Elysian Fields (31 page)

Rand straightened and put more force in his voice than I’d have thought him physically capable of, with his injuries. “I am Elf.”

I sighed. Rand sounded imperious, defiant, condescending, and antagonistic. Like an elf, in other words.

Dom snorted and turned back to me. “
Elf
is not welcome here, and neither are you, made moiselle. I will give you a quarterhour’s head start out of respect for Jean, and after that”—he shrugged—“I care not what happens to you.”

He turned to the crowd of men behind him, who were six shades of scary. “Prepare for a hunt,
mes amies
. The girl? She is the prize to whomever first finds her.” Then he repeated it in French so they’d understand it. The English version had been for my benefit.

Nice. I could run or I could call his bluff, and my feet hurt too badly to run. He wouldn’t risk Jean’s anger by moving against us. I walked forward till we were inches apart and stuck the tip of the broken elven staff in his chest. “You might not care what happens to me, but Jean will. Do you trust all of those fine gentlemen behind you to keep secret what they do to me? Because if you don’t trust them, you better forget your petty, vindictive game and take us to Jean.” I poked him harder. “Now.”

A dark flush washed across his features, and a low mumble wove through the onlookers. Did I know how to make friends and influence enemies, or what?

Several things happened at once, and it took a few seconds for me to sort them out. Dom wrapped a hand around my upper arm and jerked me roughly toward him. Rand stepped forward and began chanting elven gibberish. And a dark red wolf the size of a miniature horse prowled from the nowdarkened beach into the firelight.

Everyone on two legs froze. The wolf continued forward until he stood alongside Dom, who loosened his grip on my arm. He stared at the beast a few heartbeats before throwing his hands in the air and pushing through the crowd. “You’re the wolf ’s problem, then, and Jean’s.
Tout est foutu
.”

Yeah, I knew that much French. The F-bomb was still popu lar in my world. I turned my attention to the wolf, who watched me with golden eyes both alien and sentient. Only once had I seen Jake in wolf form, but since this big, red loup-garou hadn’t yet laid a fang on either me or Rand, I had to assume it was him.

“Jake?” I caught the wolf ’s gaze a moment, then looked down. I didn’t know how much was Jake and how much was wolf, so I wanted to make no movements he’d see as threatening.

He moved closer to me, flames from the nearest fire reflecting in his eyes and giving them a red glow. I swallowed hard but kept my breathing even when he bumped my arm with his snout. I held out my hand, opening my palm to him.

“Dru, are you insane?” Rand reached across me and grabbed my outstretched hand. “That’s a loup-garou, not a pet.”

The wolf snarled and snapped, and Rand’s skin began glowing as he muttered what sounded like curses in his consonantheavy language.

Jake—wolf Jake—whined and backed away, shaking his head. Whatever Rand was doing to him, it hurt. I still hadn’t quite figured out what the glowing and chanting did.

“Stop that.” I stepped between Rand and wolf Jake. The elf still had his inner glow, but at least he shut up.

When had he picked up that glowing thing, anyway? It was awfully incon venient that elven magic worked in the Beyond when wizard’s magic didn’t, because if ever an elf needed a good zap of calm-your-ass-down magic, it was Quince Randolph.

The wolf stretched out his neck and sniffed along my arm where I’d bled from God only knows what injury, then sat and cocked his head at me a moment before focusing on Rand. The black-tipped hair around his nose and snout bristled as his upper lip slowly curled upward, revealing the biggest, sharpest set of teeth I’d seen since I’d watched Rene skin an alligator.

“I don’t think he likes you.” I glanced at Rand, who was staring back at the wolf. He didn’t get the memo about avoiding the dominance stare-down thing.

“It’s mutual.”

I’d rather talk to the wolf. “Jake, we need to see Jean Lafitte. Do you know where he is? It’s urgent. You can fight with the elf later.” Now we’d find out how much Jake’s wolf understood, and how helpful he was feeling.

He stared past me at Rand a few moments longer, then turned and loped up the beach in the opposite direction from our transport.

“Come on.” I stumbled after the wolf and heard the crunch of shifting sand as my
mate
followed.

We’d traveled at least another eighth of a mile beneath the once-again full moon before I saw the outline of a house rising from the higher land just beyond the beach. Soft light shone through its windows with a surreal glow. Pure French Colonial, as near as I could tell, with concessions made to the South Louisiana weather. It would probably be stunning in sunlight, with two stories and a gallery that spanned the upper floor. Spindly trees and lush banana palms grew up around it, dark and elegant shadows in the moonlight. From what I’d read, there were probably strategically placed cannons tucked away in several places, facing in all directions.

A raised wooden banquette stretched from the sand toward the house, and by the time Rand and I reached it, Jake’s wolf was out of sight.

The verandah traversed the width of the house on the first floor, and double doors and floor-to-ceiling windows all along the front stood open to the sea breezes. Jean apparently needed lighter security in the Beyond than in his human life. Then again, he had his own personal loup-garou and lots of undead pirates at his disposal.

I looked up at Rand. “Stay here. Let me talk to him first.”

The elf opened his mouth to respond, but thought better of it and settled for a nod and a disgruntled huff. Maybe he was learning.

Jean’s living space was masculine and built for comfort. I passed a hammock on the verandah, which spoke of the West Indies, but the inside shone with a blend of island comfort and French wealth. Serious wealth. Oil lamps provided the lighting, and their soft illumination warmed the dark woods and rustic furnishings. Art filled the walls—nautical scenes, mostly. Furniture sat dark, heavy, solid. A fire blazed above the stone hearth, and the room smelled of the ocean and Jean’s own scent of cinnamon and tobacco. I liked it.

“He’s gone into Old Orleans, DJ. Should be back soon.” I started as Jake emerged from a small door in the back of the parlor. He wore a pair of pants—probably Jean’s, because they were too long and had an old-fashioned buttoned fly. No shirt, and his feet were bare. I was so glad to see him healthy and safe, I wanted to cry.

“You look like shit, sunshine.”

“You look great.” I hugged him, and he stiffened a little before eventually hugging me back.

Jake stepped back to give me a searching, hopeful look that broke my heart. “Thank God. I didn’t infect you after all. Jean must have been wrong.” His shoulders sagged and he closed his eyes, nodding. “Thank God.”

“No, thank me.” Rand stepped forward, the elven version of testosterone on legs. “She
was
infected, thanks to you, and would be planning to shift and run for the rest of her life if not for me. I saved her.”

Rand needed a gag, and if I had access to Mace’s cane I’d beat him with it right now. “Stay out of this, Rand.” More softly: “I’m okay now, Jake. As soon as some political stuff gets straightened out, you should come home.” It was time we all moved on with our lives, whatever that meant.

An expressionless mask covered Jake’s features as he tried to shut me out, but I could feel the despair filtering through his wonky loup-garou aura. I wanted to help him, but as usual, I didn’t know what to do. I moved to hug him again, but he stepped back.
Don’t pressure him. Don’t put expectations on him.
I needed it tattooed on my forehead. If I’d learned nothing else from this ordeal, it should be that.

I began to notice other things. Fading bruises on his abdomen. A deep scratch across the side of his neck. “Who hurt you?” Jean had promised to take care of him. As fast as loupgarou healed, the fact he was still showing those injuries told me they were recent, and they’d been serious.

He ignored me and focused on Rand. “Aren’t you Eugenie’s boyfriend? What the hell are you doing here?”

Rand squared his shoulders. “I am a member of the Elven Synod, and Dru and I are bonded. This blood-bond allowed me to save her, as elves are immune to the loup-garou curse. If the shift didn’t kill her, her wizard Elders would have, thanks to you.”

I closed my eyes. Rand was such an ass. I liked him a lot better when he was half conscious or fighting for his life. “The little detail Rand omitted is that the Axeman was after us and we escaped through a transport that took us to Elf heim, which was too dangerous for us. Long story. I don’t want to go back to New Orleans without a plan to stop him, and I thought Jean could help.”

Slow. No expectations.
“I’m really glad to see you, Jake.”

Jake was boring visual holes in Rand, his brows lowered. I didn’t think he’d even been listening to me. “If you give me your blood, will it kill the loup-garou virus in me?”

Rand blinked. “I am bound to Dru. I can’t bond with anyone else. Especially a man.”

“It’s that kind of bond? Sunshine, I’m surprised at you.” Jake slipped into his easygoing, good-old-boy-from-Mississippi persona that didn’t even begin to hide his disquiet. “Bet Alex is not a happy Boy Scout.”

“It is
not
that kind of a bond.” I hoped he could understand my words since I seemed incapable of unclenching my teeth. But Jake had brought up a point I’d been too self-absorbed to consider, and I was ashamed of myself. His stirrings of hope kindled my own. “Rand, if Jake were to bond with another elf, would that kill the loup-garou virus in him, or at least neutralize it?”

Rand chewed his lip and stared at the floor. The air seemed to get sucked out of the room while we waited. Jake’s longing soaked into my skin so intensely it sent sharp pains through my head. I was still clutching the staff, and stroked my palms over it to soothe the ache. In previous trips to the Beyond, the staff had neutralized my empathic abilities. Broken, it only filtered out some. Jake was broadcasting like crazy.

“I don’t think so,” Rand finally said. “Dru was a given because she hadn’t shifted yet, and the virus had just begun to change her system. You’ve been turned, what?”—he looked at Jake—“three years?”

Jake nodded. “More or less.”

He shrugged. “I can’t see it working. It might even kill you since the virus has changed your system completely. Plus, you’d have to find an elf willing to bond with you. It’s a lifelong, unbreakable tie, and not a decision we make lightly.”

Jake’s eyebrow took a hike northward. “You’re tied to this guy till death do you part?”

“No!” I shook my head emphatically. Not like he thought, anyway.

“Exactly,” Rand said.

“That is most unfortunate for you, Monsieur Elf, since it hastens your death,” said a voice from behind us—a deep voice, sexy and husky and decidedly French. I’d know it anywhere.

Jean Lafitte had come home.

J
ean blew into the room like a hurricane gale, throwing a satchel on a chair and stalking to face our little group. He pinned me with dark blue eyes that softened when I finally met his gaze, then turned to Jake. “Jacob, please show our elven friend to the room we reserve for our most honored guests, and ask Marcel to bring what he needs in terms of ban dages and clothing. Then find Josefin and send her to me with the things Drusilla will need for her
toilette
.”

“Dru and I stay together.” Rand moved closer to my side, and I rolled my eyes. That elf so needed a reality check.

Jean grinned at him. “That was not a request, Monsieur Randolph. The elves are accustomed to being
les tyrans
in Old Orleans with their mental games, but you are in Barataria now. You would do well to remember you have no asylum here, but are tolerated on my forbearance. Jacob, do as I say.”

For a moment, I didn’t think Jake was going to respond. I didn’t blame him. Rand might be able to help him get rid of the loup-garou curse, and Jean was being awfully pushy. I’d spent most of my time with the charming, flirtatious (if occasionally smarmy) Jean Lafitte, or his sneaky, devious alter ego. This was the cold, calculating, and extremely smart man who’d manipulated nations and commanded respect.

“Jake, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” I started to move toward him.

“Stay where you are, Drusilla. Jacob, do as I say.
Tout de suite
.” Jean’s voice was hard, authoritative.

Jake gave a small nod and nudged Rand toward the outer doors with a grip on his upper arm. “You heard
Le Capitaine,
elf boy. Move it.”

Rand jerked away from him. “Dru, give me the staff. I can work on it tonight.”

I looked down at the cracked stick of wood I’d been clinging to like a lifeline for what seemed like a week. “I thought you needed supplies from Elf heim in order to fix it.”

“Vervain’s powers transferred to me when she died,” he said shortly. “I can do it now.”

Ah, yeah, Vervain’s powers. That would be the glowing, chanting thing. I might as well let him have it. Its power had been so diminished I could do almost as much with my own native magic. I laid the staff in his open palm. If there was any chance he could fix it, might as well let him try, even though I didn’t trust him as far as I could drop- kick him.

Once they’d left, I rounded on Jean. “You don’t know what Jake’s been through.” I summoned up energy I didn’t think I still had and put it behind my words. “I appreciate your taking him in but don’t treat him like one of your lackeys. Why is he bruised?”

“I will treat him as he needs to be treated.” Jean unstrapped the crossed leather belts slung across his hips and laid his bulky pistol on the table. “Jacob drinks too much and is dangerous to himself and to others, as you well know if you will only admit to it.”

“Bossing him around like that isn’t going to help.”

“I beg to differ,
Jolie
. Of this, I know more than you—as hard as such a thing might be for you to admit.” He treated me to a little smirk that drew my eyes to the strong jaw with the scar running across it, and neutralized my comeback. I needed to remember that my rational mind seemed to book a holiday whenever I was around this man . . . dead guy . . . pirate . . . and keep my wits on alert. I thought he was hot, and he wasn’t above taking advantage of it.