Page 15 of The Child of Rue Royale
My heart races as she shoos Mercury out of the suitcase and starts piling my clothes inside.
“Wait!” I yell. “Wait. Where am I going to go? What am I going to do? I’m eight months pregnant!” I watch her with tears collecting in my eyes, my heart racing at the unknown.
“We are going to Cassius. That house in California, he said it was yours. You go there, you hide out for now.”
“Then what?” I cry. She pulls out a handful of underwear and bras, tossing them on the floor.
“I don’t have all the answers yet!” she yells, but her eyes are wild, her motherly protection driving her to take care of the mess I’ve made. “But we can’t have you giving birth to a boy here and it getting out. You know how gossip spreads like wildfire here. We need you out of here so we can devise a plan.”
“I can’t go have a baby by myself.”
That’s when Chantal appears in the doorway, parking a suitcase in front of her. “You won’t be by yourself.”
My mouth falls open, my head shaking with uncertainty. “You can’t keep cleaning up my messes, you guys. Chantal, you can’t just leave your whole life.”
“This coven, and when I say coven, I mean you, this baby, Delta, and Jade—that’s my life. It’s probably not the healthiest thing. But it’s the truth. My mom is living on a worm farm. My sister and I can’t even be in the same room. This is my life.”
“Chantal,” I whisper, shaking my head. I’m being sent away.
“Please behave yourself,” I whisper as Mother and I ascend the stairs to Nightwalkers. A phrase I say all too often to my own mother, who loves to misbehave, but this time—this time, the stakes are incredibly high.
She blinks at me, making no promises, and my body runs hot.
“We don’t need any more drama or problems. Please.”
“Who’s been delivering the potions and creams to them? Hmm? Me. Clearly, I have been behaving myself.”
But that’s transactional. Not coming to someone for help, not begging on your knees. I don’t want to leave my city. But I understand what Mother’s fears are now that I’ve woken up, now that I can see a little more clearly. Franklin’s face transports to my mind. The power he had to kill me instantly, and all because of some unknown traitorous witch. I can’t be naive. So I vow to stay quiet, allowing her to take the lead on this one. I feel like part of my brain is broken.
We stride through Nightwalkers straight to Nicola’s office, Oksana standing guard in front.
“Hi, honey,” Mother says in her mocking tone. She looks at Mother and then straight at my belly, shaking her head with what looks like disgust.
“Got something to say, Oksana?” I can’t help myself. Her face drives me nuts because she can never hide her hate for our kind, and she’s not even a vampire—just their human minion.
“Not unless she wants that lovely mouth to be sewn shut,” Mother huffs, and Oksana cackles.
“Try it,” Oksana sings, her English accent making everything she says sound proper, even when she’s taunting me.
“Oksana, I swear to God, today is not the day.”
She swings open the door to Nicola’s office, and I consider stomping on her foot as I pass her.
My eyes instantly meet Nicola’s as she sits behind her desk, Cassius standing behind her. Why Cassius demanded Nicola be here is beyond me. We don’t need our mothers’ tempers butting heads right now. But there’s no turning back, so I take the lead by sitting in the chair closest to the door as Oksana closes it.
When your heart is broken, it easily takes you back to important places in your life. Moments tattooed on it forever. I was so angry when Cassius condemned Bastian and me the night he discovered there was something between us, the first night Bastian coughed up blood right in front of me in this very room. The night Franklin sat outside this door, preying on me as I left.
But now, I don’t have that feeling of anger. I look back and think, we risked it all, didn’t we, Bastian? We risked it all for each other. I swallow, vowing not to cry. Now is not the time.
Especially with the way Nicola is looking at me. Like I’m the devil incarnate, the one who took her child from her. She doesn’t age, but there’s something around her cobalt eyes that looks older, more broken, and I’m sure it’s the loss of Bastian.
Amerie and the vampire I’ve come to recognize as Mathius enter the room, and Cassius looks at them, eyes squinting quizzically.
Mother doesn’t sit, instead, crossing her arms while looking at Nicola. “This is a private matter.”
“Anything you say to us, you can say in front of them,” Nicola replies, her hands sprawling on the desk.
“Absolutely not.” God, it’s my mom’s favorite thing to say these days.
