“Yeah, and you just got to be the golden boy, don’t you, Lamarliere?” He spit on the floor as his friends finally managed to stand. “Oh, and you’d better get her there soon. Otherwise Grandmère will start wondering.”

After they were gone, Dub wrenched the door handle from the drywall so the door would close, as I whirled on Sebastian. “I’m yours? What the hell was that?”

“Ray works for the Novem too. He’s just trying to find you first. Someone must have seen you come in with Jenna.”

“Jenna?”

“Crank.” He paused. Four seconds went by. “I’ll help you find the records.” And then he walked toward the back door.

All righty, then.

Drawing in a deep breath—I was going to need it dealing with Mr. Personality—I followed him through a set of massive French doors to the backyard garden. Dub and Crank were standing on a moss-covered stone patio, staring at a lump in the leaves. Despite the winter season, humidity had settled over the district, making the garden more like a jungle, a damp place that reeked of earth, decaying leaves, and those pungent white flowers that crawled up the house.

“Vi, he’s gone. And you missed Ari’s awesome smack-down.” Dub reinforced his words with a few air punches and an imaginary body slam. “C’mon, Vivi. You stood up for me. Come on out so I can say thanks in person.”

Two black eyes blinked beneath the leaves. I slid closer to Sebastian as Crank talked to Violet. “What’s her deal, anyway? What’s with the baby vampire teeth?”

“She’s not a vamp,” he said with a quiet laugh. “Dub found her out in the swamp last year. She was living alone in a trapper’s houseboat. He fed her for three months before she came back with him. She comes and goes as she pleases, takes to weird things like the masks and fruit. Never eats it, though.”

My eyebrow lifted, and I rocked back on my heels. “So you actually do speak more than one sentence at a time.”

He glanced over and frowned. “Come on, we better go. Violet will come out when she’s ready.”

Five

“IT’S NICE HERE,” “I SAID, LOST IN THE SCENERY OF THE “GARDEN District as I walked with Sebastian to St. Charles Avenue. His only response was a grunt. I hadn’t meant to give voice to my thoughts, to share anything with him. It was pretty obvious he didn’t have any interest in conversation.

Not that I minded; it wasn’t like I was known for my social skills anyway.

So I settled into a nice rhythm next to my guide, keeping my thoughts to myself, minding the cracks in the pavement and the tree limbs that hung low over fences, pulled down by moss or heavy vines.

If someone could’ve crawled inside my soul and then created a town to fit me best, it would’ve looked just like the GD. There was a sense of belonging here that I’d never felt anywhere else before. It could’ve been because I was born here, and I knew my mother had lived here, but somehow it was more than that. It was in the emotion of the place, the air of abandonment, the slight decay on everything, the wildness of the plants and trees, the haunted appearance that clung to the grand old houses, and the dark parts where light never reached—deep in the lost gardens, behind vacant lots, and beyond boarded-up windows. It was even in the misfits that made this place home. In Violet, Dub, Henri, and Crank. And, I glanced over, in Sebastian with his black hair, brooding eyes, and dark red lips. It was the freedom of being in a place that didn’t give a shit what you were, because it was different too.

It wasn’t entirely neglected, though. We passed a house with a bunch of twentysomething artist types. A guy on the porch played a twelve-string guitar, fingers flying in a romantic Spanish tune as a woman in a turban painted a picture on a canvas. Voices and the sound of hammers on wood flowed from the open windows. Another person lay in an old hammock hung between columns, a joint wedged in the V of his slack fingers.

The guitar guy looked up and dipped his head at Sebastian.

A few more houses and we crossed St. Charles Avenue to wait for the trolley.

“Charity Hospital, right?”

“Yeah. Do you think we’ll have trouble accessing my records?”

Sebastian shrugged, dragging his fingers through his hair and leaving it all wild and rumpled. “Shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Do you know any Selkirks living in New 2?”

The streetcar rolled toward us as Sebastian shook his head and then fished in his pocket for money. “Costs a dollar twenty-five.”

“Oh . . . crap.” I dropped my backpack on the ground and unzipped the front pocket to pull out two dollars as the trolley came to a stop. Sebastian was already halfway up the steps. I hurried on, paid my fare, and then sat on the wooden bench directly across the aisle from him.

We rode in silence, the only two on the trolley, until Sebastian slid over into my seat, surprising me. I scooted toward the window. “So,” he began in a low voice, keeping his eye on the streetcar operator, “you want to tell me about the guy who tried to kill you?”

Our shoulders touched, and I tried not to breathe in too deeply because he smelled really freaking good. “Not really.” I stared out the window.

“You think he lived in New 2?”

I frowned. “I don’t know what to think. The guy acted like he lived on a different planet.” I turned away again and muttered, “A different country, at least. I shot him twice, and he barely flinched.” The images of last night came back to me. “Weird thing about it . . . my mother knew. She died a long time ago, but she knew someone would come after me. She left me this letter, and then like magic there he was.”

“And you killed him,” he said solemnly, eyes sad for me, for what I’d had to do.

“With his blade, yeah, I killed him. I think.” I thought of how my attacker had vanished. I wasn’t sure what had really happened to the guy. Maybe he had died, or maybe he’d disappeared to lick his wounds. But I wasn’t about to tell Sebastian that part of the story. Hell, I wasn’t even sure why I’d told him as much as I had.

The trolley swayed slightly, pushing me toward Sebastian, my nose inches from his. My mouth went dry. Warmth blossomed in my belly. A sense of safety filled me, but it wasn’t a calming feeling. It was tense and exciting all rolled into one. His eyes roamed my face and then parked on my lips. A muscle ticked in his jaw. I stopped breathing.

And then the trolley stopped and I caught myself before my ass slipped off the smooth wooden bench.

“Canal Street!” the trolley operator called.

Sebastian was already up and walking away.

Quickly I straightened up, giving myself a hard mental shake. I was here for a reason, not to make goo-goo eyes at some guy just because he was a seriously dark soul who just happened to be killer cute and could play the drums like nobody’s business. If he had weird-ass abilities like me, I was in serious trouble.

“We need one more streetcar. The one on Canal Street. That will take us close to the hospital. Then we’ll walk the rest of the way. It won’t be far,” he said as I hopped off.

After we got on the Canal Street trolley, we rode the rest of the way in silence, which was fine by me. My attention was stuck on the ruins of the business district and Midtown. All those high-rises and buildings, in shambles or gutted—everything looking like a casualty of an apocalypse. It was clear the Novem hadn’t even touched those places.

Once we were off the trolley, we hiked three blocks or so to Charity Hospital. Sebastian darted across the street, but I stood still, taking in the large building. This was where my mother had given birth to me. My pulse picked up. Did my father come for the birth? Did he walk through that front door with flowers? Balloons? A big ole white teddy bear?

“Ari!” Sebastian stood on the sidewalk, holding up his hands in a What’s going on? gesture.

Snap out of it. I mimicked the gesture with probably more sarcasm than he deserved, and then jogged over, ignoring his questioning look and heading to the main entrance.

He caught up to me at the doors. “You should wait here.”

A small laugh escaped my lips as the doors slid open. “You’ve got a lot to learn about me. I don’t wait in the wings.” I led the way inside. I could hear him already. I don’t want to learn about you. I’d rather be sitting in the corner scowling at anyone who dares to pass by.

We walked past the lobby and down the main hall.

“The records will be in the computers.”

“I thought you guys didn’t have—”

“We have computers. Paper doesn’t exactly last long in this climate. After the Novem bought New 2, they had everything that was left on paper transferred to computer.”

We stopped at the elevator. Sebastian hit the down button, and the doors slid open immediately. We entered. “So, what’s the plan? Just waltz into the records room and take what we want?”

“Yes.”

“Oh wow. That’s impressive.” I rolled my eyes. The elevator went down a level and then dinged. I strode off before the door was completely open.

A cold silence greeted me. Our footsteps echoed in the empty space. I tried not to think about what was usually kept down in the basement level of most hospitals, but that didn’t stop chills from zinging up my spine.

Sebastian veered left and opened a door labeled RECORDS. Just swept right in like he owned the place. Suspicion pooled in my gut. This was way too easy.

There were four desks, two empty, the other two occupied by women, who glanced up from their monitors.

It took at least three seconds for it to dawn on them that we weren’t hospital staff, but teens. Odd ones, dressed in denim and black, and, no doubt, up to no good.

Which, actually, was the truth. The thought made me grin.

The older one stood and went to open her mouth.

Sebastian was suddenly there in front of her, so fast I didn’t see him move. He reached out, cupping her cheek in his palm. She lifted her chin, entranced, stuck on his gaze. He bent down, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered. Her eyelids fluttered.