Page 37 of The Child of Rue Royale
“I don’t know how, that’s the problem,” she says, hitting the button for the shades as my stomach coils into knots. I pull him into my arms and start for the bathroom. He hasn’t changed form in my arms, and his skin is not the bright orange that Bastian’s turned into;in fact, he would have stayed silent if my scream hadn’t startled him. But he’s not ashes, just a perfect baby boy.
Chantal runs into the room straight to the correct shade button, and we’re soon enveloped in darkness.
“I hit the knob, I’m so sorry. I had very strict instructions to never open the shades, and then it’s the first thing I go and do.”
Aven stops screaming, and I lay him on the bed, taking inventory of his face, hands, and feet. Nothing, not one burn, not one mark.
I grab Simone’s hand and swallow. “It’s okay. It was an accident. It’s okay.”
I don’t know what she knows, so I don’t offer any explanation on why the shades shouldn’t be opened. I’m sure the anxiety is obvious on both of our faces, our lungs out of breath, our eyes wide in terror. But there’s also relief, that sweet relief that hits and pulls a thousand pounds from my chest.
I kiss his head four or five times, because not only is he okay, but it appears he can withstand sunlight. Doesn’t need blood, can be in the sun. Maybe no vampirism was passed down to him.
“I’ll call your mom,” Chantal says, leaving the room.
The nurse is looking at me like I’m crazy, and that’s okay, that’s just fine. I laugh, wiping tears from my eyes, and quickly sit in the chair in the corner.
“Let’s get this checkup handled,” I say, because I really want her to leave so I can call Cassius and tell him what happened.
Mother arrived, and my anxiety was through the clouds over the fact that she had a grandson instead of a granddaughter. But she kissed his head and looked at him fondly, even though I could see the fear in her eyes for what his existence meant.
“His eyes are even more intense in person.” She sighs, his head in her hands, his body lying down her forearms. They are quite disarming, I agree, but how they look around the room as his tongue pokes out steals a laugh from me.
“Do you think it’s something supernatural? They are so intense,” I say, and she tilts her head.
“The hardest part about all this is that we can only wait for answers. There’s no test, no spell we can perform to see exactly what he is.”
I nod, hating the truth of it.
With Cassius on Facetime yesterday morning, I put a toe in the sun as Chantal held the phone. Teeth had gripped my heart in those seconds, and there was no describing the relief I felt when Aven didn’t ignite from the sunlight on his body. I walked around outside with him, crying, so fucking happy that thus far, the sun won’t be a worry. Maybe he will just be a normal witch baby after all. Maybe something will go right for once in a long time.
“Construction at home will be finally finished next week,” Mother says softly. “I’ll take the spare room, leave the master for you, and…”
I meet her eyes. She doesn’t say his name, but it’s like he’s here. He’s always here with me. “I love that place so much,” I say. “It was why I decided to make the potion for Bastian. Because I didn’t want to lose it. But you can take the master. I don’t know where I’ll be in the future. I think it’s best for you to have it.”
Moving back to where Bastian died was once all I wanted. But now, my future is so unclear. Will I be back on Royal Street? Will I be in Bastian’s Garden District house? Or will I be on the run with a baby and a vampire? She nods, then moves on with the conversation, saving me from having to talk about my unknown future.
“I told the coven you were put on bed rest while you were here. I’ll report a birth in a couple weeks, your actual due date,” she says, stiffly rocking Aven back and forth. He’s not the granddaughter she had expected her entire life, and he’s the catalyst to unchartered territory. A future full of mystery and worry. And I understand that, yet I didn’t care the moment I saw his face, the moment just being in my arms soothed his crying. He’s become an extension of me, my aorta, the life force fueling everything in my body that I must protect and care for. A part of me, of us, Bastian and me, a being that I would die for.
Didn’t Mother understand that? How could she look at him so void of affection? Yet, I knew she was trying, even if she was a good actress, I could see she was trying.
“Have you heard anything from the spirits? Any signs for when we can come back home?”
She swigs at her coffee and rolls her eyes. “The spirits are being assholes. The signs are not there. I think this book, Cassius’s book, is the only sign we’ve had so far. You can’t bring Bastian back any sooner?” she asks as Aven starts to cry, handing him over to me. The crying ceases immediately once he feels my body next to his.
“No. The spell takes eight weeks, and I can’t cut any corners. Believe me, I want to.”
“The sooner the better. Once it gets out that he’s a boy, we will have big trouble. Even though he has no vampire traits, because Bastian is a supernatural being is why Aven’s a boy.”
“I know,” I say, frustration coating my tongue. “I think about it every second.”
“Well, hopefully, he will come back and tell us exactly what my mother said, and it will be the answer to all our problems. And hopefully you’re right, nowhere in the law does it say you can’t bring a vampire back from the dead. That’s our out.”
“They could still want me dead for the affair.” I sigh, chewing on my cheek.
“It’s been against the rules, but death for falling in love is so archaic. We can fight that. Bringing back a dead man will be much harder. Hopefully, this can all be handled before the blessing ceremony.”
I had forgotten about that. The ceremony held for every new baby witch, welcoming her to the coven. How would I bring my son to his blessing ceremony?
