Elysian Fields (13 page)

Nine p.m. had barely come and gone, yet the line of people waiting to get into L’Amour Sauvage already stretched down Chartres Street. It wasn’t the normal tourist crowd of bug-eyed Midwesterners and shitfaced college kids. Very upscale clientele, well-dressed and broadcasting sexual vibes. These people didn’t realize the sexually charged atmosphere luring them in had been intentional foreplay, designed to get them in the mood to become vampire dinner. From what I’d heard, they’d enjoy it plenty and remember nothing.

Adrian fit in perfectly with his tailored black suit, crisp, open-collared white shirt, and a tasteful diamond stud in his ear. I was back in jeans and a black sweater, but I had at least showered and washed the ashes out of my hair.

I fingered the small bag of magicked herbs and rubies in an amulet I wore around my neck, the better to avoid picking up horny vibes and doing something like coming on to Adrian or a vampire. Either of which would be a bad idea on so many levels.

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.

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.”