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Authors: Kelly Keaton

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BOOK: A Beautiful Evil
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But I was trying. Violet was counting on me. My father, who had betrayed Athena by falling in love with my mother instead of killing her, was counting on me. Christ, even now Athena was probably torturing them. I gripped the edge of the desk hard, my fear and imagination running wild as Cromley continued to talk about Athena.

“The ancient myths the world knows speak of Athena’s goodness, her just ways, her support of mankind and the heroes she chose to aid. But even in those, you will find that for all her good deeds, there are just as many bad. She was vicious in her unfairness to Medusa. She blinded Tiresias simply because he stumbled upon her bathing. She was given to fits of rage, jealousy, and unthinkable acts even in ancient times. And now she is known for the horrors she inflicts upon innocents, the sadistic mind games, the brutality, the torture. . . .”

Abruptly, I stood up, my chair scraping across the floor, my heart racing. Cromley stopped talking. I was out the door with my backpack and down the hall before she could even ask me what was wrong.

What was
wrong
was that the professor’s words made me sick to my stomach. With Violet and my father in Athena’s clutches, the last thing I wanted to hear was how horrible Athena was. I already knew it. I could imagine plenty what they were going through, and I sure as hell didn’t need to hear it from some one else.

I ducked into the girls’ bathroom, leaned back against the door, and tried to catch my breath. I stepped to the sink and splashed cold water on my face, then gazed at myself in the mirror.

What was I doing? How could I think for one second that I could beat Athena? I wasn’t even a David to her Goliath; I was more like an ant facing Mount Everest.

Yet I had to do something. And Violet. God, she was just a kid, only eight years old. Her age wouldn’t make a difference to Athena; she’d hurt her anyway.

Nausea mushroomed like a noxious cloud in my gut. I swallowed, my mouth watering in a sick way.

Oh God.

I grabbed my stomach, darted into an open stall, and puked.

My palms were damp as I braced my hands against the walls of the bathroom stall. I stayed there catching my breath and allowing my rapid pulse to return to normal.

The bathroom door opened. Soft footsteps shuffled against the tile. I flushed the toilet and walked out, sidestepping a young girl and heading to the sink to rinse out my mouth and splash more water on my face.

After drying off with a paper towel, I unbound my hair and shook it out, breathing in deeply and trying to rid myself of the queasiness that still lingered.

I reached up to make a braid at each temple, which I’d pull back into a tight knot with the rest of my hair. It kept the front strands from loosening out of my knot and getting in my eyes when I was training.

I’d only managed to gather a strip and part it into thirds when I saw the girl’s small face staring at me in the mirror’s reflection. She was young like Violet, with loose brown hair and brown eyes. She was dressed like everyone else in Presby: black pants or skirt and white collared shirt. Well, everyone but me; I’d come to Presby this morning in black from head to toe.

I narrowed my eyes at her through the mirror. “What?”

“Is it real?” she squeaked out, eyes big and round.

“My hair?” She nodded. “Yeah, it’s real.”

I’d hated my hair for so long that it was difficult to see it in the same light as other people—a thick, glossy sheet of white that reached the small of my back. I’d hated it for the sole reason that it attracted attention, and when you’re a kid being passed from one foster parent to the next, sometimes hiding and
not
being noticed is the difference between—

I clamped down on my thoughts and gave the girl a wry smile in the mirror, resuming my task with the idea that all the crap that had happened to me when I was young probably would have happened regardless of my hair. Maybe all it took to be mistreated was the fact that I was there, available, and defenseless.

“Is it true? Are you really a god-killer?” the girl asked in a small, scared voice.

I finished with the braid and moved to the other side. I knew what drove her to ask. The entire student body was probably terrified I’d break out the scales and turn them all to stone. I didn’t like being the center of attention, and I definitely didn’t like it when the reason was fear.

Feeling awkward but wanting to set her mind at ease, I said the only dumb thing that came to mind. “I am. And I only use my powers for good.” I nodded toward a stall as my cheeks went warm. “You’d better go if you’re gonna go.”

She blinked, snapping to attention, and then darted into one of the stalls. My reflection rolled its eyes at the line I’d fed her. It was more complicated than that. I planned on using my power for vigilante justice, for vengeance, and I wasn’t so sure whether that would put me in the “good” category or not.

After finishing with the braids, I gathered them with the rest of my hair, twisted a tight bun, and secured it with the plain black band from around my wrist. And then I went into the handicapped stall to change.

 
Six

“Y
OU’RE EARLY
.”

I let the door to The Dungeon bang closed behind me and gave Bran a shrug. “I’m ready to train.” And I’d rather be worked into the ground than feel the sheer despair and helplessness I’d felt moments earlier in the bathroom. A good workout always helped put me back on track, even if it did come with a few bumps and bruises.

I dropped my bag by the door, went to the center of the room, and sat down to stretch. It took less than a minute for Bran’s shadow to fall over me. I glanced up. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at me with a gruff expression. “At least you’re wearing appropriate clothes this time.”

“Brought them with me.” The loose cargo pants and sport tank were oldies, but the most comfortable training gear I had.

“Get up.”

I got to my feet, cracked my knuckles, and gave him a cocky smile that I knew he’d appreciate. “Ready to have your ass handed to you, Ramsey?”

A slow grin split his face. “Bring it on, Snow White.”

“Snow White has black hair. Know your Disney movies.”

And so began thirty minutes of relentless physical training. Bran wanted me prepared to fend off any kind of attack, and I couldn’t exactly use my power if I couldn’t keep Athena’s minions or hunters from killing me first. It was all part of the training, he said. Blocks, kicks, punches. Offense. Defense. Learning to bend my enemy’s body parts in new ways that would stop them in their tracks.

Then came the blade training.

I was to the point where I could barely breathe, and my hand, wrist, and forearm burned with exertion and the constant vibration of steel meeting steel. Bran tossed his training blade behind him. It slid across the floor and hit the wall. He grabbed my shoulder with one hand and slugged me hard in the gut with the other.

I doubled over, dropping my blade, straining and gasping for air that wouldn’t come.

“NOW! RIGHT NOW!” He circled around me, intensity coming off him in heavy waves. “Use that shock, that one-second burst of fear! Tap into it at
that
moment when there is only reaction, then fling your energy, your emotions, back out. Your power will come with it. Don’t think about it; just do it.”

I raised a hand in surrender, still doubled over, unable to speak, the pain spreading through my torso in a severe cramp-style ache.

He continued circling. I knew he was coming in for another hit.
Suck it up! If you can’t handle him, you can’t handle whatever Athena will throw at you!
Tears blurred my vision, but I blinked them back and straightened.

And then I blocked.

“Use your power!”

We went round and round like that for what seemed like hours. I kept trying to use my power, to make something happen, but failed at every turn.

“Stop holding it in!” he yelled at me. “Stop relying solely on your physical defenses!”

Punch. Block. Jab. I couldn’t help it. I was human; this was what I knew how to do.

“When pain hits you, you strike back! You’re too in control, that’s your problem. Your ability to take the pain, swallow it, and stay focused is the problem.”

I dropped my defensive stance and let my arms fall limp at my sides. “What the hell kind of fighting is that?” I said irritably, trying to catch my breath at the same time. “That’s the first thing they teach you: Stay calm and focused. Now you’re telling me not to?”

He stopped moving and put his hands on his hips. “Yeah, that’s what I’m telling you, Selkirk. Even a baby could understand what I’m saying. I’ve got to break you down before I can build you back up. Fear and adrenaline are what stir your power. You have to get used to the feel of it, let it pass that damn wall of yours, and
then
we can work on focus and control.” He moved again.

A blur to my left. I saw it coming and blocked his first swing with my forearm, dropping down and spinning in anticipation of the next hit. But he came at me with a boot to the side of my knee.

I cried out with a sharp curse, my entire body dipping toward the pain. And yeah, it was there, that instant burst of shock, like a gasp of the heart. The moment Bran had been talking about.

I grabbed his ankle. Like a slingshot, the fear and adrenaline whipped through me and then back out through my grip.
Strike
. In an instant I felt the power surge out of me, snapping like an electrical current, so quick and terrifying that I released Bran and fell back, eyes wide and panting.

Holy cow.

My hand was numb. I was trembling so hard that I couldn’t even sit up straight, so instead I balanced myself with my palms flat on the floor. This had been the goal, but, goddamn, it scared the shit out of me.

Bran sat a few feet away from me, pant leg rolled up, eyeing his ankle and calf, the skin nearly white. After a few seconds he released his leg and shot me a triumphant grin. “Better.”

He pushed to his feet and held out a hand to me. I took it and let him pull me up. “Again tomorrow,” he said, dismissing me, and then walked to his table for a drink.

That was all the praise I got?
Better.
I shook my head, smiling despite the aches and pains, because as tough as Bran acted, he was a good guy. And in the last fifty minutes he’d taught me things with a blade and my body that I never knew were possible.

I went to my bag, grabbed the bottled water I’d gotten from the cafeteria earlier, and downed most of it. Then I sheathed my blade, pulled on my jacket, and left the room.

My thoughts turned to Athena. With my training started, my other objective was to get inside her head, figure out her weaknesses and where she might have taken Violet.

And for that, I needed Michel’s help.

The Lamarliere House was in the French Quarter, so I didn’t have too far to walk from Presby, down St. Peter Street to Royal, where Michel’s three-story house loomed on the corner.

My legs were still weak and shaky, and the sweat on my skin was starting to dry, leaving me feeling cold. Already the aches and pains from my training were settling in. Tomorrow the soreness would be almost unbearable. I made a mental note to stop at the drugstore near Canal Street and grab some Advil on my way home.

The “before dinner” crowd had yet to trickle into the streets, but there was still activity, still music drifting from open doors, tourists shopping, and the clip-clop of hooves on asphalt.

I breathed in deeply, loving the scent of sun-warmed bricks and all the different aromas from the bakeries and restaurants.

In the thirteen years since the Novem bought the ruined city, the Quarter had been completely restored. It was now a very expensive tourist destination, carefully overseen by the Novem and one of their biggest sources of income, one that swelled during Mardi Gras. Once the sun went down, another parade would start and the sidewalks would be crammed with people.

I noticed a few looks and frowns thrown my way as I headed toward the enormous house on the corner, pretty sure it had something to do with the blade sheathed at my side. No doubt to them I was just another strange kid in New 2 with dyed white hair, combat boots, and a fake short sword strapped to her thigh.

If only they knew the truth.

I smiled at the tourists I passed, hopped onto the sidewalk, and rang the bell. The door opened. The butler took one look at me, let me inside, and then led me to the second floor, the main living area of the house.

I’d only been here once, after escaping Athena’s prison. I’d heard the Novem heads talking about me in Michel’s library like I was some sort of weapon to be used or gotten rid of—
not
a pleasant memory—and I’d fled to the GD.

I waited as the butler opened the tall French doors leading outside. Ferns hung between the wrought-iron framework that supported the courtyard balcony, and at each end, steps curved down to the ground below.

I took vague note of the large patio and a rectangular yard of green grass, which led into a pretty English-style garden complete with a pool and a small cottage/pool house. But the grandeur of Michel’s courtyard took second stage.

Sebastian was standing in the center of the yard.

My hands curled slowly around the iron railing as I stared at his profile. I wished like hell the chaos I felt inside would go away. It was there every time I saw him—excitement, anxiety, warmth, happiness, worry. . . .

The butler left me there, returning inside and closing the doors.

Michel stood in front of Sebastian, about ten feet away, and spoke in low, muted tones. I watched, stunned, as a ball of sheer blue light formed over Sebastian’s outstretched hand. It was the size of a soccer ball. He played with it, moving his hand up, over, and away from it as it hovered in front of him.

Michel’s calm, instructional voice continued. I strained to hear his words.

Sebastian lifted the orb over his head and passed it from one hand to the other, then brought it back down and placed it in front of himself at chest level. His movements looked graceful, like tai chi, controlled as though he was pulling . . . something . . . from the air, the earth, shaping the light. Only the ball didn’t grow bigger, but rather condensed, growing smaller and brighter.

BOOK: A Beautiful Evil
4.34Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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