Sookie Stackhouse Boxed Set (Books 1-8) - Charlaine Harris [647]
“Think before you speak,” Claudine advised. “You can’t mouth off to the queen. Even a goblin won’t mouth off to the queen.”
“I promise,” I said. “I really appreciate your coming all this way, Claudine.”
Claudine gave me a big hug. It was like an embrace with a soft tree, since Claudine was so tall and slim. “I wish you hadn’t needed me to,” she said.
17
THE QUEEN OWNED A BLOCK OF BUILDINGS IN DOWNTOWN New Orleans, maybe three blocks from the edge of the French Quarter. That tells you what kind of money she was pulling in, right there. We had an early dinner—I realized I was really hungry—and then Claudine dropped me off two blocks away, because the traffic and tourist congestion were intense close to the queen’s headquarters. Though the general public didn’t know Sophie-Anne Leclerq was a queen, they knew she was a very wealthy vampire who owned a hell of a lot of real estate and spent lots of money in the community. Plus, her bodyguards were colorful and had gotten special permits to carry arms in the city limits. This meant her office building/living quarters were on the tourist list of things to see, especially at night.
Though traffic did surround the building during the day, at night the square of streets around it was open only to pedestrians. Buses parked a block away, and the tour guides would lead the out-of-towners past the altered building. Walking tours and gaggles of independent tourists included what the guides called “Vampire Headquarters” in their plans.
Security was very evident. This block would be a natural target for Fellowship of the Sun bombers. A few vampire-owned businesses in other cities had been attacked, and the queen was not about to lose her life-after-death in such a way.
The vampire guards were on duty, and they were scary-looking as hell. The queen had her own vampire SWAT team. Though vampires were simply lethal all on their own, the queen had found that humans paid more attention if they found the silhouettes recognizable. Not only were the guards heavily armed, but they wore black bulletproof armor over black uniforms. It was lethal-killer chic.
Claudine had prepared me for all this over dinner, and when she let me out, I felt fully briefed. I also felt as if I were going to the Queen of England’s garden party in all my new finery. At least I didn’t have to wear a hat. But my brown high heels were a risky proposition on the rough paving.
“Behold the headquarters of New Orleans’s most famous and visible vampire, Sophie-Anne LeClerq,” a tour guide was telling his group. He was dressed colorfully in a sort of colonial outfit: tricorn hat, knee breeches, hose, buckled shoes. My goodness. As I paused to listen, his eyes flickered over to me, took in my outfit, and sharpened with interest.
“If you’re calling on Sophie-Anne, you can’t go in casual,” he told the group, and gestured to me. “This young lady is wearing proper dress for an interview with the vampire . . . one of America’s most prominent vampires.” He grinned at the group, inviting them to enjoy his reference.
There were fifty other vampires just as prominent. Maybe not as publicly oriented or as colorful as Sophie-Anne Leclerq, but the public didn’t know that.
Rather than being surrounded with the appropriate air of exotic deadliness, the queen’s “castle” was more of a macabre Disneyland, thanks to the souvenir peddlers, the tour guides, and the curious gawkers. There was even a photographer. As I approached the first ring of guards, a man jumped in front of me and snapped my picture. I was frozen by the flash of light and stared after him—or in what I thought was his direction—while my eyes adjusted. When I was able to see him clearly, I found he was a small, grubby man with a big camera and a determined expression. He bustled off immediately to what I guessed was his accustomed station, a corner on the opposite side of the street.