Garden of Dreams and Desires Page 22

  “This is preposterous,” Fenton sputtered. “On what grounds is he being charged? On what evidence?”

  “Yeah,” Augustine said. “I’d like to know that myself.”

  “You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.” Grantham reached for Augustine’s arm.

  Harlow smacked him away.

  The uniformed officers lunged, grabbing her and pulling her to the side. Grantham scowled at them. “Let her go.”

  She jerked away from them to grab Grantham’s bare hand. She felt how sorry he was, how angry, how helpless. Then her anger returned. She forced it away and focused on Grantham. She pushed into him the desire to help, her need to protect Augustine making her reckless.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. He shook his head slowly. “There’s nothing I can do. This was all the senator’s—”

  “Harlow, enough.” Augustine pulled her away by the hem of her tunic. “I appreciate what you’re doing but this clearly isn’t Grantham’s idea.” He looked at the detective. “Is it?”

  Grantham blinked like he was clearing his head. “No.” He paused a moment, then looked at the officers. “Wait outside.”

  The pair hesitated.

  He repeated his command. “Wait outside. There won’t be any more trouble.” He glanced at Augustine and Harlow. “Will there?”

  Augustine shook his head. “No.”

  Harlow crossed her arms. She wasn’t going that easy. “We’ll see.”

  Augustine put his hand on her shoulder. “Harley,” he muttered.

  She ground her teeth together and gave the answer she knew Augustine wanted. “Fine. No trouble.”

  The officers left. As Lally slid the library doors shut behind them, Harlow turned on Augustine. “Why are you so calm about this?”

  He shrugged. “Because you’re not?” He winked at her, infuriating her a little, but that was probably what he was going for. “Because I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.”

  Grantham exhaled, then shook his head. “It’s not.”

  Lally clutched at her throat and muttered a soft prayer.

  “What do you mean?” Fenton asked.

  Harlow nodded, unable to form words to adequately express what her insides were doing.

  Grantham swallowed. “The coroner found a slip of paper in the pocket of Robert Pellimento’s shorts. It had this address on it.”

  Augustine’s hand tightened on her shoulder. She narrowed her eyes at Grantham. “That means nothing. His mother could have given him that.”

  Grantham’s brows quirked up. “Why would she have given him this address?”

  “As a place to avoid?” But it sounded thin even as it left her mouth. “What about the fact that he died in that pond? That’s proof Augustine didn’t have anything to do with it. The water in Pellimento’s lungs is all the evidence you need.”

  Grantham sighed. “That’s part of the problem. There is no water in his lungs. There’s no water in any of the victims’ lungs. It’s like they died somewhere else and were tossed into the pond postmortem.”

  A chill sucked all remaining hope out of her. Augustine was going to be taken away from her and there was nothing she could do. She shook her head. “The spell killed them, not the pond. They didn’t drown in the water. Their souls were ripped from them by magic.”

  Lally crossed herself and sank down on one of the couches. She looked up at Fenton. “Mr. Welch, there’s got to be something you can do.”

  Fenton approached Grantham. “Surely we can work together on this. You know as well as I that these poor souls are dead because of the witches. Augustine had nothing to do with this. You were at Zara’s house. You saw the aftermath of that chaos spell with your own eyes.”

  Grantham shook his head. “We may know the truth, but the senator doesn’t care. She’s pushing this hard. If I don’t take Augustine in, they’ll call SWAT to do it.” He sighed, his eyes heavy-lidded. “They’ll tear this house up. You don’t want that.”

  “No, we don’t.” Augustine stepped forward. “I understand. You’re just doing your job.”

  Fenton shoved his glasses back on his nose. “We’ll post bail immediately.”

  Harlow’s heart ached like it was being clawed apart. “What? We’re just going to let him go like that?”

  Fenton’s eyes held anger and pain. “We have no choice. This may be a Haven city but we are still ultimately subject to human law.” He turned back to Grantham. “Where are you taking him?”

  “Orleans Parish Prison. Bail could take up to seventy-two hours.” He shrugged. “With the senator involved, it could move a lot faster. She’ll want him charged immediately.” He exhaled like the weight of the world pressed down on him. He shifted to look at Augustine. “You ready?”

  “Can I have a minute?”

  “Sure, but clock’s ticking. I’ll be in the foyer.”

  Augustine didn’t wait until Grantham had left to pull Harlow into his arms and kiss her. “This is going to be all right. The man’s just doing his job. In the meantime, I need you”—he looked at Lally and Fenton, too—“all of you, to work on a solid defense.”

  Fenton nodded. “We have a criminal defense attorney on retainer. I’ll get him there immediately.”

  Augustine took Harlow’s shoulders and bent to look her in the eyes. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Human jail is a cakewalk. It’s not like I haven’t been there before, although it’s been a few years.”

  “Just because you spent time in juvie doesn’t make this all right.” She clenched her hands so tightly they throbbed. “I will find a way to prove your innocence and take the senator down.”

  “I know you will.” He kissed her forehead. “Sun’s up in a few hours. You should get a little sleep.”

  She snorted. “I’m not about to sleep while you’re locked up.”

  “Try. You’re going to need it.” He shrugged one shoulder. “As soon as I’m processed, that’s what I’ll be doing.”

  Lally sniffed and wiped at her eyes. “I don’t like this one bit.” She stood and walked over to Augustine. “Imagine if Olivia knew.”

  Augustine slanted his eyes at her. “Under no circumstances is she to know about this. You got it?”

  Lally frowned but nodded. “I got it.”

  Augustine hugged her. “I’ll be home soon. I promise. Right after Fenton bails me out.” He let her go and strode to the door like he was about to go meet a friend, not be booked for murder. He slid the library’s pocket doors back, gave them a little salute, then walked toward Grantham, hands out in front of him.

  Harlow turned away. “I can’t watch this. It makes me want to kill someone.”

  Fenton stood beside her, stiff with obvious anger. “In light of the current circumstances, perhaps another choice of words would be in order. But I know how you feel.”

  Harlow crossed her arms, the click of metal against metal ringing in her ears as Grantham put the cuffs on Augie. The crack in her heart widened seeing him shackled like that. “You just worry about getting him out.” She stared out the library windows into the darkness. “I’ll worry about keeping him free.”

  Augustine sat in the back of Grantham’s police-issued sedan, one leg sprawled out on the hard plastic bench seat. The other two officers flanked his vehicle with their patrol cars as they traveled the dark streets of the Garden District. Grantham kept glancing at the closed-circuit screen that showed everything going on in the rear seat. Augustine slouched against the window. “You can stop checking on me. I’m fine.”

  Grantham frowned and shook his head, shifting his gaze back to the street. “This is a damn travesty.”

  “But one that neither of us has any say about, so stop beating yourself up over it.” They passed into a lower-rent area and the streets got darker. “Besides, I’ll be out as soon as bail is set.”

  “Could be two, three million if the senator has a say. Which she will.”

  Augustine shr
ugged. “Doesn’t matter. Fae pockets are deep.” He glanced forward. “Fenton will take—hey, what the hell?”

  Two black SUVs barreled toward them. The lights on the vehicles switched off.

  “No idea.” Grantham straightened, all business.

  Sparks erupted as the first SUV rammed the patrol car in front of them, sending it into one of the live oaks lining the street. Grantham swerved around the wreck and sped past. “Hang on.”

  “I am.” Augustine put both feet on the floor and braced himself. These had to be Pellimento’s men. No wonder she’d pushed for the arrest so hard. She’d planned it to draw him out.

  Behind them, the second SUV sideswiped the rear patrol car, pushing it over the median and rolling it onto its side. Grantham cursed but kept going. “I have no idea what the hell’s going on.”

  “I do.” Augustine swiveled to see out the back window. Both SUVs had turned around and were following them. “They want me. That’s why they’re still coming after us.”

  “I see them.” Grantham whipped down a side street, fishtailing the car around the turn. The man might have been a boxer, but he drove like he’d retired from Formula One.

  The SUVs were on their tail, so close Augustine could see the driver. “Sturka. That’s Sutter and his boys.”

  “Damn Pellimento.” Grantham sped up but the SUVs stayed glued to them.

  Augustine pulled against the cuffs, snapping the links between them with little effort. He was pretty sure Grantham knew they’d just been for show anyway. He leaned over the seat. “What’s the plan here? Being Sutter’s guest again isn’t high on my list.”

  Grantham glanced in the rearview camera. “Mine, either.”

  Augustine looked behind them again. “Backup has to be on the way, right?”

  “In theory.” Grantham handed him a nightstick. “Maybe you should take this.”

  Augustine held his hands up. “I don’t need it.” He’d never used his fae talents to kill a human, but tonight might change that. “If we get out of this car alive, I’m going to disappear. I’ll still be here, just in a form you won’t be able to see. I’ll take out as many as I can.” Which should be most of them.

  “Sounds like a plan. Son of a—”

  Ahead of them, a third SUV careened out of a side street to cut them off. Grantham jerked the wheel, but it was too late. His sedan plowed into the side of the new SUV, throwing him and Augustine up and forward. The air bags deployed with a loud pop as the sedan flipped onto its side and slid to a stop in the middle of the street.

  Grantham shifted, cursing softly. He tapped something and the air bags deflated. “You still alive, Robelais?”

  Wheels squealed not far away. Augustine pushed an air bag out of the way to grunt a response. He got his bearings a second later. The SUV they’d hit was parallel to them and dented but otherwise hadn’t moved much. “Three coming out of the SUV on the side.”

  “And behind us?”

  “Half a dozen more. All heavily armed. And all in night vision goggles.” He had no idea if that would allow them to see him in his half form or not.

  Grantham unholstered his gun. He was bleeding from the side of his head and his nose looked broken.

  Augustine grabbed his arm. “Listen, all they want is me. You can’t take out nine guys before they can hit you. Just surrender and let them have me. At least then you can get word to Fenton and Harlow, let them know what happened.”

  The thugs were getting closer. Grantham shook his head. “That’s not my style.”

  “I know. You’re a fighter. But I need you to come out of this alive.”

  With a disgusted but agreeable look on his face, Grantham holstered his weapon, kicked the cracked windshield free and crawled out. He got to his feet and put his hands up as the mercs approached. “Let’s do this easy, boys.”

  Augustine worked his way toward the gaping exit of the windshield.

  Sutter headed for Grantham, assault rifle pointed directly at him, but his gaze seemed to be aimed at Augustine. Hard to tell with the night vision goggles. He jerked his chin at Augustine. “Give yourself up and the cop goes free.”

  Sirens whined in the distance. Backup? Augustine had no way of knowing. He pulled himself free of the car, turned around and put his hands up.

  Sutter smirked. “That’s a good little fairy.”

  Augustine would kill this guy. He made himself that promise. “Let Grantham leave now.”

  “Or what?” Sutter snorted. “You think you call the shots?”

  “Grantham leaves now and I go easy.” He moved slowly forward on an angle, trying to put himself between Sutter and Grantham.

  “The cop is fine where he is.” Sutter cocked his head back. “Garcia, Nguyen, get the shackles on him.”

  Behind him, Grantham whispered, “I could take at least three.”

  Augustine slowly shook his head. “No.” Sutter looked way too trigger-happy.

  Sutter’s men came forward with the hellish iron cuffs. They spun Augustine around and yanked his arms back. Augustine looked Grantham in the eyes and mouthed silently, “Tell Harlow.”

  Grantham frowned, but nodded. Had to love the guy’s warrior soul.

  The iron clamped around Augustine’s wrists, gnawing into his flesh like hot metal teeth. A second later, the pain traveled into his bones. His teeth clenched of their own accord and for a moment, every muscle in his body went taut. He took a hard breath and forced himself to relax.

  “Prisoner secured, boss,” one of the men called back to Sutter.

  Someone, Sutter, checked the restraints, giving them a good tug that brought the metal into greater contact with Augustine’s skin.

  He ground his teeth together to keep from reacting.

  Sutter moved to stand beside him, his face inches from Augustine’s. “This is going to be fun, fairy boy.”

  Then he pulled out his sidearm, leveled it at Grantham and shot him in the chest.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  You should sleep, child.” Lally shook her head at Harlow. “Just lie down there on the couch and close your eyes a bit.”

  “I can’t.” She was exhausted but wired.

  Fenton nodded from his chair. “I can’t, either.”

  Lally stood. “Well, then, I’m going to make some coffee.” She left.

  Harlow tipped her head back against the couch and stared at the ceiling. “Why is it taking so long? It’s been two hours. Shouldn’t we have heard something by now?”

  “I would have thought so. The lawyer’s there, waiting on him.” Fenton sighed. “I’ll call Augustine’s lieutenants, let them know what’s going on.”

  She moved into a different position so she could see him. “I hate everything about this.”

  He nodded. “So do I.”

  She leaned forward. “Why can’t you write up a report on everything the senator’s done against othernaturals, then take it public?”

  He grimaced, his mouth pulling to one side, before looking at her. “I thought about that, but there are several factors going against us.”

  “Such as?”

  “There are a lot of people out there who would side with her. We’re inured from much of the anti-othernatural sentiment because of where we live.” He paused. “Do you remember when the covenant was broken and suddenly the humans knew we existed?”

  “Of course.” That had been the last day she’d been able to pass as human.

  “And do you remember all the stories in the media about what celebrities and other public figures were othernaturals?”

  “Sure, the Web was plastered with them.” She nodded, remembering the stories about her mother. “Some thought it was exciting, but there was a lot of backlash.”

  “There still is. But in New Orleans, home of the fae, land of voodoo and witchcraft and a slew of varcolai clans—”

  “Varcolai are shifters, right?”

  “Right. With all of us here, the way tourists flock to this city to get a glimpse of the
fae, we’ve earned a kind of immunity to the sort of bias that for some of our kind is an everyday thing. The Picayune doesn’t put othernatural crimes on the front page like most newspapers.” He shrugged. “The tourist board has something to do with that, too.”

  “I never really thought about it, but I know you’re right. After everything happened and people knew they weren’t alone in this world, there were protests in the streets in Boston. And not just handfuls of people. Hundreds and hundreds.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I never considered myself fae then.” She smiled sadly. She’d been so foolish then. So trapped in her own world. “Funny how things can change.”

  He smiled brightly. “You’ve come a long way, Harlow. A long way. You should be proud of yourself. You’ve done things that have required incredible amounts of courage.”

  Lally came through the doors carrying a silver tray laden with coffee, sugar, creamer and a plate of biscuits and jam. “Thought we might as well fortify ourselves.”

  “Coffee smells wonderful.” Fenton got out of his seat to help her with the tray.

  “Thank you.” Lally handed it to him as the house phone rang. “Lands, that phone never rings. Hardly anyone’s got that number.” Her face brightened. “Maybe it’s Augie.” She answered it, lifting the old-fashioned handset from its cradle on a far table.

  “Goodwin-Robelais residence.” Her happy expression didn’t last long. “Slow down, Jewelia. What now?” She clutched at the apron she’d tied on, her mouth coming open. “Lord Jesus, have mercy. Where? All right. I’ll tell them. Yes, child. I’ll be praying, too.” She hung up and turned toward Harlow and Fenton, tears in her eyes.

  Harlow stood. “What happened?”

  “I’m not sure but there was a car accident on the way to the police station and Augie’s gone and J.J. was shot. Bad.” She sobbed once. “He’s in the hospital.”

  Fenton was already headed for the door. “I’ll get the car.”

  Harlow made her way to Lally’s side and hugged her close. “I’m sure your nephew will be fine.”

  She pulled away, tears gone. “That boy had Jewelia’s gris gris round his neck. I’m sure he’ll be fine, too. Hurt, but he’ll heal. It’s Augustine I’m worried about.”