Chapter Five Emma Baldwin
CHAPTER FIVE
Emma Baldwin
Grandmère’s ballroom blurs and shifts, her illusion misty and unclear for a moment.
I focus on the massive golden clocks and colorful celestial paintings that I remember gazing at for hours as a child.
But her magic has altered the space since then.
Made it far bigger than it appears from the outside.
The fine blue silk tapestries still hang in splendor.
Our family crest is displayed proudly on a flag in the corner of the room.
Soaring above it all, a massive chandelier dangles from an oval blue ceiling painted with golden constellations.
But tonight, the furniture has been removed to make way for a crowd of smiling people.
I look around, confused. Is Grandmère throwing us a welcome party?
Maybe this is her way of bribing me to remain obedient and follow the rules.
Or are we simply crashing one of the lavish shindigs she regularly hosts to network with other families with magical abilities who have become her allies, as well as the few nonmagical people who have earned her trust over the years?
Grandmère’s piano sits by the spiral staircase leading to the ballroom’s upper level.
Smartly dressed men and women whirl to an upbeat tune played by a ten-piece penguin-suited band set up under the window.
Several dessert tables line the walls, covered with gold trays.
There are macarons, chocolate-banana crepes, and lemon-berry savarin with strawberries so red and plump that I have to lick my lips as I look down at them.
We make our way to one of the dessert tables, where Demetri shovels pink star-shaped sugar cookies into his mouth. I guess his sweet tooth is strong enough to make him forget about everything that’s happened tonight. Following his lead, I bite into a sweet roll that melts in my mouth.
Grandmère smiles as I lick the sweet topping off my lips.
People sway and spin around us.
“So this is your surprise?” I ask. “What are you celebrating?”
“You, of course,” Grandmère replies, beaming. “The safety of my grandchildren.”
“Really?” Demetri’s tone betrays his skepticism.
Grandmère’s eyes flicker, but she doesn’t bother to respond.
“I’m sure you planned this event before you knew we were coming,” I say, just as suspicious as Demetri.
“I’ve been to the future, little bird.” Grandmère laughs. “I always know when you’re coming.”
I grin, but I can tell that my grandmother, the keeper of the family’s secrets, is concealing another.
My brother shuffles from foot to foot. “Grandmère, are you sure now is the time for a party?”
She smirks. “I’ve always admired you for being obedient without question, dear boy. Let’s get back to that.”
He frowns, then relaxes, clearly deciding it’s not worth the argument. But I’m still wondering why he questioned having a party now. And why are ravens orbiting this place? And why does my family lie more than they tell the truth?
“Is everything to your liking, my perfect little bird?” Grandmère asks. “Look, everyone who’s anyone in New Orleans is here for you.” She points to faces across the room, listing out a litany of accomplished people. “When home is this fabulous, there’s little reason to leave.”
Her eyes convict me, like she knows that all I’ve wanted lately is to be free, to run away from this entire family, including her, and never look back.
Next to us, a girl with blond hair adorned with gold ribbons dances in a daisy-colored dress.
As she twirls, I notice the dress is backless, with crystal beads that cascade across her spine like glittery necklaces.
Her gown is seductive, unusual for this time.
But before I can give it more thought, she disappears into the crowd.
“I—I—” I stammer. Grandmère usually rules with an iron fist and has little tolerance for errors that disrupt the illusion of perfection that she works so hard to maintain. “I expected to be punished, Grandmère.”
“Why? Children are supposed to make mistakes. It’s how they learn.”
“I’m eighteen,” I say.
She dismisses my comment with a wave of her hand. “You’re not grown until I say you’re grown.”
“Someone died,” I whisper, sudden tears blurring the party guests. The weight of what we’d outrun still haunting me.
“That vile man dying gave you a hard lesson,” Grandmère says.
“And now you know not to go off script again. I’m sure your mother already gave you a significant tongue-lashing over the incident.
No need for reruns. No, tonight is for celebrating everything that you are and everything you’ve yet to achieve! ”
“Emma? Is that you?” a familiar voice says from behind me.
I turn and discover that the blond-haired girl has emerged from the crowd to stand in front of me.
Now that I can see her face—her ice-blue eyes, thin upturned nose, and full lips—I can’t believe I didn’t recognize her sooner.
I guess it’s because she’s dyed her hair.
It used to be auburn. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize my best friend.
“Ariella!” I cry, hugging her tightly as the grandfather clock in the corner chimes, marking the moment. “I’ve missed you!”
“Ditto. The time apart has been murder.”
I wince at her choice of words as she smooths a wave behind her ear before fiddling with a gold ribbon tied to her wrist.
“Emma, I love that dress.” Ariella turns to Grandmère. “Bonsoir, Madame Baldwin.”
“Call me Gran, dear,” she replies.
Ariella beams.
Call me Gran? When did they get so close?
“I adored your letters, Emma. I am so glad that Grandmère was kind enough to pass along notes for us. We’ve been reminiscing together on the fun we always have when you’re in town.
But receiving your letters has been just as fun, the postmarks from all over!
The travel! It must be so glamorous and romantic being a circus performer. All those shows.”
“At times.” I keep my voice light.
Ariella leans forward. “Speaking of shows, I didn’t have a chance to write to you about it, but I went to see the Davenport Family Revue in Chicago.”
My eyes bulge. Grandmère stares with eyes like daggers. She fears letting anyone outside the family know too much about our business.
Mom whips around. “What did you say, child?”
“Ariella,” Grandmère chides. “You’re dangerously close to looking like a gossip, dear. And you know the saying: A dog who brings a bone will carry one. Clearly, you’re not that type of girl, are you?”
“Of course not,” Ariella replies.
“She must’ve misspoken.” I yank Ariella’s arm and sweep her into a far corner.
Ariella smiles as the band strikes up a jazzy tune. “You are gonna dance, right, Em?”
“In a bit.” I squirm. I better figure out what my grandmother is up to first.
“Suit yourself.” She winks, already stepping away, the crowd pulling her in. Then, over her shoulder, she calls, “But the night is young, the music’s sweet—don’t let it pass without dancing feet.”
“Emma, birdie, you know how I feel about letting outsiders in on our personal business. I trust that you have not shared any inappropriate information.” Grandmère’s eyes grow shrewd.
“No, ma’am.” As desperate as I’ve been to share our magical secret, particularly now that Grace is gone, I haven’t.
Grandmère turns to my brother. “Though perhaps it is time to check in on our competition. Demetri, tomorrow morning, I want you to pay a visit to the Davenport Family Revue. My sources tell me they’re currently in Philadelphia.
” She leans close to him, but I overhear her whisper, “In the year 2024.”
The future! My heart flutters like a kite in the wind. I’ve never driven that far into it, never gone farther than the 1960s.
Grandmère’s eyes study the crowd as she whispers, “Gather as much information as you safely can on their movements, mood, and abilities. I want to know how they’re preparing for what’s to come and who we might be up against.”
I wait for my brother to ask her what she’s talking about, but apparently he already knows. “Are you sure now is the time for me to be away from the family?”
She raises an eyebrow. “You’re more handsome when you’re not questioning my decisions.”
“Sorry,” he mumbles.
“I don’t need to tell you what’s at stake here,” she snaps.
“What’s at stake?” I interrupt, fed up with their cryptic talk and doublespeak. “Why am I the only one in the dark?”
They ignore me. “Demetri, remember not to approach our enemies. This is strictly for intel, dear boy.” Grandmère leans closer to him, gaze hardening. “Unless you see an opportunity…”
“I’m going with him.” I’m tired of being left out.
Grandmère’s hand strokes mine. “That’s not going to happen, little bird.”
“Please, Grandmère. I can do this. And you know I’ve been wanting to visit the twenty-first century.”
“No.”
“Why?” I challenge, the disrespect hot on my tongue.
“Because I said so,” Grandmère replies firmly. “Besides, if my guess is right, you’ll soon be far too busy to worry about a scouting mission.”
Is this the moment I was dreading? Is she planning one of her brutal punishments for what I did at the circus, after all? I don’t know how much longer I can stand the secrecy.
Grandmère gazes toward the window for a moment.
“All in good time, birdie. All in good time. Now, enough shop talk.” She reaches up to straighten Demetri’s bowler hat, then looks across at Ariella, who is talking to my parents on the other side of the room.
Mom is elegant in her black-fringed dress, and Papa’s dapper in his navy suit.
“Go on, beautiful boy. Someone is eager to dance.”
Demetri gives our grandmother a worried look as he pauses by my side.
“I have everything under control,” she snaps. “Go! Enjoy yourself!”
He takes long strides across the room, speaking to men in top hats and tailcoats before greeting our parents.