Page 12 of The Child of Rue Royale
Chantal sighs. “Ladies, what girl doesn’t have some issue with their mom? This isn’t a taboo topic. Self-help writers live for this shit. Where’s my mom? Living off the grid until she can collect elder money, that’s where. The important part is breaking the cycle, am I right? And that’s what you two are going to do, whether you like it or not.”
Mother and I look at Chantal, her gorgeous face stern as a curl dangles over her forehead. Stern yet firm, like a loving teacher who’s scolding her students. Chantal, the wise one. Chantal, the youngest one in the room.
“She’s right,” Mother admits, a smile tugging the corner of her mouth.
“She’s always right,” I say, rolling my eyes.
Mother grabs my hand, squeezing as hard as she can. “Baby girl, we aren’t going to just break the cycle. We are going to blow that fucker to pieces.”
I LIE IN BED NEXTto Chantal where her soft breathing usually lulls me to sleep. But tonight—tonight it’s a reminder of what happened in the kitchen hours ago. Chantal’s mediation, my mother’s promise to break the cycle. And the guilt hammers in my chest, the secret I’m keeping.
“You have to tell her,” Chantal whispers as if she’s reading my thoughts.
“I’m going to. Tomorrow. I promise.”
The wild witch won’t approve, I already know that in my heart. I’m the spiteful one who stopped looking for her approval. But the repercussions of bringing Bastian back will affect us all, so I really, really want it. A hive of bees buzzes in my chest at the thought, at how I can ease her into the idea, then I think of my grandmother again.
I was told the stories of her abilities. How she had visions, how she could see clips of the future. As a Seer, her gift was strongest when she was young and seemed to lessen as life’s woes wore her down. She struggled with her memory, with my mother, with her relationship with the coven—especially her peers, Aunt Violetta and Aunt Rosemary. Then her heart gave out so suddenly, so terribly fast, and I was thrust into the potion-making as Mother fled.
I’ve always wondered about the abilities of Seers, how their visions of the past or future just came to them without their approval or desire. I was told it wasn’t an easy power to have, being thrust into visions you didn’t ask for. I think it took its toll on my grandmother.
I knew I was the star of her sky, but I didn’t know that she made my mother feel so much less than me, just as a vessel for my existence.I loved her inextricably because she made me feel safe and adored. I didn’t know she made my mother feel the exact opposite.
Nothing my mother could say about Grandma Cora can change my love for her, but it can help me understand the woman I’ve been angry at my whole life and appreciate that she’s been working to change our relationship for the better.
To make matters worse, I promised my mom I wouldn’t keep any secrets from her, and here I am keeping a secret again. And not just any secret.
So the next morning, before we all disperse for the day, I cuddle a pillow on Chantal’s bed while Mother pulls her shoes on. She’s so beautiful, her black bob smooth as silk, her lips always painted the deepest scarlet, and I’m about to disappoint that gorgeous face, I just know it.
“Have you known a witch that’s brought back someone from the dead?”
Her jaw flexes as she looks at me through the vanity mirror, her eyes forming into two daggers of ice. “Absolutely not.”
“So you haven’t?”
“I mean absolutely not to you bringing that man back.”
“Mom! Do you know anyone? Answer the question, please.” I turn on my back, the blanket up to my chin, my belly a perfect wall to hide behind.
“Well, sure I have.” Her voice is syrupy, and I know it’s not going to end sweet. “And do you know what happened to her? Taken to the bayou and burned in the dead of night. Thrown into the thick of the swamp where the gators and wild pigs roam free.” Her tone is that of a mother telling her child a fairy tale, but the words are murderous. She looks over my belly at me, eyes scorching into mine. “You will be a mother soon. You would risk it all for him? Orphan a child? For a man?”
The allegation slices me, the idea that I would forsake my child for another. “It’s not the same,” I whisper. An iceberg lodges in my throat, and her cackle makes me want to slam my fist through the bed. I sit up with great difficulty, but I want her to see that she’s hurting me.
“How’s it different?” She sits next to me, hand on my leg. “Baby girl, that love will get you, make you do crazy, irrational things. All the time you judged me for choosing a man over you. And look what you’re about to do.”
Those words bite, yet I’m silenced because deep down they strike a chord, over and over on the strings of my soul, reminding me of the pain she caused by always putting me second. Is this the same? Putting Bastian’s life in front of the repercussions I could face, potentially harming my child? It’s my job to protect her, to put her first. Is that what Bastian would want for his child? Surely, he would want to be brought back to us. But if that meant me dying and something dangerous or traumatic happening to her, then...I’m not so convinced.
“It’s forbidden to bring back a human, but there’s no law that says I can’t bring back a vampire,” I state, holding on to my dream, my hope, the family that keeps me going.
Tucking her hair behind her ear, she cocks her head. “You really think that bullshit excuse will fly? It’s not what kind of person or thing you bring back. It’s the act of bringing anything back that’s forbidden. Beast, dog, or man. They don’t care. Because it’s dangerous, and it’s against natural law.”
“Vampires are already against natural law,” I say.
“What will you tell the coven? When you’ve shown up with a dead vampire?”
“I will tell them there’s no law against bringing a vampire back from the dead, and that they can accept us, or we’ll leave.”
“No. Don’t do this.” She sighs, snatching my hand in hers like a mouse trap. “Don’t orphan this innocent girl. It’s not what Bastian would want. And deep down, you know that.”
