All That Lives Must Die

“Maybe,” she said.

The effort of that one word seemed to quench her anger. “Once I might have been Julie, but you don’t know what I’ve done since then-or plan to do,” she said, her words intensifying. “Or what I really am now.”

Eliot met her hand with his, and took it. Her flesh was warm and soft and yielding.

Her face was a mix of Infernal and mortal, Jezebel and the Julie Marks he knew.

He wanted to tell her how much he had missed her. How wonderful that she was here now with him.

The thing in his center, pulling him closer to her, however, cooled and curled inward-repulsed.

“You lied to me.” He dropped her hand. “I mean, you are Infernal. There’s no way you could have lied about that in front of Miss Westin and got away with it. So that means in Del Sombra you weren’t really Julie Marks?”

Her blue eye dissolved into translucent green once more. The tear upon her human flesh evaporated.

“There is no Julie Marks,” she told him, her voice hoarse.

“You pretended to be the manager at Ringo’s,” he said, “and said we’d run away together to Hollywood.” Eliot’s tone hardened. “Was everything a lie, then? Did you ever even like me?”

Jezebel’s open hand closed, and trembled, as if barely restraining it from violence. Her gaze dropped to the floor.

“Tell me the truth,” Eliot demanded.

The shadows in the corridor deepened and angled-became bands of absolute dark slashed by golden sunlight. Eliot stood half in and half out of the shade. Jezebel, however, was now fully immersed in the darkness.

“You want the truth?” she whispered sweetly, but there was cruelty in her voice as well.

Eliot had a feeling this was much more than a simple question. It was something Infernal. A ritual he didn’t understand, like signing a contract in blood. It was dangerous.

He couldn’t stop himself, though. He had to know.

“I do,” he said.

She glared at him for a heartbeat. Her hands dropped to her side. The air chilled. “How can you be so smart and so stupid at the same time?”

Eliot had often wondered this very thing, but wasn’t about to admit it.

“I was Julie Marks long ago,” she told him. “I lived in Atlanta, ran away, made many foolish choices, and died of a heroin overdose. I wasted my life.”

To hear her speak of her death so casually horrified Eliot.

A boy and girl from their Mythology 101 class passed by, shot curious glances their way, and hurried along.

“I died,” she continued, “and I went to Hell, the Poppy Lands of Queen Sealiah. I won’t bore you with the torment heaped upon my unworthy mortal soul there, but just know that I was picked by my Queen and given a chance to live again.”

The chill from the shadows made Eliot shiver.

This was the truth, though-he sensed that much-and it tasted addictively sweet to him.

More students passed them, and gave Jezebel a wide berth, wanting to avoid those preternaturally cold shadows.

“That is when I came to you, Eliot, darling.” She inched closer, the shadows dragged along with her, and her voice rose over the murmurs in the corridor. “I was sent to seduce you, to trick you to come back to the lightless realms. I was bait, which you so eagerly tasted.”

Eliot took a step back.

“But you left. . without me.”

She paused; confusion crossed her features, then it cleared. “Yes, another in a long string of mistakes I’ve made. Instead of seducing, I was seduced by your music. . into believing there was something more, something better.”

“It’s not too late,” Eliot told her. “There’s still hope. There’s always hope.”

“Like there was hope when I ran away to protect you? When they caught me and dragged me back to Hell? Like there was hope when they did so many unpleasant, unspeakable things to me to repay my hope-filled kindness?”

Jezebel laughed. It was the sound of breaking glass and ancient glacier ice crackling. It was a thousand prancing, dancing booted feet that crushed dreams.

“There is no hope in Hell, Eliot Post. And there is no longer hope in my heart. I am a creature of the Lower Realms, reborn into the Clan Sealiah. The venomous blood of the Queen of Poppies forever flows through my veins. Dare not tempt me with your vile hope ever again, if you desire to draw another breath.”

Every student in the hall had stopped to listen to this.

Eliot retreated another step and backed into a column.

Jezebel leaned closer. “You are a complete, utter moron. A fool of such sterling caliber, you could be the Prince of Incompetence. I wish I’d never met you.”

Eliot felt as if he’d been struck-not because of her stinging words, but because of her declaration. Her words had been like Cee’s were that one time: backward sounding, turned inside out, made of smoke, and reflected in the mirrors in his thoughts.

A lie.

“That’s not right,” he said. “I mean, probably not that other stuff you just said, but that last bit. .”

“What are you babbling about?”

Jezebel appeared outwardly confident; however, the shadows about her had lost some of their chilled solidity.

“You said you wished you never met me,” Eliot whispered, ignoring the gathering students. “That was a lie.”

Jezebel flushed and locked gazes with him.

The crowd about them fell silent, and stepped back.

“You dare accuse me of. . of. . lying?” she breathed.

Her skin reddened, both hands arched into claws, the air about her shimmered like a mirage.

Eliot held his ground, though.

He was tired of being lied to. Everyone had lied to him his entire life. And now he had this gift to hear pathetic, lousy mistruths. He wasn’t about to let it pass.

“It was obvious,” he said louder, crossing his arms over his chest.

Jezebel shook with rage.

The people around them backed away, some tripping over one another.

Jezebel screamed, drew back her fist, and punched the marble column over Eliot’s head. A spiderweb of cracks shattered its polished surface and blasted chunks out the other side.

Eliot flinched.

She turned and, without another word, stomped off.

The students around him spoke to one another. Eliot ignored them all, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

Should it even matter? Eliot should just stay far away from Jezebel-Julie Marks-or whatever she was. He couldn’t believe he’d really cared for her. She was trouble. Sent first to trick him to Hell. And now what was she doing at Paxington?

Eliot hated the fact that he’d been so easily manipulated. Whatever was going on. . he swore he’d get to the bottom of it.

21. UNEXPECTED RENDEZVOUS

The gaslights brightened, and class was over. Fiona gathered her things and left.

She blinked once in the strong sunlight, but welcomed the warmth after sitting in that chilled room for the last two hours. Miss Westin kept the place like a tomb.

Fiona walked away quickly. The Headmistress gave her the creeps-more even than Uncle Kino. Something