Suzanne Johnson - Elysian Fields

I had to smile. “The infamous Jean Lafitte is going to help the authorities?” Definitely not standard pirate procedure.

He grinned. “Ah, but you must understand, Jolie . If this vicious criminel is not apprehended, his activities could interfere with my ability to conduct my affairs or cause your Elders to place limitations on when the historical undead might come into the modern world. I might not be able to once again ask you to dine with me.”

Uh-huh, because that had turned out so well the first time.

“There is another, more urgent reason for me to discover and apprehend the Axeman, however. One of which you might be unaware.”

A reason more important to Jean than business or romance had to be extreme. “What is it?”

“There is talk in Old Orleans that the Axeman is no longer acting alone, that he has now fallen under the control of one of your kind. Toward what purpose, I do not yet know.”

I was lost. “What do you mean, one of my kind?”

He got up from the table and paced, muttering in French. “How to explain. The Axeman is no longer acting on his own counsel. He is being controlled by someone else, a”—he paused and muttered again—“what do you call a person who can manipulate le morte ?”

“Manipulate the dead?” I frowned at him a few seconds before a horrible understanding dawned. “You mean a necromancer? A necromantic wizard is controlling the Axeman?”

I’d never heard of it happening, but I didn’t see why it couldn’t. Necromancers could raise zombies, but zombies were ordinary dead people who acted by the will of their resurrector. They weren’t sentient like the historical undead. Would necromantic magic outweigh free will in a member of the historical undead? I’d had a good grounding in preternaturals through my education with Gerry, but somehow this situation had never arisen.

Jean correctly interpreted my dumbfounded expression and sat again. “ Oui, just so. I wanted to be certain you were informed of this before I left the city, and to inquire if you would accompany me.”

I looked up at Jean. “Go to Old Orleans with you to try and catch the Axeman? I think that’s a good thing for you to do, but I’d be more effective on this side of the border.” For many reasons, not the least of which is that I had possibly added a necromantic wizard to my most-wanted list. I had no proof, but could see no advantage Jean would gain by lying.

“I will learn what I can about this necromancer ”—he said the word slowly as if committing it to memory—“and will provide you with any details I learn.”

The whole necromancer scenario didn’t add up for me. I couldn’t see the purpose of it. “You said the necromancer was now controlling the Axeman—does that mean he wasn’t always controlling him?”

“ Oui, that is my understanding of the matter. The killer was simply coming across the border as I do, although with dark purpose. I come only with the purest of intentions, as you know.”

Pure intentions and pure greed. “Certainly,” I said. “So what changed?”

“When in Old Orleans this past eve ning, seeing to a possible shipment of goods, I heard talk of a wizard who had enabled the Axeman to reenter the modern city more quickly than he might otherwise do.”

So he could kill more people? How would that benefit a necromancer?

I rubbed my eyes and fought off a sudden wash of heat, then chills, then overwhelming exhaustion. Maybe it was loup-garou DNA making another change, or maybe I’d simply reached my limit for bad news between the Axeman attacks, Jake, loup-garou viruses, elf lessons, and now a freaking rogue necromancer. A wizard. One of my own people.

“Are you certain you will not go with me, Drusilla? You could stay at my home in Barataria. It is a fine big home, and you could be at peace there.”

Peace. I barely remembered what that felt like. “I can’t go with you, Jean. I hope you can help solve these crimes from the Beyond, but it’s my job to stay here and catch whoever’s doing this.”

Jean nodded. “I suspected such, although I hoped to change your mind. And now I must ask another thing. May we move to your receiving parlor?”

I stared at him a few seconds before figuring out he meant my living room. “Sure, I’ll receive you.”

We walked into the front room and sat on the sofa. He turned sideways to face me, our knees touching. Any other time, his hands would be wandering where they shouldn’t. Now, they twitched on his thighs.

He searched my face, then nodded. “You have been exposed to the loup-garou curse. Do you yet know if you will transform?”

Air left my lungs with an audible whoosh, and I had trouble drawing in anything to replace it. My chest tightened. “How did you find out?”

“I met your friend Jacob earlier today in Old Orleans as I sought answers about the Axeman. He described the events of Sunday morning. I am very angry at Jacob for endangering you and being so weak as to flee. In my time, such a man would have been hanged or set adrift.”

Jean reached out and took my hand. His was warm and comforting, which was just wrong. “You did not answer, Drusilla. Will you change?”

I shrugged. “I’m going to test my blood tomorrow morning and might have an answer. Otherwise, I won’t know until full moon week after next and . . .” I didn’t want to put this fear into words but he had to know what was at stake. “Don’t tell anyone. The Elders would kill Jake. They might very well kill me.”

There, I’d said the words, and they felt like truth. If Jake had told Jean, did anyone else know? My only hope was secrecy.

“No one need die,” Jean said. “I have agreed to give Jacob asylum until your situation is settled. However, he must face punishment for his behavior as would anyone under my protection.”

My gaze strayed to the scar that traced across his left jaw line. Jean Lafitte had been a brilliant and charming man, but Le Capitaine also had a reputation as a strict master. His men did not break his rules twice. They didn’t live to repeat their mistakes.

“Don’t hurt him.” I couldn’t stand it if Jake was injured again because Jean had some nineteenth-century notion of appropriate manly behavior.

“Jacob will not be damaged. I give you my vow.”

Somehow, I believed him. But Old Orleans operated under constant nighttime, with a steady full moon. Weres could literally run wild twenty- four/seven. “Are you sure he’ll be safe?”

“I assure his protection, Drusilla. You need worry only for yourself. It will land me in good stead with his cousin your enforcer, oui? A favor owed by an enforcer is always of value. But I ask this of you. If you do change, do not put yourself in the hands of the wizards, who will use you or worse. Come to me.”

I stared at him, realizing with dismay that this had been the best idea I’d heard so far. Better to be a wolf-girl with Jean in Old Barataria, an outpost of New Orleans’ mirror city in the Beyond, than an inmate in a Greenland institution, hunting muskoxen. Jean was immune to the virus, and immortal. He might be the only one I couldn’t kill.

“But I . . . well, thank you.” Jean had an angle. He always had an angle. Helping Jake might earn him a favor from Alex, but I’d be a valuable bargaining chip in his dealings with the wizards. I knew their secrets but would be outside their jurisdiction. I’d get to live, so it would be a win for me too.

Until I thought of leaving my life in New Orleans behind— leaving Alex behind—and that twisted my gut into tight knots.

“When will you go?” I couldn’t think about what might be coming or why the thought of saying good-bye to Alex brought with it physical pain. I needed to focus on this case, which had just gotten uglier than I’d imagined.