Darkness Becomes Her (10 page)

“Exactly. New 2 is a place where you don’t have to hide, but if you want to, that’s okay too. No one is going to judge you because you’re different. That’s what the Novem wanted all along.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Because they’re different too.” They weren’t just old families with old money, they were different.
Doué
, as Dub called them. Sebastian nodded. “And the rest of your family, the Arnauds, are like you? Able to hypnotize people?”

His chewing slowed as he thought over his answer. “They’re able to do that, yes.”

I wanted to believe him, to believe that the Novem wasn’t behind the man who’d attacked me in Covington, that they were on my side and were actually a decent bunch of people.
But I’d learned over the years that it was better to suspect the worst. That was a hell of a lot better than trusting someone, giving them the benefit of the doubt, and then having them stab you in the heart.

We sipped our coffee and finished the plate of beignets. Sebastian paid the bill. “So you think you’re ready to see Josephine?”

I stood and tossed my backpack over one shoulder. “I guess now is as good a time as any.”

S
EBASIAN FILLED ME IN AS WE WALKED ACROSS THE SQUARE.
Flanking each side of St. Louis Cathedral were two enormous historic buildings. The Presbytère, on the right, had been converted into the Novem’s swanky private school/college, which Sebastian was supposed to attend but ditched on a regular basis. And the building on the left was the Cabildo, which remained a museum as it had since pre–New 2 days, but the second and third floors had been taken over by the Novem as their official place of business. This was also where they held the Council of Nine meetings, attended only by the head of each family.

And each family had apartments and private offices in the two Pontalba apartment buildings that ran along both sides of the Square.

Apparently, Jackson Square was Novem central.

With every step across the square and toward the building, my muscles became more tense. I craned my neck to stare again at the tall spire of St. Louis Cathedral. “So how far back does your family go exactly?”

“The first Arnaud came to New Orleans in 1777. He was the third son of a noble family from the Narbonne area in France.”

A trio of musicians played near the benches in front of the cathedral. The wind picked up, and low clouds blocked the sun. The air turned damp and cold with the threat of rain. A few drops started to fall just as we ducked under one of the archways of the Cabildo building.

A hollow, hushed atmosphere greeted us on the inside. There were a few permanent exhibits, but I didn’t exactly have time to look around as Sebastian ushered me to a flight of stairs.

The second-floor landing had been retrofitted to resemble a fancy office building, complete with a central receptionist desk. Sebastian let go of my hand as the guy behind the desk glanced up, recognized him, and gave a faint nod before returning to his work.

Our footsteps echoed loudly over the polished wood floors as we made our way down the long gallery fronting the building. The stormy light from outside poured through the arched windows, illuminating the space in an eerie glow. Halfway down, a hallway intersected with the gallery.

Sebastian turned. I followed. No windows. No artificial light. Just a corridor that got darker and darker the farther in we went.

We stopped at the last door on the right. My pulse drummed steady in my ears. Josephine Arnaud had paid my mother’s co-pay. They had to have known each other. She might even know my father. I swallowed the lump in my throat, trying not to get too hopeful. But I was so close.

The waiting room we entered was just as old and sacred as the rest of the building. The furniture looked way too expensive to sit on, and the paintings on the walls were probably worth a few million. I wished there was some sort of piped-in music, something other than this ominous quiet.

A man looked up from his desk as we approached. He was handsome, in his thirties probably, and
not
what I’d picture a secretary looking like. Dark brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. A widow’s peak. Very classic features.

He pursed his lips, eyes narrowing on Sebastian. “Have you come to your senses yet, Bastian?”

Sebastian stiffened. “My senses are right where they should be, Daniel.”

“I hardly call ditching classes and living in some rotting old Garden Dis—”

“Just tell Josephine we’re here.”

Daniel’s dark eyes held Sebastian’s for a long, tense second
before they fell on me. “So you found her,” he said, sizing me up and probably wondering what the hell the old lady wanted me for anyway. “Madame will be pleased. You can go in.” He picked up the phone and mumbled quietly as we crossed the room to a set of double doors.

Sebastian turned to me, giving me an eye roll that said,
This is about to be loads of fun
before pushing open the door. I drew in a deep breath and prepared to meet the person who might have all the answers.

A raven-haired woman put down the phone and slowly stood, tugging down the bottom edge of a rose-colored blazer over a matching skirt, a crisp white blouse underneath. Her dark hair was up in a twist, and she wore pearl earrings and a cameo necklace. Very old money. Very old world. And, from the looks of her, very
not
a grandma.

“Bonjour, Grandmère.”
Sebastian leaned in to kiss both sides of her cheeks.

My eyelids fell closed for a moment, and then I shook my head, wanting to laugh. Really, how much more screwed up could this get? That woman had to be in her early twenties. There was no way in hell she was his grandmother. Any fool with half a brain could see that.

Sebastian moved back. Josephine’s gaze zeroed in on me.

He’d lied. He’d fed me a bunch of bullshit and I’d believed
him. God, how stupid could I be? All I felt was idiocy, idiocy for believing some jerk of a guy. And why? Because he was cute, because he had shown some interest in me? “Whatever,” I muttered, then spun on my heel and marched to the door, trying like mad not to feel hurt.

I didn’t know what game he was playing, but I was done.

“Ari.”

I didn’t stop. Sebastian’s hand closed around my arm. I whirled on him, fist clenched and wanting to take a swing. “Is this some kind of game to you, Sebastian? What, you had a free day and nothing to do, so why not mess around with the new girl? Have some fun? See how far you could lead me on? Get off me.” I wrenched my arm away, not meeting those false gray eyes. “Just forget it.” I made for the door.

He appeared in front of me, blocking the door.

I gasped, drawing up short, my face draining of blood. He’d moved
way
too fast.

Somewhere I heard my brain telling me to run, to hit him and make for the stairs, but I couldn’t move.

His eyes held worry and regret, and maybe even a little pleading. His jaw flexed with frustration. “I’m sorry, Ari,” he said under his breath. “I thought”—he rubbed a hand down his face—“I thought you’d be okay with it. Look at what you’ve seen so far. Remember what I told you in the café? About the
doué
, about
being different? I wasn’t lying. We
are
different.” His eyes rolled to the ceiling. Both his hands clamped onto my biceps. “I’m trying to help you. I swear to you, she is my grandmother.”

I took a step back and blinked hard, trying to shake away the mental fuzziness that was invading my head. Yeah, I’d been handling all the weird shit pretty well so far. So sue me. Now it was falling down like a freaking deluge and I couldn’t escape it, couldn’t put it all into a neat little compartment and ignore it. “What exactly are you?”

A lock of black hair fell over his eye, and he shoved it back with a deep sigh. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. His jaw went tight, and it seemed like he truly didn’t know how to answer my question.

“He is an Arnaud,” came a sultry, French-accented voice.

Sebastian’s lips stretched into a grim line, as though he wished he was anything
but
an Arnaud.

“Come, sit down. Both of you,” she said.

After a good glare at Sebastian, I turned and went to one of two empty chairs in front of Josephine’s desk. Fine. Whatever was going on … didn’t really matter. What did matter was getting answers about my mother. After that, I was out of there.

“Well,” she began, scrutinizing me from head to toe, “except for that mark on your cheek, you look very much like your mother.”

My eyes went wide. One hand gripped the back of the chair
and the other went to my stomach. Those words sent a tidal wave of shock through me. I had fuzzy memories, sure, but always questioned them. Always wondered.

Finally a question of mine had been answered, and it left me with an odd sense of happiness and hurt.

“Please sit.” Josephine sat back in her own chair and studied me with a calculating look.

Breathe.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sebastian take a seat. My pulse was going too fast, and my limbs had gone weak. Maybe sitting down was a good idea.

“When Rocquemore House called me, I didn’t believe it. But”—Josephine spread out her hands and smiled, which obviously was a rare event, because it looked like her skin was about to crack—“look at you. Here you are.”

“So you knew about Rocquemore. You knew my mother was there.”

“Your mother fled New Orleans against my advice. It took a few months, but it wasn’t difficult to find her.”

“And then you just left her there.”

“What would you have suggested, child? Her mind was slipping away. She needed constant monitoring. The hospital was the best place for her. Unfortunately, by the time we found her, you were already lost in the system, or else you would have had a home here with us.”

Sebastian let out a small snort.

“How did you know my mother?”

“Eleni came to me for help a few months before the hurricanes struck. Your mother was a very special woman, Ari. You must know this already,
oui
?”

“If by ‘special’ you mean cursed, then yeah, I know.”

Josephine shrugged like it was tomatoes or tom-ah-toes.

“And my father?”

“Your father was a secret that Eleni kept to herself.”

The bitch was lying. And she wasn’t trying to hide it either. I crossed my arms over my chest. “And who are you exactly?”

“I am Josephine Isabella Arnaud. Daughter of Jacques Arnaud, founder of this family, the first of us to step foot in New Orleans.”

I laughed, sharp and loud, an on-the-verge-of-a-mental-breakdown kind of laugh. “So you’re the daughter of a man who came here in 1777? So that’d make you what? Three hundred plus years? You sure you shouldn’t be at Rocquemore yourself ?”

A throaty chuckle rumbled in Josephine’s throat. “You have more spirit than she did. More …
attitude
.”

Frustration welled in my chest with every passing second. “Why did you help my mother?”

“She was afraid. Alone. The only one of her kind, she said. I sensed she was different, but not until later did I truly understand the magnitude of her power.”

“Which was?”

“I want to help you, Ari. There are people out there who would see you dead for what is inside you. Your mother should have stayed in New Orleans like I advised, but she panicked when the storms came. She didn’t believe I could protect her, that we all, combined, could protect this city. But we did. And now we own it. She might still be alive if she’d stayed.” She fiddled with the pen on her desk for a moment. “I have asked to see you to offer my protection while you’re in our city. Together we will delve into your past and uncover this gift you have been given. But in return, you must grant your allegiance to me, a blood oath to the Arnaud family and no other.”

“Was that what you asked of my mother? You weren’t just helping out of the goodness of your heart?”

Josephine laughed. “I do not have a heart, my dear. Just ask my grandson.” Sebastian’s response was a smirk. “Do we have an agreement, child?”

“Will you give your word to lift my curse?”

“The power of the nine families can do anything. And
oui
, I give you my word.”

I didn’t plan on being in New 2 for very long after this
thing,
this curse my mother had died from, was out of my life for good. I had no intention of delving into my past with Josephine, but she didn’t need to know that. I didn’t trust a word uttered from
her perfect lips. But I couldn’t deny the fact that Josephine’s name was on those hospital records. She
had
known my mother. There
had
been a disappearing dead guy who tried to kill me. Did I believe Josephine could erase this curse? Doubtful. But I was here now. There was no one else to make the attempt, and I didn’t have a problem with flat-out lying to get her cooperation. “Fine. You lift my curse and I’ll give you my oath.”

“Give me two days to arrange the ritual. You will remain under the watchful eye of the Arnaud family. Etienne will be your guard. And you may stay—”

Sebastian shot to his feet. “The hell she’s staying with you.”

“Your thoughts or desires hold very little significance in my decision making, Sebastian.”

“Etienne is an asshole.”

Josephine ignored the outburst, propped both arms on her desk, and eyed Sebastian thoughtfully. “What, pray tell, would you have me do?”

“Not burden her with Etienne, for one.”

I finally stood. Whatever. They could stay here all day and fight it out. “Thanks for the offer, but I can take care of myself. I’ll need to call my foster parents and let them know I’ll be staying a little longer.”

The only sound in the room was the faint rumble of thunder in the distance. “Fine,” Josephine said at last. “Go. I have work to
do. Sebastian will watch over you. Daniel will help you with your call.” She turned her attention to the files on her desk, but then paused. “I will expect you in two days’ time.”

I was trembling by the time Daniel made the call to Memphis. The Novem had working phones. And probably Internet, too.