Pirate's Alley by Suzanne Johnson Page A

another.
    “It’s sort of like squeezing through a really tight space, but it only lasts a few seconds.” I pointed to where the transport of colored stones and glass lay, masquerading as a rock garden. “I checked, and there’s nothing that should hurt the baby or you.” At least it wouldn’t hurt a human baby, and I assumed half-elven spawn were of much hardier stock.
    Since being officially named to the Interspecies Council, Jean had paid for a private transport to be set up between the French Quarter and his house in the Baratarian outpost of Old Orleans, the anything-goes border town between modern New Orleans and the Beyond proper. On my first visit to Barataria’s Grand Terre, the island south of New Orleans where Jean had lived in his human life and in whose magical version he now resided, I’d had to transport to a remote sand dune and walk a mile of dark, pirate-strewn beach to find him. In the modern world, Grand Terre was a federally protected wildlife area.
    I stepped into the transport and pulled Eugenie in behind me. “Nice rocks,” I said for the benefit of a couple of tourists wandering past. They didn’t need to see two women disappear into thin air. Once they’d turned the corner, I knelt and touched a finger to the edge of the transport, willing a flash of my native physical magic to power it.
    “Holy shit!” Eugenie squeaked, and threw her arms around my shoulders, as if the transport weren’t squeezing me enough. At least the healing charm had gotten the pain from my gunshot wound within range of bearable. I’d need another application tonight.
    “Close your eyes,” I told her. “It helps.”
    The air around us settled, and I opened my eyes to the wide verandah of Chez Lafitte, lit with flambeaux that flickered against the red brick of the house walls.
    “Um,” Eugenie whispered, “is it supposed to be dark?” We’d left New Orleans at a sunny ten a.m.
    Oops. Forgot to mention that. “Yeah, it’s always night here, always a full moon.” Actually, there was a grayish hour before dawn and at dusk where one could see, but I didn’t plan to stay that long and Eugenie was on need-to-know status.
    “Take a wrong turn, sunshine? And you brought along a friend.”
    Jake Warin had walked out of the double doors that led into the center of the house and grinned as Eugenie rushed over and wrapped her arms around him. I smiled; he looked genuinely pleased to see her. In fact, he looked more at ease than I’d seen him in a long time. I’d been too stressed out at the council meeting to notice the absence of the worry lines that had set up around his eyes. He looked like himself again, his pre-loup-garou self. Who’d have thought working as Jean Lafitte’s factotum and living in the Beyond would agree with him so well?
    I gave him a quick hug after Eugenie finally let him go. “How’s your boss doing?”
    “He’s in a temper.” Jake glanced behind him. “Let me tell him you’re here. Might cheer the old bastard up.”
    I choked on a laugh. Somehow, I doubt Jake called Jean “the old bastard” to his face.
    Eugenie and I sat on the steps and looked into the darkness. “You can’t tell right now, but we’re only about thirty or forty yards from the beach,” I said. “This wooden banquette stretches almost to the water.” I’d seen the beach in both its dawn and dusk version of daylight.
    “I could just lie out here in that hammock and listen to the sound of the waves.” Eugenie closed her eyes. “It’s peaceful. N’Orleans is a noisy city. You don’t realize it so much till you get out of town.”
    “Yeah, you got dat right.” She looked at me, and we burst out laughing at my impression of her Yat accent. She was spot-on, though; the water was soothing. After the glacial temperatures of this morning, the Gulf breeze whispered warm caresses across my skin, and the banana leaves flapping against the columns of the house made me want to curl up and nap.
    I was so