Chapter 35
“WHAT HAPPENED?” BASTIAN SNARLS, THE severity 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 the straw, 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.
“What the fuck?” Bastian yells, standing once they’ve finished the story, his bare feet pacing back and forth in the family room. “Did your aunts know about the potion you made for me? Is that why they were in on the fire?”
“I don’t think they know about the potion.
But Franklin must have told them about us, and that was enough to make a deal with him.
The women who were supposed to protect me conspired my death with our enemy.
I don’t care if I broke the rules by falling in love with a vampire. I shouldn’t be killed for it.”
Bastian pulls his hand down his face as Mother hands me more water, and I finish it, finally able to sit up.
“You feeling better?” he asks, sitting next to me, my body sinking at his side, but he’s tense. So tense, like a balloon so full it aches to pop. I find myself nodding and rubbing his arm, trying to soothe him, the veins on his forearm tighter than ever from his fisted hands.
“Aster creates a potion that doesn’t get anyone else hurt.
We fall in love. They find out and band together to have you killed?
Your own coven turned against you. The ones you’ve trusted, the ones you’ve sacrificed your lives for, your bodies, your happiness.
” He holds on to me tighter, his chin resting on my head.
Chantal and Mother can only nod because Bastian is right. We have given everything to those women, and they double-crossed us. Tried to have me killed and then fed us to a vampire who was just waiting to pounce with a protection spell that gave him all the confidence to toy with us.
“Who knows what they are plotting right now behind our backs? Carrying on with a blessing ceremony for a witch they knew Franklin tried killing.” Mother shakes her head in disgust. “I have hated those women from the day I was born, and my mother told me I had to play nice. I had to do what I was told, I had to bend to their will. Here we are, the true witches, and they wanted to wipe us out.”
“That’s probably it, you know,” I say, eyes rising to meet Mother’s.
“If Franklin killed me, our bloodline would have been wiped out. I didn’t even know I was pregnant.
And then they could have carried on, the money from The Agreement could have stayed in their family, they could have changed all the rules.
Kept the money and power for themselves. ”
“Jesus Christ, that’s it. That has to be it,” Chantal says as Mother stands. The rage inside her sends shards of electricity from her fingertips, the crackle snaking up her arms, her eyes wild, needing somewhere to place her anger.
“Delta,” Chantal warns. “We need a plan.”
“My whole life those women looked down on me. Treated me like I was the sludge washed away every morning on Bourbon Street. Like I was trash, when my bloodline was from the origin witch. This is a lifetime of betrayal like I have never known, and those bitches are going to pay for what they have done to me.” Her eyes rove over to mine. “And my family.”
My cheeks flush red hot. Her family. My family. Our family. Bastian squeezes my knee again.
“What about your mother? Have you heard from her?” Mother asks Chantal.
“She texts me when she goes into town. But she’s totally off the grid. She doesn’t consider herself one of us anymore,” Chantal replies.
Our whole lives, we thought we had a coven behind us, and it turns out, our circle keeps getting smaller and smaller.
I look at Bastian, the worry drawing bags under his eyes, his chest moving up and down with repressed anger.
I take his hand and squeeze it. His face turns to mine, and we lock eyes.
“It’s been a long day. We need to get some sleep,” I say to the others, keeping his gaze.
Chantal stands as though she was waiting for someone to say it.
“Why don’t you ladies stay here?” Bastian says as he stands. “Maybe it’s best if we stay together.”
“Oh, you’re sweet,” Mother says, walking up to him and patting his cheek.
“No, I’m going home and sleeping in my bed.
So that I can conjure the absolute best revenge plan ever concocted.
” I think about her bed and how I haven’t even been able to go to the house since it’s been finished from the fire.
“Same. Not about the plan, but the sleeping in my own bed,” Chantal says and hugs me tight. “Get some rest, baby girl.” She gives me that look, the one I can see with my eyes closed. The we are fucked, but we are in it together, look.
That night, as Bastian and I lie in bed, our hands clasped between us, I say, “Give me something to look forward to. What we’re going to do once it’s all over. I need to dream.”
He bites his lip, looks over my head, and sighs. “We’re going to travel. The three of us. We’re going to Paris to sip on espresso at cafes and to Mexico to swim in a cenote. We’ll go to Japan for cherry blossom season, and we’ll sleep in a treehouse in Africa.”
I close my eyes, the tiny hairs on my arms rising from envisioning all the possibilities.
“Aven will experience his first Mardi Gras. He’ll eat King Cake and watch all the krewes parade down Bourbon Street. He’ll grow up in the Garden District, but he’ll have a deep-seated affection for the French Quarter, for where his parents fell in love. He is a child of Rue Royale, after all.
“And you and I will watch him grow. We’ll protect him at all costs, and he will live his life just as he pleases.
He’ll have lots of sleepovers with his grandmothers, who will fight for him frequently, and then I will take you wherever you want to go and spend every one of those nights, making it special.
We’ll build a beautiful life, a future to look forward to. ”
I picture it in my mind, visions of a magnificent life…all the possibilities. “Thank you,” I rasp, my eyes still closed, not wanting to leave where my mind is dancing. Lips press on my forehead as Bastian inhales deeply.
“Coconut,” he whispers, the same shampoo scent I’ve always used simply because all I wanted was a vacation.
“And when you’re sick—” he stops, so I open my eyes to see an eyebrow rise. “Do witches get colds?”
I grin. “Yes.”
“Right, so when you’re sick, I’ll learn to make you soup.
And we’re going to have—what’s that called?
Date night? I’m going to be the king of date night.
And when your mom is driving you nuts, I’ll listen.
And I’ll help you actually grow plants because you’re a witch, for heaven’s sake. You need to learn how to grow plants.”
I sneer, and he kisses my head again in apology. Then his eyes grow serious as a snake about to strike.
“And when you ask me to make love to you, I’ll do it soft and tenderly, and when you ask me to fuck you, I’ll take you hard and hungrily.”
Within seconds, I pull his head to mine, kissing his mouth where my lips beg to always be.
It’s so easy, how he can slide me next to him, like we’re magnets, a pull we can’t resist nor do we want to.
He’s not as strong since he’s been human, but he still can push and pull me around at his will, my body yearning for it.
The push and pull of him. Just to be next to him, just to feel his warmth.
His hands on my back, his legs wrapped around mine.
He’s my home, and if I could just live in every word he just said, if I could pitch a tent and never leave, we would be okay, we would be perfect.