Page 20 of The Child of Rue Royale
Our eyes shoot to the hallway then back at each other as the chips fall all around us, covering our hair and the sheets, and my heart leaps in my chest because it’s the middle of the night and the pounding doesn’t stop.
MY HAND COMMANDS MY PHONE, shooting it into my grasp from where it sits on the bed. It’s dead, so I grab Chantal’s instead. It’s 12:37 a.m. Why would anyone be knocking on our door at this hour?
“Don’t answer it,” Chantal whispers, but I get up, wiping Dorito seasoning from my chest and arms.
Another knock echoes down the hall, and I shake my head. “We are witches. We can fuck an intruder up. Come on.”
Slowly, we make our way down the hall, Chantal holding on to the back of my shirt. “It’s not an intruder I’m worried about,” she whispers. “It’s our coven.”
I look back at her, swallowing. How pathetic is that? The group of women that are supposed to support and protect us is our biggest threat. How did this happen? How did we get here? The way my stomach is dropping tells me I’m scared about the same thing Chantal is. They found out, and we are being brought to trial.
“Let’s see who it is,” I say, straightening my spine. We creep, tiptoeing until my foot almost touches the front door. And just as I lean to look through the peephole, a voice comes from the other side.
“Aster, it’s Cassius.”
Chantal and I look at each other, mouths exhaling in sweet relief.
Unlocking the door and swinging it open, I raise my eyebrows at Cassius Delacroix, in California, unannounced. He’s wearing black jeans and a T-shirt with a messenger bag hung across his chest. A more casual look for Cassius, and I wonder if he too has a California wardrobe.
“Did I scare you?” he asks.
“Hardly.” I tilt my head with a scoff.
He chuckles, swiping his hand down his chin. “Hmm, the two sets of frantic heartbeats I heard from across the house weren’t yours? You might have two intruders then. Would you like me to check?”
“Why are you here?” Chantal shouts, and I press my knuckle into her hip.
“Letting us know you were coming would have been nice,” I say, but stand back, inviting him in. “Just so we aren’t freaking out at a random knock on the door in the middle of the night.”
“Apologies,” Cassius says, resting a hand over his heart as he steps inside, his long hair pulled back at his neck, his aura thick with the scent of citrus and rosemary. “But your phone was going straight to voicemail.”
His gaze sweeps across me, my belly, the only thing he has left of Bastian. “I didn’t mean to bother you, I just…I need to speak with you.” He looks me dead in the eye, and I know what he means. Me alone.
“I’m going to bed,” Chantal announces, taking the hint and raising her arms.
“I do apologize, Chantal. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He says it in a mocking tone, and I glare at him. That won’t win any points with her, and I need her to accept Cassius.
“The fact that I’m more scared of my own coven than my enemy goes to show how much scarier witches are than vampires.”
“Oh, that’s just because—”
“Cassius,” I say, my eyes pleading with him not to get into an argument with her, and thankfully, he quiets.
“I apologize for coming unannounced, Chantal. Goodnight.”
Chantal’s eyebrow arches, but she nods, her curls bouncing as she turns down the hall. “That’s a good vampire,” she calls out before shutting the door.
Our eyes meet again, but then Cassius looks to my hair.
“Are you not showering?” he asks, plucking something from the top of my head. He produces it between us, and I recognize the chip in his finger.
“It’s a Dorito,” I say, then grab it and toss it in my mouth.
The appalled look on his face is worth a million dollars. I can’t help but laugh—laugh so hard I cross my legs so I don’t pee my pants.
Rolling his eyes at my one-woman show, he sits on the couch, unfolding himself elegantly while I feel like an uncoordinated seagull.
“Sorry,” I say. “I think I’m delirious.”
