Elisabeth watched him. “You believe if I care enough about you I will spare you. Is that it? Is that what you’re doing?”
“Um. Well...”
“Oh, mon dieu.” Was she trying not to laugh?
“We can talk about something else.”
“I have a better idea for your mouth,” she said and disappeared, slamming the rotting door behind her.
9
Kelley
Colleen Deschanel lived at The Gardens on Jackson Avenue, one of the largest mansions in the Garden District, known for its columns spanning all four sides of the porch and the gardens that seemingly went on forever. It had more than two cross streets, because the property touched both Prytania and Coliseum. And if one still needed more guidance to find the monstrous structure, they need look no further than the throngs of tourists always parked out front taking pictures.
The Deschanels, like the Sullivans, were hierarchical. They cherished their system of heirs, passing the core of their power and money down through a single line. Colleen was not the heir, though she did have the power, assuming command of both their club of magi—The Deschanel Magi Collective—and the role as unofficial heir. The true heir had died, and the next in line wanted nothing to do with it. So it all fell to confident, capable, unshakeable Colleen, as if the fates themselves had conspired to make it happen.
Kelley, prior to seeking her out for assistance after the run-in with Vincenc, had met her a few times. Kelley’s mother and uncles had been close with Colleen and her siblings growing up, friendships that evolved into something more practical as they aged. Colleen and Uncle Rory had almost married in their youth, but now conspired solely on business matters.
She hadn’t been willing to have a serious conversation before, but he had new information to present, and a brother in mortal peril. Colleen could easily validate that herself, with access to dozens of seers among her own family.
Aria answered the door. “Is Mrs. Deschanel expecting you?”
“No, but she will want to speak to me.” He hadn’t dared make an appointment that she could shrug off or reschedule.
Aria regarded him with amused skepticism. “I’m afraid she’s leaving for another engagement in ten minutes, but I’ll let her know you’re here.”
“Thank you.”
Kelley shuffled around on the broad white boards, trying to ignore the curious onlookers. They were probably wondering what business he had to be knocking on the door to this grand estate. But the Sullivans were no slouches, either. Not as famous, but just as connected.
The door opened quicker than he expected. Colleen, looking as neatly pressed as always, smiled and invited him in.
“Would you like some tea? I’m afraid I don’t have long.”
“Aria told me. No, I’m fine. But I really do need to talk to you.”
“We’ll retire to the porch then. Come.”
The screened porch spanned an entire wing of the home, and beyond, delicious, exotic flora in bold colors beckoned, providing a canopy from the world beyond. He would happily pass a lazy afternoon watching birds land upon branches, and the crepe myrtles sway in the forgiving breeze. But this was not that day.
“What can I do for you?”
“Kieran is in danger. I saw it.”
A single brow rose. “Saw it? Tell me about that.”
“You know. Saw it. Like seers do.”
Colleen folded her hands over her knee. “What specifically did you see, Kelley?”
“I saw...” Now for the hard part. Where she would undoubtedly kick him out for funning with her. But they’d already eaten into three of the ten minutes she had. He required every second. “I saw him taken by a vampire.” Kelly swallowed hard.
Colleen didn’t kick him out. She didn’t even crack a smile. “Like the one you met in Seattle.”
Kelley’s mouth parted in shock. “You know about that?”
“I have to. You’re family. Our experiences matter. Collectively. Individually.” Colleen’s immaculate hair moved with her as she tilted her head to the side. “Is it? Like the one you met?”
“I don’t know... maybe... you believe me?”
Colleen looked forward again. She nodded. “Do you know the de Blancheforts?”
“Sure. They own half the land along River Road and a bunch in New Orleans, too. Richer than God, Mom says.”
Colleen smiled at that. “What I’m going to tell you, I would ordinarily reserve for the knowledge of the Council alone. But you, Kelley, have had a most unique experience. One I can say that only a few others in this family have ever had. You deserve to understand it.” She kept gazing straight ahead. “Vincenc told you what he was? Dhampir?”
Kelley nodded, still dazed by her easy acceptance of his claim.
“Many of the de Blancheforts are, as well. Their patriarch, Etienne, had one come to him with an offer. There are only so many dhampir, as you may know, and to make one, you must undo one. A trade of the gift that only The Master can offer. And the one who came to Etienne—Childeric they call him, claiming to have been a Merovingian king, of all things—had with him hundreds ready to lay down their gift and sleep eternal. He bade Etienne to carry this message to his own brood and convince them, over the years, to take the places of Childeric and his own tired creatures. And they did. Not all de Blancheforts are vampires, of course, but the ones who are live in the many old plantations Etienne and his descendants purchased over the years. A resting place where they can have seclusion and safety.”
“Wow,” was all Kelley could say.
“It was my own daughter, Amelia, who learned this and shared it with me. She had an encounter with one. As did my niece, Olivia. A Victor de Blanchefort, grandson of Etienne. He is still around, searching for something he will never find.”
“If you know about them, why haven’t you killed them?” Kelley asked.
“Killed them? I’d be no better than a dhampir if I did that, Kelley. They don’t wish to harm us any more than
