“Is the transport still in the gazebo?” I eyed the confection of white-painted gingerbread trim with wariness. Rand had kidnapped me in this freaking transport, after which his Synod—including his mother—had inflicted mental torture on me I could only liken to rape. It had been physical and visceral and painful. Rand hadn’t known that was going to happen, but I still blamed him for taking me against my will. And I’d never, ever forgive Mace Banyan, who engineered it.
“I’m sorry.” Rand touched the delicate bloom of an orchid. “About the part I played in what happened to you.”
“It’s done.” I knelt and touched a hand to the transport etched lightly into the floor of the gazebo. The magic still tingled but had weakened. “Could you bring my bag from the front counter?”
Once Rand retrieved the bag, I took out my portable potions kit and blended a bit of anise and clove in a solution of holy water, injecting just enough of my native physical magic to activate it. I spread it over the existing transport, waited a few moments, then touched my hand to the transport again. All traces of its magic had disappeared. Convenient thing, that deactivation potion.
Next, I recoated the transport symbols with iron shavings, touched the corners with dots of mercury, and used Charlie to inject a bigger dose of magic into the redrawn transport.
“This one should last awhile and take you to any other transport, as long as it’s open.” I looked up at him. “I deactivated the one at Eugenie’s house so don’t get any bright ideas.”
He quirked up the edge of his mouth in an approximation of a smile, but didn’t say anything. I’d have felt better with an Of course I won’t try to see the woman who’s carrying my child, Dru, but I probably wouldn’t have believed him anyway.
I checked my cell phone. “Council meeting starts in half an hour. You ready to give the greatest elven performance of the ages?”
“I will dazzle them all with my earnest and heartfelt words,” he said. “Although I still think it would be easier and faster to just kill Zrakovi.”
It was going to be a long, long day.
CHAPTER 22
Within seconds, Rand and I arrived at the third floor attic space of F. Edward Hebert Hall, located near the front side of the Tulane University campus. Home to the history department, the late nineteenth-century yellow-brick building smelled of books, polished wood, and rarefied academic types.
I hadn’t been here since my undergraduate days, when I’d dragged myself across the quad with my fellow chemistry majors, all unsuspecting humans, to do our prerequisite time in humanities hell. I’d developed an interest in history I hadn’t expected, especially Louisiana history.
The transport had been drawn in a heavy chalk line outside an elevator that looked odd. I had to study it a moment to realize it had no up or down buttons. The handiwork of the Blue Congress team, I was sure. No prowling PhDs would be wandering up to the third floor of Hebert Hall today.
“Well, isn’t this interesting?” The soft Mississippi drawl of Jake Warin came from behind me as soon as we arrived in the attic hallway, where he leaned against the wall in a discreet alcove just made for a security lookout. “You’re keeping strange company these days, sunshine.”
I glanced at Rand, who shrugged and walked down the hall without a word.
“It’s a long story,” I told Jake.
“Anything I need to be concerned about? Or should I say, is it anything my boss should be concerned about? And that’s a pretty cool outfit, by the way. It suits you.”
“Right.” He didn’t sound sarcastic, so maybe my inner goth girl had some appeal. What I found more interesting was that he didn’t ask if my appearance with Rand was anything his cousin Alex should be concerned about. He did jobs for Alex on behalf of the Elders, but his real boss was Jean Lafitte.
“Nope. Jean only needs to be concerned with Truman Capote today.” Because I had no doubt Alex had gotten the undead author subpoenaed last night before I’d been gone five minutes. My role here today was to testify about Jean’s role in the fire, which meant I had to admit to publicly hibernating and then finding him in the bar. Nothing said “competent sentinel” like admitting you’d hibernated through a preternatural crime. “Is the star witness here yet?”
He shook his head. “No, and that is going to be one interesting testimony. If it goes bad, you better duck. I’ll be helping our friend shoot his way out.” His voice was soft.
Jake had no problem with clarity. His loyalty went to Jean, and never mind that Alex was his cousin or that the Elders had paid for his rehab and training after the loup-garou attack. In a lot of ways, Jean had saved Jake and given his life back to him.
“I met Collette,” I said. “I really like her, and she’s, like, seriously gorgeous.”
He grinned, and those dimples made me smile in return. “That she is.” He paused. “No hard feelings with us?”
“Nada.” Finally, Jake and I could be friends, roles for which we were better suited.