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It wasn’t until I was back in the lobby that I realized I hadn’t told her my name. She knew my name. She also referred to her son in present tense—she said he “is” her only son. Was that the normal grieving inability to refer to the dead in past tense? Or was it a statement that Christophe was adraugr?
I’d seen the woman, and I still had questions—but she had called the Houston police. And my new friend at the desk was on the phone with reporters. It was past time to get out of Dodge.
At the desk, my new friend held out a business card. “Benjie.” He flipped it over. “Private digits on the back.”
I took it and handed him mine.
“Thanks, princess.”
“Anything odd or SAFARI related, you call.”
“On it.” He blew me a kiss, and I shook my head.
Then I paused. “Does she have a son?”
“Chris? Mmm. Yes, she does. Dish. Not a hate-beast likeher.” Benjie leaned closer. “We went on a few dates. The conversation was okay, and the afterward was delish.”
“If you see him . . .” I winced. I hated this part. “He died. Buried. Not in the grave.”
“Oh dear.” Benjie’s eyes went wide. “Not my sort of fun. Thanks for the warning.”
Whatever Madame Hebert’s story was, she wasn’t being honest. I’d have Ally check on the disinterment and now that I was freelancing for NOPD, I’d ask there, too. Innocent old ladies didn’t issue threats—or know the name of the necromancing witch of New Orleans.
Did SAFARI have anything to do with beheadingdraugr? Or stashing Hebert’sdraugrson? I honestly had less than no idea, but one thing I knew without doubt was that any mother thinking she was protecting her cubs was scarier than most creatures. If Madame Hebert thought she was saving her son, I had a strong suspicion that she’d do exactly as Ally had done when she injected Tres.
Chapter Twenty-One
When I reached the car,Eli had such a closed down expression that I looked around the lot for threats. No lurking people with weapons—or cameras yet. Worse yet, he didn’t ask about Madame Hebert. He was typically with me lately, so the fact that he was neither at my side or asking questions had me worried.
“What’s going on?”
“I fear we must make a detour to the park,” Eli said, but then he added nothing more as he drove us to a park.
I watched him, worried that our trip to Houston had damaged him. Too much toxic metal? He’d explained earlier that he had to recharge. On some level, I understood. Magic had a price.
I rambled, telling Eli about the odd events with Madame Hebert and my new friend Benjamin. After several minutes, I blurted, “Are you injured? Can I do anything?”
He gave me an enigmatic look. “Be patient with me, Geneviève. That is what I need of you.”
“What doesthatmean?”
He shook his head. Once we parked the car, a man rose from a bench and approached us.
Eli came around to me door and extended his hand.
I stepped out of the car, reaching for my sword but Eli shook his head. “No steel, Geneviève. Not here.”
“Eli of Stonecroft, I am honored to be addressed by you as Japhael.” The man, Japhael, bowed so deeply that his hair brushed the ground.
The park itself appeared completely deserted, only birds and whatever insects buzzed about were there. Not a single person—and that was exceptionally odd. Little patches of nature inside cities were typically one of the busiest places there.
The man, a faery I now realized, bowed almost as deeply to me. “It is my honor to serve.”
Eli handed him the car keys.
“Wait! My weapons!” I started toward the car, but Eli caught my hand.
“Will be at home when we return, Geneviève.” He looked at me as if he wanted to mentally will understanding upon me. “We must travel other ways than car in this moment.”
