A Beautiful Evil (7 page)

“No,” I replied, returning the smile.

“And then when I woke up in Gabonna’s, the way you were looking at me . . .” His Adam’s apple slid up and down. He looked away then and a faint blush appeared on his pale skin. Then he looked back. “I got caught up, wasn’t really thinking, just . . . feeling.” He paused, giving me an intense look. “But I don’t regret it. Do you?”

I shook my head. “But . . . in the cemetery. You ran when you saw the vision of me as a gorgon.” I wanted to rub the sour, burning feeling creeping into my chest. “I know you came back and fought, but”—I drew in a deep breath and released it—“I’m not sure how you feel now, or what, if anything, there is between you and me.”

I couldn’t look at him anymore, so I focused on his hand resting on his knee and the silver piece inlaid in the leather band around his wrist.

“Seeing you like that scared the shit out of me, Ari, more because Athena had you and I knew I couldn’t fight her alone. I had to get Dub and Crank away and go for my father, so I ran. But I won’t lie to you. Seeing your curse, the vision of it, it did scare me.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. It hurt to hear that. But it was honest, and how could I blame him when I felt the same? “It scared me, too.” My eyes stung. “I hate it.” I stared out over the square below. “I don’t want to become that . . . thing.”

He reached over and slid his hand into mine. It was warm and slightly roughened on the palms.

We stayed that way for a long time, just watching the night pass by on our perch above the Quarter. And even though there were no words about an “us,” there didn’t need to be. His hand in mine was answer enough.

“My father is wrong about waiting,” Sebastian said.

I didn’t need to ask him what he meant. More than anything, I knew that if we waited for Athena to show herself, to reveal her plan, Violet and my father might never recover from their time spent with the goddess.

“We need to strike first,” I said. “Find a way into her realm and take back what is ours.”

His hand tightened on mine. “She won’t be expecting that.”

And surprise might be the
only
thing going for us.

T
HE SUN WAS UP FULLY BY THE TIME
I
STEPPED OFF THE
streetcar and headed down Royal Street for another day at Presby. Morning light bathed the French Quarter, turning it into a sparkling jewel.

Motor vehicles were prohibited in the Quarter, which took the place back a hundred years and increased the number of mules and carriages. The tourists loved it. I did too—no constant drone of engines, no horns or brakes, no smell of exhaust to clog the air. Only trash and delivery trucks were allowed through, and those just came at off-peak hours.

I could’ve taken one of the many carriages that waited near Canal Street to carry people into the Quarter, but I chose to walk the several blocks to Jackson Square. I gazed up at the tall arched second-story windows as I passed the old Cabildo building next to St. Louis Cathedral. As crazy as it sounded, some of the very first settlers of New Orleans back in the 1700s and 1800s were currently sitting in those offices and running the city.

Sebastian was waiting for me outside of Presby The fact that students passed by him in uniform and he was standing there in torn jeans and a faded old concert T-shirt made me smile. The rebel in me could
totally
relate.

I stopped in front of him. “They’re not going to let you stay in school dressed like that. I got a huge lecture for wearing a black shirt the other day.”

He glanced at my outfit, which didn’t really diverge from my normal fashion, and arched an eyebrow. Black cargo pants, white tank, gray zip-up hoodie, with a
blade strapped to my thigh and a dagger in my boot.

“What? Pants are black. Shirt is white. The blade stays.” I grinned wider. “Because I’m special.”

He laughed, a deep, scruffy sound that warmed me to my toes. “I think our dear Presby principal would miss me if I wasn’t in his office at least once a week,” he said. “He expects me, and I’d hate to upset him. Always thinking of others, I am. . . .”

My laughter felt good and a little foreign. “Right. Your dad told me you only have a few more classes before you graduate. You going to stay on after that?”

“Someone has to keep you in line,” he said. “My dad says you’re a good influence on me. I’m back in high school, going to attend Presby’s college. . . . You might just be his
favorite
person at the moment.”

“Always thinking of others, I am.” I repeated his remark with a laugh. “So, we’re cool with going into the library?”

“Yeah. My dad already let the teachers know you won’t be in class.”

Sebastian had left the GD early to talk to Michel before classes began, just to make sure I’d have access to the library and not have to deal with any red tape the other Novem heads might have thrown my way.

He shook his head and held out his hand. I took it like it was the most natural thing on earth, and it felt that way too. “Why the funny look?” I asked.

He pulled me toward the school. “I’m pretty sure you’re the only student who ever attended Presby armed.”

I laughed. “Please. Everyone here is armed. Just not with blades.”

The bell rang as we entered. Students hurried to classes, leaving us walking down a very quiet, echoing hallway. We passed classroom after classroom, the lone student or two, snippets of lectures from open doors, the hum of recitals and music lessons, and then we went up a set of wide steps.

“Ari,” Sebastian said, stopping as we hit the turn in the stairs. “I know I can’t go into the library with you, but whatever you learn in there . . . I can help on the outside. Athena screwed up my life too.”

“I know she did,” I responded quietly.

“And I know you’re the type who likes to do things alone,” he said, arching his brow. “It takes one to know one. But”—he grabbed my arm and pulled me into the corner as a group of students went by—“don’t run off and do this by yourself.”

Over his shoulder I spotted a few of the students throwing glances back at me as they went down the steps. I waited for them to disappear before I said, “She only wants me, Sebastian. There’s no point in anyone else getting hurt.”

He actually rolled his eyes. “That’s great. And you’re missing the entire point.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Hell yes, you are.” He grabbed me by the shoulders. We were deep in the corner now. Sebastian’s body blocked most of me from view should anyone walk by. He smelled clean—tiny notes of shampoo, deodorant, and laundry detergent. “If you think I’m just going to say good luck and wave good-bye as you go off facing Athena, you’re dumber than I thought.”

“Gee, thanks.” This was stupid. I understood what he was saying. That we were in this together. He had a stake because of what Athena had done to his father, and because he cared about Violet. He wanted in, and he sure as hell didn’t like the fact that I was the only one who had access to the library.

“You’re just going to have to trust me,” I said. I didn’t want him to get hurt, to be yet another person Athena sank her claws into.

And the bad part about it was that he knew exactly what was going through my mind. I pushed against him, but he didn’t budge, just gazed down at me, his jaw tight, red lips drawn into a firm line, and eyes smoldering.

I shoved harder, squeezing between him and the wall, and ran up the rest of the stairs, my boots pounding in time with my heart.

I went a few feet down the hall before I realized I had no clue where to go, which was totally embarrassing since I had to turn in the middle of the hallway and wait for him.

Sebastian came up the stairs and moved down the hall toward me with laserlike intent. Everything about him seemed calm, dark, and intense. I swallowed, feeling pretty stupid for even attempting my Go It Alone mantra on him . . . and myself.

He only stopped when he was toe to toe with me.

“You’re not doing this without me.” His words were tight and his eyes like glinting steel. “I haven’t been training my ass off with my father for nothing. You need me. You might not want me, but you need me.”

With that, he marched around me and toward a flight of stairs that led to the third floor.

All I knew was that he could turn me into a confused, breathless idiot one second and piss me off the next.
Might as well add that ability to his list of powers
, I thought darkly, following him up the steps.

Sebastian was the second most powerful member of the Lamarliere family. Not only a rare warlock like his father but a vampire like his mother. And she was a Bloodborn, born of both a vampire mother and father, the strongest kind of vampire there was. Sebastian had the potential, or at least the genes, to be extremely powerful. Having him on my side was a bonus and a gift I shouldn’t ignore.

And whether he believed it or not, I didn’t
want
to do this alone. I just didn’t want anyone else to get hurt. He was right, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept. I’d spent most of my life facing things alone. Being in New 2 had changed that. Now I had Sebastian and Michel. I had Henri, Crank, Dub, and Violet. But that also meant more hurt and pain if something happened to them because of this thing with Athena. And I wasn’t sure I could deal with that.

In the end, though, I needed help. Sebastian was one of only a handful of people in New 2 who I trusted. And as a Novem heir, he had access to things many others did not.

“The third floor is mainly for administration,” Sebastian told me as we came to a desk. A woman looked up. “Back again, Bastian?” she asked, eyeing his street clothes. “Your father said you were coming. Go on back.”

“Does she know about the library?” I whispered as we walked down a long corridor with offices on both sides.

“No. No one knows except the Novem heads and their next in lines. She thinks I’m using the private study. You’ll see.” We turned a corner and walked toward a huge set of double doors at the end of the hallway.

Sebastian slipped a card into a security scanner attached to the wall by the door. A lock slid back. “This leads to the study. No one comes back here without a card, and there are only nine cards. This one is my father’s.”

Sebastian opened one side of the double door and stepped back to let me enter. I expected a room or at least another hallway, but it was an area the size of a walk-in closet and another tall door in front of me.

“It’s iron, blood-spelled and warded nine times. The wards are changed once a week. You have to know the combination to unravel all nine wards to get it to open and you have to be blood-related. And then there’s security inside the library itself.”

“And you know the combination?”

“My dad taught me this morning.”

Sebastian pulled a safety pin from his pocket and pricked his finger, then placed his hand on the intricately carved door. It contained thousands of small symbols and lines, swirls and patterns. A soft blue light appeared beneath his finger and he began to trace one of the patterns.

He traced nine patterns. Each one stayed blue and glowing until he finished. It was a maze that I never could’ve repeated if I’d tried. Then the outline of the door began to glow until the blue turned to white and the door popped open with an audible sigh. Sebastian turned to me. “The real secret is inside.”

He pushed open the heavy door. It groaned, sending a shiver up my spine as I stepped inside a large study. It was everything you’d think a wealthy library should look like—dark paneling, huge stone fireplace, Persian rug, leather furniture, study tables and desks, and shelves of books that ringed the room, so tall there was a ladder on a track that could be pushed around to get whatever book you wanted.

“So where do we star—” I frowned. “Wait a minute. I thought you weren’t allowed inside. This isn’t it, is it?”

He rocked back on his heels and smiled. “Nope.”

He guided me across the large room to the corner and stopped. Bookshelves. A plant. An enormous old vase. I wasn’t sure what he was looking at . . . maybe something on the shelf?

I stepped closer.

Sebastian stared at the six-and-a-half-foot-tall vase. It was so big I could’ve crawled inside it and curled up easily. It had two sloping handles on each side with specks of black paint. The opening at the top was wider than my shoulders. It had a slim neck, and a body that fattened out in the middle and then slimmed down again before widening out at the base.

It looked incredibly ancient, made of clay or terra-cotta, I guessed. There were lines and symbols and figures stamped around its body.

The thing that stood out the most was the long, jagged crack down the front, from the neck of the vase to just above the base. It was deep and dark in the center, showing just how thick the vase was.

“Okay,” I said, obviously missing something. “What are we looking at?”

“Anesidora’s Jar. Otherwise known as Pandora’s Box.”

I blinked, looking at him skeptically. “What?” A nervous laugh escaped me. He wasn’t laughing back—not a good sign. I glanced from him to the jar. His expression stayed serious. “Uh, hate to break it to you, but this isn’t a box.”