House of the Rising Sun (36 page)

She struggled, loosening one arm just to have him pin her again.

He wrapped her tighter, making her fight for every inhale. “Keep it up and I’ll squeeze until I break ribs.”

She went still. What would Augustine do in a situation like this? Probably something she couldn’t. His gifts were a lot more powerful than hers.

“That’s a good girl,” the vampire purred in her ear. His breath stank like decay. He settled into the corner of the porch. “We’ll just wait here until that fae freak gets home. Then I’ll let him watch while I kill you just like I did the old broad who lived here.”

Rage surged up through Harlow hot and liquid. She strained against him as the desire to cause him pain for what he’d done to her mother made her vision go red. She became a creature of retribution in that moment. The living, breathing embodiment of vengeance. Her skin crackled with the need for revenge as her emotions bled out of her.

He shoved her away like he’d been shocked. “What the hell? What did you just do?”

She had no idea, but she was happy for the opening. Focusing on every fighting move she’d ever played out on Realm of Zauron, she spun around, her fist connecting with his cheek.

He cursed and backhanded her, knocking her to the porch floor. She pushed to her knees, then something hard connected with the back of her head and everything went black.

When she came to her head felt like it had been split open and the vampire had her in his arms again, this time with a blade pressed to her throat. She whimpered at the touch of steel. The knife had killed more than once and the emotions leaching into her skin made her nauseous.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” the vampire said. “I was just telling your boyfriend here how I’m going to kill you for what he did to my family.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” Her world started to narrow in like she might pass out again, but she forced herself to look into the yard.

“I don’t care who he is, he’s going to watch you die,” the vampire snarled.

Augustine stood in front of the Thrun, parked haphazardly, the driver’s door still open.

“Harlow.” He looked like he wanted to say more. His eyes burned with the kind of anger she’d felt right before the vampire had knocked her out, but more than that a brutal sort of darkness shadowed him. Like he was on the verge of losing control. Or giving himself over to everything raging inside him.

She held on to consciousness as best she could. “Augustine, he killed Olivia.”

“I know.” Even Augustine’s voice held an edge. “And now I’m going to kill him. Just like I killed the rest of his gang. Unless he tells me who he was working with.”

The vampire’s laugh grated against her ears. “Why should I? I have the upper hand here.”

“I’ll ask you once more,” Augustine said. “Tell me who helped you gain entrance to the city. Tell me, and I’ll personally guarantee your safety to the parish line.”

“Like I’d believe you.” The vampire’s arm came up, causing the blade against her neck to bite deeper. The metal’s sick history coiled through her, filling the widening nothingness inside her with its dark poison.

“Last chance, vampire.”

“Last chance, fae.” Pain radiated from her neck and the metallic tang of blood filled her nose.

Augustine’s face contorted, manifesting every bit of rage she’d imagined inside him. He flickered. His image changed and he became a phantom, so transparent that even the thin moonlight filtered through him.

He charged forward, moving at a speed only othernatural eyes could see. The smoky apparition he’d become lunged over the railing, passed through her and sank like a dagger into the vampire.

The force yanked the leech off her and threw him to the porch floor. Wood cracked and splintered beneath him. Lally’s bedroom light came on.

The vampire clawed at himself, digging his nails into his own flesh and shrieking. Augustine had disappeared. The vampire’s eyes bulged, his body convulsing, back arching like he was possessed. “Get out,” he moaned.

“Who hired you?” The words came out of the vampire’s mouth but the voice was Augustine’s.

Was Augustine
in
the vampire? There was no other explanation.

“Fae,” the vampire growled. Then he got up, grunting and gnashing his teeth, then jerked down the porch steps and into the yard. Unnatural bulges rippled beneath his skin. He scratched at himself, shredding strips of flesh that went to ash as he tore them away.

“Fae hired you?”

The vampire muttered something Harlow couldn’t make out. Then, with the soft whoosh of a flame being extinguished, the vampire turned to ash. In his place stood Augustine, as solid as when she’d first seen him. Ash drifted down over him like a hellish snowfall. He brushed the sooty bits from his hair and clothes before walking back onto the porch.

Harlow bumped into the wall of the house. She wasn’t
aware she’d backed up. “What… what just happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He wiped more ash off his face. “Are
you
okay?” He rubbed at her throat with his thumb. “You have a little blood on your neck, but the cut has already healed.”

She lifted a hand to feel her throat.

“You’re shaking.” He came nearer but didn’t touch her again. “I’m really sorry you had to go through that. If anything had happened to you…” He swallowed. “I never want any harm to come to you. Never.”

She nodded, a little numb. “Thank you.” The void created by the vampire still lingered, making her wonder if it was something she was stuck with. She wrapped her arms around her torso, trying to will it away and stop herself from shivering. “He said fae hired him. Do you think…”

Augustine took a step closer. “That it was Branzino? Yes.” He looked toward the pile of ash. “He said something right before he died that could have been Branzino’s name, but it wasn’t clear. Still, it’s enough for me to pursue that angle further.”

“Did you really kill the rest of his gang?”

“With help, yes.” He was half a foot away, maybe less.

“Good.” She flicked her gaze sideways. Lally’s light was still on. “We should probably go in and let Lally know everything’s okay.”

“She knows. She’s watching from the kitchen window.” He turned toward the house, the shimmer of power surrounding him like a visible aura. “Go to bed, Lally, it’s all taken care of. We’ll talk in the morning.”

A few seconds later, the bedroom light went off.

Harlow tilted her head slightly. “Are you going to explain what you did to that vampire?”

“Yes, but not right now.” His eyes took on the gleam of relief
and something… else. “Remember when I said if you wanted me to kiss you again, you were going to have to ask?”

She nodded. Heat rolled off him in waves.

His hands broke the lock of her arms to slide around her waist. “I lied.”

A
ugustine met Fenton at the Pelcrum early, right after he’d made a trip to the bank to meet Cuthridge and access Livie’s safety-deposit box. Before he’d left the house, though, he’d stuck his head into Harlow’s room. He needed to know she really was okay. That she hadn’t been so spooked by the vampire’s attack that she’d run, but she was still there, deep in sleep and the kind of beautiful that made him understand how the world had become infatuated with Olivia. Like it or not, Harlow was her mother’s child. She was, however, also very much her own woman. A woman he’d come to enjoy kissing too damn much for his own good.

He smiled, thinking of last night. The thunk of Fenton putting a mug of coffee in front of him pulled him from his memory.

Fenton sat next to him at the war room table. “I take it the mission was a success?”

“To the best of my knowledge, New Orleans is vampire-free. Unless our traitor lets another wave in.” He sipped the coffee.

“Do you think that will happen?”

“I think it’s a possibility until we know for sure who did it and deal with them.” He planted his fingers on the table. “Both Harlow and I fully believe that Branzino is behind all this. Not maybe, but definitely. Which means Dreich was working for him. Whether Dreich knew exactly who he was working for, I
have no idea but we need to move forward with Branzino as our main target.”

Fenton nodded. “Do you have something new to share?”

“We know Branzino is using some kind of magic to pass as human. Can you research that, maybe come up with a list of the fae who’d be willing to do that kind of work?”

“Absolutely. Anything else?”

“Yes, but for right now, this stays strictly between us.” He slid the data card across the table.

Fenton picked it up. “What’s on here? Can you tell me that much?”

“Evidence that will put Branzino in the Claustrum once we have him in custody. That’s not the only copy, but keep it safe.”

“I will.” He slipped the data card into his inside jacket pocket.

“Also, I need Olivia’s house warded immediately.”

Fenton frowned. “Did Branzino show there? Is that how you got this new info?”

“He’s part of why I want it done, but he hasn’t been back. Yet. However, the leader of the Young Bloods showed up there last night. He attacked Harlow and would have killed her, but I took care of things.” He tapped a finger on the table. “I want a weaver there as soon as possible.”

“Nekai is the best weaver for home protection, but he’s on loan to another Haven city. As soon as he returns, I’ll make it happen.” Fenton used his stylus to scrawl a note in his tablet.

“Thanks. Speaking of Branzino, how’s the investigation into Dreich’s death going?”

Fenton shook his head. “Slowly. I spoke with Detective Grantham yesterday and while the lab confirmed the powder found in the kitchen was
bokura
, he hasn’t been able to speak with his grandmother yet as she’s been ill.”

Augustine leaned forward. “I think it’s time to label Dreich’s death what it is. Murder. See if we can—”

“Hold on.” Fenton raised his hand. “We don’t have enough evidence to back that up. All we have is guesses. Even if Dreich was working for Branzino, he could have purchased that
bokura
to use on someone else.”

“Then who did he use it on? Because there wasn’t enough left to be useful. And who did he purchase it from? Bokura is a voodoo thing. That’s not something our kind typically messes with. I think by revealing some of our suspicions, we might be able to get some new intel. Maybe someone saw him talking to a known voodoo priest or priestess.”

“I think it’s too soon. Let’s give Grantham a chance to find out what he can before we upend this can of worms.” Fenton tapped his tablet to turn it off. “As for you, take the day off. You’ve earned it. Your lieutenants, too. The city can go a few hours without you patrolling the streets.”

“What if—”

“Augustine, everything is under control. And if something does happen, we still have the NOPD. Take some downtime. Do something to relax. Or do errands, or do nothing, but take the day off.”

“There is something I should do.” Augustine stood. He’d never thought the day would come when he’d feel this sense of responsibility to a job he’d never wanted. “Call me if you need me.”

“I won’t.” Fenton made a shooing motion with his hand. “Go.”

Fifteen minutes later, Augustine parked the Thrun outside the Ursuline Convent and walked through the front gardens to the visitors’ desk. The austerity of the place never failed to make him feel like a schoolboy.

The sister on duty looked up at him. “Can I help you?”

“I’d like to see…” It took him a moment to remember what his mother had changed her name to when she’d come here. “Magdalena. She’s a… I think it’s called a postulate?”

“Just a moment.” The sister picked up the handset on an old corded phone and dialed. “Magdalena, there’s a visitor here to see you.” She paused. “I’ll ask.” The sister put the handset to her shoulder. “Who are you and what is your business with Magdalena?”

“I’m her son and I’d just like to talk.” The nun relayed that information. Some small part of him thought that if his mother understood the kind of work he was doing now, how he’d changed for the better and taken on some responsibility, she might soften toward him and they could have some kind of relationship. Olivia would approve. In fact, he hoped to be able to tell her about this next time he saw her, which would be soon. Olivia
had
to let Harlow know she wasn’t really gone. He was going to insist.

“All right.” The sister nodded into the phone, then looked up at him again. “I’m sorry, she doesn’t wish to see you.”

He stood there a moment, feeling like he’d been slapped. He’d been a fool to think this time would be any different. That she’d be any different. He closed his mouth and walked back to his car as it began to drizzle.

He pulled his collar up. Getting through to his mother was an impossible task. It might never happen. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to stop trying, no matter how many times he failed.

She was his mother. They were blood. Shouldn’t that matter for something? Not to her, obviously. His LMD vibrated since he’d silenced it before entering the convent. “Answer.”

“Augustine, where are you?” Harlow’s voice was husky with sleep. She must have just woken up.

“I had an errand to run.”

“Well, hurry up. Lally’s making bacon pecan pancakes and says we can’t eat until you get home. Also, pick up some orange juice.” She snorted like something funny had just occurred to
her. “Are bacon pecan pancakes a thing in New Orleans? You people eat some weird stuff.”

“I guess we do. You’re one of those people now, you know.”

A few seconds of silence passed between them. “That’s going to take some getting used to.”

“I know the feeling.” He opened the car door and slid into the driver’s seat, staring at the rain streaking his windshield. Family wasn’t about the blood that connected you to other people, it was about the people who chose to be connected to you. The people who stood at your side, who faced the demons, fought the battles and helped patch you up afterwards. The realization put a smile on his face. “I’ll get the juice and be right home.”

Without another look at the convent, he drove off. His family was waiting.