The Wicked Within
Page 13“Haven’t seen him today,” I answered. “Haven’t seen any of you today. What’s going on?”
Gabriel acted like I hadn’t spoken. “You should really keep up with your boyfriend. We Bloodborns tend to stray to whatever looks . . . appetizing. Especially if that thing is a hot vampire with a body that won’t quit. Just saying.”
Anne Hawthorne let out a satisfied snort. She’d once had a thing for Sebastian—maybe she still did, who knew—and I wanted to sink a fist into that smug face of hers. Roger made eyes at me and laughed. Idiot.
“Is that the best you got?” I rolled my eyes, keeping a lid on my temper for once. “Get a life, Gabriel.”
“I did. I got one about twenty minutes ago, and it was pretty damn tasty.”
Gabriel leaned close to me. I tensed, steeling myself against his powers of persuasion. “If I were you, Clueless, I’d ask myself where your freak of a boyfriend was last night and all day today.” His gaze traveled to my throat. “I don’t know about you, but I bet his night was filled with sex and blood. Two cravings Bastian can no longer deny. He is what he is.”
I swallowed, wanting to grab his neck and force my power all the way to his rotten heart. Gabriel got up and sauntered off, his friends laughing at my expense.
Anger pushed hard at me to go after him, to shove him to the ground and demand to know what had happened at last night’s meeting. But I forced myself to stay still as he and his friends walked away. He was such an asshole. But a successful one in that he’d done what he set out to do—get under my skin.
NINE
I WAS TOO WORKED UP to go into the church after Gabriel’s visit. It was hard to stop the questions echoing in my head. Sebastian could do whatever he wanted. I wasn’t his keeper. And yet . . . What did Gabriel know that I did not? Clueless. Yeah, didn’t like that word at all.
My anger wouldn’t let me sit still, so I got up and headed home.
Another Mardi Gras parade was about to start, and Canal Street was filling with spectators. Before the Novem, crowds had swelled to crazy proportions during Mardi Gras. These days, with only the Quarter restored and able to host tourists, the crowds were still large, but not nearly as insane as in decades past. The Novem kept a tight rein on who came and went in their city. Certain areas were off-limits, and travel was constantly monitored. Tourism was extremely lucrative, but it also came with its share of issues, since New 2’s supernatural inhabitants weren’t exactly keen on being known to the rest of the world.
The streetcar to the GD was nearly empty. I took a seat in the middle, slid next to the window, and watched the bright city lights fade into the semi-darkened streets of the Garden District.
I exited at my stop and then made my way down the dark street to the house. Before the house came into sight, I heard the furious beat of drums echoing through the neighborhood. Sebastian was home and he was playing hard and fast—this couldn’t be good. That makes two of us in a bad mood, then. Sebastian worked out his emotions through playing, and tonight it sounded intense and angry.
In my room, I dumped my pack onto my bed, then stood there drawing in a deep breath and letting it out as the vibrations from the drums snaked through the flooring and into my feet.
Instead of hunting him down about the meeting and Gabriel’s vague accusations, I sat and pulled off my shoes, lay back, tucked my hands behind my head, and listened to Sebastian’s thunder.
He played for the next hour, the tempo eventually slowing until it stopped completely. I drifted somewhere between wakefulness and sleep. A door shut downstairs. Footsteps and muted voices came from below.
I sat up and undid the twist in my hair, raking my fingers down my scalp and through the strands. Basically putting off the inevitable. Now was as good a time as any to talk to Sebastian. But part of me was afraid of what I might hear.
I went down the hall. His door was shut. It was quiet. I stood there, torn between knocking and going back to my room. Instead I stepped to Violet’s room, where hundreds of reflections spilled from her open door, painting the hallway with bright dots. I gave the door frame a light rap, sticking my head inside.
Violet’s room was a surreal, magical place, filled with masks, beads, jewelry, and gowns. Piles of them lay on the floor, a few were on her bed, and some hung over her dresser and footboard. Masks hung on the walls and were stacked on top of the dresser and were looped over the posts on her bed. The light from the lamp bounced off thousands of rhinestones, crystals, and sequins.
In the center of a pile of gowns, a red mask pushed onto the top of her head, Violet sat, looking so tiny in the heaps of material. “Dub brought me a new dress.” She lifted up a gauzy blue prom gown.
“It’s pretty.”
Her slim fingers played over the bodice. Pascal waddled out from under the dresses and padded to the small, plastic kiddie pool Violet had put in the corner of her room.
I sat on the floor, resting my back against her dresser, and drew in my legs. “The witch the other day . . . do you think he can lift my curse?”
Violet’s expression turned pensive. Then she shrugged. “He thinks he can,” she answered, as though that was all that mattered. If the River Witch thought he could, then he could, apparently.
I played with the hem of the blue gown. “Why did he say those things to you? About sacrifice and putting yourself in harm’s way?”
She kept her gaze on the dress, fiddling with one of the rhinestones at the neckline. “He says that stuff all the time.”
She lifted her chin, her dark gaze looking so huge and fragile. “That I’m a treasure,” she whispered. “The crowning jewel. A great, shining star. A diamond, black as night and tougher than the gods.”
Shivers ran through me. Her answer was uttered with such . . . hope it made my heart hurt. I wondered how many times she’d heard those words, wondered if they’d sparked her obsession with building her own treasure, her own shining things. She wanted desperately to believe that she was valued and important. To me, she was.
“He’s old,” I commented after a moment, not wanting her to feel like this was an interrogation, but at the same time, I couldn’t dismiss the River Witch’s involvement in her life and his connection to Athena.
She nodded. “And he loves shiny things too. His treasure room is better than mine.” She flipped the gown over. “Sometimes the zippers are stuck in the back or ripped. Then I have to fix them. This one is good, though.”
The River Witch didn’t strike me as one to like “the sparklies.” But a greedy son of a bitch? Sure. In that way, he might be one of the greatest treasure hoarders alive. Who knew? “Where does he come from?”
“From the earth. Far away. I don’t know. Where did you come from?”
“Memphis,” I answered with a smile.
She thought about that and nodded.
“Violet?”
“Yes, Ari?”
“Do you know what you are?”
Her hands stilled and fell into the folds of the gown. Her throat worked as she swallowed. My breath held. Her eyes seemed to grow rounder as she stared at me. Her lips thinned. She shook her head, her bob swinging. “I don’t know.”
I reached over the gown and took her tiny hand. At my touch she crawled over the material and into my lap, hugging me tightly. “I don’t know,” she whispered against my neck. The fear in her voice caused tears to prick my eyes. She didn’t know and it frightened her.
“You are a star,” I said, rocking her. “No matter what, you are the best of all the treasures in all the world.”
Sometimes love took time to grow. Sometimes it came quicker, pinging you right between the eyes. The connection I felt with Violet was like that. She was right, too. In a lot of ways, we were the same. When I was her age, I hadn’t known what I was either. I only knew that I was different, that a darkness lurked inside me.
“I love you, Violet.”
Her voice was muffled. “I love you, too, Ari.”
Black as night, Violet had said. I’d often felt that way, but now it wasn’t a negative thing anymore. My darkness was a fierce thing, a strong thing, a powerful force that could kick ass and stand up to bullies like Athena.
As I held her, I stared up at the ceiling. Today had been one emotional ride after another. When it rains, it pours. First my father and now Violet. And I still had a whole lot of unanswered questions.
I held Violet as long as she wanted, but it wasn’t too long before she pulled away and crawled back under her pile of gowns. “See you in the morning,” she said from under layers of fabric and netting. Pascal crawled from the pool, leaving a wet path behind him as he nosed his way beneath the gowns.
“See you in the morning.” My legs were stiff as I rose and shuffled out, closing Violet’s door behind me. Once in the hall, I didn’t know if I had the emotional fortitude left to confront Sebastian.
But I didn’t have to decide, because his door opened.
He stilled when he saw me standing there, my hand on Violet’s doorknob. His hair was wet from the shower, face flushed, eyes bright. The hallway seemed to shrink with his presence. My breath grew shallow as all sorts of chaotic signals fired through my body. The instant reaction pissed me off. I gritted my teeth.
“Feel better?” I asked, the first thing that popped into my head.
“What?”
“Your drumming . . . Never mind.” I bit the inside of my cheek, trying unsuccessfully to keep Gabriel’s words from getting the best of me. “Were you with someone last night?” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">