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Authors: Suzanne Johnson

Tags: #urban fantasy

Royal Street (29 page)

BOOK: Royal Street
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Didn’t matter. Right now, I had to reach him.
“Gerry, keep your eyes on me and think,” I said, keeping my voice level. “Look at what’s happening here. More innocent people are going to be killed.”
He shook his head, trying to shake the cobwebs loose. “DJ? I told you not to come here.” He looked back at Samedi, who caught his gaze and held it. Damn.
Gerry smiled. “You can join us, daughter. You’ll make us stronger.”
God, he was lost. Completely and utterly lost.
I felt Jean at my back. “Focus, Drusilla,” he whispered. “You must focus on the Baron.”
Samedi stepped between me and Gerry. “Your father is right. Will you be my partner now, or my sacrifice?”
He raised his arms to the side and began a slow, sinuous dance, chanting in an unfamiliar language. Maybe the freak was singing to me, or trying to hypnotize me. Thank God I hadn’t had time to guzzle a translation potion.
Avoiding Samedi’s eyes, I looked back at Gerry, who stood up and motioned for me to come to him. Jean held me firmly in place, but he needn’t have bothered. I felt safer with the pirate now, which was a sad, sorry state of affairs.
And I’d owe the pirate one really fine house if we made it out of this.
“You must decide what you want to do,” Jean whispered as he nibbled at my neck again.
“Tsk, tsk, Jean.” Samedi chided the pirate with a grin that caused Jean to take a step backward, dragging me with him. Apparently, whispering wasn’t on the list of freedoms he’d been granted to enjoy at my expense.
“Pardon, Baron.” Jean gave Samedi a big grin. “I was overcome with passion.”
Oh brother. Still, I had to admire Jean’s cool. He might be afraid of Samedi, but wasn’t showing it. Of course, he’d had a few centuries to practice his technique.
Samedi turned to Gerry, who was talking with a sense of urgency now, gesturing toward me.
A spark of hope ignited. Maybe Gerry had snapped out of the enthrallment. Maybe he could still control Samedi and salvage this mess.
“You dare threaten me, wizard?” Samedi laughed and signaled to one of the drummers, who set his instrument aside and pulled a knife from his belt. He didn’t speak, but the menace was clear.
Gerry paled and slung an arm toward Samedi. I’d seen the move hundreds of time. He could fling enough physical magic to kill—at least injure—anything that got in his way.
Except it didn’t work. Samedi stood still while the magic passed through his body and dissipated. His laughter echoed around the cemetery and raised goose bumps on my arms.
Gerry backed up, his gaze darting from Samedi to me.
“Bring her to me, Jean.” Samedi turned his back on Gerry, confident his magic was useless.
Jean had lessened the pressure of the knife to my throat, but still held me firmly against him. I could feel his rage building. Anger with Samedi was fast outweighing his fear, and surges of it pulsed across my skin where he touched me.
“You have seen both of our guests tonight, your father and your young man.” Samedi spoke to me but gestured toward Gerry and Jake like a game-show host displaying the grand prizes behind doors number one and two. Door number one, Jake, still hadn’t raised his head, and I’d lost sight of Gandalf. He was out there in the shadows, waiting for an opening. At least I hoped he was.
Door number two, Gerry, stared at the ground. His shoulders rose and fell with the force of his breathing, and he lifted his gaze as if he could feel the weight of my eyes on him. I saw reason returning, thoughts starting to coalesce. And horror freezing his features. God help me, I’d almost rather he remain in his clueless state than see him paralyzed by guilt and fear, knowing his powerful magic—the thing that defined him—was useless.
Maybe he could help, or maybe he’d lapse back into enthrallment. I couldn’t wait to find out.
Jake
couldn’t wait.
“You don’t want them, Baron. Let them go, and I won’t fight you.” My voice sounded a lot braver than I felt, maybe because of my Jean Lafitte energy snack.
I heard the pirate hiss behind me. He didn’t like my tactic. Neither did Gerry. He labored to his feet, weaving precariously.
Samedi clicked his teeth in delight. “So you want to make a deal with me?” He put a finger to his mouth and rolled his eyes heavenward. “The problem is that I do not think one little elfling such as yourself is a fair exchange for both a wizard and a human.”
He paused again in a pantomime of indecision. “I think an equal exchange is fairer. You choose which one shall have his freedom—your father or your young man—and which one will die. Deciding who lives and dies is usually my task, but I will share that power with you tonight. You will find it intoxicating. It is my gift to you for agreeing to be my partner.”
Talk about a warped worldview. I looked at Jake’s slack form, blood in his hair, and then at Gerry, who weaved on his feet and watched me in dismay. I was paralyzed. How could I possibly make that choice and live with the consequences?
With a hand signal from Samedi, one of the red wolves crept closer to Gerry, while the other, the bigger one, approached Jake from the side and nipped his arm.
Jake’s head snapped up, and Gandalf sprang from the shadows behind him, teeth bared. He’d been hanging back, waiting to see where he’d be needed, and I felt a surge of love and fear that left me breathless.
Wolf and shifter tangled in a snarling ball of fur and fangs before breaking apart and racing into the darkness. A high-pitched yelp followed by a howl raised my own hackles, and then the wolf came trotting back to sit by Jake, blood dripping from its muzzle.
I choked on a scream. It didn’t mean Alex was dead, I reminded myself. He was tough, and he was smart.
Jean squeezed my arm so hard the pain revived my focus. “Breathe deeply,
Jolie,
” he whispered. “You will have to fight.”
Jake raised his head and stared at me from a bruised, bloody face.
I closed my eyes and looked at the ground. Alex. What had I done?
I had done nothing. That was the problem.
J
ean eased the staff from its makeshift holster and settled it into my right hand, wrapping my fingers around it.
“It is time, Drusilla,” he whispered.
Warmth from the staff radiated through me and cleared my head. My heart pounded, and my blood raced hot and wild. I could feel every sensation on the surface of my skin.
I stepped away from Jean.
Gerry made a hesitant move toward me. “DJ, get out of here,” he said, his voice strained but sounding more like the Gerry I knew. “Run to the Presbytere—there’s a transport there. Go home. Tell the Elders.”
Samedi stood in place, looking amused as his eyes traveled between Gerry and me. “Wizards are fascinating creatures, struggling with their power and their feelings. You”—he looked at Gerry—“will not be saved by the Elders you have betrayed, while you”—eyes back to me—“will help me defeat them, either willingly or not.”
“That would be not,” I said, the staff vibrating in my hand. I dared a look into Samedi’s eyes, and nothing happened. The
staff seemed to be protecting me from his glamour, which meant its magic might work on him as well. I pointed it at him.
He laughed again. “Your magic does not work very well in the Beyond, wizard. Did you not see your father’s pathetic demonstration? And you have not learned to use your old magic. Such a waste.”
I felt a moment of doubt, but the staff sent electric pulses through my arm. It had plenty of power. I willed it to strike, and red ropes of flame flew from its end, so bright I had to squint against the light. The ropes shot past Samedi and wrapped themselves around the top of a tombstone three feet to his left. The marble exploded in a shower of flying rocks and dust—not exactly what I was going for, yet again. I really needed to work on my aim.
Samedi’s eyes widened briefly when the rope trick started. By the time the tombstone exploded, he had disappeared.
I lowered the staff, irritated, and looked around. Samedi’s helpers were gone now except for the two wolves that guarded Gerry and Jake. Still no sign of Alex.
I shifted the staff to my left hand, pulled one of the four small vials out of my right pocket, then popped off the top. Another Russian roulette of nonlethal charms that I prayed would work. For once, I was glad my magic was ritual rather than physical.
I had almost forgotten Jean behind me until he shouted. I spun in time to see the black mamba rising toward me, mouth open, fangs extended. I tossed the contents of the first vial as it struck, then rolled out of the way. A dark, poisonous mist hit the snake square in the fangs. It made a hissing sound, then vanished. I ground my teeth. The mist potion was gone now. Fighting Samedi was like trying to lasso smoke.
I crept from behind a tombstone and walked around the circle where the crowd had been, looking at shadows. I had
another vial open in my right hand. How many forms did Samedi have? Snake, human. I knew there were more.
His human shape formed again on the other side of the fire. He had lost his jovial demeanor, and his smoky eyes had darkened to black pools. They weren’t aimed at me, but at Jean, who’d come to stand at my right. I felt a presence on my left and looked around at Dominique, who flicked a brief glance my way before training his gaze back on Samedi.
“Jean, you are smarter than this,” the old god said, his voice soothing, persuasive. “You would not side with the wizards against your own kind.”
Jean’s mouth was drawn into a tight line. “The wizards are arrogant, but you are
un mal bête
—evil. You are not my kind.”
I handed the vial in my right hand to Jean and said, “Throw it if you get close enough.” I pulled the next-to-last vial out and handed it to Dominique.
“What will it do?” he whispered in heavily accented English, taking off the top.
“I have no idea.”
He exchanged a look with Jean and grinned, and they began walking in opposite directions, circling toward Samedi with swords in their scabbards and mystery charms in their hands, leaving me in the middle. The old divide-and-conquer strategy.
Samedi looked at all of us and laughed, pulling a long knife from his belt. He circled behind Gerry and his loup-garou guard, putting himself farther from the pirates who approached from either side.
Blooms of sweat had appeared on Gerry’s shirt as his eyes moved rapidly from me to Samedi and back again. “We had an agreement, Baron. My daughter wasn’t to be hurt. You agreed.”
Samedi rested a hand on the side of Gerry’s face and captured his gaze, and my father’s body grew still.
My father.
“Gerald Michael St. Simon, sacrifice your power to me,”
the Baron said softly, running a finger down the side of Gerry’s neck. A wound gaped in the trail of Samedi’s finger, and Gerry sank to his knees, blood washing his neck in crimson.
“No!” I didn’t recognize the feral sound that came from my throat, but Samedi wasn’t listening anyway. He raised his voice in a howl, and the wolves answered. The one closest to Jake sank its teeth into his right thigh and dragged him from the tombstone. The leg that had already been so damaged.
With Gerry out of the way, the remaining wolf looked from Dominique to Jean, and began slinking toward Jean.
“So it’s me you want?” The pirate’s grin shone in the firelight, and he pulled his cutlass from its leather scabbard, wielding the blade in his right hand and my potion vial in his left. “Come then, wolf. I have a taste of silver for you.”
The loup-garou launched itself with a snarl.
Time seemed to slow down, each movement frozen in a series of moments. Jean saw the wolf coming and threw his potion as it struck. It left a ragged tear in his chest just before it froze, icicles of blood and saliva hanging from its mouth, frost covering its red fur. Jean rolled from underneath it as it fell. The arctic charm.
Dominique had rushed at the wolf attacking Jake and unleashed both the potion and his own silver blade. He had the sleep charm, and the combination of the sudden drowiness and the blade took it down.
My final charm had to be the torch, and I rushed Samedi, getting as close as I could before throwing it. His top hat and coat burst into flames. He cursed and threw his arms out, then was gone again. I leaned against a tombstone, trying to catch my breath, and looked around for the snake.
Jean and Jake lay a few feet apart, both still, and Dom knelt next to his half-brother. Gerry hadn’t moved since Samedi cut him.
A blow hit my right temple and knocked me flat, sending the staff on a graceful arc into the darkness. A turkey vulture, black as the snake, sat atop a crypt a few yards away, staring through crimson eyes.
Pain shot through my head and blood pooled in the dirt beneath me. I gulped in deep lungfuls of air to keep my vision from darkening. I’d have to faint later.
As I struggled to sit up, the emotions poured back in to join my fear. Dominique’s anger, Jean’s confusion, Jake’s burning, agonizing pain. If they were feeling, they were still conscious. Nothing from Alex or Gerry, but I couldn’t focus on them yet. Had to stay upright. Had to find the staff.
Which way had it gone? I groped around me in the dirt, keeping an eye on the vulture. Samedi’s voice floated through my head, quiet and alluring, burying all the emotion.
You’re alone now, little wizard. You have lost.
The bird spread his wings and fluttered toward me, settling on the ground at my feet and morphing back into Samedi’s human shape. I scrambled backward and hoisted myself to my feet using a headstone, reaching in my pocket for the lifesbane. I might not have saved anyone, but I wouldn’t let Samedi win. As long as he didn’t kill me, he still lost. I had to believe that. I pulled the tiny bottle of orange liquid from my pocket and smiled.
Maybe we were all acceptable collateral damage, every single one of us.
His eyes blazed as he realized what I held. “No …”
I popped the lid off the bottle and raised it to my lips.
Then I was on the ground, the bottle rolling away from me, and I scrambled for it. Something had barreled past me and I turned to see Gandalf, blood matted in his fur from snout to tail, with his teeth buried in Samedi’s neck.
The old god screamed and struggled, then went still as he
morphed back into the mamba, striking at Gandalf but missing. Before he could strike again, Dominique tossed me the staff, which I turned on Samedi in one motion. I was too close to miss this time.
Sparks flew from its tip and the blinding crimson threads flowed out, wrapping themselves around the snake. I smelled burning flesh as Samedi screamed and morphed back into his human form again. I felt his power crumbling, burning to ash. Anger, then defeat, echoed on his face, and he faded into nothing.
I sat on the ground for a few seconds, smelling the damp earth and scorched flesh. Samedi wasn’t really dead and gone. The Beyond doesn’t work that way. But he’d been weakened, and it would take him a long time to regroup. He’d probably never have another opportunity like the one he’d just missed. I could only hope.
Gandalf had disappeared again, and so had Dominique. If they’d resumed their fight from the Napoleon House, I’d kill both of them myself.
I stumbled to Gerry and rolled him onto his back. He was unconscious, pale, his breathing rapid and shallow. I looked around for something to stanch the bleeding, pushing the anger aside and focusing on how much I loved him. I needed to get him out of here so we’d have time to settle our issues and see what was left.
I spotted one of Marie’s scarves on the ground, folded it, and pressed it against Gerry’s neck. He’d lost so much blood. The ground was muddy with it.
I half-crawled to a spot between Jake and Jean. Jake was unconscious, his breathing rasping but steady. One leg had been savaged, and bite wounds covered both arms. I touched him helplessly, not sure what to do.
Jean had managed to sit up. I turned to find him propped
against a crypt, the gaping tear to his chest already beginning to heal around the edges.
“Your friend will survive this, Drusilla. Dom has gone to find help.”
I crawled over and sat next to him, taking his hand. “Thank you. I owe you one.”
He chuckled, dark eyes gleaming in the dim light. “Yes, you do
, Jolie
. Perhaps more than one. When you—”
He fell silent as his gaze shifted past me to what must be the world’s strangest second line parade heading toward us across the shadowy grounds. Dominique walked in front, Gandalf limping beside him. Behind them marched Pierre Lafitte, Louis Armstrong, and a motley band of musicians and pirates. New Orleans’s immortal culture.
I closed my eyes in relief at the sight of Gandalf. I was even glad to see the surly pirate. They’d obviously reached some temporary truce.
Gandalf limped to Jake’s side, sniffed at his face and whined, dropping into a pant beside him. He began shifting almost immediately, and I crawled to sit beside him as he curled into a ball and groaned.
“Talk to me, Alex.” I smoothed his hair off his face and ticked through the injuries I could see. Deep shoulder gouge, and another in his thigh that had exposed muscle. Lots of blood.
“Unh.” He pushed himself to a seated position and looked down at his thigh, and at the half-dozen bite marks across his chest and stomach. I’d already seen the ones on his back. “Shit. A few more minutes and I’d have been hamburger.”
He was bitching too much to be dying. Hysteria and relief kicked in—until I saw Dom leaning over Jake.
My breath caught, then released in a
whoosh
as Jake moved his head and twitched a hand. He was still alive.
Dom leaned back and studied Alex. “The loup-garou bit Jean and your friend, and your shifting dog as well.”
The
dog
grumbled something unintelligible as Louis came over with his pants and began helping him dress.
“I do not think it will affect Jean or the shifter, but that one …” Dominique jerked his head toward Jake. “You should watch him on the next full moon. If he lives, he will be loup-garou.”
I stared at Jake in horror and stroked his shoulder. He moaned and turned his head toward me but didn’t open his eyes. His lashes were dark against pale cheeks, and his blond hair was bloody and matted. I looked at the leg that always gave him such pain and couldn’t tell where the denim of his jeans ended and the torn flesh began. It had been gnawed.
No one deserved this, but especially not him. He had walked through the hell of war already, and somehow managed to come out strong and decent and kind. And what had it gotten him? Pain and lies and the promise of a fresh new struggle in a world he couldn’t imagine.
I took a deep breath and stuffed my feelings back inside. We had to get out of here before we attracted attention from the other denizens of the Beyond. The scent of blood alone would attract vampires or other loup-garou. There would be time for hysteria later.
“We need to get to the transport at Burgundy and St. Louis,” I said, struggling to my feet. “They all need doctors.”
BOOK: Royal Street
5.74Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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