Chapter 16
I LOOK UP. THE WORDS digest inside every muscle in my body, every cavity that pumps blood, every bone that holds me in place.
That’s the last entry, nothing more, no questions about what my grandmother whispered in Bastian’s ear, and both excitement and disappointment course through me at the same time.
I grab my phone, trying to decide if I should tell Chantal first or call Cassius.
My wrists suddenly begin to throb. Winnie, from the bedroom, telling me there’s magic to be made.
My phone rings in my hand, and I jump.
“Hello?” I say once I see who is calling.
“Find anything interesting?” Cassius asks, his voice low.
“Yes, Cassius. Something extremely interesting,” I say, and it’s like I can hear him smile over the phone.
“Excellent. I was hoping that would be the case.”
“Is there more? I don’t see what my grandmother whispered in his ear.”
He’s silent for a moment, then his words come across gently.
“No, no more. I think I told you that when times were happier, I stopped writing. After that night, Bastian was barred from consuming drunk blood, and he changed, he matured. He became more of the Bastian you knew, the real Bastian. So, no. There’s no more about him, that is. ”
My hope sinks, my foot tapping the couch nervously. “Do you know what she whispered?”
“I don’t. I’m not sure even he knew, he was so bombed.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this? When I came to you and asked you if he kept a journal?”
Silence again, and maybe I said it too harshly, but my frustration is full of heat.
“What I gave you to read was…very personal, intimate. I’m very private.
It has situations, feelings, and experiences that I’m not proud of and uncomfortable sharing.
I also didn’t think there was anything imperative in it.
Nothing extremely telling, so to speak. I’ve had witches and vampires say wild things to me all my life, and a twelve-year-old saying Bastian was special wasn’t that out of the ordinary.
Until you told me you were having a boy.
Then! Then I went back to my writings and re-read what Cora said.
And those lines struck me. ‘A child will need you. The most unexpected child.’ A boy, his boy is the most unexpected.
I then remembered how badly he wanted to be a father, but you see, once he knew that was out of the question, he never spoke of it again.
But it all made sense in some strange way that didn’t make sense.
So, I knew I had to push my pride aside and let you read it.
And I apologize it took me so long. I am old and stuck in my ways, but I’m trying to do the right thing now more than ever. ”
“Okay,” I whisper, letting his explanation sink in. What’s done is done, and I have his book now. “Cassius?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you. I need to call my mom.”
I hang up, bolting down the hall to the bedroom where Chantal is thankfully still awake watching TV.
“We have to talk to my mom,” I tell her, everything in my body fueled by what I know this to be. Validation for bringing Bastian back. What I needed more than anything.
“What does it say?” Chantal asks, sitting up and grabbing her phone.
“Facetime her,” I say, my feet pacing the soft carpet, my teeth working the tips of my nails.
It rings only once before Mother answers. “What’s wrong?” It’s four a.m. in New Orleans, and I never call at this hour.
“Mom. Cassius brought me a diary, and Grandma was in it. She stumbled on Bastian and Cassius in Pirate’s Alley and…just let me read it to you.”
I read it out loud for Mother and Chantal to hear, how Bastian would change everything, the unexpected child, and breaking generational curses. And how she whispered something in his ear. Something Cassius couldn’t hear.
My mother’s face goes still over the screen, her mouth widening but nothing coming out.
“He also really, really wanted to be a dad,” I say, the emotions pressing into my throat, causing my voice to deepen.
“How do we know this is accurate? Not something made up by Cassius?” Mother asks, and all I can do is look at her.
“I know it is. Everything in my soul tells me it is. Cassius wouldn’t betray me like this, betray Bastian like this. Bastian wasn’t supposed to be made, but Grandma knew, knew that he was meant to change it all. That he needed to be a father. Mom…tell me you understand. His story isn’t over yet.”
“Let me see?” Chantal says, trading me the phone for the book. She opens it, skimming, the wings of hope flapping in my chest like a dragon’s.
“What are you getting at, Aster?” Mother sighs, and I can feel her exhaustion from here.
“We’ve been trying to get answers. Figure out who helped Franklin, how we are going to raise a son in a family of only daughters. Maybe Bastian is the answer.”
“It all must unfold just as it should,” Chantal reads out loud, her eyes glassing over. “Aunt Cora told them this,” she says, covering her mouth with her hand.
“Why didn’t Bastian ever tell you about this rendezvous?” Mother demands.
I wondered it too, but I’m naturally defensive of him.
“Why didn’t Grandma ever tell us? I don’t know.
Maybe he didn’t remember? He was blood-drunk.
And she…well she told me I was different.
That I could change everything. But she never said it had to do with a vampire.
Maybe he forgot, but I can jar his memory.
A lot was happening during that time. He had just been turned, he was still learning how to be a vampire, and he didn’t even know much about us. ”
“Well…” Mother sighs, and I plop on the bed to steady myself. “I guess there’s no choice.”
We sit in the quiet, the weight of her words heavy in our ears. She’s thinking, contemplating. I don’t need her permission to bring Bastian back. I can do what I feel is right and best. My wrists throb harder, deeper, and my eyes look to Winnie on the nightstand.
“Everything in my bones is telling me…Winnie is telling me…and it’s not because I want it for selfish reasons.
I’m bringing him back. I’m asking him what Grandma whispered to him that night.
It might be all the answers we need. I can feel it.
” I raise my throbbing wrists, the veins inside visibly pulsing.
“Look,” I say, extending them to Chantal.
Her warm hand grabs one, thumb gently roving over the veins throbbing out of my skin. “Holy shit,” she whispers.
I flip the screen so Mother can see, everything inside me coiling tightly, everything wanting to burst, like the power pounding through the veins in my wrists.
Mother stares at the screen, her eyes taking in the movement in my veins.
“Oh my God,” she finally says. And then she’s silent, her face waged in a private war until her head finally shakes.
“You will have to bring Bastian back. And Universe help us all for what is about to ensue. We’ll pray the fact that he’s a vampire and not a human will hold up as a loophole for the rule. ”
Chantal and I lock eyes, and then, I slide to my knees, my hands clutching the comforter, the pain in my veins completely ceasing, hope bursting like tiny stars in my chest.
I awaken the next day with a purpose, a soul-driven, grateful purpose.
Sleep-deprived yet determined, I command Winnie into my arms at the whisper of her name.
I left Chantal sleeping peacefully and high-tailed it to the kitchen counter, where I opened my trusty grimoire.
I looked out the window, California’s sun peeking through a cover of fog—fog that would soon burn off, leaving the sun to smile in all her glory.
My sunshine boy would be back. I closed my eyes for a moment, taking it all in, then opened them with a determination to get to work.
I compiled the ingredients I had and made a list of the ingredients I needed.
My hands worked and wrote ferociously, my mind moving faster than my fingers could keep up.
What I read in Cassius’s writing was all the validation I desired to create something illegal, not that I was new to breaking the rules these days.
Having an affair with a vampire, creating a secret potion, and now having a son was bad enough.
But bringing that vampire back from the dead?
Well, I might as well tie myself to the stake.
But if what I’m feeling is right, that won’t happen.
And this will all have been for something.
I had never believed in a greater plan, that some things were just meant to be.
But Bastian showed me different because if anything is meant to be, it’s me and him.
And maybe I’ll be a part of changing something that’s meant to be changed.
Bastian, I think, baby, I’m bringing you back. I’m bringing you back because you and I and this boy are meant to be.
Two months. Two months is how long the spell will take once I get a drop of my baby’s blood. There’s much work to be done in that time, and it breaks my heart that Bastian will miss the first two months of his baby’s life, but there’s nothing I can do about that. Two months will fly by.
Necromancy is one of the two forbidden forms of magic.
Time travel being the second, and not the trick where we mentally go back in time like I did with Bastian.
I mean leaving this date and time and going back somewhere that could alter other people’s lives forever, which is way worse, right?
Maybe I’m just trying to convince myself that bringing Bastian back is the lesser of two forbidden practices, but my coven won’t care about that.
Ash. Magic. Blood. The power of three. I have Bastian’s ashes tucked in my bra.
I have the power, the magic that’s needed.
But the last thing I’ll need is the blood of our child.
I take a deep breath because there’s no way I would do anything unethical or harmful to my child.
Picking up my phone, I google if blood tests are performed on newborns, and it looks like almost all newborns have a blood test before they leave the birthing center.
How I’ll be able to get the smallest drop, I don’t yet know.
But for now, in this second, I’m not worried about how much of a vampire my son will be. With Bastian by my side, I never felt safer. And when he’s a father, something I didn’t know he so longed to be…well, I know we’ll be protected. I am running on faith. It’s all I’ve got at this point.