Page 77 of The Royal Street Witch
Rage cracks inside of Franklin’s demeanor and he’s off the ground, flying at Bastian, knocking him down with a slap of bare skin hitting marble, and Bastian is on the ground with a knee in his chest, a hand around his throat.
“You couldn’t keep it in your pants, you dirty witch fucker.” Franklin’s hair dangles over Bastian’s face and I look to Nicola, who is standing with eyes closed, fists balled. Franklin is the Vampire King, the strongest vampire in this house, and we all know it.
He’s squeezing Bastian’s throat and I think he can’t kill him, I think he can’t, but I’m not sure because he’s still weak and I feel the power rising as blood builds in Bastian’s eyes sockets.
I look at Cassius, his eyes glued to Franklin’s hand around Bastian’s throat, his chest heaving up and down.
“Franklin, what are you going to do?” Nicola’s desperate voice quivers, sliding to her knees next to her son. “What are you going to do?”
Blood erupts from Bastian’s mouth and he’s not entirely healed yet and Franklin doesn’t know he was weak to begin with.
“Cassius,” I whisper while Nicola begs on the floor and Bastian’s fingers dig into the marble ground. Bastian struggles, blood spurting from his opened lips, running from his bulging eyes.
“Cassius?” I plead again as Nicola wails, begging Franklin to unhand her son.
Stop him, Cassius mouths, and in one second I have Franklin Maltese flying through the air and crashing into the stairs. I don’t allow his shouts to distract me; I’m extraordinary at throwing fuckers around.
“Shock,” I say, and bursts of electricity erupt from Franklin’s heart forming a web along his torso, zapping his entire body each time he moves a muscle, his shrieks of pain satisfying to my ears.
Bastian coughs and Nicola is holding him up, eyes jumping from me to Franklin to Bastian.
Franklin’s hurling curses and moans while Nicola begs me to stop. But I don’t stop. I let the electricity roll through my fingers onto Franklin’s greasy hair, his little muscular body, his cracked leather vest. Cassius looks upon Franklin with a sadistic satisfaction, and it only fuels me to go harder.
And that’s when I hear Bastian’s voice. “Baby.”
Head moving to him—he looks at me and mouths,That’s enough.
But I don’t want to stop. I look at his blood-streaked face, reminders of the night in the hotel, but I didn’t do it this time. Franklin did and he’s going to fucking pay.
“Stop,” he says with more force, and I look at him again. “Please.”
So, my fingers ceasefire, my arms dropping to their sides, while Franklin writhes on the floor with moans of agony and blood sputtering from his mouth. And that’s when the pain hits me, fingers so raw they feel like they could drop from my palms.
“You fucking whore, you fucking witch bitch whore,” he coughs, and I just stare him down, the pain in my fingers telling me I really gave it to him.
“Good luck starving on Royal Street. You’re done. You’ll never work again.” He’s almost laughing now, slithering around on his knees.
“Fine by me,” I say, and Bastian rises.
“Bastian Delacroix, you are hereby excommunicated from the Vampire Alliance of Louisiana.”
My eyes shoot to Bastian, his head downcast. I look to Nicola and I’ve never seen her so weak, so complacent, and her mouth just sits open, her heart in shards of glass.
“Please, no, no, no. Please,” are the only words that she can form, and Franklin wipes blood from his chin.
“Would you prefer death? Because I’ll kill them both right now.”
I move forward, but Bastian grabs my arm and squeezes tightly—a warning.Freedom, he mouths, and I still at that one word and what it means to us. Freedom.
“No,” Nicola says, hands in the prayer position. “No death, thank you. Thank you.”
A fever washes over me, and I’m unable to decipher how I truly feel. This is the moment I’ve been so terrified of. My mother finding out. Witches turning on me, vampires hunting me down. But I’ve got Bastian now.
Maybe this could mean freedom.
“You’ll be hearing from me.” Franklin waves his finger to the both of us. “The fine print, the details.” And he saunters up to me, wreaking of blood and grease, waving his tongue out. “You must be a solid lay,” he whispers, and Bastian’s fist clenches and Cassius moves quickly in front of his brother.
“Ignore it,” he orders.
