Suzanne Johnson - Elysian Fields

“That’s . . .” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. This had been the problem all along. He’d just finally verbalized it, and I didn’t have any answers.

“Alex, I want to be with you too, but you’re the only one who can decide what you can live with,” I said, finally. “You’re an adrenaline junkie with a control fetish, and maybe I’m a chaos junkie who doesn’t want to be controlled. I’d like to tell you I could change, but most of the crazy crap in my life is not stuff I go out looking for.”

Yet chaos always found me, and I was Gerry St. Simon’s daughter. I’d come to accept that I would always have a streak of rogue in me.

I’d been obsessively flipping a cardboard coaster as I talked. Alex reached out and rested his hand over mine. “Let’s slow down and see where it goes.”

Which was probably manspeak for let’s go back to being friends . Maybe it was for the best. The highs of being together were amazing, but the lows hurt. Right now, it hurt a lot.

I nodded, pulled my hand away, dug my wallet out of my purse, and tucked a twenty under the edge of my plate. “Ken wanted to visit L’Amour Sauvage tonight and see some vampires. You want to go?”

Alex shook his head. “I have a meeting with the head of the enforcers, to fill him in on how Ken’s doing. I’m hoping he doesn’t ask about Jake.”

God, Jake. I’d gotten so caught up in my own drama I’d forgotten him. I needed to get word to him, maybe through Jean Lafitte or Louis Armstrong, that even though I wasn’t going to shift it wasn’t safe for him to return. Not until the elves played their hand.

***

The lines stretching from the door of L’Amour Sauvage were especially long on a Saturday night, even the Saturday before Thanksgiving. I stood off to the side until I caught the eye of the bouncer, and he motioned me to the front. The grumbling masses would have to get over it.

I weaved my way through the well-dressed crowd. I’d made more of a stab at blending in tonight, or at least at sucking up to Etienne by respecting his dress code. I’d slithered into a curvehugging red dress with a low back and high hemline, wore my hair down, and gave up my boots for a pair of ridiculous red heels.

Heels I almost fell out of when I rounded the end of the bar and came upon Adrian Hoffman in a cozy clutch with Etienne’s leggy red-haired assistant, Terri. I’m not sure whose eyes widened the most.

“You’re back,” I finally coughed out.

Terri gave me a disconcerting, fangy grin. She wasn’t supposed to flash those things in public. “Adrian couldn’t stay away from New Orleans too long.” She pronounced the city’s name like a tourist— New Or- leens —but who was I to correct a woman with oversized canines?

Adrian, who’d also never pronounced the city’s name correctly, clearly hadn’t heard about the staff’s untimely breakage. “I’d planned to contact you on Monday about resuming our lessons.”

“The staff got broken during another Axeman attack yesterday.” What would his reaction be?

A smirk. “You really are quite the menace. We’ll continue, nonetheless. You have other skills that don’t involve the staff.”

Fabulous. “Call me Monday with our next class time. Good to see you feel up to making regular blood donations now that you’re back.” And with that zinger, I turned and walked across the bar to the table where Ken waited, all buttoned up in a dark sports jacket and slacks.

“You ready to play spot the vampire?”

He scanned the room. “How can you tell who’s vampire and who isn’t?”

“It’s hard unless they flash fangs at you, and most of them won’t do that. Doesn’t pay to scare your food supply.”

I looked around the room, pointing out vamps of both genders. “They’re pale— no sunlight, you know. Although most of the Midwestern tourists are just as pale. Vamps also tend to be very attractive. When they’re changed it maximizes whatever physical potential they had as humans. The better looking they are, the easier for them to lure in potential blood donors.”

Ken’s eyes had grown wider by the second. “Isn’t that one sitting with your wizard friend Adrian?”

I watched them a moment. Adrian looked kind of besotted with her. Good for him. Somebody should be happy. “Yep. Really, all you need to know is to not make direct eye contact, especially with Etienne. He likes to play mind games.”

As long as we were here, why not drop in on our local Regent? “You want to meet him?”

Ken looked a little fearful, but nodded. “Why not?”

“Follow me.” I walked into the hallway and slipped through Etienne’s office door without knocking—the better to learn something. The post-Katrina influx of pretes hadn’t done much for my manners.

The blond vampire had his back to the door, phone clamped to his ear. “I don’t care—forget it. It’s too risky to—” His posture straightened, his body stilled, and his voice lost its anger. His French accent, much lighter and more Americanized than Jean Lafitte’s, assumed a friendlier, more neutral tone. “I’m sure you’ll know what to do.”

He ended the call and finger-stabbed a couple of buttons on his keypad, still facing the other way. I held my breath. “Terri, ma chère . Unless you wish to be locked in a coffin for a month, I suggest you leave your new plaything alone and keep any other sorcières and their human friends from prancing into my office unannounced.”

I had never pranced anywhere in my life, and I doubt Ken had either. “How’d you know we were here?”

He clicked his phone shut, rose to his feet, turned, and prowled toward us. I had to force my feet to not prance away from him. Standing entirely too close, he lowered his head and took a long, leisurely inhale in the vicinity of my jugular. Ken tensed beside me, but to his credit, he hadn’t yet pulled out a weapon.

“Wizard blood is so very tempting, and yours is especially interesting.”

Yeah, obviously. “Sorry to drop in unannounced, but I was in the neighborhood.”

He straightened and walked back to his desk with a laugh, but I could sense his tension. Something had our Regent out of sorts tonight.

I had enough crises without volunteering for more, though, so I sat in the chair facing his desk. “I have another question or two about necromancy.”

“You should introduce me to your human friend first. I didn’t know wizards had allowed humans in on preternatural business. It seems unwise.” He’d fixed Ken with a vampirelike, unblinking stare, but Ken kept his eyes focused on Etienne’s desk.

The detective was determined to be a polite cop, however. “Ken Hachette. I’m with the NOPD homi cide unit as well as consulting on preternatural cases.”

“Interesting.” Etienne studied Ken a second before turning back to me. “What is it you’d like to know now, Ms. Jaco?”

“You grew up as a necromantic wizard before you were turned vampire. How did you first learn about your necromancy— who taught you how to use it?” Unless they pursued specialized fields like Adrian, attending formal schools, the majority of wizards obtained their educations the way I did, through private mentoring. Gerry and Tish had been my only teachers before college. But a specialized skill like necromancy might need specialized training with records I could use. It was a long shot, but worth a question.

Etienne laughed, and the soft glow from his desk lamp glinted on his fangs. “That was two centuries ago, Ms. Jaco. Rules were much more relaxed, and the Elders of my time did not try to exert so much control. We practiced our craft openly, and my father was likewise a necromancer. Today, your Elders are nothing but bureaucrats and politicians.”