A Beautiful Evil by Kelly Keaton

help you at first; the similarities I felt between us . . . I just balked, I guess. Didn’t want to get involved.” He smiled. “That didn’t last very long, did it?”
    “No,” I replied, returning the smile.
    “And then when I woke up in Gabonna’s, the way you were looking at me . . .” His Adam’s apple slid up and down. He looked away then and a faint blush appeared on his pale skin. Then he looked back. “I got caught up, wasn’t really thinking, just . . . feeling.” He paused, giving me an intense look. “But I don’t regret it. Do you?”
    I shook my head. “But . . . in the cemetery. You ran when you saw the vision of me as a gorgon.” I wanted to rub the sour, burning feeling creeping into my chest. “I know you came back and fought, but”—I drew in a deep breath and released it—“I’m not sure how you feel now, or what, if anything, there is between you and me.”
    I couldn’t look at him anymore, so I focused on his hand resting on his knee and the silver piece inlaid in the leather band around his wrist.
    “Seeing you like that scared the shit out of me, Ari, more because Athena had you and I knew I couldn’t fight her alone. I had to get Dub and Crank away and go for my father, so I ran. But I won’t lie to you. Seeing your curse, the vision of it, it did scare me.”
    I bit the inside of my cheek. It hurt to hear that. But it was honest, and how could I blame him when I felt the same? “It scared me, too.” My eyes stung. “I hate it.” I stared out over the square below. “I don’t want to become that . . . thing.”
    He reached over and slid his hand into mine. It was warm and slightly roughened on the palms.
    We stayed that way for a long time, just watching the night pass by on our perch above the Quarter. And even though there were no words about an “us,” there didn’t need to be. His hand in mine was answer enough.
    “My father is wrong about waiting,” Sebastian said.
    I didn’t need to ask him what he meant. More than anything, I knew that if we waited for Athena to show herself, to reveal her plan, Violet and my father might never recover from their time spent with the goddess.
    “We need to strike first,” I said. “Find a way into her realm and take back what is ours.”
    His hand tightened on mine. “She won’t be expecting that.”
    And surprise might be the only thing going for us.

 
Eight
    T HE SUN WAS UP FULLY BY THE TIME I STEPPED OFF THE streetcar and headed down Royal Street for another day at Presby. Morning light bathed the French Quarter, turning it into a sparkling jewel.
    Motor vehicles were prohibited in the Quarter, which took the place back a hundred years and increased the number of mules and carriages. The tourists loved it. I did too—no constant drone of engines, no horns or brakes, no smell of exhaust to clog the air. Only trash and delivery trucks were allowed through, and those just came at off-peak hours.
    I could’ve taken one of the many carriages that waited near Canal Street to carry people into the Quarter, but I chose to walk the several blocks to Jackson Square. I gazed up at the tall arched second-story windows as I passed the old Cabildo building next to St. Louis Cathedral. As crazy as it sounded, some of the very first settlers of New Orleans back in the 1700s and 1800s were currently sitting in those offices and running the city.
    Sebastian was waiting for me outside of Presby The fact that students passed by him in uniform and he was standing there in torn jeans and a faded old concert T-shirt made me smile. The rebel in me could totally relate.
    I stopped in front of him. “They’re not going to let you stay in school dressed like that. I got a huge lecture for wearing a black shirt the other day.”
    He glanced at my outfit, which didn’t really diverge from my normal fashion, and arched an eyebrow. Black cargo pants, white tank, gray zip-up hoodie, with ablade strapped to my thigh and a dagger in my