The Damned (The Beautiful #2)(59)

“You’re insufferable. Good evening, Mr. Desai.”

“Good evening, Miss Montrose.”





BASTIEN





I pause, my right foot hovering above the staircase landing. For the first time since I committed to this course of action, trepidation settles onto my skin.

“In case I forget to tell you later, or something . . . unfortunate happens, thank you for changing your mind and agreeing to take me to the Vale,” I say under my breath. Then I follow Arjun up the flight of steps.

“I owe you a life debt. And I despise being indebted to anyone,” he throws over his shoulder. “But don’t thank me yet. You still haven’t met my mother.”

I almost laugh. The ethereal’s sense of humor is razor sharp, as usual. We pass the second landing of the building toward the next staircase. Behind the nearest door, I overhear the angry mutterings of an elderly woman.

“Don’t mind the honorable Madam Buncombe,” Arjun says. “She and her one friend are hampered in life by rather large chips on their shoulders when it comes to”—he drops his voice to a whisper—“foreigners and their blasphemous ways.” He waves at the bolted door. “Afternoon, Mrs. Buncombe!” he shouts as he continues marching up the stairs.

I grin to myself at the sound of her outraged spluttering.

We pause before the entrance to the fourth-floor pied-à-terre, a space Arjun has shared with Jae since the former’s arrival to New Orleans a little more than a year ago. When I lean against the doorjamb, the faint glow of the wards spelled into the wooden frame flashes twice, and a burning sensation spreads across my skin. I pull away before the protective magic has a chance to take root in my bones. These wards are almost as intricate as the ones around my uncle’s private chamber in the penthouse of the Hotel Dumaine. Likely the work of Nicodemus’ favorite warlock in Baton Rouge.

“Are you certain you want to do this?” Arjun asks for the fifth time this afternoon. “It could end quite badly.”

Again trepidation ripples through me. “I appreciate the concern for my welfare.” I set my jaw. “But I have no intention of changing my mind.”

“The concern is for myself, as I am in fact a bit more . . . breakable than you.” Arjun sends a caustic glance my way while he unlocks the door, but there’s a note of humor in his expression. “I still don’t understand why you feel a compulsion to make this journey. This Sunan character may not even exist. Truth be told, I don’t mind you as a vampire. You were a disaster those first few weeks, but now that you’ve seemed to calm down a bit, you’re not so terrible.”

“I thank you for that vote of confidence.”

“You’re quite welcome. As they say, a broken clock is right twice a day.”

I follow him into the small, neatly appointed space. Along one plaster wall hang tapestries and scrolls of black-and-white calligraphy, paying homage to Arjun’s Maharashtrian heritage and Jae’s childhood in Hanseong. A simple wooden table with two chairs sits in the center of the main room, a bookshelf situated close by. The only thing that seems amiss is the large mirror positioned against the far wall, near the back of the flat. It’s old and tarnished, its frame fashioned of ornate brass.

Arjun pauses beside me, his gaze settled on the strange mirror in question. “A stroke of luck that Jae’s profession necessitated one of these spelled silvers. They’re quite uncommon and extraordinarily expensive. They’re also the best way to travel through the earthly realm.”

I recall our conversation several nights ago with Valeria Henri. “Is this not a tare?” I should have asked this question then, but pride is a difficult beast to conquer. Especially the pride of a Saint Germain.

Arjun shakes his head. “A tare is a portal directly to the Otherworld. This is merely a stepping-stone.” He turns to me. “Have you told your uncle what you intend to do?”

I make my way to the mirror to buy myself some time. “For most of my life, I’ve admired my uncle, even when I disagreed with him. But I’ve always known this life—the life of an immortal—isn’t what my mother wanted for me. It’s the reason my uncle refused to turn my sister, even after she begged him to do it. Before my mother succumbed to the bloodthirst, she used to say we are given one lifetime. In that one lifetime, we have countless chances to become the best version of ourselves. Each day presents another chance.” I stare at my reflection in the mottled surface.

Arjun crosses his arms, his monocle flickering with the movement. “I guess that means no.”

“I did not tell Nicodemus what I intend to do.” I raise a shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

He sighs. “No, you’re not.” His right hand rakes through his hair.

“Nicodemus has lived many lifetimes. I wonder if he’s ever felt like he’s become a better version of himself. Or if it’s even possible when time isn’t a consideration.” I pivot toward Arjun. “You asked me not long ago why I wanted to do this. I have part of an answer. I want to find Sunan because I wish to become a better version of myself, and I believe that returning to my mortal form will make this possible. Is that a good enough answer?”

“No,” Arjun says, his voice weary. “But I suppose it will have to do.” He comes to stand beside me. “I should warn you—this silver is not meant to transport your kind. I don’t know how it will react to you or how you will react to it.”