Tangled by Erica O'Rourke Page A

lovely, the fanciful wrought-iron casting lacy silhouettes on the clapboards and bricks. My fingers itched for my camera. Verity’s pictures of the city hadn’t done it justice. No matter where you looked, the past overlaid the present like the finest layer of dust. Every corner had plaques displaying the Spanish names of the streets, every third building bore a historical marker. Knowing the Arcs existed here added another layer of stories.
    “You’ve seen what will happen to Constance if she’s left on her own. Maybe you’d best reserve judgment until you see what we could do for her.” He kept his hand on the small of my back as we walked, turning down streets seemingly at random, leaving behind the overbright neon and raucous noise of the Quarter.
    “Where are we going?”
    “The House of DeFoudre.”
    “There’s an actual house?” I shook my head. It was just surreal enough to be funny.
    “ ’Course there is. Each element has one. You can come here with me, since we’re bound. Bein’ the Vessel, you’re allowed into the other three.”
    “Then let’s go visit the House Constance would be in.”
    “Because you and Orla are such good friends? Don’t think so. Besides, I can’t play tour guide half so well in another House.”
    We walked for a few minutes longer, alongside an elaborate fence, the wrought-iron posts tapering to wickedly sharp points. Our view was blocked by dense green bushes towering overhead. Luc paused in front of the main gate, and it swung open.
    “You didn’t even try to open it,” I said. “What kind of spell was that?”
    “Spell’s in the lock. It recognized me as one of the House, so I don’t need to cast anything.”
    “What if I came here without you and tried to get in?”
    He winced. “Don’t try that.”
    “Are the other Houses the same way?”
    “Sure. Makes for a pretty safe environment. You wouldn’t have to worry that Constance was bein’ looked after.”
    I started to respond, but my breath was snatched from my chest as I marveled at the sprawling mansion. Three stories, white clapboard, a Georgian-style dream. Mansions on the North Shore had nothing on this place. “ This is your House? Or is this just headquarters?”
    “The Patriarch resides here. The rest of the Arcs have their own places. Spelled, usually, to conceal them from Flats.”
    “Like the Dauphine?” An Arcs-only jazz club, sumptuous and moody inside, an abandoned storefront on the outside.
    “Yeah. They cluster together, most of the time. There’s whole blocks of the city Flats don’t see.”
    “You don’t live here now, do you?” I’d always assumed Luc’s apartment was his home.
    “No. Once an Arc’s powers come through, they usually leave home within a year or so. I’ll be back eventually.”
    Because he was the Heir, I realized. When he took over as Patriarch from Dominic, this would be his home and his work. This place was Luc’s future. Because we were bound, he assumed it was mine, too. I wrenched my attention back to the present.
    “Constance couldn’t move down here,” I said. “We couldn’t explain it to her parents.”
    “Wouldn’t need to. She could come down for trainin’ and be home again before anyone noticed she was gone.”
    “You trained here?”
    He hesitated. “My upbringin’ was a little different.”
    “Because of the prophecy?”
    “Somethin’ like that.” He jogged lightly up the porch steps and opened the door to a massive, two-story foyer. A staircase spiraled upward, the dark wood floors contrasting sharply with the delicate brocade wallpaper and wide white trim. I tried not to gape, but it was like something out of a movie. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see debutantes sashaying down the steps in heavy satin and lace gowns or a duel being fought on the lawn.
    “I can’t believe you grew up here.” The air was so heavy with magic, it seemed to cling to my skin. I brushed at my arms, but the sensation remained.
    “You get