“You’re not intruding,” I tell her.
“I was wondering if you require anything.”
“I would really like some of those sweetened dates. Do we have any around?”
“I do not think so, but I am sure I can purchase some.”
“That would be wonderful. Thank you.”
After Jaida toddles off, I lever myself out of bed with a groan. By the end I’ll probably be bedridden like Aggie. Before that can happen, I try to move around a little, just some basic tai-chi that Hisae taught me. It’s supposed to relax my body and mind, though I’ve never really gotten the hang of that part. Mostly I do it just so I can get some kind of exercise without straining myself too much.
I again can’t get my head into the flow of the moves to relax myself. Instead, I worry again about what will happen after the baby is born. I can’t go back to hunting monsters in godforsaken places like Transylvania. Nor can I sell guns anymore. Both of these professions are far too dangerous for a mother. The question comes again, as it has for centuries: what do I do now?
Settling down was much easier for Aggie. She was already used to a relatively sedentary existence. All she did before she married Alejandro was sew and brew potions. On rare occasions she would go out to search for new ingredients or to research a potion for a special case, like poor Rebecca in the archives, who at last word has ballooned up to two hundred fifty pounds now. Becoming a mother wasn’t much of a stretch for Aggie then.
And of course Aggie is married. What will I tell Aggie when the baby comes? If she looks too much like Alejandro, will I be able to explain this? I can say that I met someone else on one of my trips. I can say that the child is an accident, a bastard.
In my fantasies, I imagine that our baby will finally bring Alejandro and I together. He’ll leave Aggie to be with me. She’ll be devastated by this, but Aggie will find a way to get over it. She’ll realize how much Alejandro and I love each other and then she’ll face the truth. We’ll go somewhere nice and secluded, where we won’t have to worry about the coven or anyone else bothering us. It’ll be just the three of us—at least until I give birth to a few brothers or sisters for her.
Even as I think this, I know it’s a lie. Whatever happens, there’s not going to be a fairy tale ending where Alejandro and I wind up Happily Ever After. This is the real world and the real world is very, very messy.
There’s another light tap on the door. Jaida comes in, bearing a bag of sweetened dates. I accept these with a nod. “Thank you,” I say to her. Before she can discreetly scamper off again, I ask, “Jaida, do you think I’ll be a good mother?”
She considers this question too long for my taste, probably trying to find a way to phrase it so I won’t fire her. “You have shown such kindness to me and my family. I cannot help but think you will be equally kind to your child.”
“Thank you,” I say. After Jaida leaves, I sit down and stare out the window for a long time. The air turns cold as night falls. I sit there with my child and worry about the future.
***
Jaida brings me a letter a week later. Even before I open it, I know it’s from Alejandro. His handwriting doesn’t have the whimsical touches of Aggie’s. Like him, his handwriting is elegant without looking cute. Despite the envelope’s long journey from France to Edinburgh, and then forwarded to me by Captain St. Pierre, I can still smell Alejandro’s scent on it.
“Is that all, madam?”
“Yes, thank you.” Ordering a servant around is still unfamiliar for me; Mama and my sisters did most of that when I was growing up the first time and the second time more often than not I was the servant.
Once Jaida is gone, I lock the door, even though I know she wouldn’t dare to disturb me. Still, I want this moment to be private, just between the three of us: me, Alejandro, and our child. I tear open the envelope and shake out the single piece of paper.
My Dear Mademoiselle Sylvia, I hope this letter reaches you in time. It has been too long since I last saw you. My heart aches from the memory of our time together in Naples. I have told Agnes that I will be going to Switzerland to inspect boarding schools for Mathieu and Marcus. I should very much like to meet you again. I will be staying for three nights at my cousin’s vineyard. If you are able, meet me in Florence at the amphitheater of the Boboli Gardens on 23 July. If not, I will understand.
Yours Always,
Alejandro
When I read this, it’s July 10th. That leaves me with almost two weeks to get to Florence. This shouldn’t be too difficult to arrange. Of course I could simply vanish myself to Italy, but I’ve tried not to use magic since learning of my pregnancy. I doubt that vanishing could really hurt her, but I don’t want to take any chances.
The real question is whether I should go at all. If I go then I will have to tell Alejandro about our child. I’ve put this off for a while. First it was denial that I was really pregnant. Then I thought perhaps I might miscarry early on, in which case there was no sense getting him too excited. Now that I’m about six months along by my reckoning, it’s decreasingly likely that I’ll lose the baby without some kind of accident.
I have to go. I have to go and confront him with the truth. When I do, I have to force him to choose between a family with Aggie and her children or a new family with me and my child. Even if he wants to stay with Aggie, we have to find the best way to break the news to her gently. I don’t want to have to lie to my child about where she came from, not like how Mama had to lie to my sisters and I.
I push myself up to my feet and then call for Jaida. She opens the door almost immediately. “Is something wrong, madam? Did you receive troubling news?”
“No, not really. I am going to need passage on a boat for Italy. First thing tomorrow.”
“Of course, madam. Will anyone be accompanying you?”
“No. I want you to stay and look after things here. I should be back in a few weeks.”
After Jaida leaves, I begin packing up the tent-like dresses I’ve been wearing over the last month. My old monster-hunting jacket doesn’t fit anymore, at least not over my stomach. I shouldn’t need to kill any demons or vampires where I’m going anyway. But maybe I can finally kill some of those personal demons as Glenda said years ago.
With my bag packed, I lie down on the bed and put a hand to my stomach. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’re just going to see Papa.”
Chapter 30
This is my first visit to Florence, which seems strange because Alejandro’s old vineyard—the one now owned by his cousin—is only twenty miles away. We’ve had plenty of opportunities over the years with the frequent visits he makes to help his cousin. That’s probably why we’ve never gone here, so he won’t run into anyone he knows.
I’ve never been interested in museums, but for the week I’m in Florence before Alejandro’s arrival, I spend most of my time in the various art museums. The problem is that I can’t stop thinking about Alejandro, to the point where I see his face on Michelangelo’s David. I have to sit down then, feeling flushed as I think about the statue’s enormous penis.
As I’m sitting on a bench, I hear a little girl cry out. “I’m tired, Mama!” she screams in Italian. She pulls at her mother’s hand, trying to tug the haggard woman in my direction. “I want to go home!”
The girl manages to break free from her mother and dashes over to scramble onto my bench. She sits there with her arms folded in defiance. She has Alejandro’s complexion and black hair, a pure Italian. Still, with her attitude she could be my daughter.
The girl’s mother is trying to wrangle her three other children—all boys who are just as rowdy as their sister—leaving the girl to sit with me on the bench. The child looks up at me, her eyes focusing on my stomach. “How did you get so fat?” she asks me.
“I’m not fat. I’m pregnant.”
“What’s that?”
“It means I’m going to have a baby.”
“That’s a baby in there?”
“Yes. A little girl like you.”
“How’s she going to get out of there?”
“Well—”
I’m saved by the girl’s mother coming over at last to scold her for running away. “Stop bothering this poor woman,” her mother says.
“She’s not bothering me.”
“She’s not supposed to talk to strangers.”
The woman snatches her daughter’s arm, prompting the girl to squeal. My first instinct is to grab the woman’s wrist and snap it, but I tell myself that it’s her child. As she’s being dragged away, the little girl turns to wave to me. I wave back and then let out a contented sigh.
Someone else comes to sit down beside me, but it’s not a little girl. It’s Hisae, who looks even more out of place here than I do. I shouldn’t be surprised that she managed to sneak up on me—that’s one of her specialties.
“I see the rumors are true,” she says without preamble.
“What rumors?”
“You should know nothing is secret from the coven.”
“You’ve been spying on me?”
“Not me.”
“Then who? Glenda?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
“So what do you want?”
Hisae shrugs slightly. “I only want you to consider what you’re doing to yourself—and your sister.”
“Aggie doesn’t know, does she?”
“Not yet. But even she won’t be able to remain blind for much longer.”
“So what does the coven want me to do? I can’t kill her. Not now.”
“I would never ask you to kill an innocent baby. You know that.”
“What about Glenda?”
“She’s not the monster you make her out to be. Everything she’s done has been for the greater good.”
I snort at this. “That’s the same thing Robespierre and the other thugs said when they sent people to the guillotine. Then Napoleon said making him the emperor was for the greater good. Every butcher and tyrant uses that excuse.”
“Glenda is not a butcher.”
“Just a tyrant.” I glare at Hisae for a moment, but her face remains damnably calm. “Do you remember how Glenda became head of the coven? Do you remember who elected her?”
“No one does anymore, now that your mother is gone. They were the oldest two.”
“Right, and they brainwashed all of us to think that Glenda is in charge and that we’re not to question her.”
“And you would seek to replace her? You would follow the same path as Morgana and Sophie?”
“No. I don’t want to run the coven. I only want the coven to leave me alone. This doesn’t concern them—or you.”
Hisae hardly blinks at this. “You are still so young,” she says as she did during our first time hunting vampires in Transylvania. “Perhaps after this ordeal, you will finally achieve the proper maturity. You and Agnes.”
“What ordeal? What are you planning to do to us?”
“We are not planning anything. The ordeal you face is the one you created with your lust. Both of you.”
“Well we can’t all be like you. Some of us are actually human.”
“I am as human as any of us, but I’ve learned to control it, to not give in to my baser impulses.” She puts a hand on my shoulder; I don’t try to shake it away. “When you end this petty feud with Glenda and give yourself to the coven, then you’ll find the peace that’s eluded you all of these centuries.”
“I’ve served the coven. I’ve done my part. What else do you want me to do?”
“You’ve served reluctantly, because you wanted to make your mother proud and later because you felt no choice. You’ve never done it because you truly wanted to.”
“Maybe I never wanted to,” I say, thinking of Henri. All I wanted was to marry him, to live with him and have his children. I put a hand on my stomach, on my child. “Maybe this is all I ever really wanted.”
“It’s what you think you want. But do you truly think you would have been happy with Henri? Do you really think you would have been happier as a mortal?”
I close my eyes as I think about this. I remember all those times I spent in the forest with Henri, how happy I felt when he said he loved me. I think then of Frau Braun’s farm, where again I was so content to think of myself as normal. “Yes. Yes I do.”
Hisae considers this for a moment and then shakes her head. “No. In time you would have chafed at bearing children and caring for livestock. I can see it in your eyes, the fire—the spirit of a warrior. A mortal’s life is not for you.”
“What does the warrior do when she’s tired of fighting?”
“When a warrior becomes too old for fighting, that is when she dies.”
“Is that a threat?”
Hisae’s laugh is more like a snort. “No. I would only do that if you ask. And I do not think you will ask so long as the spirit is in your eyes. When your eyes have turned dull, then you know it will be time.”
She stands up and then puts a hand on my stomach. She says a blessing in Japanese, a warrior’s prayer. “You will have a beautiful child,” she says. “She will be strong, like you.”
Then Hisae is gone and I’m alone again to wait for Alejandro—and our future.
***
The night before Alejandro is due to meet me, I can’t sleep. I lie in bed for hours, staring up at the ceiling. As if already attuned to my moods, the baby can’t sleep either. She kicks and seems to be doing somersaults in my stomach at times. I put my hand on my stomach and try to whisper reassuring things, but it doesn’t seem to help.
I can’t blame her for being excited to meet her father. I’m equally excited to show him my stomach—our accomplishment. He probably won’t be that excited, not after going through three pregnancies with Aggie already. He’ll probably be mortified now that I’ve ruined our neat little arrangement.
“It’s all right, baby,” I whisper. “Papa is going to love you—like I do.”
I’m too nervous to eat much, so I have to force myself to eat a piece of toast. Once I finish, I take another stroll around the city. I stay away from the art museums this time, not wanting to run into Hisae again. Not that it probably matters; the coven is always watching.
I don’t have any more appetite for lunch, so I eat only a pastry with a cup of coffee. The baby continues rolling around inside of me, to the point where I start to wonder if I should go see Sabrina. The midwife could probably tell me if this is normal or if it’s a sign that I’m about to lose the child. That would certainly make everything simpler for all of us.
As I sip my coffee, I think back to what Hisae said. She’s right that I’ve never really wanted to work for the coven. I joined because Mama expected it of me, because I wanted to be like my sisters. Then I stayed because Henri died. I rejoined after meeting Alejandro and to give me a purpose while I avoided him. It’s never really been my choice.
I put a hand on my stomach. This is my choice.
The Boboli Gardens are immense, more than eleven acres of land. I wander along the paths, my heart aching whenever I see a woman pushing a baby carriage or carrying a baby in her arms. I try to envision myself like that, taking my little girl for a stroll. The problem is that all of these women have husbands with them, while I am alone.
It’s the middle of the afternoon when I finally descend the stairs into the ancient amphitheater. On the way down, I search the rows of seats for Alejandro, but he’s not here yet. He might never show up here, at least not today. His coach might have been delayed or he might have already died on the way here. No, I would know if he was dead.
There’s nothing to do but to mount the white stone steps into the rows of seats. I stare at the grass field where plays and such were once held—and possibly still are held from time to time. The baby kicks again, becoming impatient. “Papa will be here soon,” I whisper to her.
An hour goes by without him showing up. Having not slept the night before and without an Energy Boost potio
n to help me stay awake, fatigue finally catches up to me. I stretch out on the stone seats, turning on to my side with my stomach hanging over the side. I use my hands as a pillow and soon drift off to sleep.
I’m still in this position when I feel a hand touch my back. “Mademoiselle Sylvia,” Alejandro says softly. “Wake up.”
My hands have fallen asleep, so it’s awkward for me to roll my bulky body onto my back. When I do, the smile fades from Alejandro’s face. His skin drains of color, giving him a sickly pallor. “What have you done?” he whispers.
“It isn’t what I’ve done,” I say. “It’s what we have done. She’s ours.”
“No. That can’t be.”
“It has to be. I haven’t been with anyone else.”
Alejandro sags onto the bench beside me. He buries his face in his hands. “Are you trying to ruin me?”
“Why do you keep blaming me? I didn’t will this to happen.”
“Of course you did! You wanted to get pregnant like your sister.”
“You’re being absurd. I didn’t will myself to get pregnant.”
Alejandro says nothing, but he refuses to look at me—or my stomach. “How old is it?”
“She is about six months old.”
“How do you know it’s a girl child?”
“I know.”
“There’s still time to get rid of it,” he says.
I slap him across the face hard enough to leave red marks. “How dare you! I would never kill an innocent child.”
“Then what do you propose we do?”
I realize by looking in his eyes how stupid I’ve been. Of course he doesn’t want to leave Aggie for me. It’s futile to even suggest it. “Did you ever really love me?” I ask him.
He touches my hair, brushing it back as he always does before he kisses me. Only this time he doesn’t kiss me. He says only, “I do love you, Sylvia.”
“But not like how you love Agnes.”
“Agnes is my wife. And the mother of my children.”
“She’s a proper lady. And I’m not,” I mutter, thinking of Mama and how long she tried to make me into a lady without success.
Tales of the Scarlet Knight Collection: The Call Page 114