A Beautiful Evil

Page 8

Well, I was plastered against the storefront. Sebastian was plastered against my back. The entire front of his body was molded against me.
Sebastian’s arms tightened around my waist. His head dipped until his mouth was close enough to my ear so I could hear him above the crowd. “Goddamn parades. Hold on. I’m getting us out of here.” And when he spoke, it seemed to drown out everything around me. “Don’t be afraid.”
And then we were gone.
Weightless.
The ground at my feet suddenly disappeared along with everything else.
A scream lodged in my throat, coming out broken and pathetic.
And then we were sitting on a wide ledge. High above Jackson Square. Christ, he’d blinked me to—I gazed above me.
Not just any ledge. Oh God, oh God, oh God.
“It helps if you breathe.”
“I think I might kill you,” I said in a near whisper.
Sebastian’s shoulder bumped mine as he tried to hide his smile. “Well, you’ve got time, because we’ll be up here for an hour or so before I have enough power again to get us down. I didn’t think you’d be afraid of heights.”
I glared at him. “I’m not afraid of heights. I am, apparently, afraid of disappearing from solid ground and then reappearing on a ledge.”
I rubbed a hand down my face and then blew out a loud exhale, trying to calm my drumming pulse and letting my gaze settle over Jackson Square below.
We sat on top of St. Louis Cathedral, on the ledge that went around the base of the tall middle steeple. Sebastian sat beside me, his legs swinging, leaning back against the steeple wall as though this was a usual perch.
The breeze was chilly. Lights from the boats on the river gleamed and bobbed, and the square was filled with people. The brassy music from the parade wafted through the streets and mingled with the conversations below.
Once I got over the shock, being up there was pretty damn cool—looking down on the world, the activity, the music, and yet separated from it in our own little world.
“I knew you’d like this,” Sebastian said with quiet satisfaction.
His head stayed back against the wall, but he turned it to meet my gaze. Humor swam in those gray eyes, but everything else about him was still. “You’re reading my emotions?”
He shrugged and didn’t answer.
“I take it you’ve come here before.”
“More than once,” he said, staring out over the square.
“Why did you kiss me that day?” The question was out of my mouth before I could stop it. Heat crept up my neck and into my face, but I didn’t look away from him because, as embarrassed as I was, I wanted to know the answer.
His lips dipped into a wry smile, driving a deep crease into his cheek. One raven eyebrow lifted a bit higher than the other. The storm clouds in his eyes seemed to give way to a lighter shade of gray. “Why did you kiss me back?”
Time suspended—a long, unforgiving, humiliating space that was filled by me looking like the world’s greatest dumbass as my mind floundered for something to say.
Sebastian drew up one leg and turned more toward me, his shoulder pressing against the wall.
What would he say? That he’d kissed me because I was there, lying on top of him at Gabonna’s, our faces so close, so why not? My stomach knotted. Please don’t let it be something like that.
“I kissed you,” he began, his voice calm, blunt, and honest, “because you caught me off guard. Because that day, even if it was only just a few hours we spent together, I felt normal and understood with you. There are things I can sense and feel from people. That’s why I didn’t want to help you at first; the similarities I felt between us . . . I just balked, I guess. Didn’t want to get involved.” He smiled. “That didn’t last very long, did it?”
“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.
Eight
THE 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.”