Suzanne Johnson - Elysian Fields

We’d been gone more than twelve hours. “Did someone reach Alex? Where is Jake?”

Jean shook his head. “You have too many men with whom to concern yourself, Drusilla. Had you availed yourself of my offer to live here, your life would have been much simpler, oui? ”

Couldn’t deny that, although I suspected life with Jean Lafitte, even an immortal Jean Lafitte, wouldn’t be without its challenges.

He’d returned to his armchair, and I sat on the nearest end of the sofa with a small plate in my fabric-covered lap. I asked the question that had been needling me since I’d seen him stretched across his bed. “Do you keep gowns and underwear for women in all sizes and colors for whenever the need arrives?”

He smiled. “I had hoped you might come to my home one day and wear these garments chosen especially for you.”

Uh-huh. He was so full of crap. “And about Alex?”

I stuffed another bite of bread in my mouth and washed it down with brandy. It was good brandy; my head was already buzzing. There was probably a rule of etiquette about ladies guzzling brandy on a Sunday morning too, but we were in the Beyond and it was dark outside.

“ Oui, Drusilla. Word was sent to Monsieur Warin that you are safe. What has happened to bring you here with this elf?”

Well, that dampened my appetite. The memory of my home in flames sat heavily on my heart, and the pain of loss outdid the bruised ribs in making it hurt to breathe.

I’d have to mourn later. I set the plate back on the table and gave him the short version of the Axeman’s activities so far. “We know the necromancer is targeting me. Rand helped me escape into the transport at his house.” I swallowed hard and blinked back white-hot tears. “The Axeman burned my house down. I doubt anything is left. I guess if it weren’t for Rand, I’d have burned up with it.” I remembered trying to run back inside and him hauling me physically away from it. I needed to be nicer to him.

Jean’s eyes narrowed. “Monsieur Randolph claims to be your husband. Is this true?”

I choked on my brandy, coughing out a quick “no!” I wasn’t sure how, but I had to get Rand under control and rid him of the notion that we were going to be more than business partners, sort of, apparently forever. Good Lord, Alex was right; I did attract chaos like flies to bad chicken.

“I bonded with him to give him leverage within the Synod, in exchange for getting rid of the loup-garou virus. Mace Banyan found out I’d been exposed to the virus, and planned to use it against me. It was my best option.”

Jean stared into space a few moments. “It might have appeared to be your best option, but I fear this bonding will make you a more serious threat if the rumors about power struggles within the Synod are true. Some say the elves wish to challenge the wizards for control of the borders by taking over the Interspecies Council.”

Holy crap. “You think Mace Banyan kidnapped me, thinking it would get the wizards to break the truce and start a war?” If so, the staff was nothing but an excuse. And Rand had complicated things more with this bonding business, of which I’m sure he was aware.

“I do not know, but it would not be a great surprise.” Jean leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees. His indigo shirt matched the bodice of my gown, and his fawn-colored pants were the same color as my skirt. It couldn’t be coincidental. “Do you wish me to kill Quince Randolph? It would be my pleasure to do so, and rid you of this burden.”

“No!” My heart stuttered, and I realized that no matter what a mess I’d made of things, it could always get worse. “He’s a member of the elven Synod now. Killing him would be a disaster. I’ll figure some way out of this. You haven’t done anything to him already, have you?”

“Of course not, Jolie .” Jean’s smile left me pretty sure that wherever Rand was, he wasn’t basking in comfort, being supplied with a bath and luxurious clothing and plates of food. On the other hand, Jean would realize helping a member of the elven Synod would work to his favor. He was piling up IOUs like a banker during a recession.

As annoyed as I was with the elf, I thought he’d suffered enough physical pain. “I don’t want him hurt, especially since he saved me from the Axeman.” Well, unless I hurt him myself. “Promise me.”

To seal the deal, I trotted out Jean’s favorite three-word endearment: “I’ll owe you.”

He laughed, getting up to pour himself more brandy. “Very well.” He held up the decanter and raised an eyebrow.

“No, thanks.” I’d had just enough liquid courage to plow into my next request. “Speaking of owing you, I need your help.”

With a total know- it-all smirk, he planted his smug (and quite attractive) butt next to me on the sofa. I hated owing Jean. He had no boundaries when it came to repayment.

His arm rested alongside mine as he leaned toward me. “Tell me your heart’s desire, Jolie, and I shall be pleased to provide it.” His voice was husky and silky at the same time. It made me uncomfortably aware of how close he was sitting, and annoyed with myself for noticing.

I stared deep into his eyes and said just the thing to cool his ardor. “Come back with me to New Orleans, to lure out the necromancer.”

Worked like a charm. He got up and prowled behind the sofa, eventually throwing himself into his chair again and slinging a long leg over the side. “Why would I do this, Drusilla? If the maître des mortes controls me and you are the target, he could force me to kill you, or worse. Why would you wish this?”

What was worse than dead? “I can’t go back without a plan to flush out—”

The beachside door flew open and Mace Banyan burst into the room, apparently shoved by Jake, who followed closely behind. “Keep your hands off me, you rabid hound!”

Talk about bad news blowing in. Mace straightened his clothing and glared at Jake. I liked seeing Mace wolf- handled.

“Monsieur Banyan, to what do we owe this . . . pleasure?” Jean rose from his chair like Sebastian when he’d spotted a squirrel outside the window. Playtime and dinner, all rolled into one package. I felt another pang of guilt, wondering if Sebastian had survived the fire.

“Mr. Lafitte, I have cause to believe two of my people are being held in Barataria against their will. I demand their release.” Mace didn’t glow, but the air around him literally shimmered with power, giving him a not-quite-solid, wavery look. Like the Princess Leia hologram in Star Wars .

“Help me, Obi-Wan. I have an elf that needs caning.” I held my brandy snifter up in salute. It really was excellent brandy.

Mace noticed me for the first time and didn’t seem pleased. “ You . I should have known when we learned our transport had been used to go to Old Barataria that you’d be up to your . . . cleavage in it. Glad to see you’re dressing for the only part you’re fit to play.”

I’d had about all the elven nonsense I could handle for this week, so I did what any self- respecting Green Congress wizard would do in my situation. I hurled the heavy cut-glass brandy decanter at his head.

Surprised, he didn’t duck in time and it glanced off his forehead with a satisfying crack before crashing to the floor and shattering into a brilliant carpet of glass.

“Sorry about your decanter, Jean. I’ll buy you another.”

“It is of no concern, Jolie .”

Mace rounded on Jean, rubbing his forehead. “Release my people immediately—both of them—or suffer the consequences.”

“What do you mean, both of them?” I propped my hands on my hips in my best impression of a pirate stance. “Who do you think is here?”