Chapter 50
Chapter fifty
Archer
Standing on the street, I stared up at the overstated mansion, taking in the deep double balconies supported by fluted columns and decorated with black shutters.
Easily the grandest home in the entire Garden District, the Dubois Estate was exactly that: a huge house on a ridiculously sized property, practically dripping with excess.
Reminiscent of the Gilded Age of the late nineteenth century, it was large, lavish, and completely fucking silent.
“Where is everyone?” Delilah asked from beside me, her tired voice quiet in the eerie stillness as she absentmindedly clutched the two pendants hanging around her neck.
The five of us were on the sidewalk, Corson standing with his back to the house, his eyes scanning the street for any oncoming threats.
Mal was perched in a tree above us, his keen raven eyes seeing even farther than Corson’s.
I would know if there was a threat, if someone was coming toward us, but still, I couldn’t settle, the itch at the back of my neck near constant as I waited for the next attack, the next potential threat to my mate.
Clenching my jaw, I slipped one arm around her waist, holding her to me just because I could.
Drinking in the delicious taste of her joy at my touch through the bond, I narrowed my eyes as I took in the lush gardens, the perfectly manicured hedges and expertly tended rose bushes looking like something you’d see in a magazine.
Over it all, the live oaks hung, their branches spreading to the far corners of the property, Spanish moss draped across them like a lover.
“I thought you said this place belonged to the Vampire Queen,” she asked, her eyes narrowed at the huge home that rose up before us. “It looks deserted.”
“It’s still daylight,” Mex offered, sounding annoyed.
Giving her a look, I curled my lip threateningly, a silent warning that she had better watch her tone when it came to talking to my witch.
Rolling her eyes in response, Mex offered me a smile that was exceedingly fake, then continued her explanation, this time with much more patience.
“This house is filled with vampires, I promise you, but they are likely all sleeping at the moment. But trust me, come sundown, this place will be a hot spot for every sinner in town. Genevieve hosts a party nearly every night, opening her doors to the most depraved of supernaturals, welcoming them to her den of iniquity with open arms.”
“And the neighbors don’t mind?” Delilah frowned, looking at the other houses on the street, each of them grand—although not quite as grand as the one before us.
“Neighbors?” Mex laughed. “What neighbors? Genevieve and her hoard own every house on the block. She uses this one as her very own palace, but the others are all hers, as well.” Blowing out a breath, Mex turned, resting her back against the detailed iron fence that surrounded the property, still hung with faded strands of Mardi Gras beads.
“Genevieve got a taste for the high life when she spent time as a courtier for Marie Antoinette and she never lost it.”
I bit back a smile as Delilah’s eyebrows rose, the shock on her face evident.
“Really?” she gasped, eyes alight. “She was one of the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting?”
“That’s the story. But I guess she got tired of playing second fiddle to the young queen.
She fled the country about the same time the Queen lost her head and eventually settled here.
She has spent the last two hundred years being an absolutely insufferable pain in my fucking ass.
” Mex finished, and I couldn’t help but smirk at the venom in her words.
“We’ve had to break up more than one feeding frenzy on the streets of New Orleans.
These fucking bloodsuckers get to partying and next thing you know I’ve got four dead tourists on my hands and the human authorities breathing down my neck.
” Casting another angry glare at the house Mex huffed.
“We’ve come to an agreement. She keeps the craziness confined to her property, and I let her keep her fucking teeth. ”
“Vicious,” Vine muttered, his eyes on the mansion. “I like it.”
“How do we even know the relic is in there?” Corson, always pragmatic, grumped.
“It’s in there,” Delilah assured him.
“How do you know?” he pressed, and I shot him a glare.
“I know because I can feel it,” she said confidently, one hand toying with the other half of the Key dangling from her neck.
“Like a whisper on the wind. It’s there, in the back of my mind.
” Closing her eyes, Delilah tipped her head back, and I could feel the energy she pushed out, her magic reaching toward the house, searching.
I wasn’t even certain she knew she was doing it.
“It’s waiting,” she finished. “I think it’s waiting for me.”
For a moment, no one spoke, all of us turning her words over in our minds.
Could the Fallen Key know she was here? The first piece had seemed to call to her, the Infernal Energy infused in the stone filling her with its chaos until she finally laid her hands on it.
Would this piece be the same? Knowing which of the sins were infused into the remaining half, I selfishly almost hoped it would.
“So how do we see her?” Delilah asked, bouncing on her toes. My mate was far too excited for the prospect of meeting a vampire for my liking.
I was going to have to do something about that.
“You won’t be seeing her at all,” I announced, causing Delilah to flash me an angry scowl that matched the rush of hurt that flowed through out bond. “You’ll be staying with Vine and Mal at Mex’s club while Corson and I investigate. If the relic is here, we’ll collect it.”
“What?” Vine gasped as Delilah threw her hands in the air in exasperation.
“That’s not fair!” she screeched, her words ringing through the quiet street.
“This is my mission as much as it’s yours.
You won’t even know if you’ve got the right piece without me, seeing as how I’m the one it seems to call to.
Samhain is in two days, Archer,” she reminded me needlessly.
“Our time is running out. I’m coming with you and that’s final.
” Staring me down, Delilah crossed her arms angrily, the effect somewhat ruined when she had to adjust them twice to accommodate the pouch with her hedgehog that hung across her chest.
“Now, you listen to me, witch,” I growled, but Mex cut me off.
“Let her go to the party, Archer.” Shooting her a glare, I snarled at the demoness who needed to learn to keep her unwanted opinions to herself. “The adorable little thing probably never gets to do anything fun.”
“There is nothing fun about entering a vampire nest and confronting the queen,” I hissed through gritted teeth.
“And besides, boss,” Vine cut in, wisely stepping out of my reach before he continued. “It’s not like anything will happen to her. Not with the four of us watching over her.”
“You just wanna get laid,” Corson muttered, and Vine shot him a wink. “I agree with Archer; there is no place for a vulnerable witch in a situation like this.”
“There will be five of us,” Mex put in, winking at Delilah. “I’ve grown fond of your spitfire of a mate, Archer. After all, us girls have to stick together.”
Delilah beamed at her, the grateful smile doing nothing to quash the annoyance I felt at even the possibility of my mate being in danger.
“Delilah,” I began, but she turned to me, her eyes so wide and hopeful, and I found my resolve melting beneath her pleading stare.
“Archer,” Corson said, his tone full of warning. “Don’t. She’ll be nothing but a liability.”
“I promise to behave,” she promised, sending Corson a wounded look which he pretended not to be affected by. “Please, Archer.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Alright, fine! You can come, but you will be by my side the entire time.”
“Of course,” she said, her agreement coming far too easily for my liking.
“I mean it, witch. These vampires are not to be trifled with. You may think you know what to expect from what you’ve seen in movies, but believe me when I tell you they are much worse than that. They use every one of their sick gifts to find an opportunity to feed. You will need to be vigilant.”
She nodded somberly, and I felt a little relief that she might do as I asked.
“You will also need to be dressed appropriately,” Mex said. “I don’t know where you got that dress, but it will never get you access to a Dubois Fête.”
“I don’t really have anything else,” Delilah answered, embarrassed.
“You’re perfect,” I snapped, and Vine snorted from behind me.
“Yeah,” Mex said, her tone mocking. “I’m glad you think so, but Genevieve insists on a very strict dress code for her events. She may have left France, but she never really got over her love of Rococo fashion. No one gets in unless they’re dressed the part.”
“Where the heck am I supposed to get a dress like that?” Delilah asked, sounding defeated.
“Don’t worry, cher,” Mex said, her face twisting with a devious smile as she wrapped an arm around Delilah’s shoulders and pulled her away from me, heading back the way we’d come. “I’ve got you covered.”
Oh, fuck. I didn’t like the sound of that one bit.