by Renee Ahdieh
New York and Charleston, leaving control of their New Orleans
operation largely to Bastien. As such, there was always some-
one who needed something, be it a word in the right person’s
ear or an intervening handful of coin. Countless decisions to be
made at the drop of a hat.
Celine Rousseau was an unwelcome distraction. She brought
with her nothing but trouble, as she’d proved several days ago
during Michael’s interrogation at the convent, when she’d
201
9781524738174_Beautiful_HC_INT_pass05.indd 201
6/28/19 2:56 PM
attempted to bait them both. A silly attempt that, by all rights, should have failed.
Alas, it did not. It was as if she held Bastien by a spell, even
at a distance. As if he’d been told not to think of the color red.
Now all he saw were its vibrant hues. In the sunrise and the
sunset. In every trembling flower. In the splash of wine into a
crystal glass.
It always ends in blood.
Bastien already had too much to lose. This beguiling girl—
with a sense of humor to match his own and a story begging
to be told—would not be yet another casualty. Not if he could
help it.
“I’ll be sure to speak with my father about this tomorrow,”
Ash said with a toothsome grin.
Bastien countered with an equally obnoxious smile. “Excel-
lent. Then I suggest we return to terra firma and grab ourselves
a plate of the best sole meunière in the city, along with a chilled bottle of Chateau d’Ygeum.”
Art howled into the sky while clomping drunkenly toward
the suspended platform system positioned alongside the struc-
ture, Phoebus trailing in his footsteps.
Ash lingered behind for a second. “The only thing is . . .” He
pulled Bastien closer by gripping his forearm, an action that
sent the ball of latent anger from Bastien’s chest into his throat.
“I know my father isn’t going to cotton to some of your . . .
associates.”
A cool wash of surprise unfurled down Bastien’s spine. Ei-
ther Ash was far more reckless than Bastien had first surmised,
202
9781524738174_Beautiful_HC_INT_pass05.indd 202
6/28/19 2:56 PM
or he was a complete fool. Neither boded well for the bastard.
Nevertheless, they’d reached a critical juncture in their conver-
sation. A decision needed to be made. Bastien knew what Ash
meant. He simply wanted to hear him say it.
So he raised a brow in question.
“Come off it, Bastien, you know of what I speak,” Ash con-
tinued.
Bastien widened his smile. It appeared his bloodlust might be
slaked tonight after all. “I haven’t the faintest clue which of my associates troubles your father. You’ll have to be more specific.”
His voice had gone quieter with each word, until the last was no
more than a whisper.
“A man like Jay Ballon Albert can’t be seen doing business
with Chinamen and ni—”
It took less than a second for Bastien to draw his revolver
from beneath his frock coat. He leveled it before Ash could take
another breath.
Slow to react, Ash remained stock-still, his mouth agape,
his eyes blinking sluggishly. Behind them, Art stumbled to his
brother’s aid, only to be knocked from his boots by something
he neither saw nor heard. A ghost in the wind.
To his credit, Phoebus knew better than to interfere or so
much as utter a whimper.
Indistinct shapes melted from the lines and shadows of the
skeletal building, moving too quickly to track. They scuttled
down steel columns soundlessly, blurring through the darkness
until they sharpened into focus, forming a circle of cloaked fig-
ures around Bastien and Ash.
203
9781524738174_Beautiful_HC_INT_pass05.indd 203
6/28/19 2:56 PM
“What the devil?” Ash’s voice shook.
Bastien stared him down, a smile of supreme pleasure taking
shape across his face. “Allow me to introduce you to some of
my associates, Ash.” He aimed the revolver at the shocked boy’s
chest. “They’d like a word with you.”
j
Before the night was through, Ashton Albert was going to piss
his pants.
Bastien wouldn’t relish the sight. Or the smell.
No. That was a lie.
He’d relish the sight immensely.
It was time for this insufferable creature to be laid low. To
know what it felt like to have nothing, not even a mother or a
father nearby to save their son from the demons lurking in the
darkness.
Tension raked across Bastien’s shoulders. With a subtle twist
of his neck, he forced his muscles to relax. It had been almost
a year since unremitting anger had taken hold of Bastien when
he thought of his parents’ untimely demise. Of all things, he
wished it wasn’t a whimpering Ashton Albert to serve as a re-
minder of what he’d lost.
Yet another reason to relish this weasel’s comeuppance.
It was just as well. Bastien supposed he could make do with
the sight of Jay Ballon Albert’s elder son dangling horizontally
over a metal platform, eight stories above New Orleans.
A burst of feminine laughter barreled into the night. Hortense
took hold of Ash’s polished boots and spun the boy around once
204
9781524738174_Beautiful_HC_INT_pass05.indd 204
6/28/19 2:56 PM
more, the uncut jewels in her massive rings flashing through the darkness, her ebon skin radiant against the velvet sky.
When the pulley suspending Ash above the platform creaked,
he cried out, begging for reprieve.
“Dis-le plus fort, mon cher,” Hortense cooed. “I can’t hear
you.”
Boone laughed heartily, his cherubic features filled with de-
light. At the building’s edge, Jae twirled his mother-of-pearl
dagger between his fingertips, his black hair coiling in the
breeze.
Hortense’s sister, Madeleine, rolled her eyes. Near the hem of
her cloak—stricken silent by fear—sat Art, who proceeded to
vomit on the platform a second time, his chest heaving, his face
soiled by snot and tears.
“Wha-what do you want?” Ash wailed.
Bastien intended to answer him. Eventually.
“Oy, Bastien,” Nigel said, his Cockney accent gruff, his expres-
sion severe. “Don’t descend to his level, gov. S’unbecoming of
an honorable leader.”
Bastien snorted. “Which fool said I was honorable? Depravity
has no bounds.”
“Amen to that,” Boone interjected in an exaggerated drawl.
Grunting, Nigel adjusted the ties of his cloak. “S’enough.”
He sliced a hand through the air. Arjun shifted closer, his lips
wrapped around a smoldering cheroot, his expression one of
shared agreement.
Bastien studied them in amused silence. Like Odette and Jae,
Nigel Fitzroy had been at his side from the beginning, Boone,
205
9781524738174_Beautiful_HC_INT_pass05.indd 205
6/28/19 2:56 PM
joined their ranks quickly, becoming much more than a mere
colleague or acquaintance. Bastien prized the counsel of these
seven strange individuals above most things, though he would
only admit it under extreme duress. Thumbscrews, boiling oil,
and the like.
“I really should find some new friends,” Bastien mused.
Arjun exhaled a plume of blue-grey smoke. “If you can afford
it.” His hazel eyes glittered with amusement.
“Spoken like the bloody maharajah himself.” Nigel guffawed.
Annoyance flashed across Arjun’s face. “In many of your be-
loved Crown’s circles, a maharajah is no better than a mongrel.”
“I would never—”
“Dogs and Indians not allowed, Master Fitzroy. Right at the
entrance to your beloved Astoria.”
Anger darkened Nigel’s features. “If it had been left to me,
none o’ that tosh would’ve happened. I know better, just as I
know my betters.”
“A benevolent imperialist,” Arjun said around another cloud
of smoke. “How refreshing.”
A feeble cry cut through the night, returning their attention to
the matter at hand. Bastien gripped Ash by the rope around his
waist, bringing an end to the slow torment of spinning in a circle.
“I’m telling you this because I suspect you didn’t know,” he be-
gan in a conversational tone. “My mother was a quadroon, a free
woman of color. Those associates your father couldn’t be seen working alongside? They are me. They are my family.” He paused,
206
9781524738174_Beautiful_HC_INT_pass05.indd 206
6/28/19 2:56 PM
dropping his voice to a whisper. “No one insults my family.”
“I didn’t intend to—”
“Shut your mouth, you miserable swine,” Boone interrupted.
“God is speaking.”
Bastien silenced him with a look. Then turned back to Ash.
“Such a shame. I was going to share a bottle of wine with you,
Ashton. Now . . . you’ll have to partake in a meal with those who prefer a very different kind of drink.”
When Bastien finished speaking, the tension in the air pulled
taut like a string about to snap. Ash blinked away his tears, forcing himself to focus. Whatever he saw in the faces around him
caused his lips to quiver and his shoulders to shake.
Bastien knew what he saw. What Art saw. What Phoebus had
hidden from in the precious moments prior. Demons. Crea-
tures of blood and darkness.
Death, made flesh.
Bastien’s family, for better or for worse.
Art heaved again beside Madeleine’s feet, choking as he
struggled to calm himself. Bastien glanced at Arjun, sharing
a wordless conversation. The next instant, Arjun reached for
Art’s wrist. The boy slumped forward a moment later, granted
a blessed pardon.
Tears streamed sideways down Ash’s face. “All I said was—”
Bastien stepped back. Cocked his revolver. Took aim.
“Please!” Ash begged. A suspicious stain darkened the front
of his trousers, the acrid smell of urine suffusing about him.
“I’ll give you whatever you want. I won’t say anything. I’ll forget this ever—”
207
9781524738174_Beautiful_HC_INT_pass05.indd 207
6/28/19 2:56 PM
“No,” Bastien said. “Never forget this as long as you live.
Words are weapons. And nothing else matters when the devil
has you by the balls.” He fired a single shot.
Ash screamed. The rope dangling him above the platform
snapped, his bound body crashing against the metal with a re-
sounding clang. When he rolled over, blood dripped from his
nose, its scent curling into the air, warm copper mixed with the
salt of the sea.
Hortense and Madeleine stopped moving. Stopped breath-
ing. Jae sheathed one of his blades with a snick. Boone threw his head back, inhaling deeply, his eyelids squeezed shut. Frowning
with obvious frustration, Nigel crossed his arms while Arjun
ground out his cheroot beneath his heel.
Bitter amusement wound through Bastien’s chest. Another
wish granted.
Today might be his lucky day.
Ash fought against his bindings as the cloaked figures around
him drew closer, their eyes silver coins beneath a crescent
moon.
Then Madeleine, Hortense, and Boone fell on Ash like whips
cracking through the night, his cries of terror muffled by the
heavy fabric of their cloaks. By the sounds of ecstasy rising into the air high above New Orleans.
Nigel watched the frenzy in cutting silence, his long arms
crossed, the judgment on his face plain. “You’re better than
petty revenge, Bastien. Your uncle wouldn’t be pleased.”
“I never claimed to be a saint,” Bastien replied, his expression
cool. “And Nicodemus isn’t here tonight, is he?”
208
9781524738174_Beautiful_HC_INT_pass05.indd 208
6/28/19 2:56 PM
“Gomapgae,” Jae muttered in gratitude before wandering back toward the edge of the unfinished building, twirling a butterfly
knife around his fingers with insouciant ease.
“A fine shot,” Arjun interjected, deftly changing the subject.
“Severing the rope with a single bullet. Bravo.”
Bastien said nothing, his eyes tightening around the edges.
“What?” Arjun blinked. “Was it something I said?” He swayed
unsteadily on his feet.
“You’re weak.”
“It happens. It took a lot of effort to subdue the brother. Un-
like you, I’m not God,” he joked.
A dark smile ghosted across Bastien’s lips. “See to it you have
something to eat.”
“But of course, old chap.” Arjun bowed with a flourish.
Despite his best efforts, guilt kindled in Bastien’s chest,
threatening to catch flame. He battled the feeling, refusing to
be troubled by their judgment. Then he called for Madeleine,
who blurred to his side with the stealth of a shadow, her cloak
trailing behind her like smoke. Not a trace of blood could be
seen anywhere . . . until she opened her mouth, showing white
teeth stained crimson and canines as long as those of a wolf.
“Make sure no one dies tonight, Mad,” Bastien said softly.
“We have too many eyes on us as it is.”
“Mais oui, Bastien.” Madeleine nodded, her features serene.
“And what should we do with him when we are done?”
“Leave the trash with his younger brother, in the alley near
their favorite watering hole. See to it they remember nothing.
As always, my trust is with you.”
209
9781524738174_Beautiful_HC_INT_pass05.indd 209
6/28/19 2:56 PM
Madeleine nodded, then whirled back to resume her meal.
Exhaling slowly, Bastien glanced about the open space un-
til his gaze settled on what he’d been searching for: Phoebus
Devereux, huddled in a corner, his knees pulled to his chest,
undoubtedly praying he’d been forgotten for the first time in
his life.
When Phoebus
caught sight of Bastien gliding his way,
he wrapped his arms around his knees, clasping his hands
together until his knuckles turned white.
Making a point to move with care, Bastien crouched in front
of Phoebus. “I’m genuinely sorry you had to see any of that.”
“What are you going to do to me?” Phoebus trembled like a
dying leaf in a breeze.
“That depends,” Bastien said, “on what you want me to do.”
“I—I don’t understand.”
“I can simply let you go.”
“You . . . could?” Phoebus’ eyes went wide behind his smudged
spectacles.
“If you wished it.”
Phoebus nodded. “You don’t have to worry. I won’t say any-
thing, Bastien.”
“I know you won’t.” A half smile curved up Bastien’s face.
“Who would believe you?” Sympathy laced through his fea-
tures. “Just another tantalizing story about the Court, which
I’ve found to be far more helpful than hurtful, for reasons I’m
certain you can understand.”
Shuddering, Phoebus looked away.
“Conversely, I can help you forget.” Bastien paused. “I can
210
9781524738174_Beautiful_HC_INT_pass05.indd 210
6/28/19 2:56 PM
make it so the events of tonight never haunt your dreams.”
Phoebus swallowed. “Are you going to . . . kill Art and Ash?”
“No. They won’t remember anything either.” His expression
hardened. “But they don’t have a choice. You do. I never take
away the choice from someone I respect.”
“You . . . respect me?” Phoebus’ voice was hoarse.
“You’re a good man. See to it you stay that way.” Bastien un-
furled to his feet with the grace of a jungle cat. “And make your decision.”
Phoebus pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose, his
fingers trembling. Conviction settled across his sweating face.
“I . . . want to forget.”
“And so you shall.”
High above the Crescent City, the youngest grandson of the
mayor began to scream bloody murder into a sky bruised with
clouds.
211
9781524738174_Beautiful_HC_INT_pass05.indd 211
6/28/19 2:56 PM
Champagne and Roses
i
Celine leaned back into the jewel-toned damask of her
gilded chair. “I have nothing.”
“Nothing?” Odette laughed. She reached for another morsel
of quail, pulling the tender meat apart between her delicate
fingers.
“There is nothing I can say,” Celine continued. “Nothing I can