Jean stared at the floor, thinking, his aura bathed in indecision. I was asking him to trust me without any assurance that I wouldn’t do something to hurt him. I knew when he’d made up his mind; a hum shimmered across my skin like a stone sending a ripple over a lake, and his mind calmed.
He looked up at me. “Very well, Drusilla. Here is the truth, as you asked. Although you are not fully elven, you hold much of their magic. Thus, I escorted you into the snow, believing you would eventually succumb to what the elves call their survival state.” The emotions coming off Jean ramped up, but he remained outwardly calm. As long as that level of calm was there, he was being honest. “I knew you would not be harmed as long as I returned you to the hotel immediately, and I had Rene waiting to watch over you. Your life will never be placed in mortal danger by Jean Lafitte.”
“How did you know I’d hibernate?” One could use pretty words like survival state, but if it oinks you might as well call it a pig. “Why did you want me to hibernate?”
“Certainty eluded me, of course, but I had observed you on the night of the council meeting,” Jean said. “While others were chilled, your countenance was very much like that of your elf—quite pale. I was concerned for your health, and Christof explained this odd elven trait, as he has dealt with elves for many lifetimes.”
Freaking elves.
“As for why, well, it was what my friend Christof called a policy of insurance, lest you attempt to interfere with the plans I had made.”
Plans that involved arson, no doubt. “What happened after you left me with Rene?”
“I met Christof as planned, and we proceeded to make ourselves seen at the…” Jean paused and frowned. “Bar du Carrousel. Throughout the week, I had arranged for some of my men to visit L’Amour Sauvage and disrupt Etienne’s business while spending very little gold. He is an arrogant man, with no fear of the authorities, and I knew he would not remain in Vampyre for long if his financial affairs were in distress.”
The old hit-’em-in-the-pocketbook tactic. It would be an effective strategy to use on Jean as well, although I thought it best not to point that out. The pirate liked his gold.
“Disrupting Etienne’s business is not a crime unless your men attracted the attention of humans,” I said. For better or worse, a bunch of disheveled French-speaking guys dressed like pirates would attract no attention at all in New Orleans.
“Arson is a crime, however,” I added. “Humans inside the bar could have been killed. The fire could have spread to other buildings in the Quarter. The firefighters could have been killed.”
“Yet they were not.” Jean’s gaze on me was steady, as was his emotional temperature. “My men were instructed to ensure that everyone, human and vampire, including Etienne himself, was shepherded safely from the building.”
“Still, the fire could have spread. You jeopardized the lives of the firefighters and the people who work and live in the adjacent buildings.” He’d committed a crime that had involved humans, although the nagging little voice in the back of my mind pointed out that he’d risked our discovery less than the debacle at the parish courthouse.
Jean narrowed his eyes. “Do you judge me, Jolie? Etienne had called himself my friend for almost two centuries, only to betray and manipulate me in the way he knew would be most hurtful.”
I nodded slowly. I did understand. Jean had once told me he didn’t like being controlled during his human life, and he wouldn’t tolerate it in his immortal life. Etienne had put him under the control of a necromancer who’d taken away his free will, and had played him for a fool.
I didn’t condone arson, but I understood the urge for revenge. And I understood that for a man like Jean, who would be dealing with other pretes for eternity or damned near close to it, he had to appear strong, decisive, invulnerable. He’d exercised restraint by sparing Etienne’s life and settling for annoyance.
Yet he’d still broken the law. Arson, definitely. Exposure to humans, possibly. Treason? Or at least treason as the Elders would define it.
I took a deep breath. “Exactly what is Christof’s dog in this hunt?”
Jean frowned. “Pardon, Jolie, but Christof does not possess un chien. The fae do not like them.”
Good to know; I filed that away for future reference. If I had a home to take it to, I’d visit the Humane Society today and adopt a mutt as a bit of faery protection. Although I guess Alex would work. “I meant, why is Christof involved in this at all?”
Jean laughed, and affection for the faery filtered through his emotional aura. They really were friends and not simply political allies, which relieved me. “He has no interest in the vampires beyond the council business, so he was not involved, as you say, but for my companionship.”
Yeah, as an alibi. Or maybe he was smuggling items into Faery. “Do you have any type of business arrangements with Christof?”