Belle Chasse
Sentinels of New Orleans, #5
by Suzanne Johnson
Date of Publication:
November 8th 2016
Publisher: TOR Books
Cover Artist: Cliff
Nielsen
Genre: Urban Fantasy
BLURB
Suzanne Johnson's "strong and
intriguing" (Publishers Weekly) urban fantasy series continues with Belle
Chasse. The Sentinels of New Orleans series has earned starred reviews from
Library Journal ("a resourceful heroine who relies on her magical
ingenuity") and PW ("vivid...a lively tale jam-packed with action,
magic, and intriguing plot twists").
With the wizard-elven treaty on the verge of
collapse, the preternatural world stands on the brink of war. Unless former
wizard sentinel DJ Jaco manages to keep the elven leader, Quince Randolph,
focused on peace and not personal matters.
With no one on the throne, Faerie is in
chaos, with rival princes battling for power. The still-undead pirate, Jean
Lafitte, is building his own army of misfits, and DJ stripped of her job and
hiding in the Beyond to avoid the death sentence handed down by the wizard
Council of Elders can’t get anywhere near her beloved New Orleans or her
significant something-or-other, Alex.
It's time to choose sides. Friends will
become enemies, enemies will become allies, and not everyone will survive. DJ
and her friends will learn a hard lesson: sometimes, even the ultimate
sacrifice isn’t enough.
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I expected Christof to start a snowstorm
above Rand’s head. What I didn’t expect was for the prince to lower his head
and charge Rand like a raging bull, head-butting him in the midsection. They
hit the ground, and I saw my chance at the same time Eugenie spotted me.
I
motioned her toward the woods where the transport lay. To hell with the Blue
Congress wizards. We were going to make a run for it while Christof kept Rand
too busy to notice.
She
set off for the woods, and I met her halfway. “My family thinks I’m crazy!” she
wailed, loud enough to draw the attention of the tall, skinny Blue Congress
wizard with the rooster haircut.
“Hey,
stop!”
Holy
crap. I whipped out the elven staff, paused long enough to aim just to the
right of the wizards. They already had their hands up and were doing some of
their nifty Blue Congress magic when I released my fire and blew up the
tombstone next to them, sending a rain of marble and playing cards onto their
heads. Around us, evidence of their magic appeared as tombstones began moving
to block our escape route.
I
grabbed Eugenie’s arm and pulled her around a marble stag the size of a small
SUV. It had lowered its head and pawed the ground as if to charge. Blue
Congress magic was so damned cool— create and re-create.
“Stop,
DJ!” Eugenie grabbed my arm as I tried to race past her. “A sinkhole!”
I
looked stupidly at the ground in front of us, which had opened a gulf big
enough to drive a Greyhound bus into. “Go around and run fast,” I shouted,
sending another shot of the staff toward the Blue Congress wizards and blowing
up a ginormous marble eagle perched atop a nearby tomb.
We
didn’t stop to see if the stag was chasing us, but ran for all we were worth.
Finally, at the edge of the tree line, I hazarded a look back at Christof and
Rand. The faery stood watching us; the elf had crumpled on the ground. Not
dead, though, because in my head, far behind my protective barriers, I heard
him yelling my name.
Christof
grinned and motioned for us to move along. He didn’t have to motion twice,
because the wizards were chasing us, still chanting and doing their finger
dance. The stag was getting way too close.
I
raised the staff and blew a hole in the earth in front of the advancing stag,
forcing him to change direction. Luck was on our side for a change— the stag
began charging toward the wizards instead, who had to stop pursuing us in order
to protect themselves from being trampled beneath marble hooves.
“Let’s
run to the transport before those idiot wizards can get out from under the
stag.” I grabbed Eugenie’s hand and we ran to the clearing. “Help me roll this
werewolf out of the transport.”
To
her credit, she didn’t ask a single question. We tipped the werewolf onto his
side and rolled him outside the interlocking circle and triangle, leaving him
at an awkward angle with his
feet in the air. Oh well.
I
touched the staff to the edge of the transport and said, “Winter Palace, Faery”
just before the Blue Congress wizards reached the edge of the clearing. I waved
at them as the transport sucked the air out of my lungs. They were too late.
As
soon as we materialized on the round floor of ice in the Winter Palace, Eugenie
screamed. I figured she was getting her first look at the grisly remains of
Faerie Princess Tamara until a blinding light knocked me off my feet and a big
crack appeared in the ice between us.
“Where
is my brother?”
I
whirled to see Florian sitting on a block of ice behind us bundled in a heavy
coat, a blanket spread beneath him, no doubt to protect his royal assets from
getting cold and wet.
“He’s
in Shreveport, Louisiana, at Our Lady of Perpetual Help church, having a fi
stfi ght with an elf,” I said, pretty confident that of all the things he might
expect me to say, that wasn’t it.
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Author Info
Suzanne Johnson is the author of the award-winning
Sentinels of New Orleans urban fantasy series but perhaps is best known for her
romantic suspense and paranormal romance books written as Susannah Sandlin,
including the Penton Vampire Legacy paranormal romance series, the Wilds of the
Bayou suspense series, and The Collectors romantic thriller series. Her awards
include two Holt Medallions in 2013 and 2015, a 2015 Booksellers Best Award in
romantic suspense, and nominations in 2014 and 2015 for the RT Book Reviews
Reviewers Choice Award. A displaced New Orleanian, she currently lives in
Auburn, Alabama. Suzanne loves SEC football, fried gator on a stick, all things
Cajun, and redneck reality TV.
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