A Beautiful Evil (23 page)

Once Michel saw his son, the shit was going to hit the fan.

Once he realized it was me who’d turned Sebastian to stone . . . I might just be a goner.

I watched and waited, scanning the gutted buildings and side streets, hoping a few familiar faces lurked in the shadows.

Fires burst ahead of us to light our way.

A flash caught my attention. Eyes gleamed from the blackness of a building . . . unfriendly eyes. The more we progressed, the more I saw. A few turnskins hovered out in the open, standing atop the rubble piles, their heads hung low between bony shoulder blades, totally captivated with the fresh meat parading by. Revenants, too, followed our slow path by jumping from one building to the next.

Ahead of us a turnskin boldly attacked one of Athena’s minions and tried to pull him into a parking deck. The canine turn-skin was torn to shreds by the minion within seconds. It was a brutal, vicious display.

A faint cry overhead made me glance up. A large bird banked to the left, its wings wide and its tail feathers long.

Henri.

Athena studied me over her gold-plated shoulder. “It won’t be long now,” she said.

I gave her a belligerent look. “Long for what? More of you showing off? I’m tired of your stupid games, Athena. I don’t care what you do.”

She laughed at my dishonesty and angled more to face me. “All my
games
have a purpose. I do nothing without cause. And this one”—she looked beyond me at nothing—“has been a long time coming.”

She turned her back to me and pulled on the reins.

The chains dragged across the float as I pushed to my feet. The Novem had come, forming a line in the street up ahead. We were near the outer edges of the ruins now.

A slow stream of adrenaline began building in my system. Quickly I skimmed the crowd, looking for help or an opportunity. Menai still stood by the float, and behind her was a tall, cloaked form with broad shoulders.

My father. I knew that cloak. Somehow he’d fallen in with us.

A scan of the area showed several Novem on the rooftops. And—a smile erupted inside me—one familiar harpy perched on the corner of a tall office building.

Mapsaura had come. I’d freed her from Athena’s prison, and in return she’d aided me during the cemetery battle with Athena. Now, thank God, she was here again.

Goose bumps raced along my arms and thighs. Her large leathery wings were folded back and her claws curled around the ledge. She looked like an imposing gargoyle sitting up there. I’d heard rumors that she’d taken up in the ruins—good hunting grounds, apparently.

Her presence filled me with hope. The minions in front of us parted, allowing the float to continue to the front line. Athena halted the bulls. It was close enough to the Novem that I could see the top of Josephine’s head and part of Michel’s face. Behind them stood Gabriel and the other Novem heirs in his clique.

Bran was at the end of the Novem line. The sight of him, feet braced apart, arms folded over his chest like usual, and what looked like a massive broadsword strapped to his back, brought an instant smile to my face.

He caught my eye. One of his eyebrows lifted as if to say,
Selkirk, I’m unimpressed.

I gave him an innocent shrug because I knew he’d roll his eyes, which he did. Then he dismissed me and scowled at Athena.

“What do you think of my parade? It’s very Mardi Gras, don’t you think?” Athena called to the Novem, moving aside to present her spoils. “You like my statue? I think he takes after you, Michel.”

With her out of the way, the Novem line had full view of Sebastian on the platform behind me. Michel’s gray eyes went from Athena to the statue. His son. The son he’d finally been reunited with after a decade. I winced at the horror in his eyes.

The shit’s going to hit the fan. The shit’s going to hit the fan.

Michel took one large step forward. “What have you done?!” he shouted, and I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me or Athena.

“Ah!” Athena wagged a finger at him. “Not yet. We have a bit of bargaining to do if you want your heir back.” She tilted her head to Josephine. “Or is he
your
heir, Josephine? He has taken blood, you know. He’s an Arnaud now. A double heir. It’d be tragic to lose him.”

Josephine went pale. For the first time since I’d met her, she seemed truly dismayed. She moved up to stand united with Michel. “What do you want?”

“You know exactly what I want,” Athena snarled. The exchange between them was personal, and it didn’t surprise me at all. If anyone had their hands in something dirty and wrong, it’d be Josephine.

“We will give her nothing!” Michel bellowed in pain, his eyes bright with it, the veins on his temple angry and enlarged. “In return for what? A son who can never be?”

“Oh, I think you’d be surprised what can
be
, Michel. And besides, you’re the great and powerful Novem. I thought you could do anything. Wouldn’t you rather have him than, say . . . me dropping him off a fifty-story building?”

Dread sliced down my spine. Energy was gathering. I couldn’t tell from where.

“What do you want, Athena?” Josephine demanded, a hard edge to her tone.

“I WANT THE DAMN JAR BACK!” she shouted in full-blown anger. A wave of oppressive energy wafted over the area and shook the ground. Just as suddenly as it manifested, it was gone again, and her voice returned to normal. “Take what you have stored there. Leave that which was inside when you received it. A simple trade. Take it or leave it.”

Josephine’s eyes narrowed. But the other Novem heads looked as though they had no idea why Athena would want Anesidora’s Jar or its original contents. The legendary jar, Pandora’s Box, had been given to the ancestors of the Novem so long ago, who knew what might’ve been inside when it was handed over. But I bet the Keeper knew. I bet I knew too.

I could see Josephine’s mind working. Whatever Athena wanted was leverage. It could be powerful. It could be something that lifted Josephine and the Arnaud family to new heights.

Sebastian, though, was the wild card. Josephine cared for him in her own weird way, and he represented power as a double heir and now as a Mistborn vampire.

Which was more useful? Sebastian or the jar?

“And the gorgon?” Bran spoke up, nodding to me.

“She’s mine,” Athena stated bluntly. “So what shall it be, Josephine? Your heir in pieces, or the jar?”

The ominous air filtering into the street possessed such clarity. It crept and crawled like bugs along my psyche. Something bad was brewing, and the last thing I wanted was to be chained on some float when all hell broke loose. And now that Athena was distracted, it was time for me to act.

I regulated my breathing, closed my eyes to settle myself, and tapped into the monster within me. Just to let the gorgon out a little. There was no one I cared about being tortured, no emotional distractions to keep me from focusing, no starvation or weakness. I could do this.

I grabbed the chains below each of my manacled wrists, glancing quickly to Bran, his faint nod giving me confidence. As Athena and the Novem discussed the trade, I concentrated on calling up my power and turning the chains to stone.

The memory of standing alone on the steps of Athena’s ruined temple filled my mind. The dark temple looming behind me, the breeze stirring my hair, the lake, and the stone garden. The sense of calm. The call to arms that stirred in my chest.

I knew who I was. I hadn’t realized it then, but I’d accepted it.

My skin buzzed. Heat poured down my arms as darkness uncoiled, snaking under my skin, a serpent made of shadows and ancient energy. I shuddered even as I envisioned it, told it where to go and what to do. My hands went numb. My fingers squeezed tightly on the chains.

The metal cracked like ice.

I released my focus and looked down, breathing heavily. The metal had become stone. My heart beat wildly. I still needed to do the chains attached to my ankles. My gaze caught on Menai. She stared at the stone. Then she looked purposefully away.

Athena remained intent on negotiations, on how to exchange the jar, the condition it must be in, the condition Sebastian must be in. They left nothing to chance.

Suddenly the hairs on the back on my neck stood. Some of the
on the outer edges of the lines glanced around warily. I peered into the darkness, knowing they were out there, the creatures of the ruins. The revenants, turnskins, loups-garous, and whatever the hell else lurked in this war zone.

The scent of live flesh and blood drew them here.

Menai notched an arrow, pointing downward; she was wary as her head turned toward the buildings. Bran’s sword was out of its sheath. But he, too, held his weapon down, hands curled around the hilt, the tip of the blade stuck into the pavement.

And then the shit hit the fan.

A
SUDDEN RUSH OF WIND BLEW OVER THE
P
ROCESSION.
Everyone near the float ducked in reaction as Mapsaura plucked Athena’s helmet off her head. The harpy lifted her prize and dipped her head to put it on. As soon as the helmet touched down, Mapsaura disappeared.

Within a second of the theft Bran was on the float swinging his great sword down toward Athena’s head. She had little time to react, her blade barely making it up in time to stop Bran’s sword from severing her head. The attack set off a chain reaction, triggering the kill instincts in the creatures of the ruins. They fell on the
and the Novem on three sides.

Shouts and fighting and power filled the street. The float lurched wildly as a turnskin leaped onto the back of one of the white bulls and bit. Red flowed over white. Athena and Bran lost their balance. Michel was fighting his way to the float.

A gigantic loup-garou tore through Athena’s minions like they were nothing, heading in my direction.

Shit. I pulled the chain at one wrist taut and then stomped down, breaking the stone in half. The loup-garou closed in. Now my arm was free, but still manacled and still with several stone links attached. Frantic, I broke the other chain as the werewolflike creature leaped onto the float.

My ankles still chained, I swung my arms around, using the stone links as weapons. The chains swung around and cracked him in the side of the face. His skull dented in, and he went flying off the float along with a few busted links.

“Ari!”

I turned at the sound of my father’s shout. He’d gotten sucked out away from the float. He withdrew his blade, flipped it hilt first, and then lobbed it like a football toward me.

“Menai!” Athena shouted, her attention on the blade arcing through the air.

In less than a second Menai strung another arrow and aimed it at the blade. She was going to knock it off course. Athena was right there. Menai wouldn’t openly disobey her like this.

“NO!” I jerked at the manacles on my ankles.

She let the arrow fly. It soared through the air, lightning fast, knocking my father’s blood-forged blade from its perfect arc toward me. Athena shouted more commands as she fought against Bran.

One of Athena’s harpies dove for the blade. She caught it in her talons and then pushed higher into the air.

My hopes sank. Until the harpy flew sideways and rolled in midair, hit by something unseen. Mapsaura? I could hear the flapping of leathery wings, but I saw nothing as the harpy screeched and fought, and—oh God—dropped the blade.

I screamed, pulling so hard on the chains that the manacles cut into my ankles. I had to get that blade, and I’d never do that stuck on the float. A hawk zoomed past me so quick and close, my hair puffed. His red tail flashed past my vision.

Henri. He plucked the blade from the air, banked, came arcing back toward the float, and dropped the blade. I caught it by the hilt. Power hummed in my hand. My thoughts and memories and emotions warped inward to form a single-minded purpose.

The blood forged into the metal ran through my veins. The blade was my conduit, my weapon, an extension of myself. I understood now what my father meant.

“Athena!” I shouted, my voice sounding far away as I lifted the blade behind my head with both hands.

All the energy and power I had, I forced upward into the blade, giving it my will and finally connecting and accepting the monster in my subconscious. Using all the strength in my body, I threw the blade as Athena spun around. It made four rotations before it slammed into the goddess, piercing her armor and sinking deep in her chest. The force knocked her back several steps. For a few seconds she seemed frozen, but then her eyes locked on me like two heat-seeking missiles.