Suzanne Johnson - Elysian Fields

Her voice was sandpaper on silk. “Etienne, I’m going. Please give serious thought to what I said.”

He nodded. “Terri, show our guest out, please, and leave me alone to get acquainted with our sentinel. Mr. Hoffman, would you like to join us?”

Adrian had remained silent until now, watching Etienne with wary eyes. He lifted an eyebrow at me, and I gave a slight nudge of my head. I’d rather he stay with me so we could compare notes later.

“I would, if you don’t mind, Mr. Boulard.” Adrian closed the door, shutting his new friend Terri outside.

Etienne walked behind his desk, sat in his leather chair, and leaned back with his arms crossed. He had blond hair stylishly cut and moussed, and the commanding presence I’d expect from a Regent, even though he wasn’t a particularly tall or muscular man. In fact, except for the power he exuded, he looked like a downright ordinary businessman in a gray suit.

“Thanks for seeing us tonight.” Adrian and I took the seats across from him, and I cast around for how to broach the subject of the Axeman.

“It is no problem—we should’ve met before but, as you can see, business has been good since we opened the club. Between that and discussions over the Interspecies Council, I’ve had my hands full.” He unfolded his arms and leaned forward, propping his elbows on the desk. “I assume you’re here to talk about these Axeman murders, yes?”

“Jean Lafitte suggested you might be able to give me a lead.”

He nodded, and I felt him trying to get into my head again. I wondered if he were trying the same thing with Adrian, but imagined the Blue Congress wizard would have been throwing a tantrum if he had been.

“Your skills at blocking your thoughts are very strong.” He gave me an appraising look. “And you seem immune to enthrallment. Why is that?”

“Good training.” Like I was sharing the whole elf thing? “I’m Green Congress; my father was Red Congress.”

“Ah, yes, I heard of Monsieur St. Simon, but never met him. My condolences on your loss.”

Oh, this guy was good. Steering me off- topic with small talk. “Back to the murders. We believe it’s the work of—”

“A necromancer, yes,” he interrupted. “Jean and I discussed this. And as I am a necromancer, I understand why you’d wish to speak with me.”

Okay, that had been easy enough. “We had been searching for the Axeman himself, but obviously if he’s now being controlled by a necromancer, this is of real concern to the wizards and the historical undead as well.”

While I’d been enveloping Six Flags in purple smoke, Alex had done his research on local necromancers. Other than the vampire sitting across the desk, the Elders knew of only one other in New Orleans.

“It concerns me as well,” Etienne said. “After all, a necromancer also could control my vampires, and I can assure you our Council of Vampyre would not tolerate that. So I will do anything within my power to help you.”

“Necromancers are required to be registered.” Adrian spoke up for the first time. “It should be relatively simple to narrow down the suspects. Your assistance would be appreciated, however.”

“Here’s what I need to know.” I crossed my legs and faltered as Etienne’s eyes tracked the movement like Sebastian’s did when he spotted an interesting bug crossing the porch. He usually followed up the stalk with the pounce and eat. Thank God I’d worn jeans. “Normally, one needs a summoning name in order to call a member of the historical undead to the modern world, and the Axeman’s name was never known. Would the necromancer be able to call him without the name?”

The vampire pulled a small cigar from his drawer. “Do you mind?”

Yes, actually, but I shook my head. Fortunately, it was mild and smelled like the rich tobacco Jean used, and had probably been smuggled in by the pirate. Etienne blew a ring of smoke into the air, drawing my attention to his mouth. I could see the very tip of his fangs, and wondered how it would feel to feed a vampire. I’d never know, at least not willingly.

“He was likely summoned simply by that name—the Axeman— since that’s how he is remembered in the city’s history.” Etienne took a puff of his cigar. “So, if it were my business to discover who the necromancer was, I would begin with the Axeman himself.”

Interesting. If Etienne was right, I could summon the Axeman as long as I could catch him when he was in the Beyond, and could coax him to reveal the name of the necromancer. I’d had good luck placing magic- infused rubies inside a summoning circle, which compelled the person inside the circle to answer questions truthfully.

If I could pull that off, we’d be done with this whole thing in time for a normal Thanksgiving. Except for the turningwolf-at-the-full-moon issue.

If the Axeman were spending most of his time in the modern world, fueled by his own renewed fame and the necromancer, however, a summoning wouldn’t work. Still, it was worth a try.

I pulled out the small notebook I’d stuck in my bag and looked over my list of questions. “Can a necromancer control a member of the historical undead the same as any other undead—a vampire, for example, or a zombie?” He’d sort of answered, but I wanted him to elaborate.

Etienne’s cell phone rang with a generic, salsa-themed ringtone. He glanced at the screen, then set it aside. “I don’t know firsthand, never having tried to control one of the historical undead. I imagine it would be more difficult than a zombie, however—more like controlling a vampire. A sentient being is more apt to”—he struggled for the right word—“ fi g h t his instructions if they are actions with which he disagrees, so I imagine the necromancer would find it more difficult to maintain control. So you’re probably looking for quite a strong necromantic wizard.”

And if Etienne was innocent, that left only one other local necromancer, a Green Congress wizard who owned a French Quarter new age shop.

“Would you be willing to provide us with your whereabouts at the time the attacks have occurred?” Adrian had been watching Etienne closely and guarding his thoughts. He seemed to put less credence in Jean Lafitte’s trust of the vampire’s innocence than I did. It was a fair question.

“Of course, Mr. Hoffman.” Etienne flashed fang again, and this time I thought it was more scowl than smile. He was growing impatient. “I am here at L’Amour Sauvage every eve ning from nightfall onward except for trips into the Realm of Vampyre, which I believe covers your attack times. You are welcome to question any of my staff, vampire and human alike, to verify my whereabouts, however.”

We might need the Regent’s help again, so I thought we’d gotten enough information for tonight. At least I knew there was a possibility of summoning the Axeman without a proper name. “Thank you,” I said, rising to leave. “By the way, how long have you known Jean Lafitte?”

Etienne grinned, and I had a fascinating glimpse of the full fangs. They looked very sharp. “I met Jean as a young man when he was building his empire in Barataria and I owned a riverside plantation through which he smuggled his goods upriver to Vicksburg. After I was turned, I offered to turn him vampire as well. He would have been even more powerful—but he didn’t wish to be under anyone’s control, then as now.”

A friendship of 250 years. Holy cow. No wonder Jean trusted him.

Etienne rose and opened the door leading back into the hallway. The three of us walked together into the club, which had grown even more crowded. Terri sat in a back corner table with the pale blonde who’d been in Etienne’s office earlier. They both rose when they saw us, and the blonde faded into the crowd.