Pirate's Alley (22 page)

A sudden realization hit me upside the head like a two-by-four, and put into perspective why I was struggling so hard to take a stand: The people I really cared about, the ones I loved each in his or her own way, were unanimous in one aspect. None of them were wizards. That revelation almost took my breath away, but I had to set it aside for now.

“Tell me the truth,” I said to Jean, digging in my heels at the crossroads, preparing to make the first of what my heart told me would be a line of hard decisions.

Jean stared at the floor, thinking, his aura bathed in indecision. I was asking him to trust me without any assurance that I wouldn’t do something to hurt him. I knew when he’d made up his mind; a hum shimmered across my skin like a stone sending a ripple over a lake, and his mind calmed.

He looked up at me. “Very well, Drusilla. Here is the truth, as you asked. Although you are not fully elven, you hold much of their magic. Thus, I escorted you into the snow, believing you would eventually succumb to what the elves call their survival state.” The emotions coming off Jean ramped up, but he remained outwardly calm. As long as that level of calm was there, he was being honest. “I knew you would not be harmed as long as I returned you to the hotel immediately, and I had Rene waiting to watch over you. Your life will never be placed in mortal danger by Jean Lafitte.”

“How did you know I’d hibernate?” One could use pretty words like
survival state,
but if it oinks you might as well call it a pig. “Why did you want me to hibernate?”

“Certainty eluded me, of course, but I had observed you on the night of the council meeting,” Jean said. “While others were chilled, your countenance was very much like that of your elf—quite pale. I was concerned for your health, and Christof explained this odd elven trait, as he has dealt with elves for many lifetimes.”

Freaking elves.

“As for why, well, it was what my friend Christof called a policy of insurance, lest you attempt to interfere with the plans I had made.”

Plans that involved arson, no doubt. “What happened after you left me with Rene?”

“I met Christof as planned, and we proceeded to make ourselves seen at the…” Jean paused and frowned. “
Bar du Carrousel
. Throughout the week, I had arranged for some of my men to visit L’Amour Sauvage and disrupt Etienne’s business while spending very little gold. He is an arrogant man, with no fear of the authorities, and I knew he would not remain in Vampyre for long if his financial affairs were in distress.”

The old hit-’em-in-the-pocketbook tactic. It would be an effective strategy to use on Jean as well, although I thought it best not to point that out. The pirate liked his gold.

“Disrupting Etienne’s business is not a crime unless your men attracted the attention of humans,” I said. For better or worse, a bunch of disheveled French-speaking guys dressed like pirates would attract no attention at all in New Orleans.

“Arson is a crime, however,” I added. “Humans inside the bar could have been killed. The fire could have spread to other buildings in the Quarter. The firefighters could have been killed.”

“Yet they were not.” Jean’s gaze on me was steady, as was his emotional temperature. “My men were instructed to ensure that everyone, human and vampire, including Etienne himself, was shepherded safely from the building.”

“Still, the fire could have spread. You jeopardized the lives of the firefighters and the people who work and live in the adjacent buildings.” He’d committed a crime that had involved humans, although the nagging little voice in the back of my mind pointed out that he’d risked our discovery less than the debacle at the parish courthouse.

Jean narrowed his eyes. “Do you judge me,
Jolie
? Etienne had called himself my friend for almost two centuries, only to betray and manipulate me in the way he knew would be most hurtful.”

I nodded slowly. I did understand. Jean had once told me he didn’t like being controlled during his human life, and he wouldn’t tolerate it in his immortal life. Etienne had put him under the control of a necromancer who’d taken away his free will, and had played him for a fool.

I didn’t condone arson, but I understood the urge for revenge. And I understood that for a man like Jean, who would be dealing with other pretes for eternity or damned near close to it, he had to appear strong, decisive, invulnerable. He’d exercised restraint by sparing Etienne’s life and settling for annoyance.

Yet he’d still broken the law. Arson, definitely. Exposure to humans, possibly. Treason? Or at least treason as the Elders would define it.

I took a deep breath. “Exactly what is Christof’s dog in this hunt?”

Jean frowned. “Pardon,
Jolie,
but Christof does not possess
un chien
. The fae do not like them.”

Good to know; I filed that away for future reference. If I had a home to take it to, I’d visit the Humane Society today and adopt a mutt as a bit of faery protection. Although I guess Alex would work. “I meant, why is Christof involved in this at all?”

Jean laughed, and affection for the faery filtered through his emotional aura. They really were friends and not simply political allies, which relieved me. “He has no interest in the vampires beyond the council business, so he was not
involved,
as you say, but for my companionship.”

Yeah, as an alibi. Or maybe he was smuggling items into Faery. “Do you have any type of business arrangements with Christof?”

“Bah, women and their questioning nature.” Jean paused, answering my question by avoidance. Another tidbit to file away. “Again I must ask, Drusilla. Do you wish to know the truth in this matter?”

No, I wanted to move somewhere warm, where I’d never see another prete and would never be in danger of hibernating. “Just tell me.”

“Sabine, the monarch of Faery, is quite old and is childless.”

I knew that. “Right, and Christof and the other guy both want to be the grand poobah of all Faery.”

Jean stared at me a moment and I waited for him to figure out
grand poobah
. Finally, he grunted and nodded. “
Mais oui.
He and his brother Florian, the Summer Prince, are the eldest of Sabine’s family—nephews, perhaps several times removed. Pardon, I am unsure. They both wish to be this
poobah
.”

I twirled my finger in the universal symbol for
get on with it
.

“Florian is a foolish and careless
bouffon,
and would be quite unfit for the monarchy, but he curries favor among the others of Faery.”

I was beginning to see the picture. “So Christof wants allies on the council who will support him in taking the monarchy if and when Sabine bites it.”

Again the confusion. I hadn’t realized how often he had to stop and try to interpret my slang. “When Sabine dies,” I clarified.

“Ah.
Oui,
just so. I wished to make life uncomfortable for the elves without incurring their wrath, and Christof suggested a brutal winter. It seemed quite clever and hurts no one. The humans who study such things are quite excited. In return, I have promised him the support of the historical beings when he is in need of it, and have promised to attempt to convince others to support him as well.”

Uh-huh. “Others like me?”

He shrugged. “You, and the wizards and even the elves. Christof is much more serious of mind than his brother. The support of the council should be his whether I speak on his behalf or not. The problems created by Florian at the last meeting should prove this.”

Yeah, Florian hadn’t quite seemed the soul of maturity.

We sat in silence for a while before Jean finally spoke again. “Now that you know the truth, Drusilla, there remains the question: What will you do?”

I took a deep breath. I had no idea. Plus we had one more thing to discuss.

Us.

CHAPTER
18

I tried to figure out how to broach the subject of Jean’s and my relationship, and like any master procrastinator, decided there was no need to have this conversation now at all. I could play duck-and-run with Zrakovi a good long time and feign ignorance at the council meeting.

That last thought almost stopped my heart. If I were planning to lie to the Interspecies Council and my new First Elder—even by a lie of omission—I had chosen sides already, hadn’t I? And if I lied to the council, that meant I had to lie to Alex. I wasn’t sure what it said about me that lying to the Elders didn’t bother me. Lying to Alex bothered me a lot.

God, shoot me now.

“Will you tell your Elders that I burned Etienne’s business establishment, Drusilla?” Jean asked. “Moreover, will you tell your lover?” He put a little spin of disdain on that last word.

Alex,
my heart whispered. Alex was the reason this conversation couldn’t be postponed, whether I wanted to have it now or not. If I were going to lie to Alex about something this big, I needed to have a damn good reason, and I needed that reason to be perfectly clear in my mind. Maybe getting things between Jean and me in the open would bring clarity to my muddied, swamp-bogged thoughts.

I didn’t love Jean Lafitte—not in a romantic way, no matter how attractive I found him. A little lust was good for the soul, I always said.

I did, however, admire Jean, and I liked him. I liked him a lot. I enjoyed spending time with him. I saw him as a kindred spirit in some warped kind of way; he played by his own rules and had a peace of mind with it that I envied. I wanted him to be happy. I wanted him to be safe.

Which meant I wanted to protect him, as stupid as that sounded considering I was mortal and he was not.

I wasn’t sure how to begin this talk, except with the truth. “Jean, if I am going to lie for you, I need to be convinced that you aren’t playing me—using me, I mean. I need to know whether I’m a political asset, or a friend, or maybe both—a friend who could come in handy during a political showdown.” That was my best guess.

I paused. “I know I’m young.” Hell, even Zrakovi was a pup compared to Jean. “I know I can be too trusting. I know I let myself act on impulse too often, and you’ve done a lot to help me after we got off to such a rocky start.”

Jean smiled at that understatement. “Because you deceived me and attempted to harm me,
Jolie
?”

I smiled back. “You got your hits in.” Literally.

I couldn’t believe I was opening up to Jean like this, but he had trusted me with the truth so far, and I was asking for more. I had to give a little in return. “I’m grateful for all the times you’ve helped me and I’ve come to care for you a lot, but I need to know
why
you help me. All the reasons. Why did you sacrifice yourself to keep me safe last month?”

Jean was giving me what I thought of as his too-shrewd look, so I took another deep breath. “Alex and I have been working hard to build our relationship and make it last. I want it to work. If I am going to lie to him, I need to know what I am to you.”

There, I said it. My heart pounded so loudly he could probably hear it, and I opened my senses to his, trying to gauge his reaction. I needed to monitor his stress levels and aura to determine his truthfulness. Without my empathic shielding, I was like a lie detector with legs.

Jean was thinking, but not in a scheming way, which would have come across as tension. He was just … thinking.

“These questions I will answer, Drusilla, but there are other matters that I would like you to consider also.”

I nodded. “That’s fair.”

“You say that you and Monsieur Warin are working hard to build a relationship—those were the words you spoke. Do you mean that it requires work in order for the two of you to live in peace? That it is a chore, a difficulty?”

“No, but, well, yeah.” I mean, weren’t all relationships like that? Not that I had a lot of role models, but wasn’t that what adults did? They worked through problems in order to strengthen their bonds. Neither Alex nor I were people who opened our hearts easily, so we’d worked hard to get to this point.

Jean got up and poured himself another brandy. He held the decanter up with his brows raised in question.

“No more, thanks.” Not yet anyway.

“One more thing I would say before I reveal my own heart.” Jean reclaimed his seat on the opposite sofa. “From the words you say, I believe that it is your Alexander to whom you are concerned about telling lies, rather than your Elders. Perhaps you had not realized this thing.”

“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.