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“The decision is yours.” He kissed me thoroughly and once I was breathless, he added, “I would be bereft to lose what we have, and I cannot express how it would pain me to see you go unprotected into danger.”
“Not playing fair.”
“Fae never do, Geneviève.” He kissed me again, nipping my lip and demanding entrance.
Once I managed to pull away, he caught my hand and added, “I am yours, Geneviève Crowe. Accept me as I am or free us.”
Then he left me there, speechless and confused.
I left the house without the ability to speak coherently. I knew I was right that our bargains so far had benefitted me as much as him, but how could I grant anyone an open-ended wish? That sounded far more dangerous.
A tiny reasonable voice reminded me that this was Eli, that I wasn’t randomly granting a stranger power over me. This was the man I loved. . . and yet a lifetime of self-preservation made me unable to simply say “yes.”
Outside, I slid into the passenger seat of Ally’s car.
She handed me a travel cup with a cheery, “Blood orange juice!”
“Juice?” I gaped at her. “Allie, we talked about this. Fruit makes me drunk, and I don’t have time to be dr—”
“Blood, silly, not blood oranges,” Ally whispered. “It just”—she looked around although the car window was up and she was whispering—“seemed like a dangerous thing to say. What if. . . one of those SAFARI people heard and—"
“Got it.” I took a big gulp of vodka and blood. “Thank you, Allie.”
“Oh! We need a code word.” She shifted into gear and pulled onto the street. “Like carrot juice? Beet smoothie? Oh, what about lava juice? You know, because lava is red.”
I’m fairly sure I replied, but sometimes Ally required a special degree of attention that I had trouble with during the daylight. I paused in my thoughts and looked at the window. “You had the windows tinted darker.”
“I hate your headaches, Boss.” Ally didn’t add that it was because she had a strange maternal need to nurture me since I’d resurrected her stepson, Tres, but it was there. Whether it was gratitude or guilt for attempting to kill me or magic, Ally was devoted to my health and well-being with the fervor of a new mother.
“Where to?”
I gave her the address of Christophe Hebert’s mother’s home and settled back in her luxurious sedan. Whereas Eli went for a flashy convertible, Ally drove her late husband’s cars. All of them. Today was a Lexus with its distinctive front grill, leather interior, and climate controls that were surprisingly useful in New Orleans’ omnipresent humidity.
I was just going to pop by Madame Hebert’s house, ask a few questions, and then I’d go home to deal with Iggy. That was the plan. I didn’t need Eli’s back-up for this. I’d take him with me to Houston—assuming I could still enter the city—but this was just swinging by an empty house.Draugrwere even more sensitive to sunlight than I was, and I could feel them nearby, so I wouldn’t be exposing Ally to danger.
It was perfectly safe.
And sure, I still had a dead guy in my apartment, a police request to attend, and an engagement to navigate, but I felt confident that I could handle it. Maybe it was the orgasms last night or talking to Eli. Maybe it was arrogance. Who knew? All I could say for sure was that I had an optimism today that I hadn’t felt standing in the graveyard last night.
“Sing for us, Allie,” I said, and notjustbecause I wanted to distract her. Alice Chaddock had such a beautiful voice that it would make even angels weep, and although I was far from angelic, I was fairly sure that it was a holy experience to listen to her sing.
She started to sing some gospel song about “going to the river,” and it felt like exactly what I needed.
I couldn’t tell if it was the sex or the blood that had me so cheerful, but either way I was positively optimistic when Ally parked the sedan outside the Hebert family estate. Admittedly, Madame Hebert wasn’t local these days, but they’d kept the family estate on the edge of the city. It was close enough to the ghost zone that I had no idea what awaited me, but I knew thatdraugrwere asleep during the midday hours.
“Well, this looks just peachy,” Ally drawled.
The wrought iron gate in front of the estate was looking rough. Several fat padlocks and thick chains held it shut. Vines twined up it as if they had been there for years, and some of the fleur-de-lis at the tops of the fence spikes were cracked off. The weeds had consumed the front lawn, but the flagstone walkway was clear. Someone had been here recently.
“I think you’d better stay outside.” I got out of the car, foolishly thinking she had the sense to obey me on this.
Ally got out and slammed her door. When I glanced over at her, she scowled. “Do I look like I want your fiancé to put a boot up my butt?”
I paused, looking away from the ruined estate in front of me. “Eli is not going to kick you, Ally.” She opened her mouth, but I held up a hand. “And your roots are showing again . . .”
“Damn it!” Alice Chaddock took several steps toward me. “I relax around you, Boss. Then I get all . . . hillybilly-sounding.”
I grinned. “You’re fine. Still the socialite. Still the widow Chaddock.”
