Pirate's Alley (11 page)

I was so freaking tired. Not just from the all-nighter and a run-in with my first set of fangs, but from the stress of the last two months. Since the borders to the Beyond had officially dropped in early October, life had ricocheted from one disaster to the next. I didn’t see an end to it, or at least not a good one. And my personal life kept getting tangled up with my job. On the plus side, at least I had a personal life. On the minus side, the whole job-relationship balance wasn’t working very well.

“You guys can come in.” Jake reappeared in the doors leading into Jean’s receiving parlor. Beyond that, I knew, we’d find a large sitting room filled with heavy, masculine furniture and lots of polished wood. Bedroom suites were in the back, with what passed for an early nineteenth-century version of plumbing. I had no idea what was up the wide central staircase, except Jake had told me there were windows on all sides with loaded cannons in them. Pirates and Boy Scouts—always prepared.

Jake walked with us through the receiving room. “He’s in here, doing okay but still getting around slower than usual. I’ve gotta say good-bye here, though. Alex sent a courier to say he’s calling in security reinforcements to watch the transports, so I’m heading back to New Orleans.”

In the world of the Division of Domestic Terror, or DDT, the Elders’ preternatural security team, Alex was boss and his cousin Jake a newbie. After a rocky start, both of them now seemed okay with it. Jean had told me once, when Jake first began working for him, that as a soldier Jake was wired to follow orders. And God knows Alex was bossy and liked to give orders. Although, to be fair, he was working on it.

“Yeah, Alex was talking to Zrakovi when we left New Orleans and Zrakovi mentioned the security issue.” They were talking about more than that. I understood why Alex felt the need to keep Zrakovi informed about Eugenie’s situation, but for me, Eugenie’s welfare outranked politics.

“This is beautiful.” Eugenie ran her fingers along a massive mahogany sideboard, on the top of which rested a red velvet sash with fine embroidery on it and, on top of the sash, a silver dagger. That little vignette was Jean Lafitte in a nutshell. Refined gentleman and renegade. Velvet and violence.

“Bonjour, Jolie.”

I turned to the sitting room door, and he stood framed in the doorway, back in his casual loose cotton tunic, black pants, and black boots. Our glances caught and held, and we didn’t have to say it: He was glad to see me, and I was glad to see him. I had needed visual reassurance that he was okay, even though in theory I knew he couldn’t be killed. The events of last month had changed the tenor of our relationship. I just couldn’t quite put a finger on how it had changed, or what it meant.

After what was probably a couple of seconds too long, he turned his attention to Eugenie. “Welcome to my home, Mademoiselle Eugenie. This is an unexpected and delightful surprise.”

She started to shake hands with him, then half-curtsied, then threw her hands in the air. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to greet a famous pir … uh, privateer.”

He laughed and took her hand, raising it to his lips for a kiss. “This is the proper way for ladies and gentlemen of my time.”

Yeah, Jean was just an old-fashioned guy.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Jean led us into the sitting room, which was much as I remembered it from last month. Lots of dark wood, plush fabrics, and wealth. The “gentleman pirate” had been an extremely rich man in his human days, so I guess it was only right that his immortal version continue to enjoy the spoils of his piratical plundering.

“I needed to talk to you about political stuff, and Eugenie needed an adventure.” An escape, more like, but I hadn’t decided whether or not to confide in Jean about that. Eugenie’s situation was absolutely none of his business, but I’d found him to be a source of surprisingly sound advice. He read people very, very well, which made his betrayal by Etienne Boulard sting him all the more. On the other hand, he was often narcissistic, scheming, and way too smart for his own good.

From a delicate writing desk, I picked up what looked like a scrimshaw sailing ship and held it up to the lamplight, trying to tell if it was carved of real ivory. A deafening
clang
startled me into dropping it, and I made a nifty midair catch. Heart pounding, I turned to see if hordes of undead British troops were storming the beach, but I found only Jean ringing a large handbell loud enough to wake the undead.

What would arrive at that summons? A flock of maidens bearing refreshments? A pirate legion, come to do the master’s bidding?

I had only a few seconds to wait before a young woman appeared from the porch. She had a tousled mane of black hair, a perfect tan, and eyes the color of jade. She was stunning, and I forcibly stomped down the spark of jealousy that sprang to life, beating it to ashes. Jean’s personal life was no concern of mine.

“Drusilla, Eugenie, this is Collette.” Jean presented her without further explanation, which I found extremely annoying.

Collette wore khaki shorts and a Pat O’Brien’s T-shirt. She was not of Jean’s generation. “So, what do you do here for Jean?” I asked purely as a matter of sentinel business, of course.

“He’s been nice enough to let me live here part of the time,” Collette said, smiling and holding out a hand for me to shake. Darn it, she was so gorgeous I wanted to hate her but she was perfectly lovely. She also wasn’t human, alive or undead. The energy signature of her handshake was very familiar. “You’re loup-garou?”

She nodded. “It’s hard to fit in with my old life in New Orleans since I was turned, so I had been living in Old Orleans until I met my boyfriend there a few weeks ago—my fianc
é
, actually. I moved out here to be with him.” She paused, and what looked like a flash of uncertainty crossed her face. “You both know him. I haven’t gotten to meet his cousin yet.”

Eugenie and I looked at each other and then back at Collette. “You’re engaged to Jake?”

“Your rogue wolf has found a mate,
Jolie,
” Jean said, his (quite good) teeth flashing white in his tanned face as he grinned. “Are you jealous?”

CHAPTER
9

If Jean expected me to froth with jealousy over Jake’s fianc
é
e, he had it wrong. I’d always care about Jake, but whatever we almost had or might have had in terms of romance lay firmly behind us due to both temperament and circumstance. My only worry as far as his engagement was concerned had to do with how fast it had happened.

Then again, Jake had been hanging out in Old Orleans for months now, unbeknownst to Alex or me. He could’ve known Collette for a while.

I watched through the window as she and Eugenie walked off the verandah and onto the shadowy path toward the pirate village. Jean had summoned her not for an introduction but to keep Eugenie entertained while we talked business, sneaky pirate.

“Do you like her?” I asked Jean. “It happened awfully fast, but Jake seems happy.” Happier than I’d seen him in, well, ever.

“
Oui,
she understands Jacob’s struggles. He has come far in accepting his new life since meeting her, and as I understand it, such attractions happen quickly with the loup-garou.” Jean settled into his favorite chair with a sigh, and I turned to study my host.

Not just my host, or my job assignment. My friend. How strange that seemed, given that we’d started out trying to kill each other. Although, in retrospect, neither of us had tried very hard.

“You look tired.”

Jean smiled, a hint of the old playful twinkle returning to his cobalt eyes. “Such flattering words, Drusilla. I will become overfull of myself.”

Like he needed help with his ego. I laughed and took a seat on the end of the settee nearest him. “I hate that you got hurt again.”

He shrugged, then winced. “One grows weary of pain, but it is a temporary thing. However, as pleased as I am to see you once again in my home, to what do I owe the real nature of this visit?” He paused. “Have Etienne or his treacherous Vice-Regent been found? Does your First Elder remain free?”

I nodded. “So far they’re all unaccounted for, but the Elders are meeting as we speak. They’ll remove Hoffman as First Elder and appoint someone else to take his place, at least on a short-term basis. Maybe Zrakovi.”

“
Tr
è
s bien
. Willem is a fair man, although he is also a man of ambition.” Jean reached toward the side table to pour himself a brandy, but I could tell each movement brought a jolt of pain. His movements were too careful, too slow.

That I could help. “I almost forgot. I brought something to make you heal faster.”

While he poured some brandy into a glass, I dug in my messenger bag for the jar of sweet olive and clove ointment that had been infused with magic. Wizards’ physical magic didn’t work in the Beyond, but potions and charms—nice, geeky Green Congress stuff—seemed to work fine. “Spread this on the wound, and it should cut the healing time by about two-thirds.”

Jean sipped his brandy, studied me a moment, then set the glass aside. “Perhaps you might assist me,
Jolie
.”

He stood up and slowly unbuttoned his tunic, and I wasn’t sure where to settle my gaze. He wanted me to look at him, and I wasn’t falling for it. Even though my eyes itched to check him out.

I studiously examined my cuticles, which really needed a good manicure. Maybe I’d treat Eugenie to a nice, relaxing mani/pedi on the Elder Express card when we got back to New Orleans.

Jean’s soft laugh drew my gaze upward and there he was, shirtless and sexy, the white bandage wrapped around his belly and a ragged scar on his left biceps only accentuating the tanned skin and firm muscle. He was 230 years old, damn it, and I was in a committed relationship. Never mind that most of Alex’s and my commitment seemed devoted to arguing right now.

“Would you tend to my needs,
Jolie
?”

I gasped. That was outrageous, even for Jean. I cleared my throat and hazarded a fierce look at his face. He was grinning, which sent laughter bubbling through my sore ribcage and I snorted like a pig, which made me laugh harder.

Finally, with some effort, I got myself under control.

“You have a charming laugh, Drusilla. I hear it too seldom.” Jean picked up the jar of ointment, unscrewed the lid after some finagling, and sniffed it.

Come to think of it, I’d laughed twice since arriving in Old Barataria. I don’t remember the last time I laughed in New Orleans; the years since Katrina had been a somber shade of black. Maybe I should visit the Beyond more often.

Or not.

“Turn around,” I told him. “I’ll tend your wound since it’s hard for you to see. But the rest of your needs are on their own.”

He handed me the jar and feigned a hurt expression. “One cannot blame a man for his desires,
non
?”

“Whatever.” I waited while he pulled the bandage away from the stab wound and turned to the side so I could get to it better. The skin around it flamed red and angry, but he didn’t flinch as I spread the mixture over the worst of it. The rich, tangy scent of cloves and sweet olive filled the room and blended with the rich scent of tobacco and exotic spices that seemed to accompany the master of the house.

I replaced the lid and set the jar on the side table. “Put some more on it in a few hours. By morning, it should be mostly healed, although you’ll probably be sore for another day or two.”

“
Merci
. I had planned to return to the city this very evening, and your gift will ease my passage.”

Well, we’d see how the rest of my news eased his passage. “I’m also here on an official visit, to ask your plans toward Etienne Boulard, and toward the others involved in Lily Aleese’s takeover attempt last month.” Never mind that the person who actually killed him was me.

Jean remained silent for a few moments, and I let him consider his answer while I cleaned my hands at a corner basin. When I turned around, he’d retrieved his glass of brandy and was staring at the rich brown liquid.

He looked up when I returned to my seat. “Are you certain you wish me to answer honestly, Drusilla?”

Which pretty much answered my question. He was going after Etienne, and I couldn’t really blame him. The vampire had taken his trust and trampled it like yesterday’s garbage.

“I do want you to answer honestly,” I said. “In return, I’ll be honest with you. Zrakovi asked me to shadow you and keep you from stirring up a political hornets’ nest.”

His dark brows dipped and contracted. “Might I assume that colorful turn of phrase means you’re to follow me and attempt to prevent me from seeking the vengeance I deserve?”

“Follow you, or accompany you, yes.” I hadn’t decided about the prevention part yet. Because to be completely honest with myself, I had to admit that if he was determined to go after Etienne, I couldn’t do much to stop him short of physical restraint. The first time I met Jean, before Katrina had toppled the borders between our worlds, I’d pretended to seduce him in order to trap him and send him back to the Beyond.

We’d come a long way since those days. I wasn’t the same na
ï
ve girl and he was a far more complex man than I’d imagined. Plus, we
were
friends. It would take a lot to make me use my magic against him, especially after what happened last month.

“Very well, I shall both enjoy your company and honor you with the truth.” Jean sipped his brandy. “I will have my revenge on my old friend Etienne,
oui
. Such a betrayal cannot go unanswered. But I did not rule my empire by being a stupid man,
Jolie
. I can afford to be patient, and for your benefit will attempt to bring about Etienne’s misery without casting shadow on myself or jeopardizing the wizards and their politics.”

That tactic was as much for his benefit as mine, but it served us both well. He was just going to torment Etienne, not kill him. “Sounds fair.”

“I must add one more thing, however.”

Intuition told me that one
thing
would be unpleasant. “What?”