? ? ?
It was two a.m. before everyone was finally healed and the fire was deemed completely doused. The rain had drained to a drizzle, though water still shushed through the magnolia leaves, swirled in the streets, and pooled in the ditches and lowlying places. The witches were still encircled, studying the wreath, and not much had changed with them, except this time they weren’t wet. Seemed they had figured out how to add a water-repellent aspect to the electric dog collar ward.
Leaving human blood-servants to keep watch for changes in the witches’ activity level, others to keep watch for the demon and Margaud, we gathered in the living room of the B and B. I had quickly made notes on the things I needed to know, and I started the little tête-à-tête by saying, “The vamps of Bayou Oiseau never had a formal parley with Leo and his peeps. The witch coven never met with the New Orleans witch council. I thought both parleys had taken place. Honestly, I don’t have a crap-dang care why they didn’t take place. They will take place next week. Lucky, Clermont, nod if you want to keep your heads on your shoulders.”
It may have been the honest agreement that the meetings needed to take place, or it might have been my pelted and glowing-eyed aspect that forced them into compliance, but both nodded. Beast chuffed, feeling her power over the gathered. Beast is good ambush hunter.
I smiled, showing her teeth.
Clermont cleared his throat, laced his hands over his stomach, stretched out his legs, and crossed his ankles, every bit the relaxed gentleman. He was tall, lean, and gangly at nearly six feet, with dark brown eyes and blondish hair, a combination that seemed common in this area and had been replicated in the genetic makeup of his son. Somewhere he had found clean apparel and changed out of his smoky, bloody clothes. Now, like the first time I saw him, he was dressed in worn jeans, an ironed white dress shirt, a gray suit jacket, a narrow tie, and boots, which were ubiquitous in Louisiana. His reading glasses were perched on his head, reflecting the light. “Lucky and I been talking, we has. Already confirm appointment with New Orleans’ councils.”
“Good,” I said.
“Share, we do, all intelligence we know ’bout dat wreath. Corona. Breloque. It first appear in 1927, day de blood bar open. Professor be playing piano, lady singer singing, though I forget her name, it be so long ago. My sire, he dancing wid a local gal, blood-slave, she was, and thunderstorm outside. Rain pouring down like what it done today. Hard falling, it was. And there be a crack of thunder. And, like poof. It appear in middle of stage. All by it lonesome.”
Lucky said, “The witches heard about it. My family ancestors, the Bordelon sisters, asked to see it. The vampire said no. We not see dat breloque until my Shauna took it and brung it to us.”
Clermont frowned. Maybe Shauna would be considered a thief in the eyes of the courts, providing that the corona belonged to the vamps under some form of finders-keepers rule of law, but I couldn’t let that topic become the center of the discussion. Before anyone could accuse Shauna of stealing, I said, “And were either the vamps or the witches ever able to use it?”
“No,” Clermont said, his mouth forming a totally human smile. “Back before de electronic revolution, la corona sat on top my TV for years. Best rabbit ears dey ever was.”
Lucky laughed. So did I. And if there had been tension in the room, it dissipated. “Okay. So where was it kept when Shauna and Gabe got tricked into causing all this trouble?”
“It in my gun closet. Locked to keep the young ’uns out. Key hanging on my bedpost on leather thong.”
I looked at Shauna, who was pretty as a picture, sitting beside her husband, snuggled on the sofa. She looked abashed and tucked her head down under her husband’s chin, snuggling their child up close in her arms. The silence pulled like a long length of taffy, and she finally spoke into it. “When I saw Margaud and Gabe together in the bar, I went home, packed, got the key, and took the wreath. Then I strapped Clerjer into his baby seat on the airboat and went home to Mama and Daddy.” She turned her clear, blue gaze to her hubby. “I was a fool.”
“No, Shauna, my love, I was de fool,” Gabe said.
“You were all fools, but we don’t have time to list the ways,” I said, thinking Shakespeare, with the height, breadth, and depth of foolishness. “So what does the wreath do?”
“I can tell you that.”