Chapter Four
Seated at the long wooden table, I carefully strip the dried herbs from the stems and place them into their proper glass containers. Replenishing inventory is a tedious affair. We pride ourselves on having the freshest. Ensuring that statement is true costs hard labor and stiff fingers. Vain creatures that we are, it’s a point of pride that keeps us harvesting throughout the year.
After an hour, I’ve found a rhythm. The stripping and sorting are almost cathartic. My mind is blissfully blank while I work. Today’s hectic morning shift was exactly what I needed. That kind of pace makes worry impossible. That’s the best part about helping others. You’re literally too focused on others to worry about yourself. Today Mémé is in the shop. She only comes in twice a week, so it’s always abnormally busy. At ninety, she deserves more time off.
“How are you doing back here?”
Speak of the devil. I glance up at Mémé and smile. “It’s coming along. Did Mom come in to relieve you for a bit? I know Felicite is good, but the mini-mob was lined out the door.”
“She did. It feels like everyone and their mother choose to come in today.”
I hum in agreement. “It made the time fly, though.”
“That it did.” She takes a seat in the chair beside me, and I’m hit with thoughts of Alida.
“Mémé, I had an interesting visitor in my Moon Garden the other night,” I say casually.
She chuckles. “What critter did you catch messing with your flowers? Do you need an old remedy to get rid of them?”
“Oh, it wasn’t a living being.” I study her from beneath my lashes.
Her eyes flicker toward me, and her pupils dilate. “You’re seeing the dead now?”
I nod my head. “Only this one so far. I think it was more her projecting than me gaining a new skill.”
“Anyone I know?”
I set down the herbs and turn my body toward her. “Alida.”
“My sister?” she whispers. The color leaves her face.
My stomach twists like a tornado, and I question my judgment call. Mémé is not a young woman. Should I be burdening her with this? There’s a reason I’m taking over her position in the family.
“What did she say?” Mémé whispers.
“She never actually spoke, but she did show me a memory of you and Percy talking about missing people.” Blood settles in her cheeks and neck. “What was Percival to you exactly? Because he seemed like much more than some school girl crush.”
“The one who got away, but never stayed gone. The ultimate temptation that’s haunted me.” The depth of her feelings leaves me speechless. “An ally in the darkest of times. My best friend.” Her voice cracks. The longing and regret I once glimpsed in Percival’s eyes goes both ways.
“I think she wants me to ask you about the Reaping.”
Mémé fists her rose-colored, floor-length skirt. “Those were terrifying days.”
“I know, Mémé. I would never ask this of you if Alida hadn’t shown up.”
“It changed everything, morphed people into strangers and friends into foes. Those troubled times turned brother against brother and mothers against children. We were so divided. It’s a miracle they didn’t slay us all. There were two major groups of thought. Those who saw it as every man for themselves, and sought only to protect their own, and others like me who understood together we’d be stronger.” She trails off, eyes seeing something I can’t.
“What happened to those people?”
“They were slaughtered.
“Their ignorance and rigidity made them vulnerable to attack. We lost so many. I tried to tell them this was more than a witch-hunt. It was too broad and well organized. Everyone was being hit. In order to survive, we needed to be bigger than our prejudices and band together with the others, the way the hunters had.” The horror etched on her face burns itself into my brain. I’ve never seen her so distraught. Her entire body is trembling.
“They let people die. Pride was chosen over everything else. So much blood spilled.” She places a hand on her neck.
“What changed?”
“Our numbers dwindled, and I came into power because Maman fell. I went against them all, brokered the treaties we now live by, and fought the resistance. I stood my ground. I had to. I severed connections that would have led to our demise at a great personal expense to myself. I’ve gone over it so many times in my head since that night. I can’t stop wondering if I could’ve done it differently.” A sob erupts from her throat.
Jumping from my chair, I move to embrace her. “Mémé?”
“I tore this family in two. Every time I think of how few of us remain I blame myself.”
I rest my cheek against her head, wishing I could take her pain away. “What would have happened had you not stood your ground?”
“None of us would be here now. It took all of us working together to defeat the hunters.” She sniffs.
“A wise woman once told me, being a leader means making the hard calls, and pissing people off.”
She gives a half laugh. “Using my own words against me?”
“When you learn from the best, there’s no reason to deviate.”
“I’ve held on to these secrets for a long time. Perhaps it’s time I air my dirtiest laundry.” She straightens and wipes her face. “It starts off benign. A difference of opinions. Each family member picked a side. It was as if someone had drawn a line straight down the center of us all.”
“Mémé. We have Fae.” My cousin’s panic-stricken face appears in the doorframe. The whites of her eyes stand out against her brown irises. Her dark hair falls across her forehead.
“We can’t keep them waiting. Send them back.”
What the hell is a fairy doing here? I stand.
Mémé raises her hand. “Stay, Lou.”
Confused, I return to my seat. I try not to gasp when the porcelain-skinned goddess with flowing, wavy, black hair, pointed ears, and a perfectly symmetrical heart-shaped face slinks into the room. Her movements transcend gracefully and fall into the otherworldly category. Her skin is luminous, lit from inside as if she swallowed the moon.
Her black gown shimmers as it trails out behind her, rippling like a living ink stain with every step she takes. Two steps behind her twins follow in her wake. Their eyes are a shade of black no human could ever hope to possess. Full of reflected light and the knowledge of ages, they make my blood run cold. Despite their beauty, these men are deadly. Bone straight, black hair tumbles around their sharp, angular features. A strong jawline and thin lips lend to their androgynous appearance.
“Sebile.”
“Witch.” Her voice is like wind blowing through the trees, haunting and eerie.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of her royal highness?” Mémé asks amusedly.
Sebile throws her head back, delivering a deep, throaty chuckle that makes me want to scramble from my chair and run.
“Still spry enough to play the game. Here I thought I’d find a feeble old woman having her power pried from her clammy, cold hands.”
“You mean you hoped you’d find me in a state that would allow you to have the upper hand?” Mémé asks.
“You wound me. I came to pay my respects, and greet the heir apparent.” Her eyes flicker with purple flames. I tamp down my urge to flinch. I can’t afford to show weakness right now. Unseelie―the dark Fae―are as slippery as eels. Born with black hearts, they respect power, cleverness, and the ability to play political games.
“Meet my granddaughter, Louella, future matriarch of the Esçhete family.”
“Call me Lou.” I smirk and wink, in that annoying way I’ve seen Marcellus do all too many times.
Sebile narrows her gaze. “Lou … how common.”
“You know us mere mortals. We like to keep things simple.”
“Quaint. I wanted to see for myself the woman who wound Cristobal Cortez around her human finger.”
It’s an insult. My hackles rise, but my training keeps me from showing it. “It’s a mutual exchange of respect, affection, and power. I assure you no one manipulates my Lord.”
“Lord? So, you admit to submission? That you are a lesser being?” Her eyes light.
“I admit to using proper titles. If I were lesser, I could never be a queen meant to rule at his side. We are equals with different strengths and skillsets. Together we can only be stronger.”
“She’s a clever one, isn’t she? See how well swiftly she plays at politics. Perhaps the Esçhetes will survive this exchange in power after all,” Sebile muses.
“Do you want to make your true intentions known? I can tell it’s more than a curiosity when you bring Cein and Kul with you and arrive during the daytime,” Mémé says, providing me with names for the heartbreakingly beautiful, deadly beings.
“Can’t I visit an old friend?” Sebile asks.
“We’ve been many things, but friends was never one of them.”
Sebile casts her gaze toward her guards. “Recently I’ve sensed a disturbance in the veils between worlds.”
“People cross back and forth all the time.” Mémé shrugs.
“Yes, but this … felt different. Foreign and ancient.”
Mémé tenses. “Are we in danger?”
“I’ve yet to determine intention or details. The hall of mirrors is vast, and I am but one. I thought perhaps you could come and tell me your impression?”
I’m shocked to find her gaze fixed on me. “It’s been a long time since I walked among the Fae,” Mémé says.
“Not you, wise one. She who’s proved quite adept at walking between all of us. I want to see this balancing act. We all do. It’s the first thing the courts have agreed on in ages.” Sebile smiles happily.
I frown. “Surely you don’t expect me to travel into the Fae lands by myself?”
“You’re welcome to bring a trusted entourage of course. We wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.” She flashes a smile that shows her rows of shiny, slightly pointy teeth.
“When do you want us there?” I fish for more information.
“I need to speak with the other courts. We wanted to know if you’d be willing to make the journey before we made any plans. You’ll be alerted when negotiations have been settled.” She rests her arms in the crook of her guards, and in the blink of an eye, they’re gone. I’ve grown used to the speed in which vampires move, and this terrifies me.
“Choose your partners wisely, girl. Things are never as they seem in the Fae world. You’ll need your wits about you, and senses you can trust without a shadow of a doubt.”
“Are you telling me to take vampires?”
“I said no such thing.” The upward curves of her lips tell me the exact opposite of her statement.
***
I’m like a schoolgirl with a secret burning a hole inside of me. For days I’ve digested what’s been revealed. Now, I need to speak with someone I trust, or I might explode. Sacha is off on vacation mending the rift with her family, Cristobal is too close to Percy, and I’m fit to be tied. I’ve been faking my way through every day pretending everything is fine when it’s not. Between planning, training, and work, it hasn’t been that hard to do.
“Fel, I need a favor,” I say as we shut down our computers and clean up for the weekend.
“What’s up?”
“I need a girls’ night in if you don’t have anything planned.”
“Oh, you’re actually going to your house for once?” Fel teases.
“Stop it. I stay there plenty.”
“Uh huh?”
“With Sacha off with her parents for the past week, it’s been too quiet.”
“Hey, you don’t have to justify anything to me. If I had tall, dark, and fanged waiting for me, I’d be home with him, too.”
I giggle as we hit the lights and step out into the muggy evening.
“Are you telling me one of the court’s caught your eye?” I ask.
“Oh no, that’s all you. I have my hands full with Esçhete business.”
“You’d be amazed what you’ll do for love,” I say honestly. A year ago, I couldn’t have imagined myself in this position. We’re both compromising. We bend without breaking to meet in the middle.
“Wow. You’re openly admitting it. Cristobal does good work.”
“Denying it wouldn’t make it any less true. Besides, new year, new leaf, and I hope a better me.”
“The best you. I’ll meet you at your place?” she asks as she walks to her car.
“I’ll see you in a few.”
I blast Panic at the Disco and sing along. The music transports me to a place nothing can touch. I tap the beat out on the steering wheel and get lost in nostalgia and the high only music that touches your soul can bring. Upbeat as I pull behind her car in my driveway, I grab my purse and step out with a spring in my step.
“You already look more relaxed.”
“Knowing I’m going to get a chance to talk things out has definitely lifted a weight off my shoulders. Not to take away from spending time with my favorite cousin.”
“Yeah, yeah, no need to butter me up.” Fel rolls her eyes. “What’s this about?”
I lead her up the porch to my front door. “I’m still trying to figure that part out.”
“Does this have to do with whatever I walked into you and Mémé discussing the other day?”
“Yes. The information she gave me blew my mind. I’ve been sitting on it, and I can’t keep it in anymore.”
“Okay, now you’re kind of freaking me out,” Fel mumbles as we step inside.
I hang my keys on the hook by the door and lock it behind us. “We talked about the Reaping.”
“Oh, Jesus. How did you manage to get her do that?” Fel asks.
“Before I launch into that tale, I need snacks and Hurricanes.”
“The slumber party essentials,” she agrees.
There’s a special bond you develop when a friendship spans the time ours has. She provides an indescribable sense of comfort that eases me on my worst days. She’s a lifeline to sanity and stability in a world of constantly shifting circumstances and roles.
“Do you want to borrow some pajamas?” I ask.
“Of course.”
I toe off my shoes, and we move to my bedroom where we strip down and pull on oversized sweatpants and worn T-shirts. With the A.C. cranked up, the heat of the day remains outside where it belongs. Dressed down, we relocate to the kitchen. The rust orange pumpkins that stand out on the black curtain and wall border make me smile. This is my happy space. I poured a lot of myself into this home.
“On a scale of buzzed to blitz what kind of Hurricanes are we making?” Fel asks as I gathered up the rum, passion fruit syrup, and lemon juice.
“Somewhere in the middle. I need to be able to tell my story, but I don’t want to be feeling any pain.”
I measure out the syrup and lemon juice and admire the healthy amount of rum going into the glass pitcher. It’s going to be an interesting evening. We break out the traditional Hurricane glasses and fill them to the brim. The sweet concoction burns its way down my throat and settles in my belly.
I lift the glass. “Much better.” Every queen needs a confidant. Who better than my own cousin, best friend, and a future council member to be mine? She’s going through similar changes with her own training, and preparation for a change in station. She can understand my position in a way few in my life can. “How’s your training going? I feel like one of us is always running off and fulfilling impossibly long to-do lists.”
“That’s because we are. It’s no secret we’ve been shellacking on the concealer to prevent ourselves from looking like the living dead. Things are coming up fast. I can only hope I’ll be ready. It’s a lot to take in, and I know,” Fel holds up a hand, “I’m preaching to the choir. How are things coming on your end?”
“A mixture of frustrating, overwhelming, and exhausting?” I shrug. “What are your adjectives of choice?”
“Slow, boring, and all-consuming. I’m spending more time with the elders than I ever wanted to.” Fel rolls her eyes.
“What do you talk about?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“Rules. Ethics. Who’s who? Family histories, and how it affects their politics and relations to others on the council. Yadda yadda yadda. It’s a mixture of tradition, gossip, and people management.”
I grimace. “I can relate. I don’t envy you the one-on-one.”
“Yes, because you at least have pretty scenery to observe,” Fel whines.
“Trust me. It doesn’t matter what they look like when they’re running my human ass into the ground. There’s no such thing as taking it easy on me.”
Her brow furrows. “What do they have you doing?”
“Defensive training, sword training, because apparently, they cleave to the old ways even more than we imagined. With them, politics is a slippery slope as well. It depends on their age, rank in society, and in some cases their location. It’s a confusing maze of what to do and what not to do.” I shake my head.
“Holy crap, cuz. I think I’ll stick with the witches. And damn, no wonder your body is looking bangin’ these days.”
I giggle. “Small perk. What complicated creatures we both are.”
“What’s it like spending so much time with them?”
I pause as I think about how to answer her. “Desensitizing? It’s starting to become my normal. Things that unsettled me about them before are now simply a part of who they are. How do Muffuletta dip, Creole sausage balls, and spicy pretzels sound?” I push away from the counter. If we don’t get some food in our bellies, we’ll be leaving buzzed in the rearview mirror on the way to wasted.
“Perfect. Let’s get the dip going first.”
We continue to play catch up while we gather the ingredients, place the olives, and the pickled cauliflower, carrots, celery, and hot peppers we’ve picked form the drained Giardiniera into a food processor. We add the combination into a glass mixing bowl with cream cheese and chopped salami, then mix well.
“This smells heavenly.” I moan as Fel sprays the cooking dish.
“Wait till we add the mozzarella cheese and bake it.”
“I’ve been craving spicy junk food for days. I love the court, but their taste is over the top. I often wonder if their taste buds are duller post life.”
“It’s possible. You could probably write a book about them with all you’re learning.”
“Yeah, they wouldn’t take kindly to that. They’re so bloody secretive.” I roll my eyes.
“I can’t blame them, really. Our kind has been hunted and killed for being different for a long time. They remember it with a crystal-clear clarity we can’t begin to come close to.”
“It’s true.” We pop the dish into the oven at 350 degrees Fahrenheit and move onto the Creole sausage balls. Thirty minutes later, we’re gathered around the table in the living room with Pretty in Pink playing in the background, our Hurricanes resting on coasters, and a mini feast spread out before us.
Stuffed, we lean back against the couch.
“Okay. Now I can attempt this,” I say. spilling my guts.
“Wait. You’re seeing ghosts now?”
“I saw a ghost. There’s a huge difference. Like you told one prophecy. Which I kept to myself by the way.”
“Uh huh. Keep going,” she says skeptically.
I tell her what Alida showed me.
“Wow. So Mémé and Percival?”
“Yes. Whatever those two know must be shared. I almost got it out of Mémé. I don’t see an issue getting her to tell me the rest, but there are always two sides to every story, and I know from experience, vampires view things completely differently.”
“What are you going to do?” she asks.
“Well, that’s where you come in.”
“What?” She places a hand over her heart. “Me? What can I do? I mean, he’s in your court.”
“Exactly. I’m way too close to the situation and him.”
“And I’m too far away,” she says quickly.
“No, you’re perfect. I’ve seen the connection between you. He’s drawn to you.”
“I’m not an escort.”
I tsk. “I want you to befriend him, not seduce him, Felicitie.”
She frowns. “I don’t like it.
“I know, and I wouldn’t ask this of you if it wasn’t important.”
Fel glances away, and I understand; the pull is mutual.
“The family needs this.”
Fel sighs. “I get it. I know where my loyalties lay. I won’t lie to him.”
“I don’t think you’ll need to.” My throat closes up around the order to abort the mission I know I can’t give.
“How am I supposed to justify my sudden desire to spend time with him?”
“I’ll take care of that. As a future council member, you need a mentor who specializes in vampire politics. If you ever get stuck ask him about our histories. I’ll let him know I chose him to be your advisor. He’ll enjoy it.”
“Clever,” she admits reluctantly.
“I’m trying. I don’t want anyone hurt, Fel. I’m not looking to manipulate. I just want the truth.”
“I understand. You’ve got the greater good to look out for. What did the Fae want?”
“Hell, I’m not sure. To test me? She invited me to visit her lands and look at something for her. Whether it’s real or imagined, I’m unsure.”
“You’re not going, are you?” Fel asks, alarmed.
“I have no choice. To say no would’ve shown fear. I can choose a group of people to travel with.”
“And Cristobal is on board with this?” She purses her lips.
“Well, he doesn’t know yet.”
“Ha. I knew it.” She points at me.
“Even I require a few days of downtime every now and then. I’ll tell him tomorrow.”
“Good luck with that one.”
I sigh. “This is the hardest thing I’ve ever attempted, and I’m constantly unsure if I’m making the right decisions. I haven’t officially taken over anything, and I already feel like I’m over my head.”
“I’d be more concerned if you didn’t feel that way. There’s a reason the phrase, Heavy lies the head that wears the crown was coined.”
For the millionth time, I wonder if I’ll be ready to accept the titles being bestowed.