Page 4 of The Child of Rue Royale
“It feels like two years ago,” I say with a laugh.
“It does feel like that toward the end, doesn’t it?” her wife chimes in from behind her, and they share a look, a memory from their pregnancy experiences. I always look forward to seeing them, regulars that come in every time they’re in New Orleans for their anniversary.
“It does. But I actually have another seven weeks.”
“So exciting. Do you know what you’re having?” It’s the question I get asked at least three times a day by customers.
Smiling, I tighten the velvet pouch. “A girl,” I say because witches only birth girls and it was confirmed by the tech at my early ultrasound, just as expected. The elder of our coven, Violetta, wanted to throw me a pregnancy party when I finally announced the news. I was the last true witch of our coven, but now my daughter will carry on that legacy, as it was my ancestor who started our coven and our bloodline that must be carried on.
My customer claps, excitedly taking the bag from my hand. “There’s nothing like the mother-daughter bond,” she says as my phone starts ringing again.
It’s him, and now—now my heart drops. I look at the clock on the wall. It’s ten a.m. on a Sunday. Why is Cassius calling me?
“I’ll let you get that. Congratulations,” she says with a wave. “See you next time!”
“Next time,” I say as I slide the button on my phone, answering quickly.
“Aster,” his commanding voice drills from across the line.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, blood racing through my body like a bee to honey. Cassius never calls me, let alone twice in five minutes.
“Nothing’s wrong, I just wanted to reach you before I slept.”
Blowing out my cheeks, I sit on the stool behind the counter. “Okay?”
“I’ve been thinking, thinking a lot. And as the birth grows near, and as my heart grows a little lighter, I have some pressing issues to discuss with you regarding Bastian’s estate.”
I find myself blinking rapidly, the words not quite registering. “Bastian’s estate?”
“Yes. But it’s best to speak in person, don’t you think? When can you come?”
“Come where?”
“My home office. It won’t take long. How’s tomorrow evening around eight?”
“Cassius, what’s this about? You haven’t spoken to me since I saved your girlfriend’s life.” Spite bubbles up inside me.
He’s silent for a moment, and after picking his words carefully, speaks. “It’s about finally making things right, Aster. Please come. Please.”
“I’ll be there,” I say and hang up the phone before I say something I might regret. I stare at my phone, wondering about Bastian’s estate, wondering what this could mean.
As my heart grows a little lighter, Cassius said on the phone, and I can only shake my head in disbelief, because Cassius in love still blows my mind. HisMa Petite Cheriedidn’t run—no, she stayed and maybe I was wrong. Maybe she has softened him.
I look around my shop, Wildes Crystal and Jewelry. Handed to me from my grandmother, and I remember the first time Bastian came tome with his illicit request. Create a potion to allow vampires to walk in the sun.
I said no because vampires and witches are forbidden to create side deals. I protested. But he begged me, told me his brother needed it to survive. It would be our secret. No one would know. And he offered to pay off my home, and I was barely scraping by. Vampires and witches formed a sacred agreement over a hundred years ago. So the vampires would stop killing the city’s population, we provide them with potions that temporarily make tourists fall asleep, allowing the vampire to feed, and then a cream that heals bite wounds in seconds is applied. In exchange, they pay us very well, except the majority of the proceeds go to our coven elder, Aunt Violetta. And for all my work of creating and delivering the potion, I was left with pennies.
So, I said yes. And then broke the second rule of the agreement. Never fraternize with a vampire, especially romantically.
Sometimes I still see him within these walls, see his hands on the display case, how his arms crossed as he watched me perform magic, a look of amusement on his face. I see his eyes in thin air, as if watching me, as if aware he’s coming back to me.
“I love you, Bastian,” I call to the air and hope that wherever he is, he can hear me and know one day he’ll be mine again.
“Over my dead body will you be going to that man’s house without me, you silly girl.” Mother points a finger at me, like she did when I was a child in trouble.
“We can all go,” Chantal pipes in from the floor where her magic folds her laundry. I look around the room, a sudden burst of claustrophobia clouding me.
Though the shop has been fine to work at, my apartment has taken so much longer to reconstruct since…the fire.
