Page 3 of The Child of Rue Royale
My days are sad and long without him. But when I bring him back, the days will be filled with him and her and us. I just need to hold on tight. Just hold on tight.
“I understand it. Longing for the sun. It’s pretty glorious,” my cousin Chantal says, and I open my eyes, the sun stinging through my dark glasses. We float, hand in hand, our hair swaying around us, as Freddie Mercury’s voice croons from mylittle speaker.
“It came at a price, like everything else on Earth.” I sigh, closing my eyes again, my belly and face bobbing above the water. I think of the days Bastian and I spent floating in this very pool, how he held me in the water, begged me to shout that I was his girl. I would shout it now—a thousand times over.
This is how we spend our days since the start of my third trimester. Working in the shop as the construction nears a finish in my upstairs apartment, then breaking into Bastian’s pool, floating until our fingers and toes turn into prunes, the internal flame that being so pregnant causes, temporarily extinguished. It soothes me, being here again. We stay only in the back yard because things between us and the vampires are toeing a very fragile line.
We hardly see anyone here, only caretakers from time to time. The occasional pool cleaner or gardener waves as we float or wrap towels around our bodies, no questions asked. Security cameras hang from under the eaves, so I like to think Cassius knows and is fine with it. And Nicola, well, she won’t even look at me, won’t even acknowledge my existence. As the woman who took her child away and since I became pregnant, I can’t say that I blame her.
Chantal’s fingers squeeze mine, and she’s my lifeline these days. I suppose she always has been, but I was so wrapped up in the legacy I didn’t want to fulfill—have a daughter, make the potions, and just get through each day. It wasn’t until I lost everything—Bastian and my home—that I realized who was always the constant in my life. Chantal. I squeeze her hand back.
On the floor of Nightwalkers surrounded by the remnants of Franklin’s blood, Cassius told me I was pregnant, and my first response was that it simply wasn’t possible. I had only recently slept with the vampire, Bastian Delacroix. A forbidden vampire, I might add, and I also created a forbidden potion that allowed him to walk in the sun, cry human tears, and apparently have live swimmers. Who would have thought?
“Pandora,” Chantal sings, and I turn my head to meet her gaze, her face inches from mine.
“That’s such a basic witch name.”
“Okay, no. Geneva?”
I let the name roll around my mind. “Pretty.” I close my eyes. Who knew naming a child would be such an important decision? “He said once we would name our daughter Aventurine after his green eyes. Hewas joking, of course, but…there’s something I kind of love about that.”
“How many letters are in that name? Don’t do that to a child.” Chantal laughs.
I sigh. “I wish she could have his last name.”
“She can’t be a Delacroix, Aster,” she moans with irritation.
“His name was DeZaiffe before he was turned.”
Chantal sits up on her floaty and pulls her glasses down the bridge of her nose. “That’s a horrible last name.”
I laugh. “I don’t think it’s horrible.” But then I think of the man that gave Bastian his last name. The abusive father. No, no. My baby will be a Wildes. But possibly half-vampire? “I can’t stop worrying about it, and you’re probably tired of hearing it, but…not knowing if she’ll need blood is plaguing me. And what about sunlight? And our blood is cursed. What if there’s a curse on her blood, and she’s half vampire? What the fuck would happen then?” I run water over the tops of my scorching thighs, exhaling. “Not knowing what to expect is the fucking worst.”
“I know, honey, I know. And I’m not sick of it. I’m worried too. But she’s in there surviving so the blood must not affect her, and like you said, when he took the potion, he had human tendencies, so maybe she’ll be human with a touch of vampire. Or all witch?”
The scent of sunscreen turns my stomach, which is nothing new these days. So many scents make me nauseous. “I wish we could just openly ask if any witches have experienced a hybrid child before, or whatever she is.”
“All that will do is breed suspicion. We just need to hold tight until the baby comes, and then we’ll know what we’re dealing with. And whatever happens, we’ll get through it. Together.” She practically yells the last part. A reminder—I’m not on my own. I’m not alone.
I tried keeping it from Chantal, my plan to bring Bastian back. But one day she sunk down on her sofa with her brown eyes slanted in suspicion. “I know what you’re planning, and if you do it, you’re dumb.”
She doesn’t agree with it because resurrection is strictly forbidden in our coven, but so is having a relationship with a vampire as well as creating a secret potion. Why should I stop breaking the coven rules now?
I may have vowed no more secrets from Chantal, but I still keep this plan from Mother...for now. I promised myself that I would tell her before the baby was born, yet here we are…weeks from the birth. Resurrection spells can take months, and I can’t perform it until I have the baby’s blood, which is also Bastian’s blood. So there’s still time.
My mother is exhilarated to be having a grandchild and to have the coven stop pressing me to get pregnant, though coming to terms that her granddaughter could be part vampire has been a harder pill for her to swallow. Only she, Jade, and Chantal know it’s Bastian’s baby. The coven thinks the father is a random who’s no longer in my life. It’s quite normal for us to procreate in such a way, so no red flags have been raised.
My phone alarm goes off, informing us it’s time to clean up our soda cans. Put the floaties away. Leave without a trace. We push our feet through the water and stand upright, our faces meeting, our eyes masked behind our dark sunglasses. But I see her, and she sees me. Chantal, who is so tough on the outside, is actually pudding on the inside, and thank goodness for that.
She smiles. “Let’s go, mama.”
I grab my bag, slide into my sandals, and stare at the big, empty house before me. I wonder if Bastian’s furniture is still inside. If the clothes he left when we planned on running away together still hang in the closet. Are there any fragments of those weeks we spent together—as he healed from overdosing on the secret potion I created—sitting stagnant within those walls?
The security camera blinks from over the sliding glass door, and I think for a moment, maybe Cassius is watching. So, I raise my hand, and through a strained smile, I can’t help myself, I wave.
WHEN THE PHONE RINGS, Iknow who’s calling. I’m in my shop, Wildes Crystal and Jewelry, wrapping an amethyst pair of earrings as the ringing fills the room from my back pocket. I pull it out and his name sits on the screen as my stomach flutters and the baby kicks all at once. I silence it, setting it next to the package I’m wrapping. I want to answer, but I smile at my customer instead.
“When are you due?” she asks, looking at my giant stomach with a kind smile.
