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
“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
Similar Books
