The Wicked Within

up wanting some grammy time, she’ll know why I’m there.”

I laughed softly. “True. What about your father or one of the Lamarliere witches? Can they scry for it?”

“I’ll ask my father. But I think the fewer people who know about the Hands the better.”

I rubbed both hands down my face and sighed. I didn’t want to deal with the Hands, but the alternative was worse. Josephine would use them to cause trouble, or she’d destroy them. If I didn’t find them soon, Athena would send her own force into New 2 to find them, which would end up costing a lot of lives. I sat down on the brick pavers and crossed my legs, letting my shoulders slump.

“So we all start looking,” Crank piped up. “I go to Arnaud House every week to deliver packages. I can snoop around, keep my eyes and ears open. . . . ”

“And you’ve got an eye in the sky,” Henri said, referring to himself.

“I got connections too,” Dub spoke next. “When Spits gets a pricey selection of stolen goods, he takes them to the Cabildo or to some of the Novem houses to let the rich ladies pick from the good stuff. I can probably tag along.” Spits was Dub’s dealer. After Dub robbed graves, he sold his finds to Spits, who operated an antique shop in the French Quarter. Spits cleaned up the valuables and sold them to the Novem or unsuspecting tourists.

“I’ll go back to the library and talk to the Keeper again,” I said. “Last time I was there, he was inventorying the entire library in order to locate the Hands. Maybe he’s found them by now or can tell us if they’ve gone.”

And while I was there, I was going to start researching. I wanted to know who had fathered Athena’s child—and what part he was going to play once I found said child and possibly turned the baby over to its mother. That also meant finding out more about the prophecy that had started this whole mess in the first place, the one that said Athena’s child was fated to kill Zeus. I’d need to talk to the River Witch again too. He’d mentioned “both” were coming. And I had to wonder if the other person he’d referred to was the father.

I looked at Violet, who had fallen asleep on the statue, her eyes closed behind her mask. The River Witch would definitely be answering some questions about Violet finding herself in “harm’s way.”

Henri, Dub, and Crank eventually wandered into the house, leaving Sebastian and me alone with the dying fire and the sounds of Violet’s soft snores. He sat down beside me, and we watched until nothing remained of the minions but a pile of bone fragments and ashes.

Good compost for the yard.

The thought came out of nowhere. Once upon a time, I’d never believe I could hang around, watching a fire like this burn. It was macabre and bizarre, but that was my life now. Those bones and ashes were a stark reminder of how much my life had changed. It wasn’t long ago that I was working for my foster parents and training to become a full-time bail bondsman like them. It wasn’t long ago that I was as oblivious as the rest of the world to the truth about magical beings, about gods and monsters.

Sebastian leaned forward and wrapped his arms around his knees, linking his fingers together. A muscle in his jaw ticked. His Adam’s apple slid up and down as he swallowed and then faced me, his misty gray eyes pulling me in like usual. A zing of awareness shot straight to my stomach. From the moment I’d met him, Sebastian reminded me of an old soul, a musician with an introspective, dark side. He was all that and more.

I’d thought him compelling before his change, before the blood, but now there was something more. His very presence could become mesmerizing if I let it. If he let it. It was part of his nature now. It made it easier for him to lure, to secure a person willing to sacrifice a little blood to quench his thirst. Even his appearance had subtly changed. His skin was paler, his lips were a bit darker. . . . His features were somehow more vivid now.

Tension filled the space between us, and I had the feeling he wanted to say something. Something that bothered him. My pulse kicked up a notch, along with the doubts. We were stuck at the very beginning of a relationship, unable to move forward thanks to everything that had happened with Athena. Since the battle in the ruins, Sebastian spent more and more time away from the house, and the time we did spend together, he seemed preoccupied and edgy.

Being the great person at relationships that I was, I had no clue how to handle things or what to say, if anything.

“You still having dinner with your father tomorrow?” he asked.

Totally not what was bothering him.

He bumped me with his shoulder, making me look up at him. “Nervous?”

“What?”

“Are you nervous? Seeing your father?”

Warmth stole into my cheeks. “Yeah. I guess so. It hasn’t really been just the two of us since we talked in the garden at your dad’s place.” I drew in a steadying breath. “I keep wondering what we’re going to talk about. And then I worry we’ll just sit there in silence, which would be awkward as hell.” All I really wanted was to get to know my father, to ask him a gazillion questions. Just like I wanted to do with Sebastian right now. How was he getting blood? Did he have a supplier, a partner who let him feed? Was it a she? Why was he spending more and more time away from us?

I rubbed my palms against my jeans. “How are things with your dad?”

“Fine.”

The memory of sitting with Sebastian in the apartment behind Josephine’s house, during her Mardi Gras party, filled my mind. He’d sat beside me and told me that blood was like a drug, an addiction; once you took it, it was never enough.

He’d never wanted it, never wanted to become a true vampire. Before, he’d had a choice. As long as he never ingested blood, his body would stay the way he was. But once he took it, he’d change. . . . He’d have to live on blood forever. Athena had known that; she’d tempted him to the point of killing him. And for what? To get to me.

“Sebastian?” I asked, unable to stop myself. “Are you okay?”

His silence raked through my nerves. Finally he glanced over and shrugged, pain clearly eating away at him. Why couldn’t he say it? Why couldn’t he let me in, let me help? “It’s only been a couple of weeks since we got back from Athena’s temple,” I said. He groaned, not wanting to hear it. “You’re allowed to be pissed off, Sebastian. You’re allowed to not be okay, to give yourself time to—”

“Time to what, Ari? What’s done is done. I can’t go back, can’t fix it.”

He stood, paced, and then stopped, trying to compose himself. But that was my point. He didn’t need to put on an act, to be composed and okay all the time. I wanted him to feel like he could be himself around me, to know that he didn’t always have to be the strong, calm voice of reason.

“Sebastian . . . ”

He drew in a deep breath. A tempest of emotion swirled in his eyes. “Just leave it alone for a while, okay?”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. We’d been through so much horror together, so much triumph, too. And now this thing . . . he was doing alone. He had every right, of course. I could understand that better than anyone. And yet, his reaction still stung. I’d tried to push him and the kids away when they found out what I was, and none of them had let me. They’d convinced me I wasn’t alone.

I didn’t know whether to leave him alone or to push.

“I don’t get it,” I said honestly. “You and I . . . we’re . . . ” I got to my feet and brushed the leaves from my rear. “A team. Together, I thought. I want to be there for you. I’ve never said that to a guy in my entire life.” I stepped up to him, my throat growing thick with emotion. “I’m not hiding who I am from you.”

His hands found my hips and pulled me close. “I don’t want to hide either.”

“Then don’t.”

He didn’t say anything else. He might not want to hide, but he was doing it anyway. His head bent down, his cheek grazing mine. My breath went shallow. He smelled good, and it did funny things to my insides. He breathed me in too, deeply, and then his exhale bathed my neck in shivery warmth.

Seconds passed, each one growing more intense than the one before.

His kissed my forehead, my temple, my cheek, then paused, his mouth hovering a fraction above mine. I gripped his waist tighter. Our breaths mingled. I wanted him, this heat, this closeness, this connection. He didn’t move, so I tilted my head and pressed my lips against his, the contact so warm and soft.

He moaned against my mouth, an impatient, desperate sound, before turning his head and delving inside.