? ? ?
We had a breakfast big enough to last all day, with a slab of thick-cut bacon that had to have come from Lucky Landry’s butcher shop, Boudreaux’s Meats. Best meat I had ever eaten—well, cooked, and me in human form. Beast had other thoughts about her preference of freshly brought down meat, raw and still kicking. Not my preference. There were also sausage links with the intense spicy flavor of Lucky’s special spice and herb rub recipe, free-range scrambled eggs from a neighbor’s hens, fresh-baked bread, three kinds of muffins, and a bowl of fruit big enough to take a bath in had the fruit not been in the way. The Kid ate huge servings of everything, even the fruit. He was suddenly putting on weight, the muscle kind, and I was sure he had grown another inch. He would be topping his older brother if this kept up, and I saw Eli glancing at his baby brother from time to time as Alex ate. Eli was no slouch in the eat-his-fill department, and neither was I. We managed to put a hurting on the food before Eli decided it was time to talk.
“Who the hell put a sleep spell on us?” he growled.
“Language,” Alex said.
Eli’s eyes narrowed, but he patted his lips with his napkin and placed it beside his plate before taking a tiny sip of coffee. The motions were tight and tense, and I knew he was holding himself in check with effort. Eli had control issues. Spells pushed his buttons. Oversleeping pushed his buttons. Edmund waking him up pushed his buttons. Especially if Edmund was tossing cold water on him or, worse as far as Eli was concerned, whispering sweet nothings in his ear. I managed not to smile at the thought, but it was a near thing.
“Who the heck put a sleep spell on us?” Eli’s voice was ubercontrolled.
“The whole town was spelled,” I said, “not just us. And I’m betting that Leo didn’t know this part.”
“Why?”
“Because he would have shared this with us. Being put to sleep could mean the difference between success and failure, so Clermont didn’t tell him. They’re back to playing vamp games.” I told the boys about my visitor and the intel I had been given. At some point in the narrative, Eli calmed down. The fact that the spell had been a general one, and not particular to us, seemed to ease his anger. For me, that made it worse, as it spoke of a huge usage of magical power, but I kept that to myself. When I finished with my tale of love lost and male stupidity and female scorned and revenge, Eli sighed and poured himself another cup of coffee. The small porcelain cups were dainty and pretty, with little pink and yellow flowers on them, and they held about a third of what our mugs did at home, but Eli hadn’t let that stop him getting caffeined up. He was steadily making his way through a second pot of Miz Onie’s dark French roast brew. “Well, at least we got a good night’s sleep.” He gave me his patented grin—a slight twitch of his lips, which, on anyone else, could have passed for indigestion. “Except you.”
“Yeah. Thanks for the sympathy. I also have a vamp sleeping in my closet. No sympathy for that either?”
“Not a hint.”
“Fine. We have a good nine hours of daylight left before the vamps rise. Alex, I want you to find out the historical and/or current relationship between the Doucettes, the Moutons, the Landrys, and the Bordelons, four powerful families that I remember from my last trip here.” Alex pulled out his electronic tablet and took down the names, but he looked at me curiously.
“I talked with Lucky Landry about the town, back on my first visit, and he told me when the first Cajuns got to Louisiana.” Trying out a Cajun accent, I said, “Dey Moutons say dey get here in 1760, but my family, de Landrys, land in New Orleans in April 1764, but dey don’ get here in dis town till 1769.”
Alex pulled a face. “That was terrible.”
Eli added, “It sounded like you were talking while chewing gum and eating hot mashed potatoes.”
I decided further attempts weren’t worth the trouble. I really needed to find time for French lessons. “His grandmother was one of two Bordelon witch sisters, Cally Bordelon. The Bordelons were the strongest witches in these parts when the vamp-witch-human wars started in Bayou Oiseau. Lucky Landry is related to all the witches in the area, and we might need to know the historical context of this situation. Or we might not. I’d rather have intel and not need it than need it and not have it. Anyway, the family tree between the Bordelons and the Landrys might be important, especially if we find a Doucette or a Mouton in there somewhere.”
“Got it. On it,” Alex said, already bent over his tablet.
To Eli I said, “I think I need to talk to Shauna’s daddy and get the witch side of the story, then maybe see the Amazon witch in the street.”
“Weapons?” Eli asked.