6. Etienne

Isnap my fingers, gesturing for Gerar to dispose of the fresh corpse in the canal out back, a casualty of the nightly territorial pissings. Just another mess to clean up. ”Those scaly beasts are getting as fat as Bourbon Street tourists, the way we”ve been stuffing ”em lately,” I say to nobody in particular.

The smoky shadows of Le Voile de Sang close in around me as I sit back behind the gleaming mahogany bar. Visions assault my mind in lurid flashes - snarling wolves, violet witch-fire, spreading pools of blood. A spectral woman”s voice hisses in my ear: Beware the blood of the father”s sins.

Needing to steady my nerves, I go through the familiar ritual of preparing a French absinthe. The slow drip of iced water over the sugar cube is hypnotic as I try to block out the dizzying visions. But I can”t shake the feeling that something big is coming, bigger than the petty crime and territory squabbles that are my stock in trade. I haven”t felt a premonition this strong since the war, but that was a lifetime ago.

No, this is different. It reeks of ancient, forbidden magic. The fae wouldn”t be foolish enough to stir up that hornet”s nest, and the witches have been lying low. So what the hell is going on?

I hear two dainty footsteps. I crack an eye open to see Mimi, the French vampiress, slinking onto the adjacent bar stool like a sleek jungle cat. Damn. I should have known she would sense the commotion and come sniffing around.

”Why so blue, mon cher?” a silky voice purrs, cutting through my brooding. ”Not still fretting over that doorman, I hope?”

”What do you mean doorman, you mean Frank?” I say, my ritual broken. “Did you fucking eat Frank?”

She smirks, tapping a black-lacquered nail to her nose.

”God dammit, Mimi,” I growl, slamming my fist on the bar. The absinthe sloshes dangerously in its reservoir. ”I don”t have time for your games tonight. Frank was a good man. Mostly. He had a family, I’m sure.”

Mimi shrugs eloquently, crossing her endless legs with a whisper of silk stockings.

”Etienne darling, don”t pout. It”s so unbecoming. Frank was skimming from the till and you know it. Consider it a favor.”

She leans in, cool breath tickling my ear. I catch a whiff of copper and jasmine. ”I”m more intrigued by the little bayou flower your brother swept upstairs.” She arches one perfectly plucked brow. ”A hexeblood in the city will draw all manner of attention. Delicious attention.”

I turn to face her fully, jaw tight. ”And what pray tell me are you vampires up to, Mimi? And don”t give me that wide-eyed innocent act. I can smell the plots wafting off you thicker than your Chanel No. 5.”

She tsks softly, drawing a finger down my cheek. Her skin is cold as marble. ”Now Etienne, you know I never mix business and pleasure. Usually. But I”d be careful about snatching toys that don”t belong to you.”

I catch her wrist in a vise grip. ”Is that a threat?”

Mimi laughs, a throaty, mocking sound. ”A friendly warning, mon cher. You know how I adore this little slice of Vieux Carré. I”d hate to see it reduced to rubble in a supernatural pissing contest.”

She slides off the barstool in a whisper of beads and fringe. ”Ask yourself, is she really worth angering the witches, the fae, and the Arceneaux family? Especially with your history?”

I scowl, unconvinced. Planting my hands on the bar, I loom over her, letting a little growl rumble in my chest. Her eyes sparkle with amusement at my attempt at intimidation. She languidly extends one slim ankle, rotating it like a cat stretching in a sunbeam.

”Why don”t you ask what you want to know, loup-garou?” Her topaz eyes pin me knowingly and I curse under my breath.

Damn vampires, always ten steps ahead.

She laughs, a throaty sound, and demands her usual - an Old Fashioned with extra cherries. As I muddle the sugar and bitters, she leans in, running a lacquered nail along my jaw.

“More,” she demands as I drop three cherries in. I roll my eyes.

“So what brings you in, tonight?”

Her fangs flash for a moment and she practically purrs. ”Do you really think you could hide her without my help?”

I glower at her but she just laughs and dangles an amulet between two fingers.

“What’s that?” I ask. But I think I already know.

“A favor,” she purrs.

“I don’t want it,” but I find it in my hand anyway.

“You owe me,” she says.

“Oh I owe you now? When was the last time you paid for drinks.”

“We both know I’m much too beautiful to pay for drinks, stupid boy.”

“I told you not to call me boy.”

With that, she slinks away to her favorite corner, drink in hand. She settles on her chaise with feline grace, casting a look of disdain at the room. I watch her, an uneasy feeling settling in my gut.

Damn vampires.

I pour myself a whiskey, knock it back.

If Mimi knows about our little stray, it”s only a matter of time before the rest of New Orleans” supernatural underbelly catches wind of her.