Born Sinner (Se7en Sinners #1)

  Blood magic? “But what about me?”

  “The blood magic wards against the supernatural. Whoever else slips by without our consent won’t make it five feet before they’re blown back to their maker. You’re good.” He looks back at us, his eyes dancing with sinister delight in the dark. “Hey, Lil. Think The Watcher will have some live entertainment this time?”

  “Oh hell, I hope not. Last time, I had to throw out a brand new dress because I couldn’t get the damn paint out of it.”

  “Paint?” Blood I could understand. Even more…intimate…bodily fluids. But paint?

  “Body painting party. The Watcher’s concubines were completely naked, save for intricately designed murals on their bodies. Even many of the guests abandoned their clothing for the feel of a new second skin. It was a very messy night, to say the least.”

  Wow. I can imagine. Naked people coupled with alcohol just asks for trouble.

  “So…what is The Watcher exactly?” I had meant to ask Legion, but I’d been much too distracted.

  “Neither demon nor angel, but immortal. Very old and very bored. Imagine a bookkeeper for the human realm, someone who sees all and knows all. They hold no allegiance to either side, and will snitch if you break the rules. That’s The Watcher.”

  “So like an angel-demon babysitter?”

  “Exactly. But with questionable morals and an affinity for pretty, shiny things.”

  I look down at my skimpy outfit and wince. Other than a silk shawl on my shoulders, I’m more exposed than I’ve ever been. Lilith insisted that I go sans jacket, afraid that I would smudge the gold flecks on my skin. She said I needed to look perfect, like I belonged there. Thank God the combined body heat in the car is enough to warm me. I guess that’s the plus side of rolling with demons—I get my own personal furnace.

  The Watcher’s home, which I learn is one of many, is located outside of the city in Winnetka aka “where the rich folks live.” The enormous mansion is situated on acres upon acres of land right on the water. It’s dark, so I can’t really take in the view. However, the house is illuminated by red and white tinted floodlights, signaling that the party is underway. Luxury vehicles neatly line the circular drive, while valets works to keep the receiving line moving. It’s packed. More so than any club I’ve ever been to. I’ve never seen such opulence, such wealth. And we haven’t even left the car yet.

  “I guess it’s going to be one of those nights,” Andras groans from the seat behind me.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “The Watcher is known for lavish parties teeming with debauchery. It’s all in good fun though. No violence, no maliciousness. Just the type of sin that straddles the line. You know it’s wrong, but it feels so good. And since this is sacred ground, and all creatures of the night and day are welcome, temptation will be at its peak.” He looks me up and down, mischief gleaming behind blue irises. “Even moreso with you here.”

  “Ok, people, look sharp,” Toyol commands from the front. He presses a finger to his ear, and mumbles something too low for me to hear. “Eden, it’s in your best interest that you stay close. Always be with one of us. No one can hurt you while on these grounds, but that doesn’t necessarily mean you’re safe.”

  “What does that mean?” A chill scrapes dagger-sharp shards of ice up my spine.

  “It means that you may see things…feel things…that you normally wouldn’t,” Lilith explains. “There will be beasts from all walks of life within those doors. Many of them have a sense of humor.”

  “And stay away from the punch,” Andras warns. “It’ll knock you on your ass. Trust me.”

  I roll my eyes. What was the point of bringing me if I’m just a party favor? To stand there and look pretty while the grown-ups plot and scheme? I could have stayed at the apartment with my book and my music. “Anything else?”

  “Yeah,” Lilith replies, just as parking attendants approach the blacked-out vehicle. “Try not to let your hormones get the best of you. You’re ovulating. Nephilim and Cambion are highly coveted.”

  On that note, she exits the car, leaving me with my mouth hanging down to my overexposed cleavage.

  With measured steps, conjuring all the confidence I can in my scantily clad body, I walk into the mansion flanked by Jinn and Toyol, with Lilith and Andras taking the lead. Legion, Phenex and Cain have gone ahead to sweep the scene, and are somehow communicating with the rest of their team through invisible earpieces. The hypnotic sounds of Panic! At The Disco vibrate the vast space, setting the hedonistic scene before me. I stifle a gasp. Beautiful beings of all walks of life dance and mingle and flirt, dressed in faux angel wings and red pointed tails, each outfit more daring than the next. I thought I was naked. Some of these people actually are. One gorgeous woman, who has to be a model by day, strolls past us wearing little more than strategically placed ivory feathers over her nipples and a diamond-crusted thong. She licks her cherry lips and winks at Toyol before disappearing into a crowd of partygoers, swaying seductively to the beat under a sky of twinkling chandeliers.

  “Are all these people angels or demons?” I whisper to him.

  “Some. Some are humans. Some are…other.”

  “And how do you know we can trust them?” How do you know they aren’t trying to kill me?

  “You’d be surprised how many of us just want to fit in. Just want to lead normal lives. Mortals are fascinating to us. Your lifespans are so short, so fragile, yet you feel so much. Love, hatred, pain, joy, lust, rage. You are ruled entirely by your emotions without the burden of why and the consequences of how. You’ll never know who was slain so that you may feel that joy, or the souls destroyed to ease your pain. You just take them inside of you, ruthlessly, arrogantly, never knowing of the wars that rage in the name of your all-consuming love. We rather envy that ignorance.”

  I’m stunned speechless. To think that an immortal—an ancient being as old as time and as powerful as a god—envies a puny, insignificant human like me?

  Luckily, I don’t have to think about my wasted mortality for much longer. Lilith leads us to an open ballroom where the music seems to be centralized. Panic! still plays from the surrounding speakers, spinning tales of salacious affairs, fitting for the electric vibe of the party. But it’s not just their music I’m seduced by. It’s them. Playing on a stage not twenty yards from where I stand. Frontman Brendon Urie is in his usual attire of black leather pants sans shirt, whipping his signature hair while serenading fans.

  I freeze on my stilettos. Holy shit. Where the hell am I? And who the hell is The Watcher to have this kind of pull?

  “Come on,” Andras coaxes, pulling me by the elbow. We sidle up to bar that has to be close to 50 feet long, decked out in gold painted leaves, black and white feathers, and blood red roses.

  “She’ll have a glass of champagne,” he says to a bartender. Punch for him and Lilith.

  “I thought that stuff was dangerous?” I ask, when he distributes the glasses, my brow raised in suspicion.

  “For you. Not for us.”

  Toyol and Jinn have disappeared into the crowd, and I haven’t spotted Legion since we arrived. I’m not surprised; this place is a museum, and positively alive with activity. Red-tinted strobe lights cast enticing shadows over writhing bodies. Drinks overflow from every glass—champagne, shots and a pink-tinged, sparkling punch. Complete strangers dressed in blasphemous lingerie kiss and fondle each other with abandon. It’s hard to not feel swallowed up by it all.

  “Where is everyone?” I ask, suddenly feeling very small and very insecure. I follow Andras’s line of vision as he stares at two men just yards away wearing nothing more than tight boxer briefs. They’re pressed chest-to-chest as their tongues tangle in a slow, sinuous dance of eager, explorative limbs.

  “Waiting to see The Watcher,” he responds without looking at me. He licks his lips as the men rub their obvious erections against one another.

  “Shouldn’t we go with them?”

  “They’l
l call when we’re required.” Then without word, he downs the last remains of his drink and swaggers over to the two lip-locked men. I watch them flutter with anticipation on his approach. When he stops in front of them, hands tucked in the pockets of his black slacks, they turn to him coyly, their bronze-dusted cheeks flamed with passion and excitement. He doesn’t even seem to say anything to them. He just stands there, watching them squirm in his overwhelming presence. Their breathing is choked into short, labored pants. Their skin slickens with a glittering sheen of sweat. Eyes glaze in unadulterated arousal. And while I hate myself for looking, I can see the hardness in their shorts grow thicker, longer.

  Wordlessly, Andras turns to make his away across the ballroom. The two men follow, allowing him to lead them to an undisclosed area outfitted with a canopy bed. There are dozens of them—small coves adorned with large loungers built for two, suspended beds and giant throw pillows draped in jewel-tone silks. A place for every pleasure. Almost all of them are occupied with people talking, eating fresh, exotic fruit, kissing, and even more than that. I turn away from a scene that causes my mouth to dry and my belly to warm with a distant remembrance. A man and a woman kiss intimately on a low bed covered with stark white rose petals. He lavishes her with teeth and tongue while his hand hikes up her bare thigh, giving another male companion access to her naked sex. The men lick and suck both sets of her quivering lips, worshipping her body like a virgin goddess on a bed the color of her creamy skin.

  My breath catches. To be loved like that, pleasured like that for all to see…it must be the ultimate rush. She doesn’t seem meek or submissive under their touch. She looks liberated—free to explore her body’s desires with a beautiful boldness that has me imaging myself in her shoes. To be that woman…to feel what she feels…just the thought makes dampness collect on the scrap of lace between my legs.

  “Showtime,” Lilith announces, pulling me from my dark, sensual thoughts. She takes the empty flute from my fingertips. I don’t even remember finishing the champagne.

  Lilith slides her palm against mine and gently tugs, coaxing me to follow her to another part of the house. We bypass the beds and extra-large chaises, to enter a long hallway, lined with several doors. I can’t imagine what’s happening in there, but I can hear it. Raucous laughing, the sounds of wet slapping, and undeniable panting breaths. I force my chin up and keep my eyes forward.

  We stop at a set of carved double doors fit for a palace, bejeweled with gold grommets and rubies that glitter under the dim lighting. In the middle of each door is an ornate eye made of a thousand sparkling black diamonds. The Watcher’s quarters.

  “Answer every question honestly. Lying is pointless and offensive, so be direct and firm. Do not cower. The Watcher will eat you alive if you act like a scared little mouse. And don’t, under any circumstances, try to infiltrate anyone’s mind. You can and will be killed before any of us can intervene. Ready?”

  I nod before I lose my nerve. “Ready.”

  She lifts her fist to knock, but before her knuckles connect with the polished wood, it opens, revealing red jacquard walls trimmed in ornate gold. I hear them before I can see them, yet their raucous laughter doesn’t do much to alleviate my anxiety. After all I’ve seen—all I’ve felt—since entering this mansion, I can only imagine what waits for me beyond the door’s prying eyes.

  “Come, come,” an unfamiliar voice beckons.

  My hand still in Lilith’s grasp, and my heart in my throat, I command my shaky knees to take a step. Then another. And another. Until we’ve cleared the hallway swathed in cherry blood.

  We turn a corner, and enter what looks to be a lounge or day room, and I nearly gasp in surprise at the languid figure lounging on a canopied dais of roses and cut marble.

  The Watcher…is a woman?

  “Hello, Eden. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

  She rises from her cushioned throne with the grace of an empress, and slinks over to me, her curvaceous body adorned in nothing more than a sheer sarong and a jeweled bra. Legion, Phenex and Cain watch her with close, careful eyes as she stops right in front of me, leaving just inches between us.

  “You’re prettier than I expected,” she smiles, spreading her candy-coated lips over bright white teeth.

  “So are you,” I reply.

  Her laugh is deep and animated as she tips her head back, causing her black severe bob to brush against her bare shoulders. “Am I now? You expected a horned creature with fangs?”

  I dare a glance over her shoulder at Legion, whose full lips are pressed into a grim line. “No. I expected a man.”

  “Oh? It seems as if your friends did not properly inform you.” She flicks her gaze to Lilith, giving her the same sinuous smile. “Lil, darling. Why are we keeping secrets from our young Eden?”

  “Apologies, Irin. She didn’t ask.”

  “Ah,” she tsks. “Always ask the right questions, Eden. They will provide the right answers. Come! Sit!” she commands, waving us over to the dais. She strolls over to her designated seat, which resembles an oversized, lush cabana with large throw pillows, and folds her petite frame onto a spot in the middle, tucking her bare feet into the cushions.

  I take a spot to her far left, prompting her to say, “Don’t be silly, Eden. Come closer. I won’t bite.” Another predatory smile.

  I do as she demands, and scoot closer. “Thank you for having me.”

  “Of course! I invite the Se7en to all my parties. However, they often refuse. Do you want to know why?” I look over at Legion who stands several feet away, his arms crossed over his broad chest. Luckily, Lilith has chosen to join us on the dais.

  “Sure,” I answer plainly.

  “I take great pleasure in Earth’s indulgences, as you can see. Sexuality is powerful. And power is coveted by all. Don’t you agree?”

  I nod just as a beautiful bronze man wearing nothing more than tight black briefs offers me a glass of champagne. I accept with a tight smile. “I do.”

  “And do you believe that you are powerful?” she questions, watching me as I take in a mouthful of the fizzy, slightly sweet liquid.

  “Not exactly. No.”

  “Ah, but you are. Extremely powerful. You have knowledge of the Jumper inside you, correct? The angel Adriel?”

  Another long sip. “Yes, I’ve been told.”

  “So you know that you have certain abilities, giving you access to the minds of humans. Making it possible for you to glimpse the intent of their souls.”

  Holy shit. She’s reading me like a book.

  I finish the last of my champagne and am met with another not even seconds later. I happily accept, despite a gruff sound of objection feet away.

  “I can. Yes.”

  “Adriel,” she grins. “Angels and demons do not have the ability to bend the wills of humans. But you are neither, which gives you usage of her powers without any of the red tape. Isn’t it wonderful?”

  I shrug. “I guess.”

  “Don’t you see, Eden? She chose you specifically because there is a plan for you. A plan to be someone great in this world. A plan to touch the lives of many.” She speaks the words with so much fervor, as if she actually believes it. As if she wants me to believe it too. I simply shake my head and drink my champagne.

  “You don’t agree.” She lifts a slender black brow.

  “I don’t. I think she chose me because I’m weak. I don’t touch people’s lives. I don’t do anything that surmounts to greatness. I…”

  I can’t say it. I can’t be the one to tell them that their precious Adriel is no more than a sycophant with a dark agenda. One that makes me do and say things that unleash pain and suffering.

  She sighs and leans back onto a pillow. Another beautiful man—this one the color of fresh cream—brings her a short tumbler of punch. “I see it now. You believe Adriel influences you to do things out of rage and hurt. You think she makes you a monster.”

  Stunned, I open my mouth to disagree, but then I re
member Lilith’s warning. The Watcher sees all, hears all. She knows what I’ve done.

  “I do.”

  “Would that make it easier? To believe it is Adriel’s doing?”

  “I don’t understand,” I frown.

  The impish woman looks up to the ceiling, gazing at a mural of intricately painted cherubs with rosy cheeks and curly blonde hair. “Gaudy, isn’t it? I told the artist I wanted angels, not children. I swear, good help is so hard to find.”

  “Huh?”

  “Ask the right questions, Eden,” she gently scolds.

  I take another sip for courage. “Why does Adriel make me think things—say things—that will hurt people?” Or worse. I don’t have to say it. She’s already seen it.

  “She doesn’t,” she simply answers, still gazing at the ceiling.

  “So the Calling? Am I influenced by whatever evil was implanted in me?”

  She yawns, bored with the conversation. “No.”

  “Then who? Who is telling me to do these things?”

  Slowly, The Watcher tears her gaze away from the mural of cherubs. “You.”

  “What?” I couldn’t have possibly heard her correctly. “But that doesn’t make sense.”

  “Of course it does. The pain you’ve inflicted, the wrong you’ve done—all derived from your own inner turmoil. Adriel gave you the gun, but you loaded the ammunition and fired.”

  “But…” It’s not rational. The voices whispering to me, telling me to make people trip over their own feet or drop their cash on the ground or spill their drink on their shirts.

  Or walk in front of a bus.

  I’m not capable of that type of evil.

  Right?

  “It doesn’t make you a bad person,” she says, a flare of empathy in her dark eyes. “It makes you human.”

  Blood rushes my ears, carrying with it my rapid beating heart. The taste of champagne becomes stale on my tongue. My brown eyes grow wide with confusion.

  I’m evil.

  I’m evil.

  I’m evil.

  Me. Not Adriel. Not Lucifer. Me.