House of the Rising Sun (14 page)

Harlow’s desperate need for coffee boosted her courage to walk into the kitchen even though that probably meant running into Augustine, but he was nowhere in sight. Probably still in bed. And happily, there was a fresh pot at the ready. Today was looking up. She set her LMD on the table and made a beeline for the coffeemaker. “Augustine always sleep this late?”

“He’ll be here when he’s ready.” Lally sat at the table, paging through a newspaper. “You want breakfast?”

“Not yet, I’m—” Harlow stopped. “Is that a
paper
newspaper?”

Lally looked up over the edge of her glasses. “Yes, child. Haven’t you seen one of these before?”

“Yes, but not in a long time. I mean, I knew they’d made a resurgence since the price of electricity skyrocketed, but it doesn’t take that long to get your news online.”

“I like to linger. Read the whole story. Look at the ads. And I always recycle them—I can’t be paying no fine. I guess I’m what you call old-school. Although your mama used to read her news online.”

At the mention of her mother, Harlow went back to getting coffee. She grabbed the biggest mug she could find, then filled it and added three heaping spoons of sugar and a large glug
of creamer. “You could watch the holovision. Get your news that way.”

Lally didn’t look up this time. “Too much holovision bothers my eyes. And that
still
uses electricity. Your mother never cared, but that bill belongs to you now and I don’t want to be running up something I haven’t got permission to.”

So there it was. “You can watch the holovision whenever you want for as long as you’re here. When the house sells, there’ll be plenty of money to pay whatever bills are left.” Harlow sipped her coffee. And grimaced.

“Something wrong?”

Of course, now Lally was looking at her. “Coffee’s just… different than I’m used to.”

“It’s the chicory. It’s how we drink it here.” She set her paper down. “I’ve got some plain coffee. Your mama used to keep it for finicky visitors. You want me make some of that?”

“No, this is fine.” She forced a smile and took another sip, desperate not to be considered finicky in the eyes of this woman who was clearly judging her for her treatment of Olivia. Maybe she’d add more sugar. Right after she changed the subject. “Augustine said this place used to be a whorehouse.”

At the word, Lally’s brows shot up. “Many, many years ago, this building housed a brothel, yes.” She folded her newspaper and smoothed a hand over the crease. “In the way back, all those places were out in Storyville ’cept for this one.” Her fingers crept to the chain around her neck. “The place here catered to the fae. All the girls were fae, all the customers fae, and the magic that kept this place hidden from human eyes and human law was fae.”

“That’s why it lasted so long.” Harlow shivered with the implications. “Was it built by the fae, too?”

“Yes.” Lally picked up her paper. “And a lot of folks know the history of this place since the covenant broke. Not many
humans want to buy a place thick with so much powerful magic and old fae history. Some think that old song ‘House of the Rising Sun’ was written ’bout this house. And some say it’s haunted.” She looked toward the center of the house. “Some days, I think it is.”

Harlow sat back, unwilling to be intimidated. Haunted didn’t scare her nearly as much as the fact that she was steeping in fae juju. “Is that so?”

Lally was nose deep in her paper again. “Yes, that is exactly so. There is history here you can’t even imagine.”

Too bad there wasn’t a clue about who her father had been. “What do you think a place like this is worth?”

“I don’t know much about real estate.”

Harlow pushed. “Guess. You’ve lived here long enough to know what these big houses go for.”

With a sigh, Lally set her paper down again. “I don’t know. A house this size, with all that’s on this land, maybe five, six million.”

Harlow nodded, barely able to hide the surprise bubbling up inside her. “Then I’ll put it on the market for half that and no one should mind what kind of place this used to be.” Coffee mug in hand, she stood and headed to the library.

Three million. That would pay her fine and leave enough to hire a really good private investigator, buy a nice little house, a great big security system and set her up perfectly with servers to ramp up her business. She let out the breath she suddenly realized she’d been holding only to realize what this really meant. She was trading Olivia’s legacy for her own freedom. Her troubles—and prison—were about to be behind her. But at what cost?

F
enton shook his head, his eyes glazed with panic. “I-I don’t know how that could be. He must have killed himself.”

“A vampire that kills himself without the aid of sunlight?” Augustine slammed his fist against the bars, the clang ringing out over his fiercely beating heart. Someone had robbed him of his chance to avenge Livie. “I want a list of everyone who had access to him.”

Fenton jerked back. “Are you suggesting that one of those who serve did this?”

Augustine leaned in. “That’s exactly what I’m suggesting.”

He wrung his hands together. “I don’t know…”

“Listen to me.” Augustine stabbed a finger toward the cell’s ash-coated interior. “This vampire could have led me to his boss, who would have then led me to whoever’s responsible for letting these leeches into our city in the first place.”

“Maybe. You don’t know that’s what’s happening.”

“Yes, I do.” Dulcinea was rarely wrong. Maybe she could help him with this. “Someone is making plastic bringing these bloodsuckers into our town, someone high enough up on the food chain that they feel untouchable.”

Fenton paled. “Surely you’re not saying one of the Elektos…”

“No. I don’t think someone in your position would risk their reputation and rank for plastic.” Augustine paced away from the cell, the acrid tang of ash filling his nose. “My guess is it’s one of Khell’s lieutenants.” A plan began to form in his head.
“I assume the vampire was searched before he was locked up. Where are his personal things?”

“I’ll get them for you. And speaking of lieutenants, that’s one of the things I was going to go over with you today.”

“Khell’s lieutenants?”

“Yes. You need to meet with them, have them get you up to speed on what they know about this vampire issue. See if there’s anything else you need to be read in on. Basic Guardian business.”

Augustine thought for a moment. “Those lieutenants, they were all put in place by Khell?”

“Not all. Some were appointed by the Guardian before him. Maybe one even older than that.”

“Do I have to keep them all?”

Fenton shook his head. “As Guardian, you may appoint and dismiss whomever you like.”

Augustine stuck his hand into his coat pocket, only to remember he’d left the address Fenton had given him in his jeans. “Give me the address of the Guardian’s house again, then get me the vampire’s things. I have an errand to do. I’ll be back as soon as I can. In the meantime, set something up with the lieutenants. Don’t tell them anything about my suspicions.”

“As you wish,” Fenton said. “I’ll take care of everything. The vampire’s belongings are in the strong room.” A hint of a smile played on his lips.

“You think this is amusing?”

The smile turned into horror. “Hell, no.” He stood a little straighter. “I’m just proud that I was right about you. You may not have had a proper fae education, but you have the heart and you have the courage and you have street smarts. In some ways, that’s worth more than a proper fae education. Follow me to the war room. I have something else to give you before I get the vamp’s things.”

A war room? “It can wait.”

“No, it can’t.” Fenton walked out into the main hall.

Augustine gritted his teeth, but followed anyway. Fenton went through the door at the very end. The interior of the room reminded Augustine of a medieval library, the walls lined with shelves, each one filled with leather-bound, gilt-embossed volumes. Another book, the largest of the bunch, sat open on a podium. “What are all these?”

“Records and such.” Fenton nodded at the separate one. “That’s our Codex.” Then he shut the door and walked to the center table, a massive circle of wood inlaid with an enormous fleur-de-lis. Twelve chairs encompassed it, and near the edge, a metal box sat waiting. He opened it and pulled out a black rectangle half the size of a plastic bill and slightly thicker than several stacked together. He handed it to Augustine. “Your Life Management Device. I’m assuming you don’t already have one; if you do, you’ll need to carry this one as well.”

“No, I don’t have one, but I know what an LMD is. Basically.” He’d never thought one worth the expense, although Livie had offered to get him one years ago. The device didn’t feel very sturdy. It flexed in his fingers.

Fenton pointed to it. “That LMD is your phone, your navigation, your connection to any Elektos assistance you might need. It also carries your identification, your credit—which as Guardian is fairly unlimited. It’s everything you need to function as Guardian. Don’t lose it. Although if you do, it can be destroyed remotely.”

“That’s what Yanna meant about being in my contacts.”

“Yes.”

Augustine stared at the thing. “Knowing what an LMD is and knowing how to work one is a very different thing.”

“It’s intuitive. Play with it and it will come to you. In order to access it, you just have to press your index finger to the screen. Only your fingerprint can unlock it.”

“And it’s already been programmed. Meaning you already had a set of my prints.”

Fenton raised one brow. “That really shouldn’t surprise you at this stage of the game.” He then took a matching LMD from his pocket, tapped the screen a few times, then put it away. “I just sent you the address to the Guardian’s house.”

The LMD in Augustine’s hand vibrated and the screen lit up. He pressed his finger to it as Fenton had directed. A window popped open with an address on it. In the window was another tiny square that looked like a map. He held it out so Fenton could see it. “And if I touch that little square?”

“Satnav will direct you to the house. On the back of the LMD is a com cell that will act as your earpiece. It’s not like the old ones that had to be implanted. Just peel it off and stick it behind your ear. It should last indefinitely. If something happens to it, we’ll get you another one. Although not everyone adjusts to the voice in their head. If you choose not to use it, that’s all right, too.”

Augustine flipped the LMD over. He scraped a tiny flesh-colored—in his case a pale gray—dot off the back with his fingernail. “This thing?”

“Yes. And if you need me, I’m in your contacts list. All the Elektos are.”

“Crazy.” He pinched the dot between his fingers, finally flattening it against his skin. Then he shoved the LMD into his pocket and readied to go. “I’ll try not to break it.”

“If you do, we’ll get you another. Once you get to the Guardian’s house, you’ll find the LMD will also unlock and start your car.”

Augustine paused. “My car?”

“It’s in the garage at the Guardian’s house. I know you’re not going to live there just yet but please use the vehicle. It will make your job and your life easier. Mirrors are wonderful for
transport, but suddenly appearing in a place can sometimes have unconsidered consequences. And Augustine, watch the parking tickets.” Fenton made an odd face. “We paid the fines you had accumulated, by the way, so your license is no longer suspended and you’re cleared to drive.”

Augustine smirked. It had been a while since he’d driven, but man, it had been fun. Livie had some nice cars. “What can I say? I’ve never been much on obeying rules.”

“We know. That willingness to flout convention to get whatever you want is part of why we chose you for Guardian. Provided what you want is in line with the role of the Guardian, we have no problem with that.” He shut the metal box. “I’ll be right back.”

Augustine paced, too impatient to sit. Fortunately, Fenton wasn’t gone long. He returned with a brown paper bag, the top folded over.

He handed the bag to Augustine. “Not much in there, I’m afraid. A leather jacket, two knives, his belt and some random things from his pockets: pack of smokes, keys, about three grand in plastic, a flask of blood, that sort of thing.”

“That’s a lot of walking-around money. I guess he didn’t trust his hotel.”

Fenton nodded. “I’m sure you’re right. Keep the cash. Consider it a starting bonus.”

“Thanks.” He tucked the bag under his arm, hoping his plan would work. Either way, he was about to shake things up. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Augustine, there is much to be done yet—”

“I know, the lieutenants, but I can’t imagine anything more important than finding out who murdered Khell and Olivia and stopping whoever is responsible for letting these vampires into our city.”

“I agree, but I’m speaking about fae protocols. At some point in the very near future, you must meet with Evander Vincent.”

“The coven leader? The hell why?” Giselle’s father was a fourth-level grand wizard and not someone high up on Augustine’s list of people to hang out with.

“Because since the treaty between the fae and witches, it’s been our custom that any new officials must make themselves known to the other party. When Evander took his position, he came to us. When Loudreux became Prime, he went to Evander, just as Khell did after his swearing in as Guardian. Now, it’s your turn. It’s little more than a courtesy but those courtesies are how we keep peace.” He shrugged. “The voodoo practitioners are not so organized that they have one main leader, and as we have no formal agreements with them, all that needs to be done is send out a few notices to the higher-ups in that religion, let them know we’ve chosen a new Guardian. It’s just good politics.”

“And the treaty between us and the witches is why the witches agree to the regulations placed on them.”

Fenton nodded. “It was that or be banished from New Orleans.” He sighed. “I worry what will happen when Evander passes on. His daughters strike me as the types who would turn their backs on the past in exchange for power. Well, not Zara perhaps, but Giselle for sure.”

“I know a bit about Giselle. All I know about the other one is she sells stuff at the farmers’ market.”

“Zara’s a green witch, lives here in the Garden District in their mother’s old house, keeps to herself, seems more interested in her plants than people. She supplies the coven with most of their herbs. She’s never caused problems before, but sometimes the quiet ones are more dangerous.”

“I’ll remember that. I would have pegged Giselle for the troublemaker, but maybe she doesn’t like getting her hands dirty. Certainly suits what I know about her.” Augustine adjusted the bag slightly. “I’ll make the meeting with Evander happen. I just need to take care of this vampire issue first.”

“I understand. Be safe,” Fenton added as Augustine left.

Augustine nodded, but he was done being safe. Since Livie, he’d cleaned up his act and changed the way he lived, careful not to get involved, not to take on too much responsibility, not to upset his cleverly crafted life. Fat lot of good that had done him. The time to return to dangerous living had arrived.

The com cell took some getting used to. He could see why some people ditched the thing. Having a voice in his head wasn’t just intrusive; it made him feel borderline mental. But without the walking directions from the satnav, he might not have made it to the Guardian’s house. There was nothing difficult about finding the place, but even as he approached it, he had a hard time seeing it. Like it slipped out of his field of vision every time he looked directly at it. A powerful urge to keep walking pushed his feet forward, a sure sign of the ward used to protect the house.

He was almost to the next property when he forced himself to backtrack. By focusing on the house next door, he was able to go through the gate and walk up the porch steps. Once on the porch, the strong magic faded, perhaps as a courtesy to visitors who really intended to be there.

He rang the bell and waited. The house was nice by Garden District standards, but not showy or overdone. It looked like conservative money, where as Livie’s looked like old money.
Grand
old money. Nothing about this place felt like home. He couldn’t imagine himself living here, but he would have to.

His hand went for the bell again just as the door opened. A pretty igneous fae answered the door, her face pale except for the dark circles under her eyes. Beatrice. Khell’s widow, and based on her reputation, not a woman to be trifled with.

Which was backed up by the fact that her free hand held a ball of fire. Ignus fae could melt stone if they were mad enough. Skin and bone had no chance. Her gaze scoured him. “What is it?”

Not the greeting he’d expected, but he understood grief made formalities less important. She’d probably had her fill of formalities these past few days. He held his hands up. “I’m Augustine, the new Guardian. I just wanted to—”

“They said I could have a week.” Her face screwed into an angry half sob and the fire in her palm shot higher. “I’m doing the best I can. It’s only been a few days. We just had the funeral. You can’t expect me to—”

“I don’t expect you to move. Nope. Not even a little bit. And I didn’t know about the funeral or I would have been there. Look, I’m not here to kick you out. I swear.”

“You’re not?” She stopped sniffling. The flames died down.

“No. I wanted to introduce myself. See how you’re doing.”

That seemed to satisfy her, since she lost the fireball. He’d give her the real reason as soon as he sussed her out a little more. “I’m… okay. The funeral was small. Just family. Your… lady friend was murdered, too, wasn’t she?”