Free All That Lives Must Die by Eric Nylund Page B

asked. “We have two from glorious Clan Covington, a lad from the most ancient Stephenson family, Fiona and Eliot Post . . .” Jeremy searched for some embellishment or title to add to their family name, but failed.
    The girl smiled. It was Julie’s hundred-watt smile, and yet so unlike Julie’s, because while this one was just as dazzling, it was also somehow cruel.
    “Your solicitation is as empty as your head,” she told Jeremy. “You know not whom you ask, your eyes too full with too obvious intentions.”
    This insult seemed to please Sarah.
    Jeremy opened his mouth to defend himself, but the blond girl ran right over him with her words: “I am Jezebel, Protector of the Burning Orchards and Duchess of the Many-Colored Jungle of the Infernal Poppy Kingdoms, Handmaiden to the Mistress of Pain . . . and bringer of doom to mortals such as you.” Her smile never faltered. “Now ask me to join, if you dare.”
    The room went silent, and everyone watched.
    She was an Infernal? Like Beelzebub? Or their father?
    Was that why Eliot felt that he knew her? He should be wary, but he was also fascinated.
    “Aye,” Jeremy said. His eyes could not meet hers. “There’s been no Infernal protégée at Paxington for three hundred years. Your terrible power would honor us, Lady Jezebel.”
    Jezebel huffed a laugh. “You are a rogue, Covington. I appreciate that.” She looked over Sarah, moving on quickly, as if the girl were nonexistent. Next she considered Mitch, who had the strength to meet her gaze, and she nodded. She then glanced at Eliot and Fiona—just for an instant, but clearly seeing something in them that she liked, because her eyes widened with interest. Her gaze traversed to Amanda, scrutinizing the unremarkable girl the longest.
    “You have an interesting mix of blood and power on this team,” Jezebel told Jeremy. “I suppose it will do as much as any other collection of bumbling mortals here.”
    Jeremy beamed, extremely pleased with this new addition to their group. He shot a glance at Amanda, probably wondering if Jezebel assumed she was on their team . . . and if he had to accept this new unexpected teammate because the Infernal obviously liked her. He sighed and with great reluctance slipped Amanda a scarab token and then looked away.
    Jezebel moved to the edge of the table and, with a dramatic flounce, sat on it, crossing her legs so her skirt flashed pale, slender thigh.
    A full-blooded Infernal on their team. Eliot could only imagine what kinds of advantages and disadvantages that would give them. On the other hand, he wasn’t sure what kind of game they would be playing that they’d need an Infernal.
    Weren’t Infernals supposed to be unpredictable? Cheaters? Dangerous?
    Students clambered about their table—all now asking to join. The sheer mass of the crowd pushed Eliot, Amanda, and Fiona back. Apparently, the Paxington students appreciated the power of an Infernal more than they feared one.
    “Let chance decide,” Jezebel said. She reached for the platter on the table, selected the last golden scarab token from the pile—and flung it across the room.
    Before Jeremy could protest, students scrabbled and pushed to get the token as it clattered across the floor.
    Jezebel laughed as she watched boys and girls wrestle for the coin.
    Eliot watched, too, and saw someone he recognized tossing aside students like he was an experienced wrestler. But the gold coin rolled away from him—kicked back and forth by the others.
    This had to be the person who had called to Eliot earlier.
    . . . and if he were on Team Scarab, Eliot knew he’d have at least one friend.
    Let only chance decide? Eliot would see about that .
    He twisted around, unzipped his backpack, and opened his violin case.
    With one eye, he watched the scarab coin wobble along the floor, spinning, then kicked up, bouncing over the desks.
    Eliot quietly plucked Lady Dawn’s strings.
    The heat from his old infection burned along