“
Jolie,
I was hoping you would elude them.” He glanced over my shoulder at Terri. “I fear my trust in Etienne was misplaced. When I arrived, he was not there but his assistant trapped me.” He rattled the handcuffs, but that light pole—and, thus, Jean—wasn’t going anywhere.
I took stock of my companions as they huddled in the nearest storefront, wondering who to take out first as they argued about the best way to use Jean against me. I didn’t see Etienne, but Terri could probably do that fast- moving vampire thing. Adrian had his Blue Congress skills. Lily’s mental magic wouldn’t work on me now, thanks to Rand, but God only knew what else she could do. And Jonas could control Jean, at least in theory.
If they were going to leave me out here in the rain and ignore me, they’d pay. Easing the staff from beneath my soggy sweatshirt, I aimed it at the roof of the wooden building they were huddled in and shot a nice stream of elven-bond-enhanced fire directly over Jonas’s head.
They screamed and scattered as the roof sparked and sizzled, caving in on top of them in a hiss of smoke. Thanks to the rain, I didn’t get the eruption I wanted, but I got a diversion.
I studied the handcuffs, and wished I had a handy charm or potion. “I’m going to try to use the staff on these cuffs but it might burn you,” I told Jean.
“Do it,
Jolie
.”
While I used short bursts of energy against the link chain of the cuffs, I talked. There were much bigger things than me at play here and my odds of surviving weren’t great. Terri had already escaped the collapsed building, and the others wouldn’t be far behind. Then they’d turn their attention back to me.
“They’re afraid of you—afraid you’ll go to the Elders.” I kept my voice low and spoke quickly. “If I don’t make it out of this, go to Zrakovi. Tell him that Lily, Adrian, Jonas the necromancer, and the vampires are all involved. I think the vampires and Lily are conspiring to overthrow Mace Banyan for power in the Synod, and then present a united vampire-elf force against the Elders. I think Mace and Quince Randolph are not involved. Together, the elves and vampires outnumber the wizards, and they want to take control of the Interspecies Council. Remember. Zrakovi needs to know.”
“You will not die here, Drusilla.” Jean whispered so softly I strained to hear him. “Kill the necromancer first and I will be able to . . .” Jean’s eyes glazed and he looked past me. He didn’t blink, even with the rain pelting his face and dripping from his lashes.
I turned to see Jonas crouched outside the collapsed storefront, chanting and moving his fingers in intricate patterns, twisting a spell.
“Courir, Jolie!”
Jean said, his voice choked, straining, urgent. “My will fails me. Run!”
I took off, pulling out the staff as I ran at a ninety-degree angle from Jean. I aimed over my shoulder and let out a blast of my elven-bond- induced fire, aiming at Jonas. Broad red ropes flew straight at him, but Lily had been watching me. She shoved him aside, leaving the fire to blow a hole in the concrete wall behind him. The building didn’t collapse, but at least I’d bought some more time while Jonas regrouped.
I ran onto the midway of storefronts but stopped when I got out of their view and peered back at them around a partially collapsed wall. Terri had released Jean, and he ran toward Jonas and Lily. The elf had a freaking pistol, standing guard while Jonas crafted his spell again. Jean stopped halfway to him, and his shoulders stiffened.
Crap, Jonas had regained control.
I held out the staff, ready to take another shot, but Jean was between me and Jonas. Instead, I looked behind me, trying to make out the dim shells of storefronts that lined the midway. I needed to hunker down and figure out a strategy.
I ran toward a hulk of a building—some type of souvenir stand, back when the world was normal and Six Flags was full of laughter and music. Halfway there, I went sprawling on the wet cement, and twisted around to see the bottom section of a concrete planter. In the rain and shadows, this was like running an obstacle course blind.
As if on cue, a rainbow of neon lights flickered, then shone in a steady glow along the walkway, even from shops missing doors, windows, or even front walls. At the far end of the fake French Quarter midway, the carousel began to twirl, its empty swings flying outward, tinny jazz music playing at a frenzied pace, orange and gold lights twinkling around the ornate top. Blinding and brilliant even through the sheets of cold rain.
Holy crap. The ghost of Six Flags Past had been resurrected. It was classic Blue Congress magic—creation and re-creation, and if I hadn’t known he was doing it to help Jean find and kill me, I’d have given Adrian props for being able to maintain this kind of magical illusion on such a large scale.
I spotted Jean rounding the end of the first storefront. He slowed when he saw me, his movements mechanical and stiff. He was fighting Adrian from sheer force of personality.
Running again, I darted into a darkened corner and through an alleyway between buildings. Behind them, back in the shadows, I half fell, half jumped over trash and rotted storm debris. Finally, I found a dark corner in which to hide. This was the same building I’d used while running from the Axeman. The store’s front wall was missing, and most of its rear. I’d have an escape route.
I steadied my breath and wiped the rain off my face, thankful the adrenaline had at least cleared my head of the dizziness. I couldn’t just run from Jean. Eventually, he’d catch me. He’d been right; I needed to take out Jonas Adamson. Without the necromancer, the spell on Jean would be broken and, now that he wasn’t tethered to a light pole, he’d be one hell of a backup.
I slipped through the hole in the back wall, using my hands to feel my way along the plain concrete rear of the faux Vieux Carre stores, retracing my route to the walkway entrance.
I’d like to blow Lily’s pale elven ass straight to Elf heim, and if she landed on Mace Banyan, all the better. He might be innocent of trying to have me killed, but he wasn’t innocent. Might as well throw in Betony as well. And Rand, just for good measure. Anything smacking of elf was on my bad list.
By the time I reached the back of the last store, I was ready to shoot something. My best shooting range with the staff had been six feet and closer, so I needed to get near the entrance to the storefront Adrian was using for his magical setup.
I scanned the area, looking for another place to run for cover, and decided on the remains of the giant clown head. It was in a relatively unlit area, about the width of a basketball court from where I crouched, and I could get to it without running through the open part of the midway.
Another quick look around the corner didn’t reveal my pirate, so I sprinted for the clown . . . and skidded to a stop on muddy ground as Jean stepped from behind it. The muscles in his face stretched taut, his eyes dark swirls of anger. I knew the anger wasn’t directed at me, but at the wizard issuing orders.
“Come to me, Drusilla,” he said softly. “Let us end this.”
I pointed the staff at him and willed a brief burst of my magical energy into it, jerking it left at the last second and hitting the giant clown—which even after the fire was so huge I couldn’t miss it.
Its blue cap and right eye exploded in a burst of plaster shards and dust that mixed with the pouring rain, and knocked Jean off his feet. Just the distraction I needed to run toward the building where I’d last seen Adrian and Terri.
Slipping and skating across the muddy ground, I raced around the carousel, which still careened madly, throwing orange and gold sparks from its equipment room door. Adrian must be getting tired; the music had gone from tinny to warbly, and the bright array of red and gold lights around the carousel’s top flickered on and off.
I heard a boom, and thought it was thunder until I found myself facedown in the mud, my right shoulder a mass of throbbing, fiery pain. I tried to push myself up, but my right arm collapsed under me. Part of my mind registered that I’d been shot, but my legs kept wanting to run.
A strong arm around my left arm jerked me to my feet. “I am sorry,
Jolie
. They ordered me to shoot the wizard, so I shot at the necromancer. The elf shot you. I’m being ordered to hold you.”
Jean was shouting, but his voice sounded muffled and distant. At first I thought the rain was muffling the the sound around us, including Jean’s voice, but when the carousel behind him tilted at a thirty-degree angle I realized how close I was to passing out. If I fainted, I died—simple as that. Jean wouldn’t be able to intentionally misinterpret his instructions indefinitely.
Whimpering as torn skin and ligaments created shards of pain that sliced through my body, I slipped my right hand into my pocket and pulled out my only remaining charm, thumbing off the top and flinging it at Jean’s arm.
“Mon Dieu.”
He released me and held his arms out into the driving rain. My acid charm wasn’t made to work in these conditions, and most of it washed off. I only made it a few feet before he caught me again.
My legs gave way when he grabbed my right arm, the pain so sharp the Axeman might as well have chopped off my arm at the shoulder. So this was what it felt like to be shot. It sucked.
Jean slowly pulled his dagger from its resting spot under the wide black belt he wore when in fighting pirate mode. I’d studied that dagger before; triangular blade, razor sharp, wicked. It would hurt like hell too.
I jerked away from him enough to raise the staff between us with my left hand, but I shook so badly it might as well have been a twig from a pine tree. He grasped my hand and held it steady, lowering the staff until its tip rested over his heart. “Do it, Drusilla. They have ordered me to stab you in the heart, and to do it now. I fight it, but I cannot change the order to something that will not kill you.”
“I can’t.” My voice was nothing but a whisper, and I felt hot tears mingling with the cold rain on my face. “I can’t do it.” I knew that for the historical undead, the real death had already occurred, and that Jean would not truly die from anything I did. But it was still using my magic to willfully, seriously hurt someone I cared about. I’d never done that before, and now I knew it wasn’t in me.
Holding the end of the staff steady against his chest with his left hand, he raised the dagger with his right, pressing it against my breastbone. “I cannot stop this, Jolie. You must save us both.”
He pressed the point of the blade through the waterlogged fabric of the sweatshirt, barely breaking skin but doing just enough to bring me out of the gray haze that threatened to overwhelm me. “God help me,” I whispered, and sent a burst of magic into the staff.
I smelled the burn of flesh and fabric, even in the rain, and Jean dropped the dagger as he crumpled to the ground. I knelt with him, stroking his cheek, easing him onto his back. His dark blue eyes cleared, and he smiled. Seconds later, he died another death, and I felt part of my soul die with him. Everyone who had a hand in this was going to pay. I didn’t know how, but they would.
Jean’s body had already begun to fade into the Beyond when the lights went out. The music from the carousel died with the tortured whine of a dying animal. Only then did the sound of shouting voices filter through the rain.
Clutching my right arm against my body to keep from jostling my shoulder, I struggled to my knees, and finally got to my feet. Taking a final look into the shadows where Jean had died, I began to run toward the voices. I had a bill to settle.
A
glow emanated from inside the storefront where everyone had taken refuge after I collapsed their first hangout. I limped toward it like a crippled homing pigeon. Jonas would know Jean was gone, which made him impotent and shifted the bulk of the danger to Terri and Lily.
Adrian was too big a coward for me to consider him a threat. He’d done something boneheaded, gotten caught, and let things spiral out of control.
Grateful for the sound-muffling effects of the rain, I stopped outside the east wall of the building to catch my breath, and hazarded a quick look into the open storefront. I wasn’t sure how much of my serious case of the shivers came from the cold, from fear, or from injury.
Add hallucinations to the shivers. There seemed to be a hell of a lot more people in that open storefront than there should have been. I held my left hand over my eyes like an awning to keep the rain out of them, squinting to try and figure out who’d joined the party and forgot to invite me.
Alex. Unless I was really hallucinating, he was here. His right leg was red from blood but he was upright, looked pretty well healed, and I’d never been happier to see him. The adrenaline drain of knowing he was nearby almost sent me to the ground again. He stood behind Terri, an arm clamped around her waist and a gun to her right temple, yelling at Adrian, who sat on the ground with his head in his hands. There was no sign of Jonas.
I couldn’t understand what Alex was saying because Rand, Lily, Betony, and Mace were all standing a few feet away, shouting at each other. The whole freaking Elven Synod was at Six Flags.
The situation looked well in hand, so I stepped into the open storefront. It took a few seconds, but eventually all eyes turned to me and all talking stopped. Did I know how to make an entrance, or what? I still held the staff in my left hand in case the elves decided to resort to violence in front of Alex, but I thought Rand’s presence would be enough to keep them in check.
“DJ. Thank God.” Alex pulled the gun away from Terri’s head and shoved her toward Adrian, then came to me. He started to hug me, but stopped when he saw my right shoulder. “You’ve been shot. Where’s Lafitte?”
He’d stood in front of me and let me kill him, that’s where. “He’s . . .” I stared at Alex’s hand. “Is that a
nail gun
?” Why the hell was the king-of-all-weaponry, badass enforcer using a nail gun?
“Wooden nails.” He shook it in Terri’s direction. “Got her attention.”
Terri was whispering to Adrian, but I couldn’t summon the energy to deal with them yet. “How’d you know to come here?”