Pirate's Alley (19 page)

Uh-huh. He planned on getting lucky. “The river nymphs haven’t started up their ‘escort service’”—I made little quote marks with my fingers—“in the Quarter again, have they?”

I’d shut them down a few months ago after they brought satyrs in to “escort” the female clientele. A nymph could mainstream with humans, but satyrs couldn’t. They might hide the nubby horns and long tails, but the cloven hooves just couldn’t fit in any kind of shoe that looked normal.

“Not that I know of. Mina wasn’t involved in that mess anyway.”

“Well, I’ve recovered so you can go ahead and go on your date whether Jean’s back or not.” I chewed on a chunk of andouille. It was awesome; I wish I’d just ordered a big plate of sausage. “Then you won’t have to witness me eviscerating your business partner.”

Rene laughed. “That would almost be worth staying for.” But he got up and checked for his keys and wallet. “You sure? Jean should be back soon.”

I smiled. “Yeah, have fun.”

On his way out, he stopped next to the desk, bent down, and pulled my coat from beneath some papers in the trash can. “Think I’ll take this with me, babe. Force you to find something else.”

Fine. I’d buy an overpriced coat in the Quarter and charge it to the ElderCard. Don’t leave home without it.

Once I had the room to myself, I turned up the TV and finished my dinner to the drone of the local news. I’d fallen completely out of touch the last couple of days. A former city official was being sent to jail on corruption charges, where he’d have plenty of friends waiting for him. I figure politicians made up at least twenty percent of the state’s inmates. Fortunately, his trial had been in the federal courthouse instead of the closed-down parish district court.

Mostly, though, the local newscasters talked about the weather. A guest meteorologist from Baton Rouge had come in to rant about the “once in a lifetime” weather pattern New Orleans was experiencing. We’d gotten two feet of snow, were enjoying a short respite, but could get another two-to-three feet of white stuff tomorrow. Outside a twenty-mile radius in any direction from the central city, however, normal winter weather in the fifties prevailed. They couldn’t explain it.

It wouldn’t go above freezing the next forty-eight hours. What the hell could I wear to avoid a repeat of the hibernation fiasco? Of course I had no car; maybe the concierge would send someone to buy some long johns and polar fleece at one of the sporting goods stores, if they weren’t sold out. Maybe I’d get some for Rand, too.

No, forget that. It was convenient having him essentially imprisoned in his house, and he didn’t deserve special consideration. He could’ve warned me that our bond left me vulnerable to spontaneous hibernation, plus he was being an ass about Eugenie. Surprise surprise.

Sirens are almost a constant in New Orleans, and I’d learned to ignore them. But when what sounded like a whole fleet of NOFD ladder trucks roared by, sirens blasting, I ran to the window. A half-dozen police cars followed, nudging the few pedestrians out of the way and turning toward Chartres Street.

“We have a breaking story from the French Quarter,” the TV reporter said, and I turned to watch video of people pouring out of a building from whose upper windows smoke billowed and flames licked at the night sky. “A multiple-alarm fire has struck a crowded nightclub called…”

I didn’t need to hear the rest. I recognized the place. It was the vampire bar belonging to Etienne Boulard, former friend and now avowed enemy of the unaccounted-for Jean Lafitte.

L’Amour Sauvage was in flames.

CHAPTER
15

Calling Jean every bad name I could think of, I jammed my feet into the cold, wet boots and looked around helplessly. Rene had taken my coat. Going out in wet shoes was risky enough; coatless, I was asking for another round of hibernation.

On the other hand, it should be toasty warm next to the burning vampire club.

I went into the bedroom and opened the armoire where Jean kept his clothes. I considered the heavy terrycloth hotel robe, but if it was already snowing, the terrycloth would just absorb all the cold water. Damn it. The pirate didn’t have anything useful.

More sirens sounded outside. This had to be bad. I grabbed my messenger bag, made sure the staff was wedged firmly inside, and ran down the hallway. The elevator moved at the pace of an elf in Antarctica, but finally it arrived at the lobby. I cut into the gift shop, grabbed a couple of heavy sweatshirts, charged them to the room, and pulled them on as I crossed the shiny marble floor toward the street.

The doorman smiled as if he might be going to make jovial conversation, but thought better of it and rushed to open the door for me without a word. He probably feared I’d keel over in a dead sleep from my mysterious fainting-goat disease and hoped it wasn’t contagious.

As soon as I cleared the doorway, the wind hit me full-force. God, it was cold. My feet began to go numb before I’d taken a dozen steps, but I rushed onward, moving as fast as I dared. I cut over one block to Chartres Street and slowed, not only because the whole area ahead of me lay jammed with emergency vehicles and people, but because the fire roared like a living thing, its flames bright enough to make the snow falling between me and the club appear as a dark, moving curtain.

Was Jean insane? The Quarter was older than him—ancient by U.S. standards. Its venerable buildings were always in some state of disrepair, making us the American originator of urban grunge. Dilapidation was admired and coveted in New Orleans, especially in this part of town. The Quarter was also a monstrous firetrap.

On the positive side, by the time I began working my way through people and got within a block of the fire, the warmth hit me and hibernation was no longer an immediate concern. Every few seconds, I scanned the moving throngs around me, trying to catch a glimpse of a familiar, tall Frenchman dressed in a Daniel Boone coat.

I finally spotted a familiar face. Vampire Regent Etienne Boulard stood still as only vampires can, a rock amid the moving sea of firefighters, paramedics, cops, and ash-covered club patrons. He looked mad enough to chew wooden nails, but at least he wasn’t dead. I wasn’t sure I’d point that out to him as something for which to be thankful, however.

My first instinct was to turn around, return to the hotel, and pretend I’d seen nothing. But damn it, I was the sentinel here. New Orleans was my town, and if anyone was going to set fires in the French Quarter it should be me and my elven staff. I had to investigate. Besides, it might have nothing to do with Jean Lafitte.

I stepped up beside Etienne, hoping he didn’t hold a grudge after the little burning incident in Vampyre. He didn’t turn in my direction and I didn’t think he’d seen me until he hissed, “I hold you entirely responsible for this.”

So much for not holding a grudge. “If by
this
you mean the fire at L’Amour Sauvage, think again. I just got here.”

When Etienne turned to me, I winced. His blue eyes shone like marbles in a face covered in soot and tight, reddened skin. He’d been close to that fire. “You saved Lafitte, though, and he’s behind this.”

“Did you see him set the fire?” Besides that, we had a bigger issue. Namely, that Etienne should’ve been arrested the second he crossed back into New Orleans. I hadn’t seen the warrant yet, but I was pretty sure conspiracy and attempted murder were on his preternatural rap sheet. Should I call Alex or try to arrest him myself?

“I didn’t have to see him.” Etienne’s French accent had grown heavier. He usually sounded more Louisianian than the Frenchman he’d been back in his wizard days as a plantation owner. He’d lost his magic after being turned.

“Then you have no proof.” I startled as the glass blew out of an upper window and sent a shower of blackened shards to the sidewalk.

“As soon as the club opened this evening, it filled with undead pirates, behaving like ruffians and driving away my regular customers.” Etienne seemed to have forgotten his shaky legal status. He was so angry he’d even flashed a bit of fang, which meant I could add
reckless exposure to humans
to his list of crimes.

He turned back to watch the fire, the muscles in his jaw working as he clenched his teeth. How that teeth-clenching thing worked with fangs, I wasn’t sure. “Did you see one of the undead pirates set the fire? Otherwise, it could’ve been anyone.”

“God. Are you that stupid or are you being deliberately obtuse to protect your friend Jean?” Etienne motioned to someone in the crowd, and I saw the L’Amour Sauvage assistant manager heading toward us. He was a very polite metrosexual vampire who monitored the entrance of the club, keeping the crowds in check. His usually polished suit and tie were gray with ash, but I could still read his name tag: Marcus.

“Everyone got out,” he told Etienne, who nodded.

“Get my attorney on the phone and tell him to get his ass down here. He’ll need to deal with the human authorities. I”—he glanced at me—“must return to Vampyre immediately.”

Oh no he didn’t. I needed handcuffs, or a good obedience spell. All I had was Charlie, so I pulled the staff from my messenger bag and discreetly pressed its tip against Etienne’s side.

He stiffened. “You wouldn’t dare use that here.”

He was probably right. “Don’t try me. You’re still wanted by the Elders, so you aren’t going anywhere except…” Holy crap. Now that I had the vampire, what the hell was I going to do with him? Haul him back to the Monteleone to wait for the breakfast buffet? “Except to Edinburgh.”

Etienne Boulard was the Elders’ problem, and it was the job of the area’s enforcer, Alex Warin, to send prisoners to Elder headquarters in Scotland. He’d need orders first, though.

I pulled out my cell phone and managed to unlock my screen. I’d just hit Zrakovi’s number on my speed dial when someone barreled into me from behind, knocking me, my cell phone, and a street busker with an acoustic guitar into a heap on the sludgy street. The crowd edged away so we’d have a clear path to the ground.

“You broke my neck.” The musician sat in a puddle, looking like the last reject from
Duck Dynasty
; the icy mud dripping from his face did nothing to improve the squirrel’s tail of hair dangling from chin to waist.

“What?” I looked him up and down. “You’re sitting up and talking. I don’t think you can do that with a broken neck.”

“My guitar.” He held up a fretboard with dangling strings and nothing attached. Now I knew what had broken my fall.

“Sorry, hold on.” I rolled to my knees and scrabbled around on the ground until I found my cell phone inside the remains of the crushed guitar. I looked around to see what had knocked us over, and thought Marcus had an awfully guilty look on his grimy face, especially when he looked away the second we made eye contact.

If Etienne hadn’t remained exactly where he’d been before the tumble, I’d have accused Marcus of creating a diversion so his boss could escape.

At least the staff, still duct-taped together after last month’s chaos, remained intact since it had landed on my head. The phone didn’t have a scratch. Alex, who knew me way too well, had bought me a super-indestructible, waterproof case.

I climbed to my feet, turned my back to the whiny musician, and tried my call again.

You have reached the Elders. We can’t take your call right now. If this is an emergency, call your local sentinel.

Seriously? The Elders had voice mail and were sending calls to me? This would never have happened while Adrian Hoffman had been manning the phones.

I made sure Etienne was still in view and got ready to call Alex. I had a missed call from him that had just ended, so he shouldn’t be too hard to reach if …

“Excuse me. Sentinel?”

Marcus stood hesitantly next to me. Last time we’d met, I’d been bleeding profusely from my bullet wound and he’d made me sign a release form promising not to hold any vampires responsible if they got carried away and bit me. Apparently, I tasted vile so it was just as well no one had tried.

“What is it?” I tried to peer around his shoulders at Etienne, who remained in place, watching the fire. I couldn’t believe the arrogant jerk wasn’t concerned about being arrested.

“Can you put out the fire? With your magic?” Marcus cast a worried glance over his shoulder as another window burst from the heat.

Was he nuts? “I’m sorry, Marcus, but this is too big for me to handle, especially with all the humans around. It’s best left to the firefighters. How did it start?”

He shook his head, still pretty and pale and androgynous even with ash smudges on both cheeks. “I’m not sure, but I think it started in the back, either in Etienne’s office or the men’s room or the mechanical room between the two. Our heating unit is old, and it’s been running nonstop this week.”

A slight flame of hope ignited in me. Maybe Etienne was wrong about this being Jean’s handiwork. Maybe it was nothing more sinister than an overworked, malfunctioning central heating unit.

Marcus stood on tiptoe to try and see over the people in front of us. “But we also had a bunch of the historical undead, friends of Jean Lafitte the pirate, filling up the bar tonight. I saw one of them coming from the hallway right before we smelled smoke.”

Or maybe I was kidding myself.

“What about Terri?” I wasn’t sure Etienne’s personal assistant had returned, but then again I’d been surprised to see Etienne. Terri hadn’t been proven guilty of anything except having the bad luck of falling for Adrian Hoffman.

“Terri hasn’t been back since the troubles, and as far as I know, Adrian’s in Vampyre.”

The troubles. That was a nice way of putting it. If I ratted Adrian out, he’d be tossed in a wizard prison until the protocol for an interspecies trial could be worked out, as would Daddy Elderbucks. They could keep Etienne company.

“Sorry about the club. Hope you guys can rebuild.” I edged around Marcus and headed toward Etienne. I wanted him within discreet reach of Charlie while I called Alex.

Etienne turned when I nudged him in the side with the staff again … only it wasn’t Etienne. This guy had the same ash-coated blue suit, the same blond hair, even the same freaking fangs, which flashed openly as he grinned at me. “Sorry, honey. Etienne had to run.”