of the RPG they both played. “At least you don’t smell like one.”
He nodded, then went serious. “I guess you managed to get rid of Ava Mae?”
“Yep. When you tossed me out of the pit, she got stuck behind. Although, she didn’t entirely disappear.” She glanced at Augustine before answering. “There was a lot of other stuff that went down first, which we’ll explain later, but the wrap-up is Ava Mae seems to have taken up residence in Giselle, the witch who tried to kill you.”
“Wow.” He stared at the sky, his face illuminated by the fire now engulfing the first floor of the house. “I guess we’re not rid of her yet.”
“Nope.” A loud crack erupted behind her. She turned. Firemen had smashed the garden gate off its hinges and were dragging hoses through the yard. Augustine and Fenton, heads bent in deep conversation, stood halfway between the house and the pond. Emergency pole lights, set up by the firemen, flared brightly turning the night into day.
Dulcinea was directing two paramedics toward Cy’s location. She ran along beside them. “He’s right here.” She pointed at Cy but looked at Harlow. “They’re going to take him to the hospital, check him over, probably keep him the night. Make sure Cy knows.”
“You hear all that?” Harlow asked Cy.
He nodded. “I’m not much on human hospitals but considering how I feel, I’m not going to argue.”
The paramedics lowered the stretcher. “Excuse us, ma’am, we’re going to need you to give us some space.”
Harlow gave Cy’s hand a final squeeze, then pushed to her feet and backed up. “You take good care of him.”
“Yes, ma’am.” They went to work doing whatever paramedics did. Dulcinea helped them lift Cy’s enormous bulk onto the gurney, then they wheeled him across the grass and into the waiting ambulance.
Harlow walked to Augustine’s side, but it was Fenton’s attention she wanted. “They’re taking Cy to the hospital.” She nodded at the ambulance. “Are those human doctors going to have any idea what to do with him?”
Fenton smiled. “Not sure, but there are fae doctors there, too. Always have been. They’ll take good care of him.”
“Thanks, that’s reassuring.”
Grantham joined them. Behind him, uniformed police were trickling in. “You people don’t do anything on a small scale, do you?” He glanced at the house. The firemen seemed to have the fire under control. He shook his head as he pulled out his tablet and stylus. “Want to give me the short version?”
Bits of soot and ash floated down onto them. Harlow flicked a piece off her arm. “People are dead, the house is on fire and our witch problem is not yet solved.”
Grantham looked at her. “Maybe not that short.”
Augustine nodded. “Robbie Pellimento’s body is in the pond, along with nine others including Rufus Ogun. One of my lieutenants was in there, too, but he’s the only one who survived and the EMTs are taking him to the hospital. Zara Vincent’s body is in the house. Killed by her sister. Who is now most likely at her house in the Quarter with her boyfriend, Ian, but she’s got a little possession issue that’s going to make it tricky for you guys to handle. Probably ought to leave her to us.”
Grantham stared at him for a moment, then slowly started to shake his head. “Damn.” He scratched his forehead. “Pellimento’s dead, huh? That is not going to go down well.”
Augustine held his hands up. “His blood is on the witches, not the fae.”
Grantham sighed. “I wish I thought that was going to matter.”
Fenton pulled off his glasses and wiped them clean with a hanky. “What sort of fallout should we expect exactly?”
“I’ll assume you’ve been monitoring the senator’s track record?”
Fenton slipped his glasses back on. “We have. We’re well aware of her hatred for othernaturals despite her clever attempts to hide the actions she’s taken against us through her shell corporations and connections.”
“Then it won’t come as a surprise to you that she’ll use her son’s death to make some public noise about this.” Grantham brushed a piece of ash off his suit coat. “My guess is she’s going to try for something big, like all othernaturals have to be registered, that sort of thing. Or…”
When Grantham didn’t immediately finish, Harlow spoke up. “Or what?”
“She threatened me with martial law,” Augustine offered.
“That.” Grantham took a deep inhale. “Or she’ll keep to her usual MO and try to force her will upon the fae in private.”
“In what way?” Augustine asked.
“Blackmail. Extortion. Something