Page 76 of The Child of Rue Royale
“It’s okay. Can you see my grandmother in your mind? See that little girl, the man under you, your brother. Was there music playing?”
His tongue slides between his lips, his chest falling into a natural rhythm.
“Cassius and I got into an argument when we got home because he was so rude to her, and I thought, ‘She’s just a child.’”
“Good. You were angry, but he was annoyed because she was snooping, snooping where he felt she didn’t belong. Think back there, and I’m going to say the words to go into your memory.”
My legs are so wobbly, I wish we had chairs, but I take a deep breath in, excited to see my grandmother, yet petrified this won’t work. I slide my hands up his jaw, thumbs on each side of his mouth. And I can’t help myself, I reach up to brush a kiss against his lips. His eyes stay closed, but his mouth pulls into a smile, and I whisper, “You can do this.” When I go back in time, it’s really going back in the person’s memory. So, if Bastian remembers nothing, we are screwed.
“Retrsosum, retrosum. Retrosum, retrosum,” I say like a prayer, and I’m sucked inside quickly, like I’m being slurped through a straw.
It’s hot for December, that’s the first thing I notice. The wet clothes clinging to Bastian’s back and arms, a white, long-sleeved shirt with scarlet splatters on the wrists. It’s foggy, like I’m looking through unfocused binoculars, and Bastian is on the ground, looking up between the Cabildo and the Cathedral. Bastian’s hand is against the Cabildo for support, and someone writhes nearby. Dixieland jazz playsoff in the distance, but the alley is quiet, the heat and sugar making the air smell sweet.Focus, Bastian, Focus, I beg inside, but his eyes stay on the sky, black and glittering, the blood drunkenness a feeling I’ve never felt. Like everything is moving at the speed of syrup, slow and thick.
There’s talking as a hand comes into view, pulling Bastian up, the air shooting through his lungs, his eyes widening enough for me to seeher. She’s tinier than I had imagined, hand on her hip, face too blurry to make out, yet Bastian tips his hat and slowly says, “Good evening.”
Exactly how he said it in the journal, and hope washes over me.He’s going to remember. This is going to work.
She’s lovely, with her Shirley Temple curls, her little body too fuzzy to make out, so I will Bastian to open his eyes wider, but I’m at his mercy.
“Jesus Christ,” Cassius seethes as Bastian’s eyes blinked repeatedly, trying desperately to focus. “We don’t speak to her.” Cassius looks the same, his long hair, his brown eyes, his cut jaw. A vampiric beauty that never failed him.
“Why? She’s a child.”
“Well for one, you have a man on the ground here, and for two, she’s a witch.”
Bastian thinks about that, eyes focusing on my grandmother as she and Cassius have a discussion Bastian doesn’t seem to comprehend. But he sees her, really sees her for a moment, at least. Light blue dress, dirty on the skirt, like she had spilled some dinner on her lap. Blue eyes, the ones I recognize as my own, my grandmother in front of me.
She and Cassius argue, and I strain to hear it, but Bastian’s trying so hard not to fall over, a wave of euphoria hitting him, making every limb tingle in the most pleasurable way, like his veins are floating, like his muscles are rejoicing.
“You’re not supposed to talk to me that way,” my grandmother shouts to Cassius. “I’m Cora Wildes, a true witch, a child witch of Rue Royale, and I’ve never seen that vampire before.”
Something about this statement brings Bastian back to the conversation, and the muscles on his face smile at my grandmother, so wide I can feel the skin over his cheeks tugging.
He starts to fall again, but Cassius holds him up, his hands cool on Bastian’s wrists, their faces inches apart as Cassius speaks indecipherably to my grandmother.
“Little witch, I’m Bastian DeZaiffe...no!” He grins at Cassius, and Cassius looks like he could kill his new brother. “I’m Bastian Delacroix.”
“You’re going to be Bastian The Death of Me.” Cassius sighs, his chocolate eyes like a fountain, warming at the sound of Bastian’s thought.
“Is he dead?” Grandma asks.
“Only sleeping,” Bastian says, swallowing the drunken laugh that begged to come out.
And then there she is, right in front of him, staring like he’s the moon in the sky. Cassius holds Bastian tighter, the drunk blood pumping faster through his veins, taking a stronger hold on him.No, I thought, don’t go.
“Bastian Delacroix?” she asks, studying, and if I was in charge of this body, she would be taking my breath away, my beautiful little grandmother, just a child full of sass and wonder. She points up to him, tapping him on the nose.
Cassius yells something Bastian doesn’t understand and then, “Get back!”
“Cora, I apologize for how rude my brother is,” Bastian chuckles, causing Grandma to giggle.I remember this part, it’s getting close.
Bastian closes his eyes, light-headedness taking hold of him, the fog capturing his limbs as Cassius holds him up, and Grandma inhales a deep breath, her eyes filling with force.
“There’s something here that will change everything. You will change everything.” My grandmother giggles, and Bastian’s eyes fly open as he places a hand over his heart with a laugh.
“I will?” he asks, then states, “I will!”
“Thank you, Cora,” Bastian says and tries moving his legs toward Grandma, but Cassius’s grip is too tight.
