House of the Rising Sun (19 page)

“If it turns out that one of these lieutenants, retired or otherwise, is behind these vampires getting access to the city?”

Fenton’s expression hardened. “They will spend the rest of their lives in the Claustrum, just as any other traitor would.”

As that sank in, Augustine’s mind turned to Olivia. “Are you coming to the house tomorrow for the funeral?”

“Yes, of course.” Fenton straightened a little. “Tomorrow will be a hard day for you. If there is anything I can do to help, please let me know.”

If anyone could help get Livie’s ashes out of the cemetery, it was the man in front of him. “Actually, there is one thing…”

Giselle thanked the goddess that she’d been in the right place at the right time. She’d stopped by to see her father only to learn the new Guardian was on his way over.

Her father sat in his office, record books strewn about his desk, shelves overflowing with catalogued ingredients, scrying bowls and ancient grimoires. At least his shirt was clean. Not pressed, but clean.

“Aren’t you going to straighten up before he gets here? I thought Cormier kept things up better than this.” Her apartment in the French Quarter was pristine without the help of a butler or any other live-in help.

“This is a workingman’s office, Giselle. I like things the way they are.” Which meant Evander probably didn’t let Cormier touch a thing.

Which was the problem. Nothing ever changed, nothing ever improved. “You know computers can keep track of all this information very easily. You could create spreadsheets to see what spells are the most requested, which coven members haven’t paid their dues, whose licenses are coming up for renewal next. Think how much simpler your life would be.”

He sighed and looked over the rim of his glasses at her. “We’ve been over this. Computers can be hacked. I don’t want the world knowing our business. Why would people come to us for help if they could whip up a love potion from a recipe online?” He glared at her. “No. This is the way we do things. This will always be the way we do things.”

Not after she became coven leader. “Did you invite Zara?”

“No, and I didn’t invite you,” her father answered. “Besides, your sister isn’t interested in such things.”

“She’s not interested in much, is she?” Zara didn’t live that far away, choosing to remain in their late mother’s Garden District home nearby. Zara rarely left the house except to sell her handmade soaps and tinctures at the farmers’ market, but her
garden provided the coven with the bulk of the plant materials used in their spells. In that respect Zara wasn’t totally useless. Nor was she much competition.

“Leave your sister alone. She’s happy in her life. You should take a lesson from her.”

Giselle planted her hands on the edge of her father’s desk and leaned in. “What lesson would that be? To be less ambitious? To never want more for myself than a pretty garden? Forgive me for following in your footsteps, Father. I thought that’s what you wanted. I know you wish I’d been a boy.”

He rubbed his forehead. “Giselle, that’s not what I—”

The doorbell’s chime interrupted him. She spun away from her father, already knowing the lie he was about to repeat, and walked toward the front of the house. The Guardian had arrived. “I’ll get it.”

She met Cormier in the hall. “I
said
I’ll get it.” She shooed her father’s butler away and opened the door, letting a long second pass as she took in the man across from her. Then she forced a smile. “Hello there. I didn’t expect
you
.”

The fae across from her tipped his head in greeting. “Giselle. If I may call you that.” There was too much mystery in his eyes. What was he hiding? “I’m Augustine Robelais, but you probably already know that. I’m here to see your father, something I’m sure you also know.”

Her smile broadened, but she caught herself before it became obviously faked. “I only know that you are a friend of one of the other readers who work in the square.” Hellfire. Dulcinea’s friend. This was an unexpected twist. “Come in, Mr. Robelais.”

“Please, call me Augustine.” He entered, his eyes on her and not his surroundings, unlike most people who saw her father’s home for the first time. Evander’s collection of antiques was astonishing not only for sheer volume but also for quality. If only they knew what power came from such aged objects.

“That’s very kind of you.” He reeked of power himself, a heavy, smoky metal scent that announced his virility like a blaring trumpet. She’d never been this close to him before, but it explained a lot about his reputation as a heartbreaker. And the way that ratty Dulcinea fawned over him. He probably wasn’t even aware he gave off such a magnetic aura.

She held out her hands. “May I take your coat?”

“Sure.” He slipped off the long leather coat he wore, revealing a gorgeous sword strapped to his hip. The sword had magic. That much she could discern. The fae and their weavers. Such a bothersome bunch.

“My father is in his study. If you’ll just follow me.”

But Augustine didn’t move except to come closer to her. “I understand you’ve been saying unkind things about my friend, Dulcinea.”

She backed up, feigning intimidation. “I would never do anything of the sort.”

He grabbed her wrist, his grip firm but not unbreakable. “I can tell when you’re lying. I can feel it through your skin, little witch.”

A tremor of real panic trilled through her. She was supposed to be charming him, wooing him to her side. This was not going as planned. She swallowed her pride for the sake of the game. “I may have said something about her to a tourist out of anger. She sometimes steals my customers away, you understand. I apologize. It won’t happen again.”

He released her. “Thank you. I appreciate your honesty.”

She rubbed her wrist, all for show. “You didn’t give me much of a choice, did you?”

He winked at her. “I can’t actually tell if you’re lying or not. That ability isn’t in my wheelhouse.” He pointed down the hall. “I assume that second heartbeat I hear is your father. I’ll announce myself.”

The nerve. She stood there, her swallowed pride bubbling back up as anger. How dare he trick her? How dare he? She was next in line to be coven leader. An honest-to-goddess descendant of Aurela La Voisin, the grand witch who’d put the original curse on New Orleans after her heart was broken by a fae. Probably a fae just like Augustine. Giselle charged after him as he entered her father’s office.

“This is the new Guardian,” she spat out before he could say anything. “Augustine Robelais.”

Her father stood and extended his hand. “Good to meet you, Augustine.”

Augustine shook Evander’s hand. “I appreciate you meeting with me on such short notice, but my time is at a premium these days.”

Evander nodded. “It usually is for every Guardian when they take over, especially in a case where the previous Guardian has met an untimely death. You have my sympathies.”

“I didn’t know Khell well, but thank you.” Augustine glanced at Giselle before looking back to Evander. “A dear friend of mine, Olivia Goodwin, was also murdered. We believe by the same vampires.”

Her father looked genuinely shocked. “I’d heard of Ms. Goodwin’s passing, but the news said it was a mugging. I had no idea vampires were involved. Again, my sympathies.”

Giselle nodded. “I told you there was more to it.”

Evander gestured toward her. “My daughter always thinks there is more afoot than there truly is. In this instance, it seems she was right.”

Augustine turned to her. “You’re always in the Quarter. Have you seen a lot of vampires? Do you know anything about the pack that’s in the city now?”

“I’m always in the Quarter because I live and work there.” She caught her father’s disapproving frown in her peripheral vision.
For his sake, she tried for a more demure tone. “I haven’t seen many vampires. One or two, but not enough to call a pack.”

Augustine narrowed his eyes and rested his hand on the hilt of the weapon on his hip. “You’re not lying again, are you?”

She swallowed, sneaking a peek at her father. If he frowned any harder, he’d sprain a muscle. “Of course not. Why would I do that,” she asked. Perhaps she should tell him about some of the fae who came to see her secretly, who used her services because they had business they wished to keep hidden. Guardian or not, he had no idea what really went on in his city.

Evander rapped his knuckles on his desktop. “What’s this about my daughter lying to you?”

“Nothing serious,” Augustine answered. “Just a little self-protection.”

Evander gave her the glare she knew meant trouble. “I am sorry about it, nonetheless.” He came out from behind his desk. “Giselle, get us some wine, please.” He gestured toward Augustine. “We’ll have a glass together, toast your new position.”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” Augustine said. “Really, I can’t stay long.”

She hesitated. This should be good.

Evander looked askance at Augustine. “It’s traditional to share a drink at this first meeting. It shows trust, among other things. I’ll assume you weren’t informed of that and give you the opportunity to answer again.”

The fae held up his hands. “You’re right, I wasn’t informed, but there’s no one to blame for that. We’ve just been preoccupied with these deaths and getting our affairs in order. I’m sure you can understand the chaos our house has been in.” He nodded to Giselle. “I’d be happy to share a drink with you and your father.”

She smiled sweetly, because he’d just stepped in it again. “I’ll be right back.” She strode away while her father informed
Augustine that the only person he needed to share a drink with was the coven leader, not his daughter.

She came back with three glasses anyway, the stems laced between her fingers, the neck of the bottle firmly in her other hand. “Daddy?” She held out the bottle to him. “Would you care to open?”

It was a chance for him to show off, a little gift from her and something that would please him.

As predicted, he smiled and took the bottle. Augustine shifted, his body tense. He was either ready to leave or worried that her father was slightly unhinged. Evander was perfectly sane, just a stickler for diplomacy, and having Augustine be unsure of Evander could work to her advantage, especially if she offered herself as a go-between.

Bottle stripped of its foil seal, Evander spoke the opening spell and the cork wriggled free of its own accord.

Augustine clapped. “That’s a handy trick.”

Giselle almost laughed, but held back. The fae had already insulted her father enough.

Evander chucked the cork into the trash with more force than necessary. “It’s not a
trick
, Mr. Robelais. We are wizards and witches, not magicians.”

Proud that her father had at least stood up for them on that front, Giselle took the bottle from him and poured a few ounces into each glass. What a lucky, lucky turn of events that she’d gotten to be here for this.

Augustine let out a frustrated sigh as he widened his stance into something a little more defensive. “I didn’t mean to imply anything by my wording. I’m not a diplomat. I’m not even a decent fae ambassador. In fact, I’m barely a member of fae society. Up until Olivia was killed, I had refused the Guardianship on more than one occasion.”

He took a deep breath. “I am here because I was told it was
the right thing to do. To extend you the courtesy of meeting me on your own ground. I get that the treaty between our people is important, but you’re going to have to cut me some slack. All I care about right now is getting these monsters out of our city and protecting the people that live here—all of them, witch, fae, varcolai or human—so if I don’t use the proper words or step left when I should step right, get over it. It’s not what I’m about.”

A glass of wine in each hand, Giselle popped her jaw to one side and waited for Mount Evander to explode. His eyes were bulging out of his head a tad, a sure sign her father was about to blow.

Evander slowly closed his mouth, reached out and took one of the glasses from Giselle. He lifted it. “The Elektos are lucky to have you. Forgive me for placing such importance on the trivial. If I can help you in any way with eliminating these vampires, I am happy to do it.”

Looking relieved, Augustine took the second glass from Giselle and clinked it against Evander’s. “Much obliged.”

Then the two men drank, leaving her out of the toast and feeling very much like she’d somehow arrived late to the very party she’d planned.

Augustine set his glass down after the first sip. “There is something I’d like to talk to you about.” He cleared his throat. “Alone.”

Evander waved a hand at Giselle. “Close the door on your way out, my dear.”

Dumbstruck with anger and humiliation, she did as her father asked. She stood in the hall for a moment, staring at the closed door. If the rest of the coven could see how her father had welcomed this fae into his bosom as if the Guardian were the new salvation of the city, they would charge him with treason. Well, some of them anyway. And right now, Evander was in
there probably giving away the last scrap of freedom the witches had. What the hell was her father thinking? What new regulation would the fae heap on them now? There wasn’t much left.