River Road (19 page)

“Merde!”
Jean propelled himself into the shallow water, followed by Rene and Denis. Their smoldering clothes doused, they sat side by side with water lapping at their bodies, staring at me in a combination of shock, horror, and outrage. They looked like prete versions of the See No Evil monkeys.

On the positive side, I’d stopped the fight and no one was dead.

“Sorry,” I said. “But I—” My self-defense was interrupted by a loud
whoosh
as the fire moved beyond the grass to engulf the low-hanging limbs of the small tree that had been my original target.

Holy crap. I was burning down the Louisiana wetlands.

I grabbed a couple of tarps and eased over the side of the rail, dropping like a boulder into the water. By the time I clambered to my feet, soaked and dripping, Denis had shifted into his full fish form and used his big caudal fin to splash me in the face before swimming away. Rene climbed back onto the boat, cursing.

Jean held out a hand for a tarp. “We should put out the fire, Drusilla. Your ability to aim your magic stick has not improved.”

“You think?” I handed him one of the bundles of heavy, wet plastic and I took the other. He tackled the tree; I beat down the fire in the reeds. After several minutes and a lot of smoke, the fire had been reduced to a black patch that reeked of wet ash and singed moss.

Jean looked around him. “Something smells amiss, Drusilla, and it is not your poor aim. It carries the scent of death.”

My heart sank. Had I killed someone after all? What if T-Jacques had been hiding in the tall grass and I set him on fire? “Help me look,” I said.

We began searching farther off the bank. About ten yards on the other side of my burned tree, I tripped again. This time, what caught my foot was a decomposing body, and when I fell I got a close-up view of the remains of Jeffrey Klein.

*   *   *

Four hours, three calls to the Elders, and one transport to Edinburgh later, I straggled in my back door looking like something even Sebastian wouldn’t drag in. My muddy clothes had dried into stiff brown sheets, my hair sported highlights of mud and ashes, and I didn’t want to even know what my face looked like. I was not only exhausted, but depressed. On some level, I had hoped the Elders had been wrong and we’d find Jeff Klein alive somewhere.

I was not happy to see Alex and Jake at my kitchen table, two pizza boxes open between them. Why weren’t they at the Gator, tending to business and eating at their own apartments?

I slammed the door behind me. “Have fun on your rough day talking to cops and college professors?” If this was how the division of labor was going to break down, I was getting that raise.

“Zrakovi said you could give us the report on Jeff Klein,” Alex said, coughing in an ill-disguised attempt to keep from laughing.

Jake tried to take a sip of beer but collapsed into a laughing fit. I made a fool of myself in front of Alex often enough that I’d come to accept it as a fact of life, but I really, really hated that Jake was here to complete my embarrassment. Besides, two wizards were dead and I’d just been up-close-and-personal with a decomposing body.

Jake managed to get himself under control. “Sorry.” He squinted in the vicinity of my stomach. “That hole in your sweater looks like it’s been burned.”

“I forgot to tell you. She set the Birdfoot Delta on fire.” Alex picked a mushroom off the pizza and popped it in his mouth.

“I’m taking a shower.” I slipped my muddy shoes off by the back door and left a trail of dried mud as I passed them. “Save me some pizza.”

“DJ, wait.” I turned at the foot of the stairwell to find Jake standing in the guest room door. “I’ve gotta head back to the Gator—I’m short-staffed, so Alex can bring me up to speed later. Just wanted to say I’d pick you up at seven tomorrow night. Sound okay?”

I smiled, and felt mud crack on my cheeks. Terrific. “Sounds good. I’ll try to be clean by then.”

His soft laugh washed over me like a sweet breeze. “See you then, hotshot.”

CHAPTER
19

I expected to spend all Wednesday researching the Styx, trying to find a connection between the water rifts and the professors, and angsting over my date with Jake. What to wear. How much he’d changed since turning loup-garou. Whether we’d have anything to say to each other.

Alex got the rest of his debriefing on the riverbed rifts during our morning run. Last night, he’d been too busy laughing and I’d been too tired to hear more than a cursory report. Jake had been assigned to work with his former Marine buddy Ken as the NOPD/FBI go-between, and Alex’s boss, the head of the secret Elder/FBI enforcer division, had smoothed over the paperwork and jurisdictional issues. Alex finally had his search warrant for both Doug Hebert’s and Jeff Klein’s homes and offices.

Instead, while Alex rifled through the dead men’s desks and Jake went to see if Melinda Hebert knew of a next of kin for Jeff Klein, I filed an emergency slew of reports. Use of unauthorized magic. Using an unauthorized incendiary device, although I thought calling Charlie an incendiary device was a stretch. Arson on federally protected property. Explanations to counter accidental injury claims being made by both Denis Villere and Rene Delachaise.

Jean hadn’t filed a complaint, and Rene shouldn’t have since I used a healing potion on him as soon as the fire was out. I’d have healed Denis, too, if he hadn’t fled the scene. A scene that was his fault, I added to my report.

I won’t say Elder Willem Zrakovi was the last person I expected to see walking in my office at eleven a.m. I’d have been more shocked to see Brad Pitt, for example, or Hugh Jackman, though I’d have welcomed either with open arms.

Elder Zrakovi had to make do with a startled blink and a handshake.

He looked around the office before settling into the chair facing my desk. “You need some decoration.” He cast a disapproving eye at the bare walls and drab institutional carpet.

Surely the biggest cheese in my corner of the wizarding world hadn’t come all the way to Louisiana to discuss office décor. “Yes, I thought I’d put up some JazzFest posters. But things have been a little busy lately.”

Zrakovi smiled. “Perhaps we can find you an assistant. We’ve recruited a few young sixth-sensers who have good computer skills. With all the new species coming in, you and Mr. Warin will need help.”

He could skip the assistant and give me a raise, but I didn’t say so—yet. I’d started a report on that. Instead, I fixed a pleasant expression on my face and waited for Zrakovi to get to the point. He seemed to be stalling and fidgety, which made me nervous.

Zrakovi was on the short side, about five-seven or eight, with close-cropped gray hair, a prominent nose, and a penchant for expensive tailored suits. His restless hands fiddled with his emerald signet ring, which reminded me that he was originally a wizard of the Green Congress himself. Like most wizards, age was impossible to tell. He could be fifty; he could be a hundred.

“I have a couple of issues to discuss with you,” he finally said. “First, do you need help in finding a solution to the problem with the Styx? I could have the head of the Green Congress to come in and direct the operations, or bring in the sentinel from Las Cruces.”

I’d never get any respect from the Elders if I let someone bail me out, especially a former fling (Dante of the Green Congress) or a pompous Elder wannabe (Las Cruces).

“I have it under control,” I said. “We put in temporary repairs yesterday, and I have an idea on how to make them permanent.” Technically, I had one idea, it was borderline insane, and I had no intention of sharing it with him until I’d tried it and it had either worked or failed disastrously. There wasn’t much in between. “Any word on Jeff Klein?”

“His throat was cut, similar to that of Doug Hebert,” Zrakovi said. His face sagged, the stress of the post-Katrina years showing in a patchwork of wrinkles. “He was not mutilated, however, so we believe Doug was the target and Dr. Klein was just in the wrong place.”

A blanket of sadness settled over me. I wasn’t sure how long it would be before I could close my eyes without seeing that ruined body. Still, it was better I found him than a mundane.

My cell phone pumped out my familiar Fats Domino tune. I glanced at the screen, saw Jake’s name, and set it back on the desk.

“Go ahead, I don’t mind waiting,” Zrakovi said.

Whatever else he wanted to talk about, he seemed in no hurry. Troubling.

I grabbed the phone. “Hey, what’s up? Did you talk to Mrs. Hebert?”

“Negative,” Jake said. “Melinda Hebert’s gone—and I mean gone as in missing.”

“What happened?” I penned
MELINDA HEBERT MISSING
on a sheet of paper and held it up for Zrakovi.

“Newspaper’s still in the yard, mail from yesterday still in the box, no car at home. Front door was unlocked, so I let myself in and looked around. None of her stuff seems to be missing, so it doesn’t look like she went on a trip. But here’s something interesting. There was a photo album layin’ out on the bed with about a half-dozen photos either missing or torn in half.”

That would be more interesting if we knew what it meant. Had Melinda killed her husband and left with a few photo mementos? Had the killer taken Melinda and removed incriminating photos?

After ending the call, I turned back to Zrakovi. “I asked Adrian Hoffman to check her out. I thought she was behaving strangely when we were there.” I told him about my inability to read her emotions. “I know you guys don’t put much stock in my empathic abilities, but I’ve never been unable to read a human before.”

He frowned. “Adrian is looking into her background, as you asked. I’ll talk to him later today and see if he’s learned anything. Actually, your empathic skills are part of the other thing I want to talk to you about.”

Damn, it was about the unauthorized magic. I knew using that staff would catch up with me eventually but it was stupid to have a tool and not be able to use it. “I would like to be able to use the staff without it being considered”—I thumped the stack of reports in front of me—“unauthorized magic or an incendiary device.” I sighed. “Although I am sorry about the fire.”

He studied me a moment, his expression unreadable and his mental shielding too strong for me to burrow into his brain. “Agreed. You should be able to use the powers you’ve been given, although you need to learn to control the elven magic better. But your continued use of that staff has drawn the attention of the Elven Synod. They began researching some of their ancestral weaponry to see if it was significant.”

I didn’t know what an Elven Synod was but it didn’t sound like anything I’d want attention from. “What did they learn?”

Zrakovi leaned back, relaxing now that he’d let the lion out of its cage. “Do I smell coffee?”

While I found a clean cup and poured, he talked. “The Synod is the elven version of the Congress of Elders. There are four members, one representing each of the tribes.” He took the cup. “Their leader, Mace Banyan, knows you found the staff in Gerry’s attic after the storm and doesn’t like the fact that a wizard can call on elven magic. He wants to meet with you.”

Well, crap. I’d really gotten attached to Charlie. I thought of the staff as a wooden security blanket. “Why now?” I asked. “Why didn’t they show up the first time I used it?”

“I think they only recently figured out which staff you had and how powerful it is. It’s very old, made by members of the original Synod, and there were only four made. Two are still in elven hands; the other two got lost over the years. Mace Banyan says yours is the staff known as Mahout and belongs to the clan of the Fire Elves. It is an important part of their history and they aren’t happy Gerry had it all those years without them knowing it.”

That was because it didn’t work for Gerry. “What does Mahout mean?”

“Don’t know.” Zrakovi sipped his coffee and made a face. “What is this?”

“Kahlua medium roast.” If people didn’t like my coffee they should go to Starbucks.

“I don’t know what the name means, but I explained to Mace that you are in the middle of an investigation so they’d have to wait. At some point, however, you’ll have to meet with him if for no other reason than to satisfy his curiosity. I asked if the Synod wanted the staff back, but he said now that it had claimed you, no one else can wield it as long as you are alive.”

As long as I was
alive
? I slumped back in my chair. Freakin’ elves. I should never have picked up that staff in the first place. I should have figured using anything that threw off sparks and gave me a nosebleed when I touched it could only lead to grief.

“How does the Synod know I’ve been using it?” Did metaphysical alarms ring in the high halls of Elfheim whenever I picked the thing up?

Zrakovi shrugged. “News travels. You can’t imagine how creatures in the Beyond like to gossip.”

Pot. Kettle. Black. Wizards would gossip about drying paint.

“Anyway,” he said briskly, all business now that he’d unloaded his little burden, “we’re negotiating the time and place, and who will be allowed to accompany you to meet with them. At the very least, I will be there. And it probably won’t be for another month or so. I just wanted to let you know so you could do some research in your spare time.”

Right. Because I had so much of that these days.

“So they want a get-to-know-me meeting?”

“More like a how-can-they-use-you meeting, I suspect,” Zrakovi said drily.

I caught a vague stirring of doubt from him, which ratcheted my own anxiety up a few hundred notches. He must be really unsure about this meeting if he was broadcasting feelings so clearly.

“In other words,” I said slowly. “You don’t know why they want to see me?”

He took a deep breath and nodded. “Precisely.”

CHAPTER
20

I stood in the middle of my bedroom, surrounded by towers of girly stuff. Skirts, dresses, heels, boots, camisoles. Half of the clothes still had price tags dangling from them. I felt like a fifteen-year-old wallflower faced with the prospect of a date with the high school quarterback. Totally out of my comfort zone and with a serious case of nerves.