Page 29

Lach

No lights were on inside The Fontaine when I pulled up to the unattended valet stand, hours before the start of dinner service. I already knew why Baptiste had summoned me to the French Quarter—the covens’ furor over the murders hadn’t cooled in the least. Despite half a dozen meetings over the last week, I was no closer to calming them down. Ciara blamed me. Cate had gone back to sleeping in her own bedroom. Shaw was keeping his distance. The only person still speaking to me was Roark, but even he had given up reassuring me.

I’d fucked up. I expected mutiny any day. Baptiste either planned to warn me or strike the first blow—given our history, it was impossible to know where she stood. I slid my sunglasses off, jaw clenching, as I climbed out of the Mercedes and made my way to the door.

Unfortunately, it was unlocked.

The dining room was empty and as silent as a graveyard, but the rich scents of butter and garlic wafting through the air told me she was here. I bypassed the antique sideboard that served as a hostess stand, a half-empty cup of coffee abandoned next to the reservations book. I hadn’t stepped foot inside the restaurant in years, but it looked the same as ever. Antique chandeliers twinkled in the shadows, looming over a collection of high-backed red booths, the tables covered in starched linens and already set with polished silverware, wineglasses, and crystal vases overflowing with fresh flowers.

Baptiste Du Roschiers owned a dozen successful businesses sprinkled throughout New Orleans, but she only cared about two of them. While the theater, La Porte, accounted for the majority of her livelihood, this restaurant was her home. That was the only reason I’d agreed—per her request—to come alone. The Fontaine was sacred to her. If the First Parish Coven intended to betray me, it wouldn’t be here. Baptiste would never allow it, and with étienne gone, she was the one calling the shots.

But I scanned the room anyway in case she planned to deliver more than a verbal lashing, the comforting weight of my 9-millimeters a reminder that I’d been wrong before. No threat materialized, and when I pushed open the double doors, I found her alone, stirring a pot on the stove.

She didn’t look up as I entered, her attention focused entirely on the simmering sauce. “It’s been too long since you crawled into my kitchen, Lach.”

Every time I saw her, it was easier to remember why we’d broken up. “I don’t crawl for anyone.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Pity. Sometimes a girl wants a man on his knees.”

Irritation flared through me, but I bit back a sharp retort. I would win a fight with the vampire, but, given my current situation, it was smarter not to pick one. “ You asked to speak with me.”

“And you came,” she said pointedly, turning away from her dish. Her dark eyes glinted with both victory and reproach. “Although it took you long enough to get here.”

“I had more important things to do.” If she wanted an apology, she was going to be disappointed. Working with the First Parish would be much harder with étienne gone. She would make certain of that, starting with this little test or whatever it was. She needed a reminder that there were boundaries— my boundaries. “The city doesn’t run itself.”

She set the spoon aside and crossed her arms, fixing me with a pointed stare. “And you are running it? From where I’m standing, it looks like you’re barely keeping a lid on things.”

“I don’t answer to you,” I reminded her.

She snorted, no doubt recalling the past. “Maybe you should. You made a mistake not telling the covens about the murders.”

“Creating panic wouldn’t have helped.”

“We could have, though,” she said.

“How?” I couldn’t help but laugh. “All the covens do is fight.”

She shook her head, grabbing a bunch of carrots and slamming them onto a cutting board. “And you lack imagination,” she accused as she reached for a chef’s knife. “I thought maybe Ciara could help you see.”

“See what?”

“That no one can help you if you don’t ask for it.” She waved the blade at me. “You could learn a thing or two from her. You’re standing here because she worked with us instead of against us.”

I clenched my jaw, hating that she was right. Not that I would admit that to her, especially with the fragile control I held over the covens. Asking for help was one thing. Showing weakness was another.

We stared at each other, a tense silence stretching between us. Finally, Baptiste sighed, shaking her head. “You’re never going to pull your head out of your own ass, are you? That’s why I decided to do it for you.”

Unease prickled down my spine. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Her answering smile showed a little fang. Baptiste wiped the knife on her apron, the razor-sharp edge catching the light. My muscles tensed, readying for an attack, but she merely flicked the knife toward the rear entrance reserved for deliveries. “It means that you owe me one. Come on. I have something to show you.”

She moved to the door and opened it, but she didn’t step into the back alley. I hesitated, suspicion warring with curiosity. This was a game to her. It always was, but I had no clue what the prize was. Maybe she just wanted to twist the knife of étienne’s death. Or, more likely, she just got off on toying with me.

“Do you want this situation resolved or not?” And there it was: the bait—dangled too low to possibly resist.

I strode forward, hesitating for a split second when I reached the threshold.

“You still don’t trust me.” She laughed under her breath. “I hope you’re working on that with your new girlfriend. Humans don’t live long enough to waste time waiting for a man to change.”

I bristled, wondering if more news had leaked than just the murders.

Baptiste noticed and grinned. “Already screwed that up, too, huh? What a surprise.” She pushed the door open wider. “We’ll tackle that after we deal with your other mess.”

“What mess?” I demanded, but she ignored me and continued into the alley.

The odor of rotting food from the dumpsters mingled with the dank scent of yesterday’s rain. A couple dozen empty crates had been tossed next to the restaurant’s dumpster, and tied to it…

I growled, recognizing the crouching vampire in chains. Caleb. He lifted his head at the sound of my voice, his unwashed hair hanging over his face. He looked like hell. His clothes were filthy and torn. Dried blood was caked on his busted lower lip. But something other than fear filled his eyes when he looked at me.

Defiance.

“He’s one of yours,” I said through gritted teeth. “What the fuck is going on?”

Baptiste stopped beside him and crossed her arms. “I told you,” she said calmly, “I handled it.”

“Handled what?” I demanded, my eyes darting around the alley for more of her men. Nothing moved in the shadows. We seemed to be alone, but I knew better than to let my guard down.

“No one is going to ambush you,” she said, sounding almost offended. “I called you here to help you, remember? Just like when I sent Dante to help with your friend and when my brother helped you in New York.”

The last thing I needed was to be in more debt to her, but I found myself softening. “How does this solve my problem?”

“Because he killed étienne.” Her smug smile faltered.

I took a single step forward. “How can you know that?”

She shrugged. “I ordered every vampire I’ve ever sired to come forward if they knew anything about the murders.” The satisfaction returned to her eyes as she waited for me to do the math.

My jaw dropped. “And he…confessed?”

“Don’t act so surprised, Lach,” she said, annoyed again. “I made them. I can compel them to tell me the truth—whether they want to or not. Just like étienne would have done if you’d looped him in on what was happening.”

And he would have. He would be alive now if I’d told him about the murders—if I’d asked for help. Like Ciara and Cate would have done.

Baptiste kicked Caleb hard in the ribs, and he grunted, trying to shield himself from further blows. “This little shithead had no choice but to tell me the truth.”

I stared at Caleb, my mind reeling but only one question important enough to ask. “…Why?”

“He’s always been a bit of a loose cannon, but I never imagined he was capable of something like this,” she admitted, her face dimming. “You’re not stupid.”

“That’s not what you usually say.” I smiled grimly.

But she didn’t laugh. “There are plenty of people who want to see you off the throne; you know that. The bona fides only made them hate you more.”

I shook my head. “I want him to answer.”

She flourished a hand, stepping to the side. “Be my guest.” She glared down at Caleb. “Tell him why you murdered those people.”

I turned my burning gaze on Caleb. He’d gone still and silent, but I could smell his fear, see it in the tremor of his hands, hear the slight hitch in his breath as the compulsion took hold. He had no choice but to do as she commanded. But he remained quiet.

“Tell me why you did it,” I said, my voice low and dangerous. “We both know that you aren’t walking out of here, so you have two choices. Quick and painful or slow and painful.”

Either way, he would answer for what he had done. Not only because the city needed to remember what happened when they made a move against me but because étienne had been my friend.

My fists clenched at my sides, nails biting into my palms. It was taking everything in me not to rip him to shreds. Blood roared in my ears as I waited for Caleb to speak, an eternity packed into a few scant seconds.

“You don’t own us or this city,” he rasped, turning hate-filled eyes on me. “They thought they owed you allegiance. They made New Orleans a prison because they’ve forgotten their own power. We have our own magic. We could have been free from your—”

“Enough.” Baptiste cut him off with a disgusted look. “You swore an oath of allegiance like the rest of us.”

“I don’t answer to him,” he reminded her.

“You’re answering to me now .” I stepped between them, glaring at him.

“And me,” Baptiste added. “You killed a vampire elder. The punishment for that treason is death.”

His head drooped at her words, and he fell silent again.

Baptiste produced a wooden stake from her apron pocket, and my chest tightened. He deserved worse, but he had confessed. She gripped it tightly and leveled the point at Caleb’s heart.

“Tell him everything,” she commanded, her voice as sharp as its point.

Caleb’s hateful gaze flicked from me to the stake, a flicker of fear in his eyes. Then he began to talk, the confession spilling out of him like poison.

“No one would listen at the meetings. They wanted to help you, bring you back here even when the bona fides spell was clearly draining our magic. When Thalia suggested it, I nearly killed her in front of everyone. But then others agreed with her and the spell was cast. You came home, and they congratulated themselves. And those of us who disagreed were ordered to shut the fuck up.”

Baptiste hissed, but a twisted smirk pulled at Caleb’s mouth. “Even you,” he added, the words dripping with disdain. He glanced at me. “She’d probably blow you if you asked her to.”

She snarled, shoving the stake forward a fraction of an inch. Blood blossomed on the front of his shirt. “ Give me a reason.”

But he continued to grin. “I decided to send a message. I wanted everyone to see the true price of their loyalty. We weren’t loyal. We were dogs waiting for our next command. You wouldn’t protect us, help us. I wanted them to see that.” He shook his head. “But you made sure that no one got that message, so I sent another one. I thought the police would find the human first—that you wouldn’t be able to cover it up. But our kind would know when they saw that memento mori.” He chuckled softly despite the blood oozing down his shirt. “I didn’t expect you to care about the humans—you used to treat them like cattle. But you found that one first, too. So I had no choice. Thalia was clever, but she was a nobody. The tourist should have made the papers. But none of you could ignore the murder of a member of the Vampire Council.”

Rage smoldered under my skin with each word, my muscles coiled tight with the effort of holding back.

“You’re weak, Gage. Soft.” Caleb sneered up at me, baring his fangs. “You don’t deserve to lead us. You never did.”

The last threads of my control snapped. I lunged forward, wrapping a hand around Caleb’s throat. Metal crunched as I slammed his body against the dumpster. “And you don’t deserve to live.”

Caleb just laughed, the sound as harsh and ugly as the loathing etched onto his face.

Baptiste stepped up beside me, pressing the stake into my free hand. Her fingers curled around mine, forcing them to grip the worn wood.

She leaned in. “He’s right about one thing. He’s not the only one who feels this way. There are others who think they can defy you, question your authority.” Her smile was sharp and ruthless. “You need to send a message. Show them what happens when they cross you. Show them why they answer to the Nether Court.”

I stared down at him, stared at the bloodstained stake in my hands, stared at the man who had killed my father’s oldest friend, and found no mercy in my heart. “Any last words?”

Caleb met my gaze, eyes burning. “Go to hell.”

I smiled. “You first.”

I plunged the stake into Caleb’s chest, ribs splintering and crunching from the impact. His eyes flew wide, filling with shock and agony as it pierced his heart. A choked gargle escaped his lips, followed by a trickle of blood as he turned ashen, cracks spiderwebbing across his face.

And then he was gone.

He deserved worse.

I wrenched the stake free, letting Caleb’s lifeless body slump to the ground. Disgust roiled through me, bitter on my tongue, and I turned away, unable to look at him a moment longer. The stake clattered to my feet.

Baptiste stared at the body before swallowing. “At least that’s done.”

“You liked him,” I said through gritted teeth, daring her to lie to me.

“I did,” she admitted, tipping her chin. “But he disappointed me, and we can’t have that.”

Sentimentality had never been one of her weaknesses. étienne might be gone, but maybe I still had an ally in his coven.

She nodded toward the kitchen door, her expression unreadable. “I’ll have someone take care of the body before we open for dinner.”

I followed her back inside, each step mechanical. The anger that had consumed me only moments before was fading, leaving behind a hollowness in its wake.

Caleb might have betrayed me, but that didn’t mean he was entirely wrong. Baptiste had sided with me because she had no choice. But even she had to see there was some truth to why he had acted. The city had sacrificed to protect me, and I had led those people to slaughter.

As the door swung shut behind us, I felt something in me crack, the numbness giving way to a grief so sharp it stole my breath. Baptiste continued to the cutting board, resuming where she had left off like nothing had happened. But I braced my hands against the counter, my head bowing under the weight of it.

“Baptiste, I…” My voice sounded foreign to my own ears, thick and raw. “I’m sorry about étienne.”

She paused, her knife hovering over a half-chopped carrot, and a wry smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “I thought you didn’t apologize.”

I shook my head, a mirthless laugh escaping me. “I don’t. But…I’m still sorry.”

The words hung between us, heavy with the weight of centuries of things left unsaid. The full burden of my immortality pressed down on me with its endless march of time and loss and mistakes.

The rhythmic thud of her knife against the cutting board filled the silence between us. I picked up a towel, methodically wiping Caleb’s blood from my hands before tossing it into the trash.

“You should know that the council reached out,” Baptiste said, her gaze fixed on the vegetables before her. “About the murders. I’ll let them know it’s been resolved.”

I nodded, but the tension in my shoulders remained. It was over, but its weight still lingered like a shadow—impossible to shake.

Baptiste glanced up at me, her brow furrowing. “This is the part where you thank me and tell me you’re relieved.”

“Thanks,” I said flatly. “You took care of one of my problems.”

“The bona fides is still in place, which means…” She put the knife down and studied me. “Let me guess. This is about that human .”

Suspicion flared in my chest at her sudden concern.

“Relax, Lach,” she said. “I’ve moved on, and I’m glad you have, too, even if she’s human.” She grimaced. “Unless you fucked that up, too.”

We were a chapter long since closed, but she still knew how to read me.

I let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through my hair. “I don’t know, Baptiste. Everything’s just… complicated right now.”

She picked up the chopping board, turning to the pot still simmering on the stovetop, and dumped them in with a splash. “Let me give you a bit of advice. I’ve known you for centuries. I knew étienne even longer. I thought I always would.” Her voice caught, a flicker of pain crossing her features before she schooled them back into a neutral mask. “I think it’s safe to say you thought the same.”

I nodded, a lump forming in my throat.

“We’ve been immortal so long, we forget what’s truly important,” she said softly. “No magic can guarantee forever. Any of us could die tomorrow. Don’t waste time.”

The truth of her words punched me in the gut.

“I don’t know how to make things right with her,” I admitted. “I don’t even know where to start.”

She dipped a spoon into the pot, tasting it with a critical eye before reaching for the salt. A knowing smile curved her lips as she glanced back at me. “Why do you think I taught you to cook? Food has a way of bringing people together.” She waved her spoon at me. “So, get your ass out of my kitchen and go fix what you broke. And for fuck’s sake, try not to screw it up this time.”