Page 10 of Bootleg Love

Damn vampires.

I pour myself a whiskey, knock it back.

If Mimi knows about our little stray, it's only a matter of time before the rest of New Orleans' supernatural underbelly catches wind of her.

7

LUCIEN

The very air seems to shimmer and part around Madame Erzulie's voluptuous figure as she saunters in, trailing an entourage of ethereal beauties. She certainly knows how to make an entrance, I'll give her that. But I really don't need her merde tonight, not with everything going on.

Even after only briefly speaking with her; there's just something about Simone that draws me in, an inexorable pull I can't resist. My wolf demands her, howls to claim her. I'll be damned if I let Erzulie spirit her away to that decadent pleasure palace she calls a brothel. At least I had the presence of mind to slip Mimi’s amulet around Simone's slender neck before she arrived.

I can only pray I acted in time.

The Madame is a vision of decadence, as always—a quadroon goddess draped in burgundy silk that clings to her dangerous curves. Raven tresses tumble down her back, brushing the small of her waist. The candlelight catches the gold of her snake armband as she takes a long drag of her cigarette, painted lips curling into an enigmatic smile.

She presides over the most notorious brothel in the city. She’s untouchable. Her girls are living legends, irresistible sirens who've driven men to ruin with a coy wink and whispered promise. But her real power lies behind closed doors, in secrets she collects, and the politicians she subtly manipulates. Madame's web of influence stretches all the way to the gleaming white columns of City Hall.

She glides up to the bar, trailing a manicured finger along the polished mahogany as her kohl-rimmed eyes assess me shrewdly. After the requisite pleasantries, she leans in, voice low and throaty. "I'm looking for a... rare bird," she purrs, dark eyes dancing with mischief and malice. "A little magpie told me she's nesting here, in your charming establishment."

Étienne and Auguste flank me, a united front against Erzulie's machinations. We may butt heads and scrap like alley toms, but threaten one of us and you contend with all three. "Now Erzulie," I drawl, matching her saccharine tone. "You know the rules as well as we do. Wouldn't want to violate the truce, would we? There is no rare bird to speak of, real or imagined. Now why would such a bird fly into my fine establishment… and now of all times?"

She laughs, a sound like satin sliding over steel, and winks. "My dear boys, you know who you really work for." Her words are a silken garrote, a reminder that her brother keeps our operation afloat and the bulls off our backs. She leans in, voice dropping to a stage whisper. "He wouldn't be pleased if he thought you were holding out on us."

A frisson chases down my spine. The last thing we need is a turf war with the Kingfish, not when we're harboring such a dangerous secret. I force a smile, determined not to buckle.

"You wound me, chérie." I press a hand to my heart in mock affront. "We're all friends here. And you know my house is sacrosanct. Now would I go and harbor this... bird? as you say. Bad for business you understand. Hard times. I am but a humble proprietor, as you can see. Do I not serve your favorite martini, little extra olive juice every third Tuesday?"

Erzulie's kohl-rimmed eyes narrow, but her smile never wavers. "Ever the gentleman, Luc. I do admire your discretion." She arches one sculpted brow as she takes another drag, letting her gaze pointedly drift to the back room where Simone is sequestered. My gut clenches. I know this dance well, the subtle hooks sinking into tender flesh. Erzulie wants something, and she'll get it, one way or another.

"Now, now, boys. We all know you're no match for what's coming. Not with a prize like her. Best to leave her safekeeping to Madame's tender mercies, non?" Her eyes glitter with greed

as she paints a picture of the profit to be had from such a unique commodity. A hexeblood virgin, ripe for the plucking. My vision goes red at the thought.

"You must be sundowning, Madame," I growl, my voice a low warning. "I hear that happens at your age. Now if you will, it’s Friday night," I snap my fingers and the music resumes.

"Then you won't mind if I have a look around, sigh." she says, snapping her fingers. Her entourage of deadly vampire courtesans fans out.

"That's as far as you and your little succubi are getting, bat wings," I say, stepping in front of a bespectacled vampire with crimson eyes. "Like I said, this fine establishment is ours."

"And what will you do about it? Sic your little pack of mongrels on me?" She smirks, unfazed by my threat. "Even the three of you together are no match for what's coming. You're out of your depth. The hexeblood belongs with me."

Auguste steps up beside me, hackles raised. "Your little imps sold you a sack of lies, you moldering corpse. Crawl back to your gilded crypt before we put you back in the ground."

Etienne chimes in, "We all know the rules here. We wouldn’t want to break the truce, would we?"

"Always so loyal, like a good dog. Careful, or I'll have you neutered," she sneers. She turns her obsidian gaze back to me.

"You must be going senile, you withered harpy," I growl, my voice a low warning.

“Try to understand what we are telling you."

Madame Erzulie throws her head back with a throaty laugh. "Oh, you precious fool. You have no idea the forces you're meddling with. The girl needs a firm hand to guide all that raw, wild power."

"And who's filling your empty head with this swill? I know nothing of the matter, you besotted crone."

"Now, now, settle down, boys," Madame Erzulie purrs, her dark eyes glittering with amusement. "Let's not forget who's really pulling the strings around here. And who do you think keeps the police from sniffing around your...unconventional business practices?"

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