“Drusilla? Forgive me, Jolie. I thought you were that blackguard Etienne.”
Drawing in a deep, gasping lungful of air, I flipped my lids open to find a familiar pair of dark blue eyes an inch or two above mine, narrowed in concern. An elephant hadn’t landed on top of me, but a pirate had. And he seemed disinclined to move.
“I’m not Etienne.” I was fast developing a reputation for my witty repartee under pressure.
“Non.” His gaze dropped to my lips and I thought for a second he was going to kiss me. How would I respond if he did? Add that to the list of questions for which I had no answers.
“We’re still in Vampyre, but Etienne and the others are gone. Do you think you can walk to the transport?” I took a deep breath as he rolled off me with a groan and sat up.
“Oui. The wound is painful but not deadly. Your fire stopped Etienne before he could finish his dark work.” Jean got to his feet more easily than I did; in fact, he had to help me. “You are covered in blood, Jolie, and I do not believe it is all mine.”
Neither did I. My whole freaking shoulder burned as if it had another bullet in it.
We limped toward the transport. Neither of us would be in any road races soon, although I fully planned to get the ingredients for a healing potion for myself and maybe one for Jean as well. My supplies had been so low, and my access to a magic-friendly workspace so limited, I’d been trying to heal the hard way—like a human. Forget that; the prete world was too unstable for me to be out of commission. I needed my staff-shooting arm fully functional.
Jean glanced around the arena. “Where went Etienne? And the Vice-Regent and your First Elder?”
I shook my head and stepped in the transport. “No clue. And I don’t think Hoffman’s going to be First Elder after tonight.”
Jean stepped into the interlocking circle and triangle and reached out to pull a leaf from my hair. “Why did Monsieur Zrakovi and your elf and your dog not follow to assist you?”
Well, wasn’t that a million-dollar question? “I don’t know, but I sure intend to find out.”
I didn’t have to wait long. In fact, we had only to transport back to the Orleans Parish Criminal District Court Building and walk into the council meeting room to see the problem.
The place was on fire.
CHAPTER 7
Jean and I paused in the doorway that led back into the meeting room, momentarily speechless.
“Merde,” Jean finally said.
“Exactly,” I added.
Flames engulfed the long table where the council members had been sitting. On either end, Zrakovi and Elder Sato had taken off their robes and were using them to beat at the flames, to little avail.
“Where have you been?” Alex yelled as he rushed past me and grabbed the arm of Toussaint Delachaise. “I’m having to take people out in the transport a couple at a time. Can you make the transport bigger?”
“Not without shutting that one down and creating another one,” I shouted to his retreating back. Mr. Delachaise’s Einstein hair was in more disarray than ever.
I turned to get a better overview of the scene. Jake and several of the werewolf security people were trying to stop the fire from spreading to the carpet by stomping on sparks. Apparently the Blue Congress wizards in charge of decoration hadn’t used flame-retardant fibers.
Floating several feet above the chaos was Sabine the Faery Queen, who laughed while the dark-haired faery yelled at his blond counterpart, who apparently had lost control of his fireball. Now he stood with a stubborn expression on his face and his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at his colleague. Some enterprising wizard had at least equipped the room with emergency lighting, although the flames cast eerie shadows on the walls. The fire was spreading slowly and so far had been confined to the table, so either the table was fire-resistant or the flame was some kind of magical faery business. My bet was on the latter.
I moved closer to the faeries. I wasn’t sure where Jean had gone, but we probably didn’t have long before the building’s smoke sensors would alert the NOFD, if they hadn’t already.
The faeries were fighting among themselves.
“Put the damnable fire out!” Dark-haired faery’s chiseled features flushed an unbecoming pink. He shouted with a slight accent I couldn’t place. “Make it rain, you overgrown clump of crabgrass!”
“Make it rain yourself.” Blond faery waved his arm in the direction of the fire, and a sudden wind gusted through the room, blowing the sparks beyond the werewolf stompers and igniting the carpet beside the council table. “Sabine is enjoying the show, and she needs to see proof of my powers.”