“I know,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
My mother’s letter and the few things she had left for me were burning too. I stood and watched the flames lick the sky. The house next door would catch fire soon. Sparks had already lit the trees between the two houses. The entire GD might go up in flames.
“Feels good,” the River Witch remarked, “the heat on my face . . . ”
I was surprised to see him out of the bayou. “What are you doing here?”
The gaze he fixed on me was bright and more than just intelligent; it was cunning and almost . . . pleased. “I’ve come to help you, child. Things are at work that you cannot overcome on your own, things that need to be . . . monitored.”
I frowned at his odd choice of words. Suspicion had lingered with me from our first meeting. “Why help at all? What do you care?”
“Because the alternative, if you should lose, is unacceptable.” He tapped his cane on the ground. “Now come, let’s see what we can do about this fire, shall we?”
As Violet went to see Sebastian and Henri, the witch moved to the middle of the street, which was as close as one could get to the flames now. There were a few fire stations and EMTs in the French Quarter, mostly to deal with the human tourists and locals. No one was going to come to our rescue out in the GD. And even if they did, there was no way they’d stop the inferno.
Bran showed up, bruised and bloodied, his sword hung over his back like he’d just stepped off some ancient battlefield. He took quick stock of the situation. “Where’s Michel? We need him back in the Quarter.”
“He took Crank to the hospital.” I nodded to the truck. “She was inside.”
A hard glint came into his eyes. “Bastard. And Simon?”
“I’m not sure. He’s either burning or gone.”
“Things are going to get worse, Selkirk. Athena has used a simple divide-and-conquer strategy. Phase one is complete; we’re divided. Conquer is next. She’ll launch her own offensive soon. United, we could have stood against her. We’ve done so in the past. Divided, we won’t stand a chance.”
The witch lifted his hands, and the roaring fire picked up. The flames began to swirl around like a tornado, lifting higher into the air as though a giant vacuum was pulling the flames from the house until finally they dissipated into the sky, leaving behind a smoking, charred skeleton.
My father appeared by my side. I glanced over at him, relieved that he was okay. His hand gripped my shoulder and squeezed, and I could see he was feeling the same as me.
“How long do you think we have before she comes?” I asked him as Sebastian, Henri, and Violet joined us.
“She’ll give the Novem time to self-destruct, but not enough time to risk them coming back together. A day or two at most.”
“Simon and the others, they’ll destroy everything. Even the jar,” Sebastian said.
“They won’t find the jar,” Bran said.
Surprised, I asked, “What do you mean?”
“It means I got it the hell out of Presby right after your little visit. That jar contains vast amounts of our combined knowledge. I’ll be damned if they destroy it looking for Athena’s kid.”
So it had been Bran who’d opened the crack in the jar as we’d knelt with the Keeper.
“How’d you manage that?” my father asked, impressed. From the tone, it sounded like moving the jar was a considerable feat.
“With a little help from Rowen. We can thank the gods that witch is on our side, because her power is unlike anything I’ve seen.”
The River Witch shuffled over to us.
Bran’s eyes narrowed and my father’s became suspicious. “Who the hell are you?” Bran demanded.
The witch regarded him with disinterest, obviously not impressed. “They call me the River Witch. I live out in the bayou. I see things, many things. I am powerful.” He tipped his head slowly toward the burned-out shell that had once been our home as evidence of his power. “I have lived in the bayou since before the first settlers arrived. This is my home, and I won’t see it destroyed.”
Bran let out a humph and looked beyond the witch to my father, the impatience in him clear. “You up for helping me keep the peace, hunter?”
“I could use the exercise. But my sword is with Ari.”
I dipped my head, telling him how much his loyalty meant to me. “You might as well go,” I said. “I’m heading to the hospital to check on Crank.”
He nodded. “If you need us . . . ”
“I’ll know where to find you.” All I had to do was look for the bloodshed. Between my father and Bran, things were going to get even messier.
After they left, the rest of us made our way to Charity Hospital. It was on the upper boundary between the French Quarter and the ruins, and close to Canal Street, which formed the western border of the Quarter.
We found Michel at the desk in the emergency room. “They’re inserting a chest tube to inflate her lung and setting a broken leg. A few other bumps and bruises to look over, but she should recover.”
Henri swore softly.
Michel gestured to the waiting room. “Your young friend is in there.”
We joined Dub in the waiting room, Michel leaving to deal with the fighting. The mood was somber as we found seats and waited. I felt a stare and found Sebastian’s gaze on me. I thought of his words earlier. Damn right I was feeling sorry. Crank was in the hospital, for God’s sake. How could I not feel responsible? Whatever. A second later he was standing in front of me.
“Can I talk to you?” He motioned for us to go out of the room.
We went down the hall, finding a quiet corner. “What I said . . . It came out wrong before.” He dragged a hand down his face with a loud sigh. “The girl. Zoe.”
“What about her?” Our gazes locked and I knew. A flutter went through my stomach. “You can’t be serious.”
“Think about it. We’re screwed. The Novem is done for. Together they had enough combined power to hold Athena off for all these years. Divided we fall, just like Bran said. Athena is coming, Ari, and this time it’s going to be different. It’s going to be the end of this city.”
Shivers skipped along my nerves. I rubbed my arms. “But waking a god, Sebastian? We could be releasing something even worse. And not just on us, on everyone here and maybe beyond. We have no idea what would happen.”
“Let’s just talk to Bran again, see what he thinks. If he agrees, then we should do it.”
“Fine. We talk to him first.”
EIGHTEEN
WE TOLD THE OTHERS WE’D be back and then hurried from the hospital. As I crossed the street, I could see the orange glow of fire in the distance. The French Quarter was burning. The fighting within the Novem must have gotten worse. Locals and tourists fled past us. I saw several kids from Presby being led by their parents. They crammed Canal Street, where EMTs, firefighters, and Bran’s contingent of police tried to keep the peace, directing everyone to the hospital and to several buildings along Canal. There at least they were out of the main fighting. There were several officers trying to keep the crowd from fleeing toward the ruins of the business district—to so do meant certain death.
In the square, flames poured out of Presby’s upper floors. The Novem was at war. Jackson Square had become a battlefield. Sebastian might be right. The god might be our only hope, because once Athena launched her attack, there would be very little resistance if this kept up.
We were on the corner near the Pontalba Apartments and the Cabildo when the ground trembled beneath our feet. The stone pavers erupted, roots shooting from the ground. They wrapped around our legs, tightening until the pain made me scream.
“Get down!”
Immediately I dropped as a ball of green light came at us. Sebastian had very little time to call upon his power and cast a thick blue shield around us. The green energy hit with staggering force. The shield broke, but the power was already dispersing. Holy shit. Sebastian was building a ball of blue energy in his hand.
The witch lurked beneath the large oak in the corner of the park. An earth witch. A smoky green haze surrounded her. She was our age, scared shitless, and I guessed she was attacking anything that came close; I might have been too if I was trapped and confused and had no clue what was happening. Most of the families probably had no idea. They were following the lead of their family heads. They were dying for nothing, friends fighting friends. And it wasn’t confined to adults. There were several fighting who were in my classes. If they knew the truth, things would be much different.
Another hit from the witch sent me to my knees, the roots still holding me tight. “Can you trap her? Get inside her head?” I yelled over the sounds of the fight, not wanting the girl to die, just to wise up and get the hell away from the square. Our eyes met and Sebastian nodded. I knew he was weakened from earlier, but he closed his eyes, drawing energy around him.
A vampire approached in a blur from behind Sebastian. I grabbed the dagger I always kept in my boot and threw it, aiming for his throat, but hitting him in the eye. The blade sank deep. It wouldn’t kill him, but it would keep him down for a while. The roots finally broke. I stumbled forward as the witch broke her hold and ran away. I went for my blade and spied Bran one door down from Zoe’s apartment. He and his daughter, Kieran, were covering a family as they hurried beneath the second-floor balconies, around the corner where others were there to escort them to safety.
“Is Zoe up there?” I asked, running up to him.
“They’re next. We’re trying to evacuate as many families as we can,” he tossed over his shoulder as we followed him up the stairs.
At the landing, Bran paused to catch his breath. Blood splatters and smears covered his face, sword arm, hand, and sword. In the small space he was intimidating as hell. Kieran was a mirror image of her father, only a lot smaller and younger than me by a couple of years. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask why she hadn’t gone to safety with the others, but I stayed quiet. Kieran was his only daughter, the only child he had left. I knew he’d keep her by his side. Bran had once boasted that Kieran was so talented with a sword she could’ve separated my head from my body when she was ten.