Hail to the Queen

by Shyla Colt

  “Anytime.”

  “Do you think it’s a trap?”

  “The holiday? No. I mean, it’s not as if he can ambush you into a surprise wedding. I think they missed you as much as you missed them, and everyone raised hell until your father figured out a way to relent without losing face.”

  She chuckles. “Now there’s an image. All of them giving Dad shit over me. I wish I’d been there to see it.”

  “What did you tell your mom about the holiday?”

  “That’d I’d think about it, but I needed to check in with my boss.”

  I smirk. “I think you should do it, Sach. Family is important. We fight and disagree, but it doesn’t change the connection between us.”

  “You’re right. I’m just nervous. After being on my own for a year, I’m not the same woman, and I don’t know how they’re going to react to this version of me.”

  “Well, for the record, I love every version of you, but this incarnation is my favorite to date because for the first time you’re truly happy.”

  “I won’t go back to being that person constantly concerned about their approval and bound to their rules.”

  “Nor should you.”

  She gives a shaky laugh. “I needed to hear that. For the first time last year, I felt like I could breathe. I always dreamt of tasting freedom. I figured short of leaving everything I knew behind I would never discover it. They almost brainwash us from the start to follow the rules with the family duty, proper manners, and traditions. There’s beauty and darkness in that.”

  “I’ll always be straight with you. Even when it’s not what you want to hear.”

  “Can you spare me for two weeks, though?” Worry creeps into her tone.

  “Don’t worry about it. We’ll make it work. This is important.”

  “Thank you, Lou.”

  “Anytime.”

  “Now that you’re caught up with me, how are you really? I know you’re tired, but that’s all physical.”

  “Oh, we’re diving deep, huh?”

  “It’s a nice road trip. We may as well. If you get to check up on my headspace it’s only fair I do the same.”

  I sigh. “I don’t know how to answer that question honestly. My emotions are all across the board. Stress doesn’t look pretty on me, and switching gears is a tough job when you’re dealing with two vastly dissimilar groups of people. I don’t want to embarrass anyone or disappoint, and it’s been one test after another one since the announcement went out that I’d be stepping up.”

  “I can imagine. What you’re doing is unprecedented. People are going to be jealous and petty as hell.”

  “Believe me, I figured that out fast. I thought I’d be used to it dealing with the upper-class witches, but they have nothing on vampires.”

  “No?”

  “People like to talk about having royal blood. Some of these men and women are royal, and they don’t let anyone forget. There are so many tiny details to remember. Knowing Cristobal and the others are putting their necks on the chopping board for me doesn’t help either.”

  “Why? You bring a lot of good things to the table.”

  “I’m also a high-risk factor. If I offend enough people, fail to fit in, or turn off enough people, he could lose his standing. I’m not about to let that happen. So, I have to be damn near perfect for them to believe I’m not a subpar creature. Being a witch helps, but some of these vampires would make Death Eaters look like teddy bears.”

  “Jesus, Lou. At least you can never doubt his love. He risked everything to be with you. It’s what we all dream about. A soul deep kind of love that you’d sacrifice everything for.” She sighs.

  “Is that love?”

  “What?”

  “Where do you draw a line between obsession and love?”

  “Are you doubting his feelings?” she questions, shocked.

  “No. I think he loves me as much as he’s able to, or in his way. What concerns me is the fact that it’s not organic. Our connection is otherworldly. Did he have a choice in the matter? I’m his bondmate. Destiny picked me. The universe said I was the one for him and twined our what … souls, consciousness? No one knows. Is that romantic or a matter of chemistry and genes?” And what happens if someday I don’t live up to the hype? I toy with the edge of the seatbelt.

  “You’ve thought about this often, haven’t you?”

  I nod. “There are times when it’s like a record with a scratch, that won’t stop skipping in my head.” Sacha is the least judgmental person I know. I don’t have to worry about unloading my warped thoughts on her. “You’ve seen Cristobal. He’s powerful, masculine, handsome, and suave. What if I never fit into his world the way he needs me to? There’s no place for him in ours, so where does that leave us?” My mind begins to spin out of control. Once I let the cork pop off the bottle, it’s hell to shove back in.

  “Has he said anything to make you feel this way?” Her voice grows icy.

  “No. Cristobal doesn’t have to. All our biggest arguments stem from our different ways of thinking. He can’t understand where I’m coming from, and I feel the same way about him.”

  “No couple is perfect, Lou.”

  “No, but there are times when I understand that we are two different species. And if I push myself to become more like him or the bond changes me, then who am I? What am I?” I’m speaking more to myself, but it feels good to purge.

  “Have you talked to him about this, Lou?”

  “With all my spare time? No.”

  “You can’t keep this bottled up.”

  “No, I made my bed, and now I have to lie in it.”

  “I don’t prescribe to that malarkey. You deserve to be happy.”

  “I am. It’s just …” My lower lip trembles. “When I squint, I’m not sure how much I like the picture I’m painted in.”

  Reaching across the console, she grabs my hand. “I know you can’t get perspective because you’re in the midst, so let me remind you. You are Louella Heloise Esçhete. My bad ass, loyal, talented, beautiful, and let’s not leave out powerful, best friend. If you weren’t in this one-hundred percent, you wouldn’t have agreed to acknowledge the bond. You left for years, Lou. So, you can say there were other options. You explored them. They didn’t fulfill you. You chose him. That’s important to remember.”

  Her words make me smile. “I did, didn’t I?”

  “Damn straight. I remember it clearly because it made the elders catch the vapors, your Mémé cackle, and single girls everywhere cry.”

  “You are so full of it.” I laugh.

  “Hey. I’m sure that is a legitimate story.”

  The sour mood lifted, we turn on the 90s station and sing our hearts out the rest of the way.

  ***

  We lapse into silence as she weaves her way through the city traffic and manages to snag a decent parking space.

  Out on the sidewalk, my eyes drink in the city. The old buildings possess a rugged charm, and the clusters of people are rich and diverse. From smartly dressed businessmen and women, to eccentrically clothed artists selling paper and performers, the streets are teeming with life. Bright splashes of purple, gold, and green catch my eyes as the city displays its colors proudly. Even the tourists have a charm of their own with their wide-eyed wonder and cameras at the ready. We travel alongside them, catching their contagious enthusiasm, as we view the city with fresh eyes again. I smell Café Du Monde long before I see it. We join the lengthy line of people waiting for their fix and grab a table out front. The classic green umbrella makes me smile and blocks the wicked sun from my face.

  “Seeing as how we have the rest of the day to ourselves, are you up for helping me with a little project?”

  “Sure. What do you have in mind?” Sacha asks as they deliver our pile of beignets.

  “I’m rea
dy for a new hair color. I need to shake things up.” And be in control of something for once.

  “What color are you thinking?”

  “Pink. I figure it’s about time I mark something off my bucket list and freak out all the uptight elders planning my coronations.”

  She barks a laugh. “Well, there’s one way to be passive aggressive.”

  “To change and taking back control.” I raise my mug, and she clinks glasses with me.

  They city is always lively, but it comes into its own at night. We wander the streets, hunting up treasures as the day slips its skin and night arrives in all its majestic glory. We stop to dance to a jazz band playing in the street. I’m lighter than I’ve been in months. We laugh as we link arms and continue our way back toward the car.

  “Do you think you had enough oysters back there? We can always pick up a third order to go.”

  “You helped me with those.”

  “Just a little bit.” She holds up her thumb and index finger. We are halfway through Jackson square when I feel it. The knowing tug of power.

  “Do you?”

  “Yeah?” I answer, scanning the area.

  “It’s her.” Sacha nods her head toward the slender woman with olive skin, dark hair, and a simple black dress. Seated in a red fold-out chair, she blends in with the others pedaling their wares. There’s no fanfare, only a beautifully drawn chalkboard with a gypsy woman inside a crystal ball, and her prices.

  She smiles and waves us over. Her golden bangles click together. Romani.

  “Come on. This’ll be fun.” She drags me the three feet to the woman.

  Doesn’t she know fate and me are on the outs due to her heavy-handed treatment of my life?

  “Hello, my friends. My name is Sabrina. The spirits are anxious to speak with you tonight.”

  “How much?” I ask.

  “For Louella Esçhete and Sacha Morel, free of charge.”

  “Job perks,” Sacha crows.

  She flashes a rakish grin full of mischief and knowledge. Clairvoyants have always been a bit spooky to me. They possess a disarming quality. Because not only do they look at you like they see inside your soul, there’s a huge possibility they just might.

  Sacha lowers herself into the chair first, and I sit beside her. “What kind of reading would you like?”

  “I’ll let you pick,” Sacha says with a shrug.

  “You like to go with the flow. Continue that habit. It will take you to places you’ve never dreamed of being before.” She pulls a worn but well-cared for set of cards from a black velvet pouch. The rectangular objects radiate a power all their own.

  “These have been in my family for centuries, and they always read true. I use them for my most special clients.” She winks. Slightly faded and dappled around the edges, the beige cards have thinned over time. I hold my breath as she moves the stack forward over her black velvet table cover.

  Sacha sucks in her breath when she touches the card.

  “They’re saying hello,” Sabrina says. “I want you to cut the deck two times. Good. Now, shuffle the cards, keeping your mind blank, and stop when it feels right.”

  Sacha nods and gingerly begins to shuffle them respectfully.

  After a minute she stops. Sabrina takes the cards from her, spreads them into a fan, and holds them out. “Pick the three cards that call to you. We are going to do a simple Past, Present, and Future.”

  Sacha carefully picks a card off the end, one in the middle, and one to the far right.

  Sabrina places them down.

  “This will tell us about your past.” She flips the card over to reveal a card with Gabriel blowing his trumpet, and two people standing under him. “The judgment card. In your past, you had a lot of self-doubts. You tried to make yourself fit into a mold you knew wasn’t meant for you. You were out of tune with who you were.” Sabrina turns the card in the center. A hooded Skelton greets us with a grim smile. “Death. The beginning of a cycle is starting. You’ve renewed your spirit and healed long-standing wounds. You know who you are now, and how to play to your strengths and avoid your weaknesses. The universe has been watching you blossom.” The final card is the lovers. Two couples embrace passionately. Sabrina grins. “The Lovers. I see a very powerful union in your future. It will frighten you at first, but trust in the universe and your strength.”

  Sacha nods. She turns to me, beaming. “Looks like I’ll be getting a romance of my own soon.” Her eyes are dark diamonds in her face as they sparkle merrily under the lamp light.

  “You next.”

  I eye the cards nervously.

  “No cards I think. Perhaps something a bit more traditional for you.”

  She rummages in her purple satchel and comes out with a rectangular length of animal hide. She smooths the supple skin over her tablecloth and reaches back in to produce a red velvet bag. The contents clack together as she moves them about. They call to me.

  “Yes, this is a much better fit isn’t it, my dove?”

  I stare at her, stunned. She winks. “It’s been a long time since I have thrown the bones. Let’s see if they’ll cooperate. They have a lot to say to you tonight.” She lifts the bag and begins to shake. I feel like the fabrics of fate are rubbing together. She drops bones, shells, trinkets, and curios on to the mat. I swallow to moisten my dry mouth. A golden joker face stands out. She lifts it up. “There’s a trickster on the loose. He hides behind many faces and brings a great danger.” She shudders. “You have to be careful here.” She moves on to a small sterling silver figure. “The swan represents royalty. I think for you, that is self-explanatory, but if you look right beside it, you’ll find this bone which represents the masculine. You’ll rule alongside a loyal partner. Don’t doubt what he would do for you.” It’s like she listened in to our previous conversation. The weight should be lifting, but instead, I feel tossed about on a raft by the universe. “Beside that, you can see a crown, but it’s upside down. You’re conflicted. If you want to be successful, you need to find balance within yourself. Like the canine tooth, which is both dark and light. Each of us has the capacity to do good and evil. Duality is the natural way of things. Its center in this reading, so it’s very important you remember that. The bones have had their say,” she says quietly.

  “Thank you, Sabrina” I reach over and squeeze her hand. There are many who feign having the gift, but she is not one of them. We leave the table after tipping her, and I muddle over the things she said.

  “Do you feel better?” Sacha asks.

  “I’m not sure what I feel. I think fate pretty much told me to sit my ass down, though?”

  Sacha laughs. “She did, didn’t she? I always heard she was kind of a bitch.”

  “I can’t wait until our roles are reversed,” I mumble.

  “Me either, Lou. It’s been a lonely couple of years.”

  ***

  I shove the sunglasses on top of my head as I walk into the mansion. It’s a welcome sight after a few days away and family togetherness. After centuries, the court has mastered the art of giving one another enough space to breathe. I inhale the scent of the bergamot and sage incense Ada constantly burns. I walk inside, greeted by the silence.

  “Anyone home?” I ask.

  “I’m in the parlor. Join me for tea. I received the labs,” Miles says as I walk into the living room.

  “And?” I take a seat beside Miles on the dark gray settee. The silver tea set shines like a treasure. Porcelain cups and saucers with tiny tea spoons are set out, in case someone happened by.

  He blinks. “Well, this is a new look?”

  “Do you like it?” I run a hand through my flat-ironed, chin-length fuchsia hair.

  “I adore it.” He beams. “Tea?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Sugar?”

  “Two lumps, please.”
>
  “Cream?”

  “Just a dash.”

  Patiently, I wait as he prepares the brew. There are certain things I’ve grown used to. When it gets real, the tea flows like water in this house. Refusal is seen as an insult, so, I always accept. Settled back with our porcelain cups, we resume our conversation.

  “It raised more questions than it answered. The sample is from a human.”

  “What? How is that even possible? I mean, you saw the photos from the gravesite. Is it possible there was a witch, and I missed it?”

  He shakes his head. “I highly doubt it. Witches have a certain smell.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “Yuck.”

  Miles chuckles. “Not a bad one. Simply distinct. Your magic smells sweeter and more robust, like a wine made from grapes harvested at their peak.”

  “I don’t know if I’m fascinated or skeeved out, Miles.”

  He shrugs. “It’s okay to be a little of both in this case.”

  “I don’t doubt your information, but I’m having a hard time imagining an average Joe causing this much destruction and barely leaving behind a trail.” I cross my ankles and run over a list of reasons an everyday person would need a corpse.

  “I could only assume they employed some magical assistance since I found no residue that would suggest explosives or machinery.”

  “I didn’t sense any magic.” I mentally re-assess my investigation.

  “Perhaps they masked it?” Miles suggests as he refills his cup.

  “Nothing’s impossible, but it would take one hell of a powerful witch or maybe a Faerie, who are way too hoity-toity for that kind of dirty work.”

  “A lesser Fae fairly called and enslaved wouldn’t have a choice.”

  “Yes, but how many humans know how to summon a Faerie these days? And I repeat, what the hell would they want with a corpse?” I swirl the tea in my cup to keep my hands busy.

  “Perhaps she was a changeling?” He arches a dark brow.

  “Let’s go with your theory.” I salute him with the mug. “What good could she be to them, deceased?”

  “They honor their species. Perhaps they wanted to bury her among her own people in their land?”