The Wicked Within (Gods & Monsters #3)

The Wicked Within (Gods & Monsters #3) Page 18

We rode in the rhythmic rocking of the car for a few moments.

“What’s bugging you, chère?” Henri asked, his eyes sharp, brows drawn down, reminding me of the bird of prey he was.

How to answer? Everything was wrong, and a lot of things were right. Sharing wasn’t usually my thing, but I found myself saying, “I just want this all to be over and done with, you know? I want . . . ”

“What?”

“I want Sebastian to get better. I wish none of you had ever gone to Athena’s temple.”

“Yeah, well, you couldn’t have stopped us. Bastian and I would have done anything to get Violet away from Athena. We chose to go. And we got Vi and your father back. Getting shot was a small price to pay to see her back home again.”

I knew without a doubt that Sebastian felt the same.

“Sometimes you’re a real hard-ass, Henri,” I said. “And then you go and say shit that makes me like you.”

A lopsided grin appeared on his face. “Girls say that to me all the time.”

I shook my head at him, unable to keep from smiling back. But then I turned serious. “Why are you so hard on Dub all the time? I mean, I know he needs to control his gift and everything, but . . . ”

Henri’s smile died. “Dub reminds me of me at that age. I did a lot of stupid stuff. Got in a lot of trouble. I see him doing the same. I know the impulses, the recklessness, the energy. He doesn’t think before he acts, and I don’t want him to end up . . . ”

Like him. But Henri couldn’t say it. He looked at me with a depth I’d never seen before. “There is a reason I’m the only one left in my family. I don’t want Dub to hurt the people he loves because he didn’t take the time to think. . . . ”

“Henri,” I breathed, shocked and wanting to reach out to him. But what could one say to that?

He gave me a rueful smile. “I made my peace with my past. Now our Bastian, on the other hand—”

“Is struggling, I know. You didn’t see him while you were in the Quarter, did you?”

“No, not this time.”

My ears perked up at that. “But other times?”

Henri shrugged. I could tell he didn’t want to break the bond of brotherhood he had with Sebastian, and I didn’t want to force him to. He and Sebastian were friends long before I came into the picture. I wasn’t going to put Henri in the middle. “Never mind. We’re here.” I got up as the car slowed to a stop at Canal Street.

We walked down to Chartres, which would take us directly in front of the school.

“I wonder if they’re still around,” he said as we closed in on our destination.

“We’re about to find out. Can you do a few flybys of the school?”

“One is all I need.”

“I’ll wait for you on one of the benches in the square. Say five minutes?”

“I’ll do it in four. Watch and learn, rookie. Watch and learn.” Henri sauntered off, broke into a jog, then disappeared into the darkness.

Menai found me in three minutes.

Henri returned in four.

“Where’s the other one?” he asked as he strode up to us, the ends of his flannel shirt flying behind him.

“Mel doesn’t like the attention she attracts in the human realm,” Menai answered casually. “She’s . . . around.”

“What do you mean, ‘around’?” I asked.

“Mel’s got one foot in the living world and one in the Underworld. She can go ghost whenever she wants. She could be here right now, and unless you’re a seer or a powerful medium, you’d never know.”

“No shit,” Henri said, impressed.

“Why didn’t you say anything about hunting the Hands?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Look, I just delivered the message I was supposed to, down to the letter. That’s what she wants, that’s what I do.”

“Yeah, right. Like Athena wanted you to help us escape her temple.” It was getting hard to figure out what side Menai was on, and I was starting to think she was on whatever side benefited her own personal agenda, whatever that was.

“What Auntie doesn’t know—and will never know,” she warned, “won’t hurt her. In this case, she knows what’s up, so you need to get us the Hands, Ari.”

I lifted my brow. Was she serious? “Isn’t that what you’ve been trying to do?” If anyone should have success in hunting the Hands, it was the daughter of Artemis, goddess of the hunt. “But you don’t have them. Why is that?”

“Because we can’t get inside that stupid jar, that’s why. Look, Anesidora’s Jar prevents anyone of the Greek pantheon from entering it. It was one of Dora’s spites against us. She and what’s left of the Olympians are not on good terms.”

“So you’re waiting for someone to bring them out,” I concluded.

Menai gave an innocent shrug. “You’d make all our lives a lot easier if you just found them and gave them back. What?” she said at my frown. “You’re both getting what you want. Athena gets her child. You get to be free of your curse. I don’t see the problem.”

“Well, when you put it like that, neither do I,” Henri said.

I glared at him. “Shut up, Henri.”

“Why? She’s right. If Athena is willing to make a blood-bound vow to turn you into a normal person, isn’t that what you want? Or were you hoping to turn into a snake-headed monster at twenty-one?”

I got up from the bench. “No, that’s not what I want. But neither of you are considering the repercussions of resurrecting that kid. What if it’s not meant to be in the world? You can’t just hand a child over to Athena without knowing who the father is. That kid was fated to kill Zeus, the king of the gods. What else will it be able to do?” Irritated, I shook my head. “I’m going for a walk.”

Of course I wanted to be normal, to live a curse-free life. Right now my future was set, thanks to my curse. But if I could free myself, I could live past twenty-one as me —not some monster. Not hunted for being a threat to the gods. I wanted a future. To be with my family and friends. But no matter what anyone said, I knew it would never be that simple. I didn’t even have the know-how to turn the child back to a living, breathing being. . . . And what if I failed? Then what? Athena goes nuts and kills me. End of story.

And even if I could, I just wasn’t sure that turning over the Hands to Athena was the right thing to do. She had hurt so many people. She was unstable, manipulative, and psycho. Could I leave a child in her care and sleep at night?

But what if she loved that child? What if, despite everything she’d done, she’d be a good mother? Who was I to deny that child the wonder of growing up loved? I knew what it was like not to have that. And it was Athena who had taken my mother away from me.

I continued down the path, through the park gate, and onto St. Ann, heading past Presby. It was quiet this time of night, after midnight. A few late-night revelers wandered down from Bourbon Street, along with the occasional local and a few young pickpockets trolling the streets.

I stopped on the corner and looked up at the building that served as the Novem’s elite school. The whine of a gate’s hinges drew my attention to an alley that ran behind Presby and one of its satellite buildings. A figure slipped out the side gate. Shoulders hunched, tall, hands tucked into the front pockets of his pants. Yeah. That was Sebastian, all right.

I followed, wondering what he was up to, since all the stores and restaurants were closed or closing, and Bourbon Street wasn’t exactly his kind of scene. But then the big gray mansion with the black iron balconies and tall black shutters came into view. Arnaud House.

I stopped across the street and watched from the shadows as Sebastian walked to the gate and let himself inside.

“You want me to spy?” The voice came out of nowhere, scaring me to death as a hazy form appeared. Melinoe.

“Let me guess,” I gasped, holding my chest. “Your superpower is giving people heart attacks.”

She shrugged. “It happens.” Her eerie gaze returned to the house. “Your boyfriend was scoping the library.”

“How do you know?”

“Watched him. Not much he can do. Guards everywhere . . . ”

“Too bad you guys can’t get into the jar. Athena would’ve had the Hands long ago.”

“Not really. It took her a long time to find out where the jar was being kept, and even then she wasn’t sure the Hands were inside.”

“Dora sure did a number on Athena,” I commented, remembering my father’s words. “Making the prophecy known to Zeus, stealing the Hands, keeping them hidden all these years . . . ”

“Hard to believe Dora and Athena were once like sisters,” Mel said, in a quiet tone. “They had a near-unbreakable bond. Dora was Athena’s first creation in the time of mankind’s infancy. She was made with the help of Zeus and given life from the goddess’s own blood. Dora was almost as powerful as her maker.”

“Why would Dora share a prophecy she knew would get Athena’s child killed?”

Mel shrugged. “Some say jealousy. Some say they fought over a male. Some say other things.”

“You speak of her in the past tense. Is she dead?”

“No one has seen her or heard from her in a thousand years. To our pantheon, she died the moment she betrayed Athena.” She nodded toward the house. “So you want to know what he’s doing in there?”

Hell, yes, I do. It was on the tip of my tongue to say so, even though I already had a good idea of why he was there and what he was doing. But the words didn’t come. I couldn’t cross the line. No matter what happened between us, his life was his own, his privacy was his own—he’d made that very clear when he decided to shut me out.

“No.”

“Suit yourself. You need to get us the Hands,” she said, echoing Menai’s same words.