Green-Eyed Demon
Page 12

Half an hour later, I emerged from my room ready to take on the evening. We only had about an hour of sunlight left, so going out now wouldn’t wreak too much havoc on my energy levels. Unlike full-blooded vamps, I could go into the sun without dying. But it seriously taxed my system, so I tried to limit my exposure.
In the kitchen, Giguhl sat at a Formica dinette with a mug of coffee and a plate of pastries in the center. He looked up from the New Orleans Dispatch when I entered. Over a mouthful of fried dough and powdered sugar he said, “Brooks brought us beignets!”
I blinked. At first I hadn’t noticed the fae. He leaned against the sink, chatting up Adam. “Hey, Brooks,” I said. “Thanks.”
He saluted me with his pink mug, which read, Put on your big-girl panties and deal with it.
“Morning, cher. You sleep well?”
“Mmm-hmm,” I said, keeping my tone breezy as I went to the coffee pot.
“Adam was just telling me he didn’t sleep well at all, poor lamb.”
I shot a pointed look at the demon. Giguhl raised a scraggly black brow. “I wonder why?” He turned a page and took his time readjusting the paper before continuing in a singsong voice. “Could it be because someone played musical beds in the middle of the night?”
I glared at the demon. “He moved beds because you snore louder than a congested wildebeest.”
Giguhl stage-whispered to Brooks, “Denial.”
“That’s enough, G,” Adam said quietly.
Giguhl grabbed his coffee mug and two extra beignets and stood. “If you need me, I’ll be in the other room catching up on my stories.” With that, he made a dramatic exit that gave Blanche DuBois a run for her money.
I sighed. “Gods, what a drama queen.”
“Red, give him a break,” Adam sighed. “He’s still nursing a broken heart.”
“Oh, yeah. The end of his weeklong affair with Valva must really be hurting his heart. Give me a break, Adam.” I snorted. “What did he expect hooking up with a Vanity demon?”
Brooks let out a low whistle. “I have to say, y’all are definitely the most ….. entertaining guests we’ve ever had.”
I grimaced, worried we’d worn out our welcome before we had a chance to make any headway. “I’m sorry. We’re usually much better behaved,” I lied. “It’s just kind of a stressful time for everyone.”
Brooks shrugged. “Not to worry, cher. As long as you don’t destroy any property or eat any of our patrons, you’re welcome here.”
“Thanks, Brooks.”
Adam cleared his throat and changed the subject. “I called Orpheus while you were in the shower. Filled him in on your little chat with Lavinia last night.”
I paused on my way to the fridge for some milk. “And?”
“And,” he sighed, “as expected, he wants to go ahead with the plan. We’re supposed to focus on finding Maisie’s location.”
I gritted my teeth and continued to the fridge in the hope of buying some time before I blurted the curses jockeying for position on my tongue. Trying to find Maisie was our plan anyway, but having it reported to me like an order rankled. But I knew that was mainly my ego talking. After my argument with Adam the night before, I’d realized I needed to keep a better handle on my temper if we were going to make this work.
As I walked, my fingers found Maisie’s amulet. I touched it briefly as a reminder to stay focused and calm. Swallowing my indignation, I pulled the fridge handle. Inside all I found was empty shelves, no light, and stale, warm air. I turned and shot Brooks a confused look.
“Oops, forgot to tell you the Frigidaire is broken,” Brooks said. “I threw some little cups of creamer in the bag from Café du Monde, though, if you need it.”
I mumbled my thanks and pulled a shot of creamer out of the white paper bag. As I poured, I finally responded to Adam. “Sounds like a plan,” I said diplomatically. “Did he mention what we’re supposed to do when we find her?”
Adam cringed. “Yes. We’re to report our findings to him and wait for further instruction.”
The second creamer tub popped in my hand, spraying me with a small geyser of milk.
Brooks, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension, said, “Zen’s got a dorm fridge in her workroom downstairs if y’all need to keep anything cold.”
Figuring it was best to avoid a discussion about Orpheus’s instructions at present, I wiped my hand on my jeans and changed the subject.
“Is Zen around?”
Brooks set down his mug. “Actually, that’s one of the reasons I stopped by. Madam Z’s volunteering at church tonight, so I’ll be helping you.”
Adam frowned. “Church?”
“Sure. Zen’s a devout Catholic.”
“Isn’t it kind of unusual for a voodoo priestess to be Catholic?” I asked.
“Honey, this is New Orleans. Very little is considered unusual here. You’ll see.”
I let my curiosity slip away. Zenobia’s religious beliefs were none of my business. But the fact she wasn’t around to help frustrated me. I looked at Adam. “What now?”
He opened his mouth to respond, but Brooks beat him to it. “I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of setting up a meeting for you.”
I scrubbed my face with a hand, thinking what I really needed was a vacation. “Someone with ties to the local vamps?”
“You could say that,” Brooks said. “I can take you to meet Mac now if you’d like.”
“Can you just give us an address and we can go on our own?”
Brooks shook his head. “Actually, it’s better if I handle the introduction. Some of the dark races down here get a tad suspicious about strangers.”
“Totally understandable,” Adam said.
Brooks snapped his fingers. “Oh, I almost forgot. Zen asked me to give this to you when you woke up.” He handed over a piece of paper with an address on it.
“What’s this?”
“The address of the butcher’s shop she told you about.”
I’d forgotten all about the cow’s-blood thing. “Thanks,” I said, glancing at the clock. It was already six p.m. “Should we go now before we meet your friend?”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Brooks said, waving a hand. “The shop is open all night. You can head there after.” He paused and narrowed his eyes, looking at my mouth for telltale signs of fangs. “Unless you’re hungry now?”
I smiled, showing lots of nonpointy teeth. “I think I can manage.”
“All righty then,” Brooks said, setting his mug down with a thump. “Let’s head out to Lagniappe’s.”
I frowned. “Lawn yaps?”
“That’s the name of Mac’s bar. It means ‘a little somethin’ extra.’ ” Brooks chuckled like he’d made a joke.
“What’s ‘extra’ about this place?” Adam asked.
Brooks grinned from ear to ear. “You’ll see, cher . You’ll see.”
8
When Brooks informed us we’d be walking to the club, I was wary. On one hand, I wanted to see more of New Orleans’s famous French Quarter. On the other, the more time I spent out in the open, the more chances we’d give Lavinia and her goons to make a move. Adam’s shoulders were tense and his eyes alert as we headed one block over to take a left on Royal Street.
After a few minutes, though, I found myself relaxing. The streets were crowded with tourists, which made blending easy. When I asked Brooks why so many people were in town, he explained that with Halloween that weekend, lots of people came in town early to party.
“Shit, I totally forgot about Halloween.” I mentally counted back and realized that it was already Wednesday. We only had three days until Halloween reached the Big Easy and complicated our lives.
“Oh, yeah, it’s probably our biggest celebration outside of Mardi Gras. Parades, costumes, street parties. There’s even a huge three-day music festival in City Park— Voodoo Fest. The lineup this year is awesome so lots of folks are celebrating Halloween in the Big Easy.”
Adam shot me a meaningful look. “That should make things interesting.”
I nodded and nibbled on my lip. The parties and people might help conceal our presence a little longer. But it also made security an issue. Not only did it increase the risk of humans seeing something they shouldn’t, but it also raised the odds of innocents getting harmed if shit went down. Plus there was the whole issue of not being able to spot enemies approaching with thousands of costumed people filling the streets. But if I had my way, we’d find Maisie long before the festivities heated up on Saturday night.
We made it down Royal without incident before Brooks took a sharp right on Toulouse. Just past Pat O’Brien’s, a neon sign advertised our destination. From the outside, Lagniappe’s looked like any other French Quarter bar. Inside, the decor was typical bar. In fact, the only interesting detail was a stage set across from the long bar. Given Brooks’s claim that the bar offered a little something extra, I found myself disappointed.
“It’s pretty empty,” Adam observed as Brooks led us through the empty tables toward the back. Despite the lack of clientele, rock growled from the speakers. Something by Melissa Etheridge.
“Won’t be empty for long,” Brooks yelled. “The show starts at nine. By then the place will be filled to the gills.”
I reserved judgment on that claim, because we’d reached a door bearing a sign that read “Private.” Brooks knocked twice. I didn’t hear anyone answer over the blaring music, but he opened the door and ushered us inside anyway.
A petite brunette sat behind a desk in the corner. From my vantage point she looked like another human at first. But when I sniffed the air I caught the scent of dog and relaxed. I’d been expecting a vampire, of course. But a werewolf would do. I was just relieved Brooks had brought us to someone who might be more plugged in to the darkrace underworld than Zen might be.