared, ugly cry and feeling like she was about to burst open like a water balloon.

“That never should have happened. I’m really sorry it did.” He looked toward the porch. Through the double glass doors, Branzino’s blurry figure got smaller and smaller as he stormed toward the street and his waiting car. “I know he’s your father and all, so if I overstepped my bounds—”

“No.” That word she could manage. She put her hand over her mouth, her body shaking with adrenaline and raw emotion. A small sob escaped.

Augustine’s arms wrapped around her. She leaned against him, surprised by her lack of resistance about being close to someone, but this wasn’t just anyone. This was Augustine. The man who’d just come to her rescue. She got her breath under control, her forehead pressed into his hard chest. “I thought he was going to kill me.”

“Not on my watch.” He rubbed her back. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

“Maybe a couple of bruises, but I’m fine.” She pulled away a little so she could see his face. “Thanks to you.”

He rested his hands on her shoulders. The heat coming off him radiated through her. It was strangely comforting. “Did he give you any reason to think he might come back?”

“I don’t know. My mother was right about him. To think how I fought her…” A moment passed before she looked at him again. Then she lifted a shaky finger to point at his lip. “You’re bleeding.”

“Better me than you.” He swiped at it with the back of one hand before putting it back on her shoulder. “Just a flesh wound. What did he want? If you don’t mind me asking.”

She turned her head to look into the library. Shards of glass speckled the carpet from the broken lamp. “He wanted to give me the money to buy out your share of the house, then he was going to pay me off and turn this place into a bed-and-breakfast.”

“What’s going on out here?” Lally asked from behind her.

“Just a little disagreement,” Augustine answered. He took his hands off Harlow. “There’s some broken glass in the library.”

“Augustine!” Lally exclaimed. “Did you run that man out of here?”

Harlow smiled and shook her head. “Don’t yell at him, Lally. He was protecting me. My father got a little rough.” She grimaced. “Ugh. I don’t like calling him that. Not after…” She waved her hand toward the library. “That business.”

Lally frowned. “I knew that man had bad intentions.” She headed back to the kitchen. “Don’t you children touch that glass. I’ll take care of it.”

Harlow tugged at her sweatshirt, smoothing it over her leggings. “Thanks again. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been here.”

Augustine glanced at the mess before bringing his gaze back to her. “I know you want to go home, but I’d feel better if you stayed here a few more days, just to make sure he doesn’t try anything else. That way, if he does, I’ll be here. Unless there’s someone at home?”

Lally came back with a dustpan and brush. Harlow bit at her lip in an attempt to slow the answer trying to get out of her mouth. Augustine and Lally would find out about her sentence sooner or later. After what had just happened, sooner seemed the best option. “Branzino knew a lot about me. A lot. And there’s no one at home. I live alone.”

Lally looked up from where she bent by the glass. “That’s it. You’re staying here.”

Harlow sighed. “I can’t.” Time to tell them the truth.

“Sure you can, child. Augustine and I will help you with whatever you need.”

The best Harlow could manage was a half smile. “What I need no one can help me with. In about three weeks, I have to report to the Massachusetts Correctional Institution for Women.”

Augustine looked like he’d just been slapped. “What on earth for?”

She rubbed her hands over her face, unable to look at either of them at that moment. The answer stuck in her throat. “I was convicted of some cyber-crimes.” When neither of them said anything, she glanced up. “Crimes I didn’t knowingly commit.” She sighed, looking away again. “It’s a long story.”

Lally just shook her head.

Augustine held a hand up. “I need to make sure Branzino’s gone, but when I get back, I want to hear this story. All of it.”

“There’s nothing you can do,” Harlow assured him.

“Don’t be so sure. As Guardian I have deep pockets and endless resources. We’ll figure something out later, okay?”

She nodded like she was agreeing, but there was no way his
budget as Guardian included shelling out nearly a million dollars to pay her fine. She wasn’t even a citizen of this city. So unless he could come up with eight hundred and fifty thousand dollars out of his own pocket, there really wasn’t much to talk about.

W
ith Harlow’s bombshell heavy on his mind, Augustine left her in Lally’s capable hands and slipped out the back door to do a quick perimeter check. As he walked the grounds, he called the Guardian house and asked Dulcinea if she was available to stand watch. She was, so he told her he’d be over to pick her up shortly. She and Harlow might not get along the greatest, but he wasn’t leaving Harlow and Lally alone while he got back to searching for the traitor behind the vampire influx.

He called Fenton next.

“Morning, Augustine. I was just about to call you. There’s been another tourist murdered.”

“Damn it. I assume vampires.”

“Yes. I’m handling it, but we’ve got to make headway on this.”

“Agreed. Unfortunately, I’m going to be late getting to the Pelcrum this morning. Any news on Branzino?”

“Not really. He’s a virtual dead end. His online information is so clean that it must be purposeful. There is very little in his name and only slightly more in the name of his company. I imagine we’ll find more in time, but it’s going to take a concerted effort by someone more talented than I.”

Augustine swore. “I don’t know if it matters. He was here this morning. He got rough with Harlow so I threw him out of the house and threatened him if he came back.”

Fenton made a disgusted noise. “It would still be good to
know who we’re dealing with. If this Branzino is the kind of man to retaliate.” Fenton paused. “May I ask what the altercation was about? Seems odd that a man trying to create a relationship with the daughter he’s never known would fight with her.”

“Agreed, but he wanted more from Harlow than just a relationship. He wanted to give her the money to buy out my half of the house, then compensate her further so he could use the place as a B-and-B but keep it in her name. Does that make any sense to you? Why would a businessman from Chicago want to open a B-and-B here?”

After a moment of silence, Fenton spoke. “Branzino is fae, correct?”

“Yes, but no idea what kind. I think he’s using some kind of enchantment to pass as human.” Just like Augustine’s father had done with his mother.

“It’s not unheard-of. That could mean he’s hiding a very unsettling bloodline.” Fenton continued. “And yes, Branzino’s plan for the house does make sense. Any fae with a criminal record is prohibited from owning land or property within a Haven city’s limits. If he keeps the house in Harlow’s name, he bypasses that. If indeed he has a criminal record.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me. Just like it wouldn’t surprise me that he’s trying to gain a foothold in New Orleans.” Augustine had walked the entire property and now stood in the front yard near the gate. Giselle walked toward him, dark sunglasses hiding her eyes.

“That gives me another idea about how I might find out more about him,” Fenton said. “Let me do some more searching and then get back to you. What’s your next plan for going after the vampires?”

“I need to go. I’ll call you later and fill you in.” Augustine
hung up, then checked the time. One minute to nine. “Punctual. That’s good.” He opened the gate for her. “You have it?”

She didn’t come into the yard, just pulled an envelope from her coat and handed it over. “I’m sure you’ll be happy with this list of names. It’s much more inclusive.”

“Excellent.” It definitely felt thicker than the first one. “Then come in and we’ll go over it.”

“I can’t right now. My sister’s not feeling well and I need to check in on her.” Giselle pushed her sunglasses onto her head. “Give me a day or two, all right?”

After Harlow’s experience this morning, he wasn’t in the mood to add to her stress by bringing another stranger into the house. “Fine. I’ll be in touch.” He let the gate swing shut behind him.

“Thanks.” She pulled her sunglasses back down, turned and walked the way she’d come. He jogged back into the house and opened the envelope.

Name after name filled the pages until he got the distinct feeling all she’d done was list every member of the New Orleans Circle. “That witch.” She’d played him.

“Augustine?”

He looked up. Harlow stood at the end of the hall. “Do you need me?” Giselle and the witches could wait.

She walked toward him, something in her gloved hand gleaming softly. “Lally found this when she was cleaning up the library.” She held her hand out. In her palm was the small silver cross he’d been meaning to ask her about, waiting until the time was right to broach the subject of her doing another reading. “Is this yours?”

“Sort of.” He took it.

“Did my mother give it to you?”

“No.” He turned it in his fingers. “It’s evidence, actually.”

“Of what?”

“Of whoever else is involved in bringing vampires into the city.”

“And who’s responsible for killing my mother?”

“Yes.”

Her eyes widened a little. “What have you learned from it?”

“Nothing. That’s the problem.” He looked at her, then back at the cross, shifting uncomfortably. He needed her for this, but he wasn’t interested in putting her through another reading right after her father had almost beaten the daylights out of her.

She balled her hands into fists. “That’s what you wanted to talk to me about, isn’t it? You want me to read it. See if I can pick anything up like I did with the jacket.”

“Yes, but I can’t ask you to do that, not after everything you’ve just been through with your fath—”

“Don’t call him that.”

“Sorry. With Branzino.” He took a breath. “Maybe this isn’t the best time.”

“Screw Branzino.” Her chin quivered. “I’ve got enough to deal with without worrying about him.”

“I appreciate that, but you’re still shaking.” He tucked the cross into the pocket of his jeans. “It can wait.” He moved toward the stairs.

She stepped into his path. “I’m shaking, I’m not falling apart. And this can’t wait. Not if it’s going to lead you to whoever killed my mother.”

He stared at her hard, assessing her current state. He’d known her for a short time, but he couldn’t imagine her looking any more determined than she did right now. “You’re absolutely sure about this? Even knowing what happened last time.”

“Yes, I’m sure and yes, even with what happened last time, but I also don’t plan on doing this without Dulcinea’s help
again.” She lifted her chin slightly. “How soon can you get her over here?”

“I’m leaving right now to get her.” He smiled, then impulsively grabbed her shoulders and kissed her cheek. “Thank you.”

As Augustine ran out of the house, Harlow put a hand to her cheek, trembling for a brand-new reason. The quick skin-to-skin contact had caused a lightning flare of emotion to zip through her. She grabbed the stair newel and sat on the steps, trying to get her breathing under control.

The things she’d felt from Augustine weren’t immediately definable as individual emotions, but as she calmed, the tangled threads winding through her began to make sense. He cared about her, but he was struggling to keep his feelings platonic. Odd that such a thing would make her feel better, but after Branzino’s insistence that Augustine was only being nice to sway her for financial gain, it did.

Augustine was also worried about her. Actually, the vibe she got from him was that he was worried about her leaving. Worried that if she did, he wouldn’t be able to look after her. Which wasn’t his job, but she was willing to let that slide.

But mostly, he was proud of her. For agreeing to stay, for offering to help, for finding strength after Branzino’s attack.

That pride brought a stinging heat to her eyes. She’d never felt that from anyone. Oh, she knew her mother had probably been proud of her in the way that all mothers were proud of their children, but at some point, she’d begun to doubt that. Olivia had no good reason to be proud of Harlow, so why should she be? Harlow had done nothing to earn her mother’s pride. In fact, she’d done a lot to destroy it.

But Augustine’s pride was so genuine it sang through her body like white light, searching out the dark, ugly places and making them… less ugly.

It was a lot to live up to. Too much, maybe.

She bent her head to her knees, her breath at last regulating even as her spirits sank. This was why she didn’t like being around people, why she shied away from contact of any kind. To know what a person expected of you was crippling.

Maybe offering to read that cross had been a mistake. What if she failed? What would Augustine think of her then?

The pressure built in her skull like steam she had no way of releasing. She raised her head. What would her mother do in a situation like this? She had no idea, but she knew who would. “Lally?”

A moment later, the housekeeper came out from the parlor with a feather duster in one hand. “What can I do for you, Miss Harlow?” She frowned. “Are you all right, child? You look shaken up. You still fretting over that business with that man?”

She loved how Lally called Branzino
that man
. “No, not really, it’s just that plus everything else, I guess.”

Lally nodded. “You sure have had a time of it.”

“I was wondering, what would my mother do to calm herself down when she got stressed?”

Lally tapped the feather duster against her leg. “Well, your mama wasn’t a big one for letting stress get to her.”

“Say when she called or emailed me and I didn’t answer.” Harlow smiled sadly. “I did that a lot.”

Lally nodded. “Yes, child, you did. Lots of times after that, she and I would go sit out on the porch and have a mint julep. You ever had one of those?” She grinned. “The way I make ’em, one makes you forget your troubles and two will bring you a brand-new kind of happy. Your mama loved them.”

Harlow smiled. “I’ve never had one, but it sounds like just the thing.” She sighed. “Too bad it’s too early.”

“Too early for what?” Lally asked.

“For a drink.”

This time Lally laughed. “You got a lot to learn, Miss Harlow. This is New Orleans. Ain’t no such thing as too early for a drink in this town.”

Augustine parked the Thrun in the side garage near the back of the house, then he and Dulcinea jumped out and walked toward the rear porch. On the way over, he’d filled her in on the morning’s events.

Laughter rang out. He rounded the corner to see Lally and Harlow in the big wicker chairs, a silver pitcher and two glasses on the little table between them. Even without the smell of bourbon and the mint sprigs floating on top of the ice cubes, Augustine would have guessed they were drinking juleps. The drink had been Livie’s favorite when she’d needed to lighten her mood. He hadn’t guessed Harlow shared that love.

“I see brunch is being served Olivia-style this morning,” Dulcinea said.

Augustine took the porch steps two at a time. Harlow’s cheeks glowed with the flush of good bourbon, but her lids looked a little heavy. He guessed also from the bourbon. “Everything okay?”

“It is now.” She raised her glass. “We’re de-stressing.”

“I see that.” Her words had the roundness of someone on the edge of a good buzz. “Lally, you have anything to add?”

“Just what the child said. We’re getting calm the same way Miss Olivia liked to.”

“Calm is good. Comatose is not.” A cord of anger began to
knot in Augustine’s gut. “Harlow, I need you clearheaded to be able to read this cross. Are you going to be able to do that?”

She waved him off. “Sure. I’m fine. Better ’an fine. I’m a brand-new kind of happy.” Then she looked at Lally and burst into laughter.

Dulcinea raised her brows. “Oh, that’s a new kind of happy all right.” She pulled Augustine into the house. “You better get some of that alcohol out of her system before she attempts to read anything. She can barely control her powers sober.”

“Agreed.” He stared out the kitchen window, listening to Harlow laugh. He soaked up the sound, wondering how long it had been since she’d felt like this. And how long it would be until she felt this again without the help of alcohol. She’d seemed unhappy since she’d arrived, which was understandable considering the circumstances, but especially since she’d revealed the fate that awaited her when she returned to Boston. What wasn’t understandable was how he felt responsible for a small part of her unhappiness.