As always, I'm thrilled to have Suzanne Johnson visit Team Tynga's Reviews. I love her work as both Suzanne Johnson and Susannah Sandlin but today she's here wearing her "Johnson" hat since the third book in her Sentinel of New Orleans series, ELYSIAN FIELDS, in on the horizon. And boy, is it good!
Suzanne's on tour to celebreate the release of ELYSIAN FIELDS and she's stopped by with some flash fiction set in the world of the series. There's also a giveaway at the end of the book so be sure to stick around.
Welcome, Suzanne!
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I Yam What I Yam
Suzanne Johnson
Note: “I Yam What I Yam” is an original short-short set in the world of the Sentinels of New Orleans series, featuring wizard DJ Jaco, her partner (and maybe more) shapeshifting enforcer Alex Warin, loup-garou enforcer Jake Warin, the undead 19th-century French pirate Jean Lafitte, Cajun merman Rene Delachaise, and a cast of many—few of them are actually human.
I watched as Jean Lafitte, once he’d gotten used to that darn newfangled pencil, draw out the geomantic lines of the Beyond as they currently stood.
A master navigator in his human life, New Orleans’ resident pirate and leader of the historical undead made it his business to know the frequently shifting shortcuts through the preternatural world. For what I suspected was a chunk of change from the Elders, he provided my bosses with weekly updated maps.
Ensconced in my strip-mall office on Tchoupitoulas Street, we’d been working for a couple of hours—well, he’d been working and I’d been trolling eBay for additions to my pattern glass collection. It wasn’t the most practical office space for a wizard sentinel, but the sign on the door read CRESCENT CITY RISK MANAGEMENT, which seemed sufficiently boring to keep stray humans from wandering inside.
My stomach rumbled loud enough for the pirate to hear from his seat at the small conference table across the room.
“We should procure a meal, Jolie.” He gave me an assessing look with a sweep of his dark blue eyes. “Most modern women are far too thin, as slim as a rapier. I have always admired your—”
“Stop.” I held up my hand, palm outward, in the universal language of shut-the-hell-up. Because if the word “hips” finished out that sentence, I’d have to hurt him. “Sure, let’s go somewhere quick, though, because the Elders are anxious to get that map.” The prete political world had grown tense, and the Elders wanted to be able to anticipate what routes other species were using to travel in the vast Beyond.
Jean placed his pencil reverently on the graph paper map he’d been using. “Tres bien. Shall we go to the porc du ciel store? I must confess, it intrigues me.”
I frowned, considering what a “pig of heaven store” might be, finally concluding he meant the Heavenly Ham place at the other end of the strip mall. “There’s nowhere to sit in there and I don’t want to bring it back here. We’ll drive till we find something.”
We left the store, locked the door behind us, and got into my current rental car, my old Pathfinder having met with a fatal accident recently. The Elders were paying for the rental, so I was in no hurry to buy a new one.
“Let’s try Frankie and Johnny’s.” I steered toward the nearby uptown mainstay, calculating how much attention the pirate might draw. He was ignored in the Quarter, where a Frenchman dressed like a big, strapping pirate was among the more normal folks one encountered. Uptown, not so much. But F&J’s was neighborhood-funky, so I thought we’d be safe from any preternatural incidents. Plus, it might be fun to watch Jean interpret a modern menu.
The restaurant was packed with lunch-goers, though, so I looped back over to Mid-City and cruised the options on Carrollton. I looked longingly at Mikimoto’s, where the “Hawaii Five-O” sushi rolls with eel sauce were to die for. I couldn’t imagine Jean trying to maneuver those big hands around a pair of little wooden chopsticks, however.
I spotted one of my favorite comfort spots and cut in front of a sky-blue VW Beetle, whipping with a slight screech of cheap rental tires across two lanes of traffic and coming to a quick halt in a parking lot
I looked at Jean, whose fingers clutched the car door handles. “I feel you need automobile lessons as much as I, Drusilla,” he said, measuring his words. “I wonder if men were meant to travel in such a rapid manner.”
“Yeah, well, remind me to tell you about airplanes,” I said, unbuckling my seatbelt. “You like fried chicken?”
He was frowning at the red and gold sign. “Who is Popeye? Does he cook pleasing chicken?”
“Oh yeah.” True, Popeye’s wasn’t the grease-fest it had been back before a group of Canadians had bought it from its local founder. But it still filled a need. “Popeye is a cartoon character, a sailor.” At Jean’s blank expression, I added, “a made-up character in stories for children.” I didn’t know how to explain a logo.
“What has this Popeye sailor to do with chicken?”
Sheesh, what was this, chicken twenty questions? “I’ll explain later,” I said, getting out and walking across the lot. In other words, I had no idea.
Jean followed me inside and we stood at the counter, gazing up at the menu board. “I’ll buy your lunch,” I told him. The Elders would reimburse me since he was on their clock. “Just tell the man at the counter what you want, then I’ll pay for both orders.”
Jean nodded and stepped to the counter. The teenage order-taker looked at him, slightly open-mouthed. I crossed my arms and waited for the fun to begin.
“This for here or to go?” the teen asked, straightening the gold apron that stretched a bit too tightly across his purple t-shirt clad torso.
“Here,” I hissed, and Jean, ever the French gentleman, said, “Ici, s’il-vous plait.”
“Say what?” The teen craned his neck to look past Jean at me. “Dude don’t speak no English?”
“It’s for here.” I shrugged, fighting to keep a grin off my face.
“Ok, then what you want?” The teen pulled out an orange tray, slapped a paper placemat on it and looked at me.
“Do not treat the famous privateer…” Jean paused…”John Lafayette as if he were unable to order a simple meal.” The famous John Lafayette did not like being dismissed or diminished, as our teenage chicken-monger was learning.
He didn’t look contrite. “Sorry, sir. What you want?”
“I am fond of popcorn, but I do not wish it with shrimp.” Jean studied the menu. “Therefore, I should like popcorn with a chicken leg.”
The teen slid his gaze slowly to me. I grinned at him. Who was I to try and explain the phenomenon of popcorn shrimp to a 230-year-old pirate?
He seemed to ponder a moment. “We’re all outta popcorn, sir.” I smiled at his quick recovery. “How ‘bout some onion rings with that chicken leg?”
Jean frowned and whispered over his shoulder: “These onion rings, Jolie. Are they a type of jewels or does one eat them?”
“Eat,” I whispered back.
“Very well.” Jean smiled as he continued to study the menu. “And a Coke.” He’d recently been introduced to the joys of soda and I’d seen him drink several. I pondered whether the historical undead could develop blood-sugar problems.
“You want that leg spicy or mild?” The teen’s triumph faded as Jean’s frown returned. “You know, regular or like wit’ some red pepper in the batter?”
I settled in for an entertaining lunch.
Copyright 2013 Suzanne Johnson. May not be reprinted or shared without written permission of the author.
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Thanks for stopping by with such a great Jean Lafitte story! (He's my favourite character in the series.)
For more Suzanne, you can visit her website or blog, or follow her on Facebook or Twitter.
You can also see the other stops on her blog tour by clicking on the banner:
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The mer feud has been settled, but life in South Louisiana still has more twists and turns than the muddy Mississippi. New Orleanians are under attack from a copycat killer mimicking the crimes of a 1918 serial murderer known as the Axeman of New Orleans.
Thanks to a tip from the undead pirate Jean Lafitte, DJ Jaco knows the attacks aren't random--an unknown necromancer has resurrected the original Axeman of New Orleans, and his ultimate target is a certain blonde wizard.
Namely, DJ. Fighting off an undead serial killer as troubles pile up around her isn't easy. Jake Warin's loup-garou nature is spiraling downward, enigmatic neighbor Quince Randolph is acting weirder than ever, the Elders are insisting on lessons in elven magic from the world's most annoying wizard, and former partner Alex
Warin just turned up on DJ's to-do list. Not to mention big maneuvers are afoot in the halls of preternatural power.
Suddenly, moving to the Beyond as Jean Lafitte's pirate wench? It could be DJ's best option.
Jenn's thoughts
Read an excerpt
Pre-order: Amazon | Book Depository
And here's the full series:
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There is a fantastic tour-wide giveaway!
Suzanne is offering one (1) iPad 2 and five (5) $20 gift cards, open internationally!
To enter, do what the Rafflecopter wants. :)
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Livia has never felt like she fits in. As normal as it sounds, Livia is anything but ordinary. She can feel every emotion of every single person around her, and it’s maddening. In pursuit of some psychic quiet, she moves with her family from New York City to Whidbey Island in the lush and sleepy Pacific Northwest. But when a horseback riding accident in her new home gives her a broken leg that heals in a day, she finds that another unexplainable ability has manifested, and her life isn’t about to get any easier.
