A Beautiful Evil (20 page)

“None of your damn business.”

“Okay. Why was I taken out of the cell, then?”

“Tonight is the Procession. You’re to take part.”

“What’s the Procession?”

She rolled her eyes like I was an idiot. “Every four years since ancient times there’s a festival to honor Athena. It’s called the Panathenaic Procession. It used to be held over several days, but now it’s just one night where the gods come and pay homage to her. They banquet and then sacrifice or torture any enemies caught. . . . That sort of thing.”

Oh, right. That sort of thing.

I scrubbed at my scalp and then pulled my hair over my shoulder to work the shampoo through the strands. The suds were brown. I ducked under to rinse and then added more shampoo to my hair.

“So how many gods come to the Procession?”

“A handful. Mostly relatives—the ones she hasn’t killed. If they don’t come, she thinks they’re plotting against her.”

“Makes life easier if they show up,” I surmised.

“Something like that, yes.”

I ducked under the water to rinse my hair. One more wash should get it clean. I grabbed the shampoo bottle and squeezed more into my palm. “What’s my role in the Procession, do you know?” I knew I’d been brought here to get all spiffy for a reason—not a good one, either.

Menai shrugged. “Don’t know. Don’t care.”

“Menai,” I said, then paused to think over my words. I knew the whole smart-ass, not-my-problem routine; used it myself on plenty of occasions.
Takes one to know one
, I thought. “Why are you part of all this? You’re not like her; you’re not evil. You could’ve shot Sebastian through the heart and yet you didn’t.”

“Maybe I missed.”

“Yeah. I doubt that.” Menai didn’t strike me as someone who missed. Ever.

A brief look of vulnerability passed over her features, gone before I could even wonder what it meant. “It doesn’t matter. Only that Athena controls me and everyone else.”

“And my father, have you seen him?”

She gave me a weird look.

My heart dropped. “He’s not—”

“No, no,” she said quickly. “He’s alive and healing. Athena hasn’t brought him back out again for the nightly entertainment.” Her voice went uncomfortable and then nonchalant. “She’s been too busy playing with your strange little friend and your boyfriend.” Menai tilted her head, eyes narrowing. “He makes a yummy-looking vampire. I can see why you’re into him.”

I glared at her; a couple spontaneous kisses and some hand-holding didn’t exactly make Sebastian my boyfriend. It didn’t even qualify as a relationship at all; we never even got far. . . .

“My father,” I said, drawing her back to whatever the hell it was she
wasn’t
saying.

I continued washing as her jaw went tight and her expression turned annoyed once again. Her sharp gaze scanned the room, waiting until a servant walked out of hearing range. “You really don’t remember?”

“Remember what?”

Her lips turned down into a frown, and she gave me a very exaggerated
duh
without words.

My hands slowed, eventually stopping completely. “That was him. In the cell. My father.” He came to see me. My father. He spoke. Nice words, whatever they were. Caring words. My throat grew thick. “How?”

“Stay here long enough and guards get paid off, deals get made. We have our own little system in Athena’s underground. . . .”

“He healed me, didn’t he?” Wow. “He can do that?”

“Uh, yeah. He gave what little he had.” Her eyes narrowed in a calculating manner. “Theron’s a hunter. He can do lots of interesting—”

The servant came back carrying a heavy basket and then motioned for me to finish in the bath. I got out, dried off, and took the underclothes from the servant, my mind preoccupied with thoughts of my father.

Several sharp tugs around my ribs brought me back to the present as some kind of bustier/breastplate was being laced up like a corset at my back. Next I shimmied into black leather pants. They were slashed in places, on purpose or in battle, I didn’t know. Boots were laced to just below my knees—comfy and not high heels, thank God. At least I could run and fight in them.

They attached a black choker around my neck and then began brushing out my clean hair. It had been so dirty from lying day after day on the floor of the cell that I’d forgotten how white it truly was.

I knew Athena was going to have me fight, and all I could picture was some kind of gladiator-type event, what kind of opponents I’d face, and how I’d beat them, using whatever weapon I’d be given—if any.

My stomach growled and I was allowed bread, fruit, and a small block of cheese to eat as they brushed my hair. My father had worked a miracle on my weakened body; I felt stronger and hungrier, almost normal again.

After all this time jailed, unable to act and having to watch while Athena tortured those I cared for . . . now my time had come. I’d face whatever she threw at me. If she wanted a show, I’d sure as hell give her one.

One of the servants stood in front of me with a sponge and wiped at the small crescent moon tattoo on my cheekbone. I jerked away. “It doesn’t come off.”

She tried again and I swatted at her hand. She huffed and spoke to me in Greek. I shot a glower at Menai, who was still enamored with her nails. “Will you tell her it won’t come off?”

Menai returned my irritated expression. She said a few words, and the servant bowed her head and went to another task—helping to twist the sides of my hair into two long braids, so that they framed my face and kept my hair from falling into my eyes. They left the rest of it long, which sucked because long hair in a fight was a major liability.

“Can you get them to tie my hair back?” I asked Menai.

She rolled her eyes and repeated my request. They shook their heads. Menai shrugged. “Sorry. Not their decision.”

Great.

Once they were done, they stepped back and surveyed their handiwork, gesturing and talking among themselves. I guessed they had finally decided I was as good as I was gonna get and left me to Menai.

As soon as they were gone, I took the opportunity to twist my hair and knot it.

Menai strolled over. Her once-over said she wasn’t impressed with my new look. “Come on.”

I grabbed her arm before she could get beyond my reach. She whirled on me, glanced down at my hand on her arm and then back up at me with a quirk to her eyebrow that said:
Do you really want to go there?

I didn’t let go. “You could fight her or leave.”

She jerked out of my grasp. “No. Actually, I can’t.” She marched away.

I caught up and fell in step beside her. With Menai’s dangerous bow, sharp arrows, and supernatural speed, we might be a force to be reckoned with.

Menai was like me. Different. A fighter too. And she wasn’t a cold-blooded killer like Athena. Menai didn’t belong here. And I desperately needed an ally.

We emerged from the building opposite Athena’s temple and headed across the massive courtyard. I thought I’d been in the main temple and had no memory of being taken to a different location.

Servants bustled from one building to another, looking flustered.

“Why don’t the other gods fight her?” I asked under my breath as we hurried across the space. “She’s letting them into her realm and she doesn’t have the Aegis. If they fought together, they could win.”

“No, they can’t, Ari. She’s the goddess of strategy for a reason; she holds something over all of them. They wouldn’t dare risk it.”

I gritted my teeth. I was tired of hearing how powerful Athena was, how she had everyone wrapped around her finger. No one person could have that much control over everyone and no one person should.

Ancient-sounding music came from the temple—strings and drums and flutes. Several loud cheers echoed from inside. I paused at the steps, my gaze following the tall columns up and up and up.

Menai stopped on the steps. “Gorgon, hurry up.”

“It’s
Ari
,” I said tightly.

“Whatever. Just pick up the pace.”

I drew in a deep breath, trying to mentally prepare as I went up the steps and into Athena’s temple. We followed the noise, using the same path to the hall as before, when Menai first led me and Sebastian here.

The banquet was louder than ever and packed with Athena’s followers.

But all I cared about was the fact that Violet was standing on the platform covering the pool, holding Pascal. She wore her black dress, a few sizes too big, and had a burgundy Mardi Gras mask lined with short black feathers pushed on top of her head.

Shadows curved beneath her round eyes. Her face was small and oval. Pert nose. Pink mouth. Violet was a doll, a beautiful, dark Gothic child with a penchant for reptiles, Mardi Gras, and fruit.

Instantly her name was on my lips and I moved toward her, but Menai snagged my arm and held me back.

Violet turned and stared at me.

I met her gaze. Her expression didn’t change. It was solemn, quiet, unperturbed. Only Violet could pull off that look and make you believe she meant it. A feline grin built until her lips were drawn apart and her tiny white fangs flashed in the light. I smiled back and gave her an encouraging nod while everything inside me pushed and screamed to go to her and protect her.

“Calm down,” Menai snapped, digging her nails into my arm.

She was right. Play it cool. Assess the area, find the guards, note the open paths, and—

Sebastian.

He stood behind Athena, his hand on the back of her chair. He was staring at me. Had been the entire time, I realized. A blank, gray stare I couldn’t read.

Sebastian looked fresh, clean, more striking than I’d ever seen him look. The natural red in his lips was deeper; his gray eyes were brighter; his hair was blacker and glossier, like black satin. He possessed all the tortured beauty of a poet, all the power and elegance of a Lamarliere, all the edge and creativity of a musician. And now he could add blood-drinker to that list.

Two gods, I guessed from their looks, with regal bearing and Greek-style clothing, sat on Athena’s right, while a strange-looking female occupied the left. Her skin was two different colors—right side a ghostly white and left side an inky black. The light grayish blue of her eyes was accentuated by the colors of her skin.

Athena set her cup down and stood, looking gorgeous and utterly sadistic in her dark, muted green bodysuit made from the skin of the Titan, Typhon. She hadn’t dressed to impress; she’d dressed to instill fear in everyone. The reptilian hide lived, and it moved around her body, still one moment, sliding around the next. She’d worn it the first time we’d clashed in Josephine Arnaud’s ballroom.

Her hair was down, loose in places and braided in others. She wore black eye makeup smudged to gray, making the green of her eyes seem brighter. She clapped her hands. The music died and the room went quiet. “Our entertainment has arrived.”

T
HE GUESTS CLAPPED AND BANGED THEIR CUPS ON THE TABLE.
Athena basked in the glow of their attention and excitement, but only for a moment. She motioned for silence. “To celebrate my Panathenaea, I give to you”—she waved her hands at the three gods, then bestowed a motherly smile on me—“the gorgon. Just a baby, really.”

The two gods seated on her right went pale, glancing at each other in confusion and fear. The other one didn’t have an outward reaction at all. Just like Sebastian, still and seemingly unaffected.

“Athena,” a blond god said, “you bring a god-killer before us?”

“Rest easy, brother. She is not matured. I simply bring her before you as a show of . . . good faith.” The lies flowed easily from Athena’s red lips; it was more like a show of strength. If Athena held the god-killer, it was yet another reason for the gods to fear her. She conveniently seemed to forget that
she
was the one who had inadvertently created the gorgons to begin with, that
she
gave us the ability to kill the gods.

Athena was so full of bullshit. I wondered if I was the only one who could see through her lies and showmanship.

“I thought it would be fun to watch her submit to my rule. The threat of the god-killer has come to an end.”

My fingers flexed and then settled into tight fists. I stood out in the open, at the mercy of not one god, but four. In fact, the room was full of beings that could rip me to shreds in a matter of seconds.

I’d go down fighting. That much I knew, and I’d give everything I had to try to get my hands around Athena’s neck.

The pleased look on Athena’s face made me uneasy, though.
Don’t panic. Remember what Bran taught you. Strike first, ask questions later
. So far I’d only been able to deliver small doses of my power that were easily countered by Athena, Bran, Menai. . . . What I needed was a powerhouse strike that filled a body so completely there’d be no way to overcome it, but I didn’t even know if I could do that or if my “immaturity” even allowed it.

Athena lifted her chin and scanned the crowd. Then she glanced down and smiled warmly at Sebastian. That little gesture was just for me. What a bitch.

“It’s time,” she said, her attention settling on Violet and then fixating on me with extreme malice, “for a new, revised model to destroy the old.”

She raised her arms and began to speak, not in Greek, but in something far older, something that snapped through the air, the words holding energy and power.

The gods glanced from one to another, completely unsettled. One of them stood and gripped the table. “Sister, what you’re doing . . . this is madness.”

Just like in my vision, when I’d ingested the bones of Alice Cromley and seen the making of Medusa into the gorgon, Athena’s words floated out from her as a living thing, shadows that curled and twisted and tangled.

Oh God. Athena meant to turn Violet into a gorgon.

“NO!” I lunged before Menai or the guards could stop me, leaping onto the platform and grabbing Violet, pulling her down into my lap as I slid on my rear end. I turned my back toward Athena, shielding Violet with my body and the fall of my loose hair.

Violet turned in my arms to look up at me. “Ari,” she said, strangely calm for what was happening.