Page 16 of The Royal Street Witch
“Get down!” I yell, nerves coating my throat.
“He’s okay,” Bastian croons while he rubs under Mercury’s chin, and fuck if that’s not his favorite spot.
“You eat my cat, and I will kill you.”
“Whoa. I don’t eat cats.” He laughs and shakes his head. “What’s his name?”
“Mercury,” I say, while the traitor just lies flat along Bastian’s lap, and I am just really disappointed in him at this point.
“Mercury as in the planet or the chemical?”
“As in the legend.”
“Freddie?”
I arch an eyebrow and point to the Freddie Mercury Funko on the shelf not far from Bastian’s head. “Is there any other Mercury?”
“Absolutely not. His vocal range was operatic. And he was just so free, you know? So free to be himself. I really loved that about him.” And then he starts baby-talking to Mercury and I’m speechless. So I let him stay. As I tirelessly try to create a spell that feels impossible. But he loves both of my Mercurys’ so I let him stay.
BASTIAN COMES BACK THE NEXTnight and the night after that until he’s practically spending every evening at my house. At first, I hardly spoke to him, worked around him, uncomfortable with his presence.
He arrives in the early evening and it’s almost like he doesn’t need to drink blood at all—sitting quietly, scrolling through his phone, and petting Mercury the Traitor as I research a thousand different ways to create a spell that’s never been created before. I catch him watching me a lot, and I suppose it’s because he’s catching me watching him too, but it’s just too bizarre, a vampire in my home. His smell in my living room, his laugh filling my walls. A few nights ago he brought treats for Mercury, and now The Traitor comes running every time he hears Bastian’s voice.
His evenings begin at my house, and I’m naturally curious about where they end. I watch for signs of the predator he really is, and it usually happens every few nights a couple of hours into his visit. It comes on slow at first and then his breathing tenses, his nostrils flare tautly—like he’s fighting the urge to inhale. He licks his teeth a lot, and his hand will lie flat against his stomach like he’s checking it for a pulse. A hunger builds and builds until he can take no more and that’s when he jumps from his seat and clears his throat, saying, “Let’s call it a night.”
As for the spell, I’ve gotten a base that could be viable, a mixture of oils and herbs, but not that special ingredient that will give it wings. There’s a freedom that comes with creating a potion for a dead person because toxicity isn’t a factor. I’ve considered using human blood since they can walk in the sunlight, but blood magic is complicated and should be a last resort.
I thought I’d feel pressure with him lounging in the corner of the room, but I must admit with each night that passes, it feels nice to have someone around. Maybe he was right about being alone all the time, maybe I’m not as solitary as I thought. Or maybe there’s just something about him…
Clearly, he’s beautiful to look at and only gets more charming with each day that passes. He has little quirks that make me chuckle, like how he laughs so loud at YouTube videos he watches on his phone and always tries to show me before I shut him down. Or how he’s shown up in joggers the past two days and I never thought they looked good on guys, but I’ll be damned if they don’t look like they were made for his long ass legs. I find myself wondering how many streets those legs have walked upon, where in the world they have traveled. I wonder what it’s like to be immortal, to know that you will never get cancer, never die in a car accident, that you will never grow old. And this could all be considered research, but I’m actually just very nosy.
“Is it strange?” I ask. “Leaving for so long and coming back to people you once knew that have now grown older?”
Jumping from his seat at the sound of my voice, he glides his hand along the wooden table as he inches near me. Myrrh is burning for focus, but the way he’s approaching is so very distracting, yet I can sense his urge to speak, to be heard.
“Strange...yes. Time moves differently for me than for humans. So, seeing you, for example, it didn’t seem possible for you to be so, so grown. Feels like a few years, not fifteen. And, well, you’re not a little girl anymore.” He plops on the stool next to me, placing both arms between his legs, his feet swiveling him slowly. He moves so languidly, as if he’s comprised of nothing but fluid, and then his eyes steal my attention, a smolder emitting from the green orbs.
“Definitely not,” I say and clear my throat because he’s doing that sexy vampire thing and I need to remember they can’t help themselves. Vampires are predators that use their sexuality as a weapon.
“Where were you? Why did you leave?”
“Ah, well. I was everywhere. I have real estate investments all over the world. The past few years I went back and forth between California, New York, and London.”
“Such a grown-up,” I say because he suddenly speaks so dignified. “Real estate investments all over the world,” I mimic in an English accent.
A smile cracks upon his face, and he drops his head with a shake. “Thanks for putting me in my place.”
“No wonder you can drop hundreds of thousands for a potion,” I say, and he shrugs.
“I left because I had been in New Orleans for most of my vampire life and I needed a change. I’m back in my house in the Garden District now.”
“The Garden District?” I’m surprised.
“You should visit, anytime.” He winks, and I look away, closing Winnie because his winking at me set my blood aflame, and it’s like tiny embers are burning on my skin. I quickly call it a night, but it doesn’t keep him from coming back the next night.
When he arrives, he sits on the stool immediately, and I should send him back to the chair, but the truth is, I like him so close to me. I like our conversations, I like learning about him. It surprises me, but I think about the Bastian I knew from my childhood, and how I loved the way he winked at me, how those feelings are still deep inside me.
“Did you recognize me when you first came back?” I ask, pouring my base potion over a dove’s feather.
