A Beautiful Evil (6 page)

Michel’s voice came again, this time more stern.

Sebastian stilled. The blue light was now the size of a tennis ball. He cradled it, cupping his hands around it as the light grew brighter, and then he drew it back and pitched it at his father.

I held my breath.

Michel’s hands went up, palms flat to meet the ball of blue light. Upon contact, the light exploded, curving around him before dissipating away into nothing. He’d been pushed back a few feet, and that seemed to impress him. He came forward and clapped Sebastian on the shoulder.

Then Michel’s gaze lifted to mine.

Instant heat shot to my cheeks. I managed a small, pathetic wave. Sebastian turned. His black eyebrows drew together, but I couldn’t tell if he was frowning or the sun was making him squint.

“Ari. Come down,” Michel called.

I hadn’t changed or cleaned up since my workout with Bran.
Figures
, I thought. Michel said something to Sebastian and chuckled as the butler walked from beneath the second-story porch where I stood and began to set the patio table for dinner.

Whatever Michel said had Sebastian turning back toward me. His head lifted; his eyes were definitely on me, but I couldn’t read them from that distance. Somehow, though, I didn’t feel good about it. In fact, goose bumps traveled up my arms and thighs.

And then he was gone.

Sebastian. Gone. Leaving behind a violent whoosh of air that I saw for the barest of seconds, like an eighteen-wheeler hitting mist at seventy miles an hour.

That same air hit me from behind.

I spun around, grabbing the railing for support. “Jesus!”

Sebastian stood there with a crooked grin denting his cheek, his gray eyes lit with amusement. “My dad wants you to stay for dinner.”

I released the breath I’d been holding as the shock slowly ebbed from my body. Kind of.

Michel wanted me to stay, but I couldn’t help wondering if his son did too. It was hard to tell with Sebastian. “Ever hear of asking like a normal person?” I asked. “That was crazy.”

He gave an innocent shrug and smiled. “Not normal, so . . .”

“Right.”

I followed him down the stairs to the patio below.

“You’re white as a ghost, Ari,” Michel said, pulling out a chair and gesturing for me to sit. “I apologize, as that”—he glanced to the balcony—“was my idea.”

I cleared my throat. “I didn’t realize you could, uh . . . do that.” Whatever
that
was.

“Only the most well-trained or gifted in our family can. But even so, it’s a power that requires a period of magical inactivity—rest time, if you will—before it can be used again. Bastian is far behind on his training, but he has talent on his side. Please join us for dinner.”

I sat down, grateful because my legs felt weak. After Michel and Sebastian took their seats, platters and drinks were brought out.

“I have the finest chef in the Quarter. I hope you like Cajun food,” Michel said as he helped himself to the servings set in the middle of the table. “My chef’s cooking was something I thought of often during my imprisonment. Please, help yourself.”

Starving, I took a bit of everything and started digging in. Michel talked as we ate, making sure to include me and Sebastian with questions about school and the state of things in the GD.

“So, what was that in the yard, exactly?” I asked during a lull in the conversation. “The ball of light.”

“I’m training with my father,” Sebastian answered, but the glance between them made me feel as though there was something they weren’t saying. “The light ball is basically energy pulled together from everything around us. Energy is there, but most people can’t feel it.”

“Though some humans can,” Michel said between chewing. “Usually if they are sensitive or close to places with strong energy signatures, like ley lines.”

“But all witches and warlocks can sense it and use it?”

“Yes. Our unique genes—the thing that separates us from being one hundred percent human—is our ability to recognize and connect with Earth’s energy and to utilize it, to have a thought and then make it happen. That is what magic is all about. It has taken thousands of years of evolution, study, and training, and the passing down of knowledge from one generation to the next, in order for us to master the energy and our gifts.”

I nodded, stabbing a piece of roasted chicken.

“How was your training with Bran?” Michel sat back and took his wineglass with him. “Better today?”

“It was fine. I actually came by to ask you about the library. When will I be able to see it?”

He regarded me thoughtfully, absently swirling the liquid in his glass. “There is time, you know. Athena will present herself, offer a trade. You for the child, I’m sure.”

My grip on my fork went tight. I felt Sebastian stiffen beside me. There was no time. Every minute Violet and my father spent with Athena was a minute too long. How could he expect me to just wait?

“Her indecision,” Michel continued, “regarding you . . . I believe she fully intended to kill you herself, which was why she had her second hunter bring you to her prison—revenge on you for killing the first one sent after you. But then when you displayed your power at the Arnaud ball, I suspect Athena began to rethink. She is wondering how best to use you, whether it’s better to keep you alive or to kill you. As a god-killer, you’d have many uses.”

All of which I knew and Athena had pretty much said. She’d offered me a place with her, a position of power, and all I had to do was submit and become her weapon. Not going to happen, but either she still thought she could manipulate me into service or she planned to finally kill me.

“Sebastian will show you the library in the morning.” Michel raised a questioning eyebrow at his son. “Yes?”

Sebastian agreed.

I took a long drink of cold water. “Thank you.” My voice was wrapped in relief when I said it. I’d half expected him to go back on his (and the Novem’s) promise.

“You don’t have any idea where Athena would be keeping my father or Violet?” I asked him.

Michel shook his head. “No. But I suspect she has created another prison near New 2 or she has taken them to her temple. And unfortunately, I don’t know where that is. Temples are the gods’ best-guarded secrets. Or at least, guarded from us.”

“Anything in the library about them?”

“Plenty, I’m sure. Though, to my knowledge, no one has found exact locations. The library is vast, as you’ll see, so don’t give up hope.”

I don’t intend to
, I thought, shoving another bite into my mouth.

We finished eating, the silence interrupted occasionally by Michel asking a question or commenting on something. I barely paid attention. The sounds beyond the courtyard grew louder as the sun went down. The faint tunes of a saxophone mingled with the hum of pedestrian traffic and the occasional echo of carriage creaks and hooves.

Lights eventually came on in the courtyard, making the tall iron street-style lamps glow yellow. White Christmas lights were wrapped around some of the trees. And the pool was illuminated by underwater interior lights.

“I believe another parade is about to begin. Would you like to watch from the front porch?” Michel placed his napkin on the table and stood.

Sebastian and I followed his lead.

“I should probably go before it gets too crazy,” I said.

“Ah. Well, understandable. Sebastian will see you home.”

I thanked Michel for dinner, and then he walked toward the house, leaving Sebastian and me standing alone by the table. Awkward and alone.

“One second,” he said quickly, and then went after his father. They exchanged words by the stairs before Michel continued up to the second-story balcony and into the house.

“You don’t have to see me out,” I told him as he came back to the table. “Unless you’re going home too.”

“No. I have more training to do, but it’s fine.”

Don’t sound so enthused
, I thought as I drew in a deep breath, turned, and headed toward the gate.

S
EBASTIAN LOCKED THE COURTYARD GATE BEHIND US
. “L
OOK
, you really don’t have to walk me back,” I said again.

He took my elbow to direct me through the gathering crowd of tourists and locals, many of whom were decked out in Mardi Gras apparel. “I know, Ari. I want to.”

I wasn’t practiced with guys. I’d never had a boyfriend, and I didn’t know what the hell I was doing, only that I couldn’t take this weird tension between us. I wanted answers, facts, honesty, instead of wondering how he felt about me.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and released the pent-up breath I’d been holding, getting jostled from behind by a group trying to pass through the ever-growing crowd. They knocked me closer to Sebastian, so close that I smelled his scent and felt his warmth.

“I don’t need an escort,” I mumbled, and started off through the crowd.

“Ari.”

He was somewhere behind me, blocked by several people. The sounds of energetic brass instruments grew louder and louder. The parade was drawing closer, coming down Royal Street. Colors flashed. Sequins, shiny beads, and glitter dusted over skin, sparkled in the light. Masks of every style and color bobbed in the crowd.

Laughter, voices, and music blended together.

I was hit hard from the side and lost my balance. Shit. Hands wrapped around my arm and elbow as Sebastian’s voice called from somewhere in the crowd.

“Thanks,” I breathed, turning toward the Good Samaritan who’d saved me from being trampled by a bunch of inebriated revelers.

A huge form in a black cloak stood there, regarding me through the eyeholes of a smooth gold Mardi Gras mask. People bumped into him, but he was like an island that did not budge. His head dipped in acknowledgment, and then he melded into the crowd, and I stood there wondering if I’d just come into contact with one of Michel’s mysterious guards.

The press of people closed around me again, but Sebastian made it to my side and together we weaved our way toward the sidewalk. The crowd moved back with us in a uniform wave as the first float of the parade turned the corner. Great. We were about to be sardines.

I didn’t like crowds, didn’t like being pushed and squished and trapped. It made me angry and just a little bit panicky.

I tripped on the sidewalk curb. Sebastian’s arm slipped around my waist and kept me from falling into the people in front of me. They shifted, and we became plastered against the wall of a storefront.

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?”