Beautiful Redemption (27 page)

He shrugged. “Might as well start there. Knowing Abraham, it won’t be as easy to find him as we think.”

We started up the stairs and into the bright sunlight that would take us to the Dark Side o’ the Moon.

The street—a row of shabby bars, sandwiched between more shabby bars—was deserted, which made sense, considering it was still so early in the day. It looked like all the other streets
we’d seen since the Doorwell brought us up into the infamous French Quarter of New Orleans. The ornately wrought iron railings swept across every balcony and along every building, even curving around the street corners. In the stark morning light, the faded colors of the painted plaster were sun-bleached and peeling. The road was lined with trash, trash piled upon more trash—the only remaining evidence of the night before.

“I’d hate to see how it looks around here the morning after Mardi Gras,” I said, looking for a way to pick through the mountain of garbage standing between me and the sidewalk. “Remind me never to go to a bar.”

“I don’t know. We had some good times back at Exile. You and me and Rid, causing trouble on the dance floor.” John smiled and I blushed, remembering.

arms around me

dancing, hurried

Ethan’s face

pale and worried

I shook my head, letting the words fall away. “An underground hole for derelict Supernaturals isn’t what I was talking about.”

“Ah, come on. We weren’t exactly derelicts. Well, you weren’t. Rid and me, we probably qualified.” He pushed me toward the doorway playfully.

I shoved him back, a little less playfully. “Stop it. That was
a million years ago. Maybe two million. I don’t want to think about it.”

“Come on, Lena. I’m happy. You’re—”

I shot him a look, and he cut himself off. “You will be happy again, I promise. That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”

I looked at him, standing there next to me in the middle of a run-down side street in the French Quarter far too early in the morning, helping me look for the not-quite-a-man John hated more than anyone in the universe. He had more of a reason to hate Abraham Ravenwood than I did. And he wasn’t saying a word about what I was making him do.

Who would’ve thought John would end up being one of the best guys I’d ever met? And who would’ve thought John would end up volunteering to risk his life to bring back the love of mine?

I smiled at him, though I felt like crying. “John?”

“Yeah?” He wasn’t paying attention. He was looking up at the bar signs, probably wondering how he was going to get up the nerve to go inside any of them. They all looked like serial killer hangouts.

“I’m sorry.”

“Huh?” Now he was listening. Confused, but listening.

“About this. That it has to involve you. And if you don’t want it to—I mean, if we don’t find the Book—”

“We’ll find it.”

“I’m just saying, I won’t blame you if you don’t want to go through with it. Abraham and everything.” I couldn’t bear to do it to him. Not him and not Liv—no matter how much had
gone down between us. No matter how much she had believed she loved Ethan.

Before.

“We’ll find the Book. Come on. Quit talking crazy.” John kicked a clearing in the trash heap, and we made our way past the empty beer bottles, past the soggy napkins, and up to the sidewalk.

By the time we made it halfway down the block, we were looking through the open doorways to see if anyone was inside. To my surprise, there were people hiding in the woodwork—literally. Slumping inside the darkened doorways. Sweeping the trash from deserted, shadowy alleys. Even silhouetted on a few of the empty balconies.

The French Quarter wasn’t that different from the Caster world, I realized. Or from Gatlin County. There was a world within a world, all hidden in plain sight.

You just had to know where to look.

“There.” I pointed.

T
HE
D
ARK
S
IDE O’ THE
M
OON

A carved wooden sign bearing the words swung back and forth, dangling by two ancient chains. It squeaked as it moved in the wind.

Even though there was no wind.

I squinted in the bright morning light, trying to see into the shadows of the open doorway.

This Dark Side was no different from the other nearly deserted bars in the neighborhood. Even from the street, I could hear voices echoing through the heavy door.

“People are in there this early?” John made a face.

“Maybe it’s not early. Maybe it’s late if you’re them.” I locked eyes with a scowling man who was leaning against the doorframe and trying to light a cigarette. He muttered to himself and looked away.

“Yeah. Way too late.”

John shook his head. “You sure this is the right place?”

For the fifth time, I handed him the book of matches. He held up the cover, comparing it to the logo on the sign. They were identical. Even the crescent moon carved into the wooden sign was an exact duplicate of the one printed on the matchbook in John’s hand.

“And I was so hoping the answer would be no.” He handed the matchbook back to me.

“You wish,” I said, kicking a stray piece of wet napkin off my black Chucks.

He winked at me. “Ladies first.”

CHAPTER 22

Bird in a Gilded Cage

I
t took a while for my eyes to adjust to the dim light, and even longer for the rest of me to adjust to the stench. It smelled like must and rust and old beer—old everything. Through the shadows, I could see rows of small round tables and a high brass bar, almost as tall as I was. Bottles were stacked on shelves all the way to a high ceiling—so high the long brass chandeliers seemed to dangle down from nowhere.

Dust covered every surface and every bottle. It even swirled in the air, in the few places where beams of light poked through shuttered windows.

John elbowed me. “Isn’t there some kind of Cast that can keep our noses from working? Like a
Stinkus Lessus
Cast?”

“No, but I can think of a few
Shutus Upus
Casts that might be applicable right about now.”

“Temper, Caster Girl. You’re supposed to be Light. You know, one of the good guys.”

“I broke the mold, remember? On my Seventeenth Moon, when I was Claimed Light and Dark?” I shot him a serious look. “Don’t forget. I’ve got my Dark side.”

“I’m scared.” He grinned.

“You should be. Very.”

I pointed to a mirrored sign on the paneling, right behind him. A silhouette of a woman was painted next to a row of words. “ ‘Lips that touch liquor shall not touch ours.’ ” I shook my head. “Clearly not the slogan of the Jackson cheer squad.”

“What?” John looked up.

“I bet this place used to be a speakeasy. A hidden bar during Prohibition. New Orleans was probably full of them.” I looked around the room. “That means there has to be another room, right? A room behind this room.”

John nodded. “Of course. Abraham would never hang out where anyone could walk into his hideout, no matter where it is. It was one thing all our homes had in common.” He looked around. “But I don’t remember a place like this.”

“Maybe it was before your time, and he came back here because it was somewhere no one currently alive could find him.”

“Maybe. Still, something feels off about this place.”

Then I heard a familiar voice.

No. A familiar laugh, sweet and sinister. There was nothing else like it in the world.

Ridley? Is that you?

I Kelted, but she didn’t answer. Maybe she didn’t hear, or it had been too long since we had connected in any kind of meaningful way. I didn’t know, but I had to try.

I ran up the wooden staircase at the back of the bar. John was just steps behind me. As soon as I got to the room at the top, I started banging on the wall where I thought her voice had come from, high above stacks of crates and cases of bottles. The storage-room wall was hollow, and there was clearly something behind it.

Ridley!

I needed a better look. I pushed a tall stack of crates out of the way. I closed my eyes and let myself rise high into the air, until I floated parallel with the window. I opened my eyes, hovering for a second. What I saw was so surprising it knocked me right to the floor.

I could have sworn I saw my cousin, and a whole lot of makeup, and what looked like a flash of gold. Rid wasn’t in danger. She was probably lying around in there, painting her nails. Sucking on a lollipop, having the time of her life.

Either that, or I was hallucinating.

I’m going to kill her.

“I swear, Rid. If you’re really this crazy, if you’ve really gone this Dark, I’m going to jam those lollipops of yours down your throat, one ball of sugar at a time.”

“What?”

I felt John’s arms behind me, pulling me back to the floor.

I pointed to the wall. “It’s my cousin. She’s on the other side of this wall.” I knocked on the wall above the nearest row of crates.

“No. No, no, no—” He started backing away, like even the mention of my cousin had him wanting to make a break for it.

I felt myself turning red. She was my cousin, and I wanted to kill her. Still, she was
my
cousin, and
I
was the one who wanted to kill her. It was a family matter. Not something John needed to worry about. “Look, John, I have to get her.”

“Have you lost your mind?”

“Probably.”

“If she’s hanging with Abraham, she’s not going anywhere. And we don’t want him to find us until we figure out how to get the Book.”

“I don’t think he’s there,” I said.

“You don’t
think
, or you don’t
know
?”

“If he was there, wouldn’t you sense something? I thought you two were connected somehow. Wasn’t that how he brainwashed you or whatever?”

John looked nervous, and I felt guilty for saying it. “I don’t know. It’s possible.” He stared up at the high window. “Okay. You get in there and see what Ridley’s problem is. I’ll keep an eye out for Abraham outside and make sure he doesn’t come back while you’re inside.”

“Thanks, John.”

“But don’t be an idiot. If she’s gone too Dark, she’s too Dark. You can’t change Ridley. That’s one thing we’ve all learned the hard way.”

“I know.” I probably knew it better than anyone, except maybe Link. But deep down, I also knew better than anyone how much my cousin was like everyone else. How badly she wanted to fit in and be loved and have friends and be happy—just like the rest of us.

How Dark can a person like that really be?

Hadn’t the New Order shown us that the price had been paid—Ethan made sure he paid it—and that things weren’t as simple as we all thought they were?

Didn’t I Claim myself for Dark and Light?

“You’re sure you’ll be all right in there?”

Is it really any different for anyone else? Even Ridley?
Especially
Ridley?

John poked me in the side. “Earth to Lena. Just make some kind of noise so I know you heard me, before I throw you to that lion in there.”