Suzanne Johnson - Elysian Fields

I led Adrian to the front of the line, ignoring the grumbles of the waiting dinner entrées. The sommelier—er, greeter— was tall, pale, and gorgeous in an androgynous sort of way. He lifted one perfect brow. “And you are moving to the head of the line because . . . ?”

“Because I have a meeting with Mr. Boulard.” I held my sentinel badge up discreetly, and Pretty Boy looked suitably alarmed. In case that hadn’t worked, I had the FBI badge in my purse.

“Hold on.” He punched a number in a cell phone, spoke a moment, then clicked it shut. “Go on back. Look for Terri—tall redhead. She’s Etienne’s assistant, and will take you to him.”

I’d rather go home. I’d done my research and the Regents of Vampyre were powerful, plus Etienne was a former wizard who’d lost all his magic upon being turned vamp—except the ability to control the dead.

Fortunately, the Regents took seriously the job of policing the undead subjects in their territory. No feeding off unwilling humans. Memory modification required. No enthralling humans unless to keep the peace. No turning humans without prior permission from the Interspecies Council. Unless Etienne Boulard had decided to create a little mayhem by bringing back the Axeman of New Orleans.

Jean Lafitte considered him a resource, not a suspect, however, and the vamps had a good setup here. Boulard wouldn’t want to risk it.

“I feel as if I’m being judged on my suitability to be someone’s dinner.” Adrian stuck close to me as we edged past Pretty Boy and entered the darkened club. A closed door to our left had a sign that said “Tour Blood. New Orleans’ Only Genuine Vampire Tours.” Eugenie had talked me into going on one of their nightly specials, and she seemed to think it was great fun.

The inside of L’Amour Sauvage was pure class—dark woods, walls the color of a fine merlot (or a pint of O-positive), polished floors. Candles flickered atop tables, and chairs were upholstered in an expensive-looking fleur-de- lis tonal pattern. The tall redhead stalking toward us looked equally expensive.

She was also vampire, which surprised me. I’d expected Etienne to have a human factotum, although I guess he could have a variety of flunkies in different species.

“Terri Ford. You must be the sentinel.” She held out a hand to shake and I clasped it, unsure what I’d feel. Turned out that vampire energy, like that of the historical undead, was similar to human, but with an earthier edge. She was curious about us, and hungry. Luckily for me, she’d dropped my hand and had her appetite focused on Adrian.

“Who is your handsome friend?” Terri had been a Southerner in her human life; her accent still dripped honey. She held on to Adrian’s handshake and within seconds had him glassy- eyed and practically drooling—and I don’t think there had been any illegal enthrallment.

Adrian introduced himself before I could intervene. “You are much too lovely to be a vampire,” he said, probably insulting her deeply.

“And you look absolutely delicious.” She dragged the last word out an extra few syllables.

Oh, please. I poked Adrian in the arm. “We’re here on business, remember?”

He glanced at me briefly before returning his attention to Terri. I took a few steps away and paused when I realized he wasn’t going to follow. I should have acted like a real sentinel and stayed with him, but I was tired, getting shaky over my blood-test results, and not inclined to babysit a horny guy who’d apparently changed his opinion of vampires.

Neither Adrian nor Terri acknowledged my pending departure, so I turned and left them to make their own dinner plans. It couldn’t be that hard to find Etienne’s office. Maybe Adrian could get some useful information from the assistant while I talked to the boss.

As I walked through the crowded club, multiple pairs of cold, dark gazes settled on me, assessing. The vampires emitted wisps of hunger that flowed over my skin but never settled. Had I been human, I suspected those feelers would have been absorbed, getting me in the proper mood for snacking—or whatever.

I should just write “AB-Neg/Wizard” on my forehead. All wizards had the same blood type, which made transfusions handy as long as other wizards were nearby. Would my blood taste different from that of another wizard since I seemed to have some elf? And loup-garou? If a vamp fed from me, would he turn furry alongside me at the next full moon? I had no intention of finding out.

I made my way to the back of the club and stuck my head in an open, unmarked doorway. There were restrooms directly in front of me, then a dark, narrow hallway that stretched left and right with a closed door at each end. Which one looked as if it might house a vampire Regent?

I tried the door to the right, but it led into a small courtyard that opened on Conti Street. I doubled back, stopping to make way for two giggling women headed into the ladies’ room. Once I got closer, I knew the door on the other end of the hallway had to be the inner sanctum. The wood was intricately carved with vines and scrolls, and the doorknob was ornate brass.

I knocked twice, turned the knob, and walked into the office of one of only three vampire Regents in the country. South Florida and San Diego had the other two. Vamps liked warm weather. Guess it made them feel more human even if they couldn’t go outside and enjoy the sunshine without frying.

A large wooden desk sat empty, its polished surface covered with several small, neat stacks of paper and a box that looked like a depository for invoices and receipts. A typical office, in other words, not so different from Jake’s office at the Green Gator except it had nicer furniture.

“Can I help you?”

I whirled to find a section of the room that had been blocked by the door. A man and woman sat on a black leather sofa, looking at me with polite interest.

Before I could answer, Terri swept into the room behind me with Adrian on her heels. “I’m sorry, Etienne. The wizard got away from me.” I wasn’t sure it was possible for a vampire to be breathless, but Terri came close. “This is the sentinel who wanted to meet with you, and her associate Mr. Hoffman, who works for the Elders.”

The man rose, and I felt the power before he got within a foot of me. “Never mind, Terri—obviously, you found Mr. Hoffman distracting.” He had the deepest blue eyes I’d ever seen, his irises almost black. I’d always thought Jean Lafitte’s eyes were a dark blue, but where they were cobalt Etienne’s were navy. He was as easy to read as any other former human. He was angry at Terri.

Something of which she was well aware. “Again, I’m sorry, Etienne.” She looked ready to grovel.

He waved her away and turned creep-eyes back to me. His power battered at my mind, but I was too experienced at slamming my mental doors to fall for that trick. He was playing with me. “Don’t try mind games. They won’t work, and I’ll give you a citation.”

He spiked a brow and chuckled. “My friend Jean hasn’t exaggerated your spirit, Ms. Jaco. I am Etienne Boulard.”

I didn’t remember offering him my hand, but suddenly he had it, lifting it toward his lips. He kissed the back of it in that courtly, old-world-French kind of way. Somehow, despite his name, I hadn’t expected him to be French, although his accent had been Americanized over the years—however many years he’d been around.

I wanted to ask how he knew Jean, but the woman who’d been sitting on the sofa with him rose and put a hand on his arm. She was of average height and had hair such a pale blond it appeared almost white. She also had blue eyes—cold, unfriendly, freeze-the-leaves-on-the-trees blue—and an unreadable energy signature.

I scanned her for peridot jewelry, but saw nothing. All these pretes without magical auras were making me jumpy.