Page 73 of The Child of Rue Royale
“Holy shit,” Chantal whispers, shaking her head. “Holy shit. They know about your affair with Bastian. They tried to have you killed in the fire. But they killed Bastian instead. And the aunts gave him the protection spell because they all knew we would come for him, thinking only he did it.”
“They created a secret deal with Franklin,” I repeat. “He was so livid about our affair and that I kicked the shit out of him that he went to them, and they all plotted to kill me.”
Chantal’s head falls forward as my dear mother screams her head off on the side of the road.
“Why? What do we do?” she asks, and she sounds defeated—so defeated, and I want to shrink away inside myself. But then Aven grunts, and the hour journey home suddenly feels like days. I grab his pacifier and place it in his mouth, and it soothes him for now, and just when I think I’ll have to peel myself from the back seat and yell to my mother to get back in the car, she slams her body against the seat, the door pounding shut as she throws the car in drive. It all spins again, my stomach dipping and curving, saliva forming in my mouth.
“Why would the aunts want me dead?” I ask, but Mother only shakes her head, the shared bewilderment more than we can comprehend. “Why do I feel like this?”
“Because you were called to magic that you didn’t prepare or commit to. It has zapped your energy. It was a vision and a memory.Memories, you must have a willing participant. Visions can just happen. They can be from the past or the future.”
“Why did it happen?”
“Having Aven, coming back to New Orleans, must have unlocked something for the both of you. I wonder…Grandma was a Seer from the moment she was born.” She thinks for a moment. “My dream was right. It told me we needed to go to this ceremony, told me we had to get it done. And now we know who our enemies are…at least two of them.”
“The other person could have been that Curtis guy, the one who told Franklin about you and Bastian, or one of Franklin’s fuck boys,” Chantal says.
I don’t have much strength to speak, and it panics me, my heart battering inside my chest.
“When will I feel normal?” I ask as Chantal’s phone rings.
“Just rest, you will get your strength back,” Mother says, looking back at me, face twisted with tension.
“It’s Jade,” Chantal says, picking up her phone. “Yeah, what the fuck?” she says to Jade and puts her on speaker.
“I heard everything. Franklin, Violetta, Rosemary, someone else. Fucking traitors!” Jade yells over the phone, and Mother’s knuckles clench tighter on the wheel.
“Could you hear Rosemary or Violetta thinking when I fell?”
“No, they must have a block on me. Which explains why I never heard about any of it.”
“How did this happen?” Chantal sighs, and the three of them talk over each other as I lie here, trying to gather myself. Bastian is probably worried, but I don’t have the vigor to find my phone or even ask them to call him. Instead, I just rest across the seat, my body bouncing with the car as I try to keep the nausea at bay and wish I could fast-forward time until I’m home with Bastian.
“WHAT HAPPENED?” BASTIAN SNARLS, THEseverity of his voice striking me.
My car door flies open, and his voice cries, “Oh, my God!”
“I’m okay,” I mutter trying to sit up. I’ve seen his face cloaked in such fear only once before, right before he died. I don’t want him to worry, I don’t want him to go back to blaming himself, but the moment I sit up, everything flashes in black and white, and I fall back.
“Baby!” he calls, leaning into the car as I close my eyes, trying not to fade into the darkness. I feel his breath on my cheek, his sweet scent filling my nostrils, so my eyes flutter open. He’s leaning over me, eyes searching my entire face like he’s watching a war in real time. “Come on,” he says so gently, hooking his arms under my shoulders and pulling me to the edge of the car.
“She needs to eat,” Mother says. “I’ll make her something. Can you get the baby?” she asks Chantal, and that’s when I start to cry.
“Bastian…” I say, the fear digging like worms in my veins. “Something’s wrong.”
“You’re home, you’re okay.” He pulls my arm over his shoulder then places an arm under my knees and lifts me, his beautiful eyes darker than usual, his nose pressed against my temple, inhaling me as he carries me up the stairs and through the entryway. “You’re fine, you’re okay,” he soothes, but it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than me.
He places me on the couch, fixing a pillow under my head and pulling off my shoes. Mother brings a glass of water, and I slurp on thestraw, knowing I’m dehydrated, and I was so nervous, I haven’t eaten in over twelve hours.
What if it happens again? And this is how I’m left after? Unable to defend myself? Zapped of all my energy? The thought of what could happen…what if I was alone with Aven?
“Where’s the baby?” I ask once Bastian, who sits on the floor next to my head.
“Chantal is putting him to bed, he’s fine.” His hand pushes the hair from my face as I lie back down, gently stroking my forehead, a look of agony on his face.
“What happened?” he demands, and I swallow. My stomach finally settles as Mother brings in a soothing cake, so I bite into it and chew softly.
“She had a vision. One she didn’t call upon. The elders in our coven supplied Franklin with the protection he needed to kill us. They also plotted the fire with him.” Chantal says it matter of fact, the hint of anger in her voice almost undetectable. They continue to fill Bastian in as I eat the cake, each swallow making my head feel more grounded, my breaths less labored.
