Chapter Twenty-Five #2
Antoine felt the creep of dread run over his skin. “What has this to do with Cally?”
“Mais oui, but she was part of my plan, it is true.” Belle paused, playing to the drama of her grand reveal as if it were habit and she couldn’t help herself.
“You see, I learned the hard way that no one could in truth love another if there was a power imbalance. It would always be the bond of master and slave, not of equals. And if a bond is to last, it has to be of equals, does it not?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Does it?”
“Would you accept me as more than your sire, knowing I could at any time, as I did so often before, put you beneath me?”
“Never.”
“Exactement. Yet now, your power begins to rival even that of Curia members. I watched with great delight as you fought off Jorge, so much older than you. You should never have been able to meet his power, yet you almost did.”
“Because of Cally’s blood, not you. You did nothing to help.”
“Ah, but you see, I had already done everything I needed to help.” Belle smiled smugly. “How would you have found Cally, had I not thrown her in your path?”
Antoine scoffed. “You are delusional. You are claiming you were here, before the Curia meeting, thrusting a random girl my way, one you did not even know was a witch?” He shook his head. “What games are these, Belle?”
“I made no such claim.”
“Well, good.”
“It was, in fact, twenty-six years ago that I was here readying her for you.”
Antoine stared at her in bewilderment, if only because her tone held no humor or mischief. She believed what she said. “If I did not know our healing also protected our minds, I would upgrade ‘delusional’ to ‘insane.’”
“Yet, all I say is the truth, so I swear.”
Antoine slumped in his chair, watching her, incredulous. “You mean to say you were the one who attacked Cally’s mother?” he said in disbelief. “To make her a witch, in the hope that I would find her and bond her?”
“No, mon amour. To control things to such a degree lies beyond even my skills at manipulation—which, if you do not mind the boast, are adept indeed.”
“So what are you saying?”
“It wasn’t just Cally’s mother. I attacked dozens that year, feeding on pregnant women wherever I found them.”
“You did what?” That was too far, even for a vampire.
“Witch blood is dormant in a broad swath of Boston’s population, and by casting the net wide, I thought to ensnare you sooner or later.”
“What?” Antoine said again, this time with skepticism, not horror.
Belle waved a hand. “It is as I have told you. Believe me or not, the evidence speaks for itself.”
“You mean to say you triggered the magic of dozens of unborn children, in the forlorn hope that at some distant future point, I would choose to feed on them, and become bonded to a witch?”
“Just so.”
“That… is ludicrous.”
“Oh?” She looked genuinely interested in his assessment. “How so?”
“Well, first, witch blood is dormant in only a fraction. You said so yourself.”
“Which is why I bit so many,” she said with maddening confidence.
“Second, how could you know the child would be a girl?”
“I assumed half would be.”
He shook his head. “Third. The authorities would’ve noticed.”
She laughed. “You think I can’t feed on a chattel without them remembering? You flatter yourself.”
“To the point they bleed out during birth?”
“Hardly that, mon amour. The smallest of snacks achieved my goals.”
Except in Cally’s mother’s case. But maybe Belle wasn’t aware… or it was just one of so many others, easily forgotten.
“If what you say is true, you have left dozens of potential witches across Boston. That is risky to the point of foolishness. What if other vampires bonded them?”
“The question is irrelevant,” Belle said, waving it off with one hand.
“No vampire other than you leaves their victims alive. The chances of another vampire encountering one of my… blessed conclave”—she paused to smile in enjoyment of her own term—“and for their prey to walk away? Vanishingly thin. Whereas you…” she gestured at him, “you never kill, do you?”
“What if they became witches without being bitten?” Like Cally.
“Chattel no longer believe in such things,” she said, indifferent. “Maybe they lose their car keys less often. Who cares? It is not as if magic texts are at Barnes Eve had grown on him.
“Wealth? Power?” Belle pressed. “No, don’t go—” She made a soft tutting noise as Eve walked out the door, closing it firmly behind her.
“Such a beautiful one. So fresh and unclaimed.” Belle shook her head in mock dismay. “Now I have yet another reason to return. I do declare, your house is far more fun than anywhere else.”
She pulled up her hood and swept to the door. “I would see myself out, but I know you won’t trust me to not double back and taste your delightful new guest. Alas!”
She left the door open so Antoine’s view was unobstructed as she walked to the front door, her exit more theatre than retreat.
At the threshold, Belle paused. “Soon, we will be together again. Give Cally my love, won’t you?”
“I’ll… pass that on.” Just as soon as I figure out how to tell her you killed her mother.
The door closed behind her, and Antoine stepped forward to slide the lock firmly into place.