The Wicked Within (5 page)

We all went back into the kitchen as Dub regaled Sebastian with his awesome ironlike baguette.

Yep, just a normal day with the all-American family,
I thought.

T
HE IDEA OF DRAGGING CORPSES
through the house and into the backyard was met with a lot of groans and muttered curses. No one felt like it. Especially after we’d just stuffed our bellies with oyster stew. But the bodies weren’t going to move themselves, so we pitched in, taking a leathery ankle or a bony wrist, tugging the dead out of the house. Once that was done, we wiped up the blood in the foyer and the long, bloody smears we’d made dragging bodies down the hall.

I joined the others on the spacious brick patio. Vines grew high on the fence surrounding the property, some connecting with the low-lying branches of the banana trees, growing up over the limbs to make a green shield around the property.

Violet liked to go out there and hide under the leaves. She
reminded me of Pascal sometimes in her mannerisms, the way she loved all reptiles and the swamp, the way she scurried up things. . . .

I watched her as she climbed the back of a lichen-covered garden nymph. She put her elbows on the statue’s mossy shoulders and laid her hands on its head, resting her chin on top.

The corpses should have left me disgusted and nauseated, but I was more tired and frustrated than anything else. It might be a small pile of bodies in front of me, but it sure felt like there was a mountain of obstacles in my way—my curse, the Hands, Athena, Josephine . . .

Dub snapped his fingers, and a flame sprang from his fingertips. As the flame grew, he blasted the pile.

Heat blew over me. I stepped back, shielding my eyes as Henri let out a whopping curse.

“Oops,” Dub said with a wince as the brightness and initial heat blast faded, leaving behind bodies consumed in flames. “Sorry, guys. Sometimes it comes out of me too fast. Too much.”

“It’s getting harder to control,” Crank observed.

Pink bloomed beneath Dub’s cheeks. “Never used to be that way.”

Henri snorted. “It’s called puberty, dumbass. Everything grows. Powers. Hair. Body odor. Your johnson—”

“Jesus!” Dub yelled. “Shut up, Henri!”

Dub and Henri bickered all the time. They reminded me of
brothers—the banter, the joking, the one-upping and embarrassing each other. But this time Dub didn’t give as good as he got. This time his irises seemed to glow like the fire that burned in front of us.

“Nice, Henri,” Sebastian said with a resigned sigh, which made Henri roll his eyes.

“You might be able to fly, Henri, but Dub can turn your wings crispy in a heartbeat. So you better watch it,” Crank warned, her lips set into a stubborn line.

“No shit,” Henri shot back. “Which is why he needs to start taking his power seriously. Otherwise, he’s gonna let loose and blow up the house or one of us. Yeah, I’m an ass. We all know this. I get on his case because he never listens.” He stared at Dub. “Nothing I said was wrong. Your power is growing because you’re getting older. It’ll get out of hand if you don’t learn to control it, master it now, before it gets too big for you.”

Dub just stared at Henri, but the spark disappeared from his eyes and the tension seemed to ease out of him. Dub once told me there were people and kids on the fringes of Novem society who were special. Gifted.
Doué
, he called them in French. Not witch, or vampire, or demigod/shifter. Just . . . different. His ability to summon fire out of thin air made him one of them.

Henri might suck at the delivery, but his message was spot-on. Dub needed to hone his talent or he’d end up screwed.

We all stared at the fire, lost in our own thoughts. Mine shifted to Athena’s message and then to the Hands.

“You were right, you know,” Sebastian said at length, his hands shoved deeply into the front pockets of his jeans. “About Athena. As soon as you give her what she wants, she’ll try her best to take you out.”

He lifted his gaze from the flames. His gray eyes were bleak. The concern for me was evident, but behind that was a vague despair. It was hard to look away; hard to stay where I was and not close the step between us and offer what comfort I could. He was struggling, and I wasn’t sure how to help him.

“You should be the one making the terms, Ari,” Henri said. “You’re the one who can heal her. You’re the one who can bring her kid back to life.”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” I replied. “I’ve only done it once. And Sebastian was stone for a blink of time compared to that baby.”

“Yeah, but Athena thinks you can do it.” Crank turned an old cooler over and sat on top of it. “And that’s saying something, you know? Plus, she’ll give you that vow. So if you word it right, like Menai said, then she won’t be able to kill you. Or us,” she added with a crooked smile.

“You can make any terms you want if you get your hands on those . . . Hands.” Some of the lightness came back into Dub’s sober expression as he sat down next to Crank.

“The Hands are your golden ticket, Ari,” Crank went on. “You get those and everything will be okay.”

“Yeah, no more snaky-snaky.”

Crank hit Dub with her cabbie hat. “You’re such an idiot.”

“No, I’m
funny
. There’s a difference.”

“You hit one of those creatures with a loaf of
bread
,” she pointed out.

“Well I couldn’t exactly fry them inside the house. And it was a
hard
loaf of bread! Don’t be insulting my Baguette of Terror.”

The corners of her mouth twitched. For a beat no one said anything, and then we burst out laughing.

Dub grinned widely as if that had been his plan all along. He poked Crank in the ribs with his elbow. “See. Ain’t it nice laughing by this nice fire?”

Crank rolled her eyes. Henri groaned. Sebastian shook his head, smiling. A campfire of corpses. Sure, real nice. But that was life in New 2. In the French Quarter you had the rich and wealthy Novem, the restored buildings and shops. Out in the wilds, in the swamps and the ruins of Midtown, you had creatures that made even the high-and-mighty Novem take note, and here in the GD, you had squatters and misfits and kids like us who did what was necessary to survive. If that meant grave robbing, stealing, whatever, so be it. There were no schools, no
parents to teach right from wrong. What was learned was by trial and error, by life and death. I had more respect for the kids than I did for most adults I’d met in my life.

A breeze rustled through the high grass and weeds surrounding the large patio. Smoke blew in our direction. Sebastian muttered an oath and stepped toward the fire. Energy sparked in his hands as he waved them toward the flames, sending the smoke to the sky.

“Nice,” I commented with a half smile.

He shrugged, glancing down at his hands. “Magic’s good for some things, I guess.”

It was good for a lot of things, things more important than shifting smoke, and Sebastian wasn’t afraid to use whatever power he had to protect us and fight by my side. Much to his grandmother’s dismay.

“Don’t suppose you have any ideas where your grandmother would hide the Hands,” I ventured, knowing the chances of that were slim.

“No.”

Whatever I ended up doing after, whomever I bargained with, finding the Hands came first. That meant figuring out how to outsmart a three-hundred-year-old vampire queen. Joy.

Being the leader of the Arnaud family of vampires had obviously gone to Josephine’s head a long time ago. She was full of
herself; she’d never see reason. She had betrayed my mother and tried to destroy my confidence. She had it coming. No doubt, she had it coming. I’d had my share of setbacks and setdowns, and by my way of thinking, it was Josephine’s turn. I was pretty sure she hadn’t had a setdown in . . . well, ever.

“The last place I saw the Hands was in the library,” I said. “So they must still be there, right? You can’t take things beyond the counter. The Keeper won’t let you.”

“That rule might have been just for you. The rules for the council members might be different. Maybe my grandmother was able to walk right in, pick them up, and walk right out.”

“So we’ll have to figure out if they’re gone from the library. If they are . . . it’s going to be hell finding them.”

“Yeah. She’d keep them close, though. She’d never venture into the GD or the ruins to hide the Hands. She has something extremely valuable and she knows it.”

“In her house, you think? Too obvious?”

“Maybe. Wherever she’s put them, they’re guarded, warded, cloaked—you name it. And if I suddenly show up wanting some grammy time, she’ll know why I’m there.”

I laughed softly. “True. What about your father or one of the Lamarliere witches? Can they scry for it?”

“I’ll ask my father. But I think the fewer people who know about the Hands the better.”

I rubbed both hands down my face and sighed. I didn’t want to deal with the Hands, but the alternative was worse. Josephine would use them to cause trouble, or she’d destroy them. If I didn’t find them soon, Athena would send her own force into New 2 to find them, which would end up costing a lot of lives. I sat down on the brick pavers and crossed my legs, letting my shoulders slump.

“So we all start looking,” Crank piped up. “I go to Arnaud House every week to deliver packages. I can snoop around, keep my eyes and ears open. . . . ”

“And you’ve got an eye in the sky,” Henri said, referring to himself.

“I got connections too,” Dub spoke next. “When Spits gets a pricey selection of stolen goods, he takes them to the Cabildo or to some of the Novem houses to let the rich ladies pick from the good stuff. I can probably tag along.” Spits was Dub’s dealer. After Dub robbed graves, he sold his finds to Spits, who operated an antique shop in the French Quarter. Spits cleaned up the valuables and sold them to the Novem or unsuspecting tourists.

“I’ll go back to the library and talk to the Keeper again,” I said. “Last time I was there, he was inventorying the entire library in order to locate the Hands. Maybe he’s found them by now or can tell us if they’ve gone.”

And while I was there, I was going to start researching. I
wanted to know who had fathered Athena’s child—and what part he was going to play once I found said child and possibly turned the baby over to its mother. That also meant finding out more about the prophecy that had started this whole mess in the first place, the one that said Athena’s child was fated to kill Zeus. I’d need to talk to the River Witch again too. He’d mentioned “both” were coming. And I had to wonder if the other person he’d referred to was the father.

I looked at Violet, who had fallen asleep on the statue, her eyes closed behind her mask. The River Witch would definitely be answering some questions about Violet finding herself in “harm’s way.”

Henri, Dub, and Crank eventually wandered into the house, leaving Sebastian and me alone with the dying fire and the sounds of Violet’s soft snores. He sat down beside me, and we watched until nothing remained of the minions but a pile of bone fragments and ashes.

Good compost for the yard.

The thought came out of nowhere. Once upon a time, I’d never believe I could hang around, watching a fire like this burn. It was macabre and bizarre, but that was my life now. Those bones and ashes were a stark reminder of how much my life had changed. It wasn’t long ago that I was working for my foster parents and training to become a full-time bail bondsman like them. It wasn’t
long ago that I was as oblivious as the rest of the world to the truth about magical beings, about gods and monsters.

Sebastian leaned forward and wrapped his arms around his knees, linking his fingers together. A muscle in his jaw ticked. His Adam’s apple slid up and down as he swallowed and then faced me, his misty gray eyes pulling me in like usual. A zing of awareness shot straight to my stomach. From the moment I’d met him, Sebastian reminded me of an old soul, a musician with an introspective, dark side. He was all that and more.

I’d thought him compelling before his change, before the blood, but now there was something more. His very presence could become mesmerizing if I let it. If
he
let it. It was part of his nature now. It made it easier for him to lure, to secure a person willing to sacrifice a little blood to quench his thirst. Even his appearance had subtly changed. His skin was paler, his lips were a bit darker. . . . His features were somehow more vivid now.

Tension filled the space between us, and I had the feeling he wanted to say something. Something that bothered him. My pulse kicked up a notch, along with the doubts. We were stuck at the very beginning of a relationship, unable to move forward thanks to everything that had happened with Athena. Since the battle in the ruins, Sebastian spent more and more time away from the house, and the time we did spend together, he seemed preoccupied and edgy.

Being the great person at relationships that I was, I had no clue how to handle things or what to say, if anything.

“You still having dinner with your father tomorrow?” he asked.

Totally
not
what was bothering him.

He bumped me with his shoulder, making me look up at him. “Nervous?”

“What?”

“Are you nervous? Seeing your father?”

Warmth stole into my cheeks. “Yeah. I guess so. It hasn’t really been just the two of us since we talked in the garden at your dad’s place.” I drew in a steadying breath. “I keep wondering what we’re going to talk about. And then I worry we’ll just sit there in silence, which would be awkward as hell.” All I really wanted was to get to know my father, to ask him a gazillion questions. Just like I wanted to do with Sebastian right now. How was he getting blood? Did he have a supplier, a partner who let him feed? Was it a she? Why was he spending more and more time away from us?

I rubbed my palms against my jeans. “How are things with your dad?”

“Fine.”

The memory of sitting with Sebastian in the apartment behind Josephine’s house, during her Mardi Gras party, filled my mind. He’d sat beside me and told me that blood was like a drug, an addiction; once you took it, it was never enough.