Page 98 of The Child of Rue Royale
“They’re coming,” Jade says as the women I’ve been familiar with my whole life but barely know walker closer. Their mouths are drawn, their collective looks of shock taking in the scene before them. Three bloody witches, empty pyres, a smoking stage, and chairs thrown everywhere.
I dig deep inside, and there she is, my grandma’s little girl face, her hands wrapped around Bastian’s ear. It wasn’t Bastain that would change everything. He was the catalyst for Aven. The boy that could end forced pregnancies. The child that outted my aunts’ corruption and showed their true colors, giving me the power to restructure a broken system. And that’s what I’ll do. If the coven wants no part, fine. It can get disbanded. Because I won’t be a part of this any longer. I’ve spent my life cowering, but I’m not cowering another second. All Bastian ever wanted was for us to be free. And it’s right at our fingertips. The new power inside me sizzles through my veins, a sensation that will take getting used to.
So, the four of us line up on the stage, looking back and forth from each other as we initiate a new road ahead.
It’s showtime.
NICOLA SITS AT THE HEADof the table positioned in the middle of Nightwalkers, where a scarlet runner is adorned with dead roses and black candelabras of various heights. Goblets of wine and blood sit before their intended recipient, where we’ve gathered for a celebration.
Only two weeks have passed since the coven walked into what looked like a bloodbath. And they didn’t take my suggestions easily. There was talking and shouting and a heated debate. A few women stomped out, their curses trailing behind them. Supporters of Violetta and Rosemary, and good riddance to them. But when I showed them Aven was a Visionary and what Violetta and Rosemary had done, they were willing to hear me out and accept my changes. Changes for the better. To be the kind of witches we’re meant to be. Helpers and healers.
Bastian rises from his chair beside me, lifting his glass in the air. “To the new Vampire Queen of Louisiana,” he says with a proud smile. “Nicola Delacroix.”
From the other end of the table, my mother winks, her heart still wild, but she’s getting better. She and Nicola haven’t wanted to kill each other yet, and if they do, it will probably be over who can have Aven.
“Speech!” Amerie calls as she claps, looking up to her queen.
Bastian sits next to me and places a hand over mine just as Nicola rises, a warm goblet of blood in her hand.
“Well…” She sighs, placing a hand over her chest, her eyes closing for a few seconds as she contemplates her words. When she opens them, there’s a rim of red glazing over from sentimentality, and she winks at Bastian. “I’m not going to get too emotional.”
“Too late,” Cassius scoffs with a teasing grin, Aven sitting in his arms. It took a couple of attempts at holding his nephew, but he finally did, and now he doesn’t want to let him go. Marlowe is at Cassius’s side, her thumb lazily rubbing Aven’s foot.
“But I am going to say,” Nicola continues, narrowing her eyes at Cassius. “That never in a million years did I think we’d be sitting here amongst such faces, especially that one.” She points to Aven just as he squeals. “Okay, and these ones,” she admits, pointing a graceful finger at Mother, me, and Chantal. We all smirk because we can hardly believe it ourselves.
Chantal blows a kiss at me and shouts, “Here, here,” raising her wine glass.
Nicola clears her throat and meets eyes with my mother. The two heads of our families. Mother, the new elder of our coven, and Nicola, the Vampire Queen. The two women that will keep us all safer and looked after.
“But we are building a new agreement, if you will. And there are no rules or laws. We are just family now. Family by blood, family by bonds, family by heart.”
Her hand covers her heart again, and Bastian claps with an enthusiastic, “That’s right.”
Nicola takes a seat, her fangs out, before she chugs her goblet of blood. I know this isn’t easy for Nicola either. Old habits die hard, and hating each other has practically been etched in our DNA. But right now, it feels so easy to put the hatred down, let it wash down the Mississippi, let us be renewed by something other than hate, something that could one day be close to love. Nicola doesn’t seem miserable. In fact, she seems almost happy.
Nightwalkers isn’t the same without Oksana, whom the vampires didn’t kill after all. Instead, I put a spell on her to forget what she had done and have a sudden aversion to the Louisiana heat. So, she was put on a plane to London, back to the cold and fog. Far away from Cassius and his radius of never-ending guilt. It seems Marlowe has forgiven him for omitting that he fed on Oksana once. I don’t know why this was such a violation, but I’m glad to see them together. I guess I was wrong to doubt their love. Marlowe is good for Cassius.
Bastian has decided to take on Oksana’s role for now, handling all the daylight activities she assisted with and running Comey’s during the day. And if push ever came to shove, the option for Bastian to become a vampire again is always on the table. But for now, the idea of growing old together sounds perfectly sublime.
I look down the table as Bastian runs his hand along my thigh. Cassius shouts out to me, a look of sly satisfaction on his lovely face. “Oh, he’s part vampire. I can see the spark of blood lust in his eyes.” Cassius is adamant that Aven will have some type of vampire tendencies in the future; in fact, I think he’s hoping for it. But for now, he’s just a normal witch baby, and that’s just fine by me, even if his uncle wishes he were a blood drinker.
I shrug a shoulder, amused at Cassius’s hope that Aven has some of his traits. I’d be lying if I didn’t wonder about something popping up in Aven’s future. A sudden taste for blood or a swiftness only vampires possess. I suppose only time will tell.
He looks at his nephew as Marlowe blows raspberries against Aven’s feet. Mathius speaks animatedly with Chantal, his hands flying with excitement from whatever tale he weaves.
The past year has been so heavy on my limbs that I suddenly feel weightless. Like the world is at my fingertips, like we are finally in control of our destiny. I’m more powerful than ever, and with that comes great responsibility and honestly, self-reflection. I spent so many years terrified of what could go wrong, never considering what could go right. And that’s so much of our problem, right? Not being able to see the other side of pain, of hardship. But it always ends, it must end. And the only way to get to the end is to get through the hard, to endure, to not fucking give up.
For so long I blamed my mother for my suffering. Her actions wounded me, but that’s a side effect of loving someone, isn’t it? If I hadn’t loved her profoundly, the wound would not have cut so deep.
No, the blame for my torture was not hers, but only mine. For making myself smaller, for not believing that I could change what was burdening me. By doubting my potential.
I wish it hadn’t taken Bastian’s eyes cherishing me, believing in me, forcing me to see who I was. I wish it had been my own. But I can’t change that. I had once slogged through my days and longed for something more. But there’s no longing left in me. I was forced to make a choice, and I chose. I chose myself. I chose my family.
I see who I am now. A woman capable of enduring and creating. And not just creating a spell or a potion, but creating the life I desire, the life I deserve.
And I intend to do just that.
That mouth moves against my ear, that breath I could breathe in sync with. “I’m a human now. Life’s much more precious, and I don’t want to waste a second with you.” Bastian looks at this makeshift family we seem to be creating, a sense of pride washing across his face.
