EXCERPT
By midafternoon, I was out of ideas and full of
nervous energy that finally sent me out of doors, catching up on yard work I’d
neglected all season, raking the small, crunchy leaves from the live oaks into
piles a kid would love to play in.
“Need help?”
I ignored the
voice and counted to ten, hoping it would go away. Instead, Quince Randolph knelt
next to a tall pyramid of leaves I’d erected and took the lid off the big green
trash can he’d brought with him. He began scooping up armfuls and piling them
in the can. “You should compost this down. It would make a good mulch for flowerbeds.
Plus you need more color in your landscaping.”
“Whatever.” I didn’t know what mulch
was, didn’t care enough to ask, and had such a brown thumb that flowers never
survived my gardening efforts.
Rand wore a
chocolate-brown sweater almost the same color as mine, with jeans in a similar wash.
With our comparable shades of long blond hair, we resembled grown-up Bobbsey
Twins, except he was prettier. Freddie and Flossie do New Orleans.
“Are you here
for any particular reason?”
He squinted up
at me against the soft afternoon sunlight. “I just want to get to know you
better.”
Uh- huh. “Tell
me what you are, and then we’ll know each other better. I’m betting elf or
faery.” I was kind of betting elf— it might explain his interest in me
although, thankfully, he’d never shown any inclination to plunder my brain.
He grinned. “Go
to dinner with me and I might tell you.”
I noted the
return of his peridot earrings. Big liar. Super-big cheater. “Where’s Eugenie?
You know, your girlfriend?”
A flash of
irritation spoiled his perfect features a half second before he answered. “Working.
Can we—”
What ever he
planned to ask, my answer would be no, but he didn’t get a chance because a
clomping noise reached us from the direction of Prytania Street. Rand and I
both were stricken speechless at the sight of Jean Lafitte sitting like royalty
in the back of a gold and white French Quarter tourist carriage. It was being
pulled by a light- gray mule wearing a hat festooned with
fake flowers and driven by a smiling guy who had no
idea how many daggers his undead pirate passenger had hidden on him.
The ornate
carriage rolled to a stop, and the mule flicked an ear at the passing traffic. Those
animals pulled tourists around the French Quarter all day, and it would take
more than an impatient Toyota driver to rattle one of them. The carriages were also
ridiculously expensive if one commissioned a ride outside the Quarter.
Then again, Jean
Lafitte was loaded. The driver probably had a reason to smile.
Jean exited the
carriage with extraordinary grace for such a large man. He was tall, powerfully
built, black-haired, cobalt-eyed, a shameless flirt, and talked with a raspy
French accent that made me swoon even though he was technically dead. In other
words, I had a bit of a problem with Jean Lafitte and my own common sense being
present at the same time.
Jean said a few
words to the carriage driver, then turned to prop his hands on his hips in a
broad pirate-like stance, giving Rand a disapproving visual once-over. The mule
backed up a
few awkward steps before pulling the carriage into
my driveway.
God help me, I
hoped Alex didn’t get home in time to see this. I’d never hear the end of it.
Elysian Fields is a great read, a wonderful continuation of the Sentinels series. Darker than the first two. Buy the book, you will not be disappointed.
ReplyDeleteCan't wait to read the book. Congratulations.
ReplyDeleteLove the sound of these books!!
ReplyDeleteSounds wonderful!
ReplyDeleteCan't wait to start these!
ReplyDelete