As they discussed the literary history of the Hotel Monteleone, I pondered the drop in temperature and the sudden buddy status of Jean Lafitte and the Faery Prince of Winter. Silent across the table, Christof kept his gaze on me like a jagged iceberg.
I leaned back and focused instead on the large-screen TV playing in one corner, hoping to bore him into warming things up. Its sound was turned down too low to hear, but the picture switched from a report on the Saints’ NFL playoff hopes to—what else—the weather.
Snowy vista after snowy vista filled the screen, replaced by a red-nosed, heavily bundled reporter whose breath plumed in white clouds as he talked into his microphone. Heavy snow swirled behind him. A map appeared on the screen, showing the Southeastern U.S., where everything was green and clear except for a big white circle sitting over that part of Louisiana just south of Lake Pontchartrain.
The Faery Prince of Winter arrives in town at the same time we have the unexplainable winter of a lifetime. We have the winter of a lifetime at the same time Jean Lafitte, said prince’s new BFF, wants to punish the elves for their part in last month’s fiasco.
This weather had crippled them. Rand was the only one still staying in New Orleans and couldn’t leave his house without risking hibernation. Mace Banyan had fled back to Elfheim. The elves, Jean wouldn’t want to kill—Lily had already been decapitated. But he would enjoy tormenting them.
Crap on a freaking stick.
I shifted my gaze back to Christof, and in his cold stare and another dip in temperature, I saw the truth in my suspicions.
“Christof,” Jean said, touching the prince’s arm. “Perhaps you should go back to Faery this evening and appease your queen. As you yourself said, she is displeased with your continued absence from her court.”
“Very well, my friend.” Christof leaned back, and I sighed in relief as the temperature rose again. “You will take care of this problem?”
I didn’t look up at him, but I was pretty sure “this problem” meant me.
“Oui, give my regards to your queen and your brother.”
Christof laughed. “Well, my queen perhaps. Florian and I do not talk more than is necessary, as you know.”
He bade good-bye to Truman Capote, who’d fallen silent during the exchange, and turned last to me. “I’m sure we’ll meet again soon, DJ.”
I kept my eyes on Jean. “Undoubtedly. Safe travels.”
He shrugged into a long wool coat and swept from the room. The temperature continued to rise.
Capote began chatting again, telling stories and engaging Jean in conversation, which was fine with me. I needed to think.
I owed Jean Lafitte my life, as Willem Zrakovi had pointed out. More than that, I considered him a friend. Maybe not the most straightforward friend, but I had no doubts that if push came to shove, he would protect me. I also felt certain he would never betray me, even at cost to himself.
If I turned him in for burning the vampire club and using the Winter Prince to make the elves miserable, he’d lose his spot on the Interspecies Council at the very least. He might face prosecution for consorting with the fae while the Elders were still paying him to provide them with updated navigational maps of the Beyond.
I also was likely not the only one turning a blind eye toward his business dealings with Rene, and those could be shut down, which would hurt both of them. Jean could even be confined to the Beyond, which would hurt him far worse than a temporary physical death. He was adventurous and independent. Chaining him down would kill his spirit even if his body survived forever.
So far, he hadn’t actually hurt anyone. He was playing mental games, like a big old French cat toying with a vampire mouse and a few elven cockroaches.
There was another issue that factored into how I dealt with Jean. I considered him a friend, and I owed him. Beyond that? I had avoided thinking too hard about my feelings for him, and had no idea what his were toward me. We’d been flirting for years. He’d made it clear that he found me desirable, and I’d unfortunately not hidden my attraction from him nearly well enough or Alex wouldn’t continue to see him as a threat.
I couldn’t make a reasonable decision about his dealings with the fae or his potential arson case until I knew where Jean and I stood. For Alex, it would be black and white. Jean broke the law, so Jean should be punished, whatever that meant. I couldn’t think that way. I didn’t want to think that way. Right or wrong, my heart had a say in whatever decision my mind reached.
Jean had told me a time would come when I’d have to choose sides. I hadn’t thought it would be now, or in this way. Then again, maybe it wasn’t as complicated as I was trying to make it. There was only one way to find out.
“Jean.” I interrupted Capote in the middle of a rousing story about his adventures growing up in the city. “We need to talk.”
Something on my face seemed to tell him this was not a light request. “Truman, mon ami. Our time here draws to a close.”
Capote looked from Jean to me and back. “Good, I was tired of talking. I can expect that portable computer tomorrow?”