House of the Rising Sun (7 page)

She kept her mouth shut and just stared at him. Years of watching her agent negotiate contract terms and movie deals had taught her that the first one to speak usually lost.

He pushed his glasses up. “I have the authority to search this house, Ms. Goodwin. You’ve got fae bloodlines and as you reside in a Haven city, you receive the same protection and must abide by the same rules as every other fae within city limits.”

She tapped her cane impatiently on the library’s loblolly pine floor. “I was born here, you idiot. I retired here because it’s my home, not because I needed the protection of the Elektos.” She stifled a laugh at the thought of this bureaucrat trying to protect her from anything greater than a paper cut.

He canted his head to the side, looking up through his lenses
at her. Like she was a child that needed things explained to her. The nerve. “Be that as it may, you enjoy our protection whether you actively seek it or not. Now I will ask you one more time, where is Augustine?”

“I have no idea.” Not a lie. She really didn’t know where he was and frankly, she preferred it that way.

Then the sound of boots thudding down her stairs pulled a sigh from her throat.

The fae across from her arched a brow. “No idea, Ms. Goodwin?”

“I don’t monitor his coming and going, peckerhead.”

Augustine’s voice rang out. “Livie, where are you?”

“In the library. With
company
,” she called back. Damn bothersome company.

Augie sauntered around the corner, the look on his face telegraphing his understanding of her inflection. He shifted his gaze to the newcomer and leaned heavily against the door frame. His horns were gone. He must have sawed them off after he’d come home last night. “I knew we’d come to this sooner or later.”

“This is…” She frowned at her visitor before introducing him. “Fartus Wanker—”

“Fenton Welch,” the man corrected sternly.

She waved his comment away with an impatient hand. “Fenton, Fartus, whatever your name is, you’re not taking Augustine away from me. I need him. I’m an old, old woman and he’s my caretaker. Without him, I’d take the wrong pills and drink drain cleaner by mistake and there’d be no one to call the doctor when I fall and break my hip. Then my death would be on your head.” It wasn’t like Harlow was going to take care of her in her dotage. All that child wanted was the name of the man most likely to kill her. And money.

“Ms. Goodwin, I don’t think—”

“Refreshments?” Lally walked in with a tray of house recipe Bloody Marys. So much for being alone. At least the drink would make Olivia feel better, especially since the house recipe was heavy on the vodka and spice.

Fenton gave Lally the eye, then cleared his throat. “Ms. Goodwin, I’m not here to take Augustine away, although considering his recent actions that would certainly be within the Elektos’s rights.”

“You’re not?” She took a Bloody Mary off the tray Lally held out and swallowed a healthy portion. Vodka was so restorative. Especially when accompanied by a large dose of good, local hot sauce.

“No.” Fenton helped himself to a drink also, but after the first sip, he coughed and set it down. Lightweight.

She patted the cushion next to her. “Augie, come here.” He walked over and settled his lanky form onto the divan with a dancer’s grace. Somehow he made the bulk of muscle he carried seem easy.

Augustine stared at the Elektos, looking unconvinced Fenton wasn’t about to cuff him. “What do you want with me then?”

Fenton put his hands together. “We’ve had some terrible news. Our current Guardian, Khell, was found dead this morning. Throat slit. Never had a chance to fight back.”

Augustine swore softly under his breath. Olivia grabbed his hand, her heart cold in her chest. “That poor boy. And just married, too.”

“That is a damn shame.” Augustine stroked the back of Olivia’s hand with his thumb. Always such a comfort. “Slitting his throat would take away his best defense.” Khell was part wysper and they had a scream that could kill vampires. “Good chance it was vamps.”

Fenton nodded, obviously surprised by Augustine’s knowledge. “We think so, too. Their numbers have been increasing in our city with alarming speed and with last night’s festivities it was easy for them to blend in. Can I ask how you know this?”

“I hear things. And while I’m very sorry about Khell, this news changes nothing. Like I’ve told you before, I am not interested in becoming Guardian.” He crossed his hands through the air. “Not now, not ever.”

Olivia nodded. “Khell’s murder proves how dangerous the job is. You can’t force Augie to do this.”

Fenton sat a little taller in his chair, the light in his pale eyes suddenly stern. “No, I can’t force him.” He looked at Augustine. “But if you don’t take this job, the Elektos will have no reason not to prosecute you for your crimes against fae society. Namely admitting a mortal not only to the fae plane, but to the Claustrum, a place you will become very familiar with should you turn us down again. In fact, the chance that you’ll accept is the only reason you haven’t been arrested so far.”

A muscle in Augustine’s jaw twitched and the light in his eyes went hard and icy. An image of eighteen-year-old Augie flashed before her eyes, more anger than sense and nerves like tripwires. A sudden sense of dread drifted through her.

His voice came out a low growl. “There are other candidates.”

“Yes, but none with your… background.”

Augustine snorted. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Fenton inched back in his seat, but otherwise held his position. “We know what you’re capable of, Augustine. That you killed a man when you were eight without even knowing what your powers were. How you earned your way with underground fights until no one would oppose you any longer.” Fenton paused. “We need that kind of fae for our next Guardian.”

Olivia stiffened. She’d known what Augustine was capable of, but never in such black-and-white terms.

Augustine’s face was steel and stone. “So you want a fae with a record? There are a lot of us out there.”

“No.” Fenton held Augustine’s gaze. “We want a fae who will be as much of a threat to our enemies as our enemies are to us.”

“And one,” Augustine added, “that you won’t mourn too much when the job kills him.”

T
he anger arrowing through Augustine’s spine felt like it was about to split him open. It shattered the calmness he’d worked so hard for and made his muscles itch with the memory of physical violence. He tried to contain his temper, tried to push it back down, but that was not something he’d had to do in a very long time and he was out of practice. The struggle paralyzed him for a long, long moment.

“You can’t do that,” Olivia whispered, her voice rough with emotion. “You cannot take him from me. He and Lally are all I have.”

“He’s made his own choices, Ms. Goodwin. Now he must make one more.” Fenton stood. “You have a day to think it over, Augustine. Twenty-four hours.” He tipped his head at Olivia, who still sat motionless. “I’ll see myself out.”

As the cypher left, Augustine bent his head into his fists. He hated to lose control around Livie. He’d made her afraid a few times in their early days, before he’d mastered his temper and his instinct to lash out. It wasn’t something he wanted to do again. “I should never have helped Chrysabelle. Never should have taken her to the Claustrum. I knew it would come back to bite me on the ass. Damn Mortalis. He never should have sent her to me. I could kill him for—”

“Augustine.” Her quiet voice interrupted him. “Maybe you should take the job.”

He looked at Olivia. The library’s overhead light emphasized
the lines on her face and for the first time, she seemed her age. “After all your protest? It’s a death sentence, Livie, you know that. That’s the second Guardian we’ve lost in three months. And how long was it before that? Two years? Besides, it would mean leaving you.”

“Just because the Guardianship comes with a house doesn’t mean you have to live there.” Her eyes were bright with unshed tears.

“Livie…” He took her hand again. “I just need to work out a way around this.”

“I don’t think this is something you can charm your way out of.” She pulled her hand away, blinking hard and scowling. “I know about the Claustrum, Augustine. I don’t want you in that place. You think being Guardian is a death sentence? What kind of life will you have in that hellhole? A worse one, that’s what kind. If being locked in that place can even be considered a life.” She inhaled deeply. “I don’t want you—or anyone I love—ending up in prison. No matter what plane it’s on.”

He took her hands in his and pulled her attention to him. Her heartbeat thumped in his ears. “Livie, Livie, I’m not going to let that happen, I promise. Look, I’ve got twenty-four hours to figure something out, and I will. It’s going to be all right. Even if I have to go away again for a while.”

“That’s not an answer.” She gave him a short, unconvinced look, but already her pulse had dropped a few beats. “And I don’t like you being gone.”

“I don’t, either.”

A couple of breaths passed between them before she spoke again. “Promise me you’ll at least think about taking the job?”

“Livie.” He sighed. “I’ll think about it.” It was a lie, one that hurt to tell, but if it made her feel better, that was all that mattered.

“Promise,” she insisted.

He nodded, unable to refuse her. “Promise.” There went the lie, but thinking about something and acting on it were two very different things.

His answer calmed her. She blew out a sigh, collapsing in on herself a little. “Did you find Dulcinea? Maybe you should talk to her about this.”

“I saw her last night. Not sure what good talking to her about this would do. She’s not going to want me to take the job, I can tell you that much.” None of their crew had ever had a great relationship with the Elektos. The years hadn’t changed that, either. At least for those who were still alive.

“Let her read your cards.” Livie turned her gaze on him, something desperate in her eyes. “Let her read your cards and tell you what they say about this situation.”

Augustine laughed. “Livie, she only does that to goof on tourists and line her pockets. It’s a performance, not a prediction. You can tell the future better than she can.”

She made a grumpy noise. “I can tell the present much better. Suss out lies and truths. That’s my thing. Dulcinea
can
read those cards when she wants to.” Livie pressed to her feet, her fingers tight around the crystal top of her cane. “You go back to her this afternoon and see what she says.”

From the doorway, Lally clucked her tongue. “We’d be awful sad for you to leave again. And life on the run ain’t no way to live.”

“Fine.” Defeated, he raised his hands. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll go see Dulcinea.” He stood, walking out of the library alongside Livie.

“Good. And thank you.” She stopped in front of the big hall mirror. “Now go wash up for lunch.”

“Breakfast for me.”

“Lazybones.”

He winked at Lally, tipping his head toward Olivia. “You
two sure like to boss me around.” But he understood. Being away from this place he considered home and these women he considered family had left him empty and out of sorts. Dulcinea would have no solution, but for their sake, he would ask what she thought.

Lally stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Mr. Augustine, I see you cut your horns.”

He nodded. “It was time.”

Her eyes took on a funny light. “You still have ’em?”

“They’re in my trash. Why?”

“You mind if I have them? As a memento?” She smiled a little. “They’re a curiosity.”

“Sure.”

She nodded. “All right, then. Thank you. I’ll collect them next time I’m upstairs.”

He waited until just before sunset to return to Jackson Square. He hoped to find Dulcinea there spinning tales for the tourists and that’s exactly where she was. The oil lamp on her table painted her with a mysterious light as dusk fell. Giselle was gone, probably didn’t like the rowdy crowd that emerged with the evening. He sat on the steps on the far side of the square and slightly behind Dulcinea, knowing she’d kick out her paying customer again if she saw him. He wasn’t about to keep her from earning.

For February, the night came on cool and clear; the sky above sparked with stars. Most of the tourists were drifting toward Bourbon by now, ready to suck down drinks, dance in the street and flash each other for cheap beads, but the square was almost empty. That would change in a few weeks when Mardi Gras came. There’d be more tourists than any one street could handle and they’d clog the city with their drunken, happy selves. At least they left a lot of plastic behind.

If he couldn’t find any security jobs right away, maybe he’d
pick up a few shifts bouncing at one of the clubs, get a little of that plastic for himself. They always needed extra help during Mardi Gras. For all that he enjoyed Livie’s generosity, he liked making his own cash even more.

He pulled rolling papers and a pouch of
nequam
out of his pocket and twisted himself a cigarette while he waited. The reddish brown smoke drifted upward, filling the air with the scent of burnt fruit and his brain with a subtle calm. His mind drifted to Angel, the woman who’d run from him on
Nokturnos
. He checked the women that passed, even though he knew he wouldn’t be able to recognize her since he hadn’t seen her face. That evening felt so unfinished. All he wanted was a few more minutes with her. To talk her into staying.

He was about halfway through the cigarette when Dulcinea’s customer got up and left. He took one more drag, ground out the cherry and tucked the rest into his pouch for later.

He stood, then hesitated. A new group of people were loping past her table. A split second later, he knew they weren’t looking to have their fortune told or get drunk on Bourbon Street. At least not drunk on alcohol. Their eyes held the kind of wicked intent he’d seen a few times before.

Vampires.

Dulcinea knew it, too. She pointed at them. “Get out of my city, bloodsuckers.”

A big male led the crew, a jagged scar running from cheek to lip. He gave a sign and the pack shifted direction. Dulce pulled a blade, causing them to laugh as they surrounded her. One caught a handful of Dulcinea’s dreads in his fist and yanked her toward him. “It’s our city now, fae.”

With a curse, she slashed at him, but he let go and danced out of reach.

Augustine grabbed the dagger from his boot and bolted toward them with a low growl. Dulce was stronger and faster
than a human, but not as strong and fast as a fae with cleaner bloodlines.

He vaulted over her table and went feetfirst into the chest of the nearest one. A small female. She held on, raking her nails down his ankle, ripping through his jeans and scratching the leather of his boots. Augustine kicked her away as he flung his blade into her chest. The big male howled in sorrow, reaching for her, but she went to ash before he touched her. He whipped around to glare rage at Augustine, baring his fangs and cursing.

As the head vamp started forward, another male tore past Dulcinea, trying to grab her again, but she stabbed him, doing some damage but missing his heart. He sliced his nails across her face, cutting three gouges into her cheek before he fell and went to ash.

She hadn’t missed his heart after all.

The big, scarred male yelled for retreat and the pack backed away, but he kept his gaze on Augustine. “This will be settled, fae.”

Augustine laughed, standing his ground. “Go suck yourself, leech.”

“Go after them, Augustine,” Dulcinea urged. She started to sway. “Don’t let them get away.”

“In a sec. You don’t look so hot.” Her cheek was still oozing blood. “He might have had poison on his nails. You’re not healing right.”

She huffed. “I’m fine. If there was poison, I’d feel it. Now seriously, go finish them.” Except that her cheek was turning black, an unsettling sight against her gray skin. She reached out for her table as her lids fluttered.

“Like hell, you’re hurt and I’m not leaving you.” He grabbed her arm as he righted her chair and helped her into it, then he crouched to take a closer look at her cheek. Besides the skin retaining its normal color, the edges of the cuts should be
pulling together by now, the bleeding done with. It wasn’t. “Dulce, this isn’t healing like it should.”

She nodded, wincing even as she did it. “My face feels like it’s on fire.” She worked her jaw, testing her cheek. “Damn, that hurts. I still think you should go after them.”

“Getting this cleaned up is more important than chasing those leeches. Trust me, they’re not coming back here tonight.”

“What about tomorrow night? Or the day after? Khell’s dead, you know. Vamps slit his throat to keep him from using his scream. His dirty lieutenants aren’t going to snuff those buggers.” She hoisted a black messenger bag from under the table and fished around in it until she pulled out a small first aid kit.

“This is going to need more than a Band-Aid.”

She gave Augustine a look as she popped open the box and took out a brown glass bottle and some cotton wool. She wet the wool with liquid from the bottle and started dabbing at her cheek. “A little help?”

He took the wool from her and cleaned her face. The green liquid smelled bitter. As he worked, the cuts began to heal and her color returned to normal. “What is this stuff?”

“Tincture of jewelweed. Neutralizes most plant- and insect-based poisons. I take it it’s working?”

“Like a charm.” Her cheek was almost back to normal. He wiped off the last of the blood and pushed to his feet. “When did you go all earth mother on me?”

“I didn’t make it. I bought it off Giselle’s sister down at the farmers’ market. Now that I know it works, I like Zara even better. Giselle can still suck it.” She put the first aid kit away and stood. “What are you doing down here anyway? I thought you’d be having some big dinner with Livie tonight.”

“Not exactly.” He filled her in on the demands the Elektos had made. “Livie made me promise to let you read my cards. She thinks you can find an answer for me.”

“I don’t need cards to tell you what to do.” She wound a slim dread around her finger. “You should take the job. It would solve all your problems.” She dropped the dread and raised her hand before he could speak. “But I know you. I know you’re going to do everything you can to get out of this.” With a sigh, she took her seat.

“The job would only create more problems.” He righted the little folding stool on the other side of the table and sat. “I know you’re not in the mood, but will you read my cards anyway? Since I promised Livie.”

Her mouth was a hard, thin line, which translated as “I’m only tolerating you right now.” Breathing deeply, she gathered her cards from where they were scattered over her table, neatened the deck and set it in front of him. “Cut the stack.”

He picked up half the cards and set them beside the other half.

She rejoined the two piles, shuffled them and fanned them out on the black velvet draping. “Pick one and I’ll give you your answer.”

He grinned. “The down-and-dirty version, eh?”

She didn’t smile back. “Pick one.”

Damn. He’d seen Dulcinea angry before, but not at him. Subdued, he tapped a card near the end of the right side. “This one.”

She pulled the card and flipped it over directly in front of him. “The hanged man.”

“That’s cheery.” He snorted. “So there it is then. If I take the Guardianship, I end up dead. Good enough for me.” He started to get up.

“Sit down.” Dulcinea’s glare put him back in his seat. Then she continued. “The hanged man is a card of decisive surrender. It represents martyrdom and sacrifice to the greater good.”

She stared at him, her oddly colored eyes piercing even in the
weak glow of her oil lamp and the flickering streetlights. “This is a card you should meditate on to help you break bad habits and old behaviors. To learn to leave behind
things
that restrict you from following the path you’re meant to travel.”

He sprang from the stool like he’d been bitten. “Did Olivia put you up to that? I didn’t think you’d play those kinds of games with me, Dulcinea.”

She narrowed her gaze and shook her head. “You picked the card. I simply told you what it means.”

“I’m out of here.” He flipped up the collar of his long coat and strode off. He needed the walk, to think and to cool down. He’d never yelled at Olivia and he didn’t want tonight to be the first time, but it was wrong of her to try to force his hand like this. And for Dulcinea to go along with it? He was shocked, really. She wasn’t what anyone would consider a team player by any means.