Chapter 2
The next morning was freezing again. I peered around the heavy curtains and rubbed the ice off the inside of the window. Central heating was something I had taken for granted at home; I was definitely missing it.
I grabbed the dressing gown off the bed: it was a revolting pink and red flowery thing that Gran had lent me. On the plus side it was really warm and I wrapped it around myself, shoved my slippers on and padded downstairs to the blissful warmth of the kitchen.
Gran had left a note saying she’d popped to the boulangerie to fetch bread and croissants. I put some coffee on for her and made myself a cup of tea in the hope it would wake me up a bit. I was not what you’d call a morning person.
There was a small purple silk bag lying on the table which seemed to stir a memory. I undid the thin yellow rope that tied it shut and slipped out the contents - Tarot cards. I slid them through my hands admiring the designs and the vivid colours. Some of them were beautiful: The Lovers standing in the Garden of Eden looking up at an angel; The Sun, showing a little boy joyfully riding on the back of a white horse with arms outstretched under a blazing sun.
Others were downright scary: The Devil with his horned head and wings, with a couple chained beneath his feet; The Tower, struck by lightning and on fire, the inhabitants flung from the windows. I wondered what they meant and how they were used. They seemed very familiar. I guessed I must have seen Gran use them when I was little.
At that moment she came in, cursing at the door as usual, and placed a bag of croissants and a baguette on the table.
“Bonjour, Jéhenne, ça va, chérie?”
“Oui, ça va. I made you some coffee,”
I got up to fetch the butter dish and a pot of blackberry jam I’d helped her make when I’d arrived last year.
She put the plates on the table and helped herself to coffee as I systematically pulled a croissant into pieces and loaded it with creamy white butter and jam.
Gran watched me in amusement. She thought it spoiled a good croissant, but then she dipped hers in her coffee which I thought was equally disgusting.
“I was looking at your tarot cards,” I mumbled through the croissant.
“Ah oui?”
“I was wondering if you’d teach me.”
“Bien sûr, I’d be very happy to. Here.” She handed me the cards. “Why don’t you try now?”
I licked my fingers and wiped them on a serviette before carefully taking the cards. I suddenly felt very nervous.
“What do I do?”
“Just shuffle the cards.”
“Like this?” I slid the cards awkwardly one over the other. One thing was sure - the cards weren’t going to tell me to get a job as a croupier.
“That’s fine.”
“Now what?”
“We’ll keep it simple, just pick three cards and lay them side by side.”
“From the top?”
“If you like or just at random.”
I picked three cards and laid them carefully on the table.
“OK, these cards represent your past, present and future. Turn over the first card- this is for the past.”
I bit my lip and turned it over ignoring the tremble in my fingers.
“The Hanged man.”
“What?”
“Don’t worry,” she said with a smile, “this card is telling you that you have been waiting for something to happen, but there was nothing to do but wait. It means that you have had to suspend your ordinary life and that you may need to make some sort of sacrifice. Turn the next card, Jéhenne.”
I picked up the next card with mounting anxiety and gasped as it revealed the Death card. Gran laughed out loud.
“Oh, Jéhenne, the look on your face!”
“Well, I’m glad someone finds this amusing,” I muttered.
“The Death card rarely means an actual death - more it is the death of a situation or a cycle in your life. This card is telling you that it is useless to hold on to the past but that you must welcome the birth of a new period in your life.”
I turned the third card to see a man holding what looked like a big wooden stick in a defensive pose, six other sticks were pointing towards him. Gran frowned.
“The Seven of Wands. You are willing to fight for what you believe in, and you will have to fight. You may be outnumbered, but you must believe in yourself. If you do, you can achieve anything.”
I glared at the card in question. “That sounds pretty ominous.” It was obviously a load of old rubbish anyway.
Gran smiled. “The cards are nothing to be afraid of, Jéhenne. They serve to help you, to prepare you for what may come.”
I drank the last of my tea and eyed the cards warily. “OK, if you say so.”
“Go and get dressed now. Sitting around in your pyjamas at this time of the morning … I’ve been up for hours!”
I groaned at Gran’s scolding. I could well believe she’d been up before the sun.
“Oh all right.”
I couldn’t put off facing the bathroom any longer. It was a tortuous experience though, like getting washed in a fridge.
Clouds of steam immediately fogged up the tiny room as the hot water hit the cold air. Washing at record speed, I then groped around in the fog for the towel as goose bumps prickled my skin.
Finally dry I pulled on jeans and a thick, woolly moss green jumper which went well with my hair.
I’d been teased my whole life about my bright red hair and been called the usual names - from Duracell to carrot top - not to mention little red hen (back to the poultry jokes).
No matter what I did to it, it had hung long and lank. That wasn’t the worst of it though. I’d been small and scrawny with pale white skin, covered in freckles which did nothing to camouflage the acne. Then I turned seventeen.
At first I noticed simply that my skin had cleared up almost overnight, which was fantastic. I remembered being really happy that at least I didn’t have spots on my birthday, but fully expecting them to reappear. Then over the next few weeks my freckles faded, my hair got glossy and wavy and my figure, well, it ‘filled out’, to put it mildly.
I’d never really bothered with bras, being as flat-chested as any skinny boy, but suddenly I found I was in serious need of some new undies.
None of this was unusual for a teenage girl, of course, but usually it happened over a few years or at least months. Six weeks on from my birthday I didn’t recognise myself. I was completely bewildered. Now instead of being teased as a skinny, ginger freak I was the subject of rumours about plastic surgery, boob jobs, skin grafts - you name it.
Frankly I didn’t blame them. I almost wished I could go back to how I was. At least if I kept my head down I had gone relatively unnoticed. Now I was stared at by the boys and glared at by the ‘popular’ girls as they bitched about how much money I must have spent to create such a transformation.
Well alright, I almost wished it, but not quite. I won’t deny it, it was nice to be looked at not because I was a freak but because I was, OK yes, still a freak but at least I was reasonably pretty.
The strangest thing of all though, was how Mum looked at me, or rather didn’t. I’d thought she’d be pleased for me, but instead it seemed to make her incredibly nervous, and if I mentioned anything about it she’d change the subject.
I rubbed the mirror with a towel to get rid of the fog and looked at this new me. More than a year had passed and I still hadn’t gotten used to my reflection.
I’d let my hair get long, down to my waist, and it hung in heavy waves framing my face. I had a straight nose which I’d always thought a bit on the big side, and a full, wide mouth. I guessed my eyes were my best feature; they were an unusual shade of green, just like Gran’s.
Alright, so I wasn’t ugly, but I’d gone through seventeen years of hell before it happened and I didn’t have the confidence that went with being born pretty. If a boy ever did come and speak to me I still believed I was the scrawny, unattracti
ve kid I’d always been and usually stammered something incredibly feeble.
I’d never been very popular at school. I’d quickly gained a reputation for being weird and had mostly kept to myself. I generally hung around with the nerds and other outcasts, but once my appearance changed even they rejected me. I’d had a few dates but the boys were clearly not interested in anything other than my new look and they’d all ended in disaster, one way or another.
I decided not to dwell any longer on my tragic love life and instead to go and get some fresh air.
Gran was in her herb room so I popped my head round the door to say I was going for a walk. She was engrossed in a massive old book which she’d propped up on a big stone mortar and she waved absently at me, without taking her eyes off the page.
I grabbed an apple from the big, chipped blue bowl on the kitchen dresser and yanked the door open, wincing as usual as it scraped the stone floor.
Outside the air was still icy cold but the sun felt good on my face even though there was little heat in it.
Munching on the apple I walked around to the back of Gran’s cottage through the orchard.
I opened the gate that led into a big field that Gran let a local farmer cut for the hay and headed towards the woods that edged the field off to the right. The land rose steeply here but if you climbed to the top there was an amazing view across the valley. I walked a bit farther along than usual before beginning the climb up.
I was beginning to feel warm despite the chill of the morning when I noticed what looked like the entrance to a cave. There were many in this area, called Grottes in French.
Jumping down from the boulder I was on I walked farther down to the mouth of the cave. As I looked around the opening I noticed a little ledge carved into the stone.
On the ledge were a torch and a packet of spare batteries. I wondered if Gran had left them there, though I doubted she could make the climb anymore. She was amazing for her age, but she was still an old lady. Deciding that it had probably been walkers or maybe even the farmer who worked the adjoining field I took up the torch and headed through the narrow entrance and into a long corridor.
Thankfully it was tall enough for me to stay nearly upright so I carried on to the end of the tunnel and straightened up in the darkness. I shone the light around the walls looking hopefully for some signs of prehistoric paintings. Instead, the beam from the torch landed on the figure of a man, sitting on a rock and looking straight at me.
There was no sound. I might even have stopped breathing. Then there was a sigh and the shadows shifted and danced as the figure stood up. I backed away, trying to aim for the corridor whilst keeping him in the torch light but he had disappeared.
With my imagination on overdrive I frantically swung the torch back and forth until I felt the cool damp wall of the cave against my back. Feeling a little more secure knowing he couldn’t surprise me from behind I made another pass with the torch. As I turned to follow the light my heart thudded. He was standing just inches from me.
My heart began again, hammering painfully against my chest and my eyes flew from one part of the cave to another, trying to figure out a way past him through the darkness. He looked perfectly capable of outrunning me so I decided I wasn’t willing to risk it. I just stood there frozen with shock, helpless and completely terrified.
“Buenos días, señorita.” He spoke without warning and I uttered a small scream of fright before bolting towards where I thought the tunnel began. I prayed he wouldn’t follow, but he crossed the cave floor with lightning speed and took hold of my arm, steering me in the other direction as I screamed again, struggling against him.
“I think you’ll find this way is a little easier.” He laughed, a gentle sound against the drumming in my ears.
I struggled to get free but he was unreasonably strong and completely ignored me as I tried to pull away. He simply carried on in the direction he’d started, dragging me with him, just glancing at me curiously now and again. I saw his teeth flash in the torchlight and shivered with cold and horror.
Still holding my arm, he tugged me towards a high wall covered with ivy tendrils. There, he let me go and brushed some of the vines aside, revealing a gap in the rock just big enough for a man to get through without much trouble. He grinned and gestured for me to go through. I didn’t want to stay in the dark of the cave so I darted forwards as quickly as I could.
I found myself on the other side of the hill, blinking in the sunlight.
The man followed.
He was quite tall and slender in an elegant kind of way and looked rather less threatening in the daylight, though I kept a good distance from him just in case. His long, ebony hair was pulled back into a ponytail, revealing high cheek bones and a pair of eyebrows that were raised inquisitively above deep brown eyes.
He looked in his early twenties but was strangely dressed, black trousers, a white shirt and a green silk waistcoat. A bizarre choice of outfit for climbing around in caves.
He looked at me with an amused smile on his face as I put some more distance between us. From the way he’d addressed me, I guessed he was Spanish but he spoke to me in perfect English.
“Allow me to introduce myself.” He seemed to be ignoring the look of terror on my face. “My name is Felix Rodríguez.”
“Keep away from me!” I stooped down to grab a fallen branch, the tremor in my voice betraying my fear. I carried on moving back, keeping my eyes on him and holding the branch in front of me.
He watched, amused, until something made his eyes widen. He reached out a hand in alarm but I didn’t stop moving - until I backed into a tree stump and fell, hitting my head hard on the ground for the second time in twenty-four hours. Stunned for a moment, I lay still. Felix was looking down at me in concern.
“Are you all right?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.
I breathed out, winded, and he reached for my hand as I scrambled away in alarm and struggled to my feet. I stood still, scowling at him and rubbing the back of my head.
He gave an apologetic smile. “I’m very sorry for startling you. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t realise I was so frightening,” he said with a wink.
I stared at him in outrage.
“It’s nothing personal, Felix, but when someone jumps out at you in a dark cave and then drags you around by the arm, I’m not sure what kind of impression you expected?”
His eyes twinkled and he laughed. “Well, you seem to have recovered now anyway.”
I sniffed, but it was true. Now we were out in the open, and I could see him properly, he didn’t seem quite so terrifying. I was actually a bit embarrassed.
We stared at each other warily for a moment before he decided to try again. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. How about you tell me your name?”
I frowned at him but figured giving him my name couldn't hurt. “Jéhenne Corbeaux.”
His eyes widened incredulously. “You’re a Corbeaux?”
I frowned a bit harder, suspicious all over again. “Do you know my family then?”
He laughed out loud. “Of course, I have known Inés Corbeaux for many, many years.”
I thought that was a bit much. He wasn’t much older than me so he couldn’t have known Gran as long as all that. “But I never knew she had such a beautiful … granddaughter?” he added, sounding far too smooth.
“Yes she’s my grandmother.” I was irritated that I was becoming less cross with him now and determined that I wouldn’t be charmed.
“I definitely would have sought you out sooner if I’d known,” he replied, and I noticed how his eyes sparkled with mischief as he flashed another enchanting smile in my direction. I felt my stomach flutter despite my annoyance. He’d turned on the charm full throttle now. I wasn’t sure whether I should make a run for it or invite him home for lunch. “In fact, that is where I’m going now, if you will allow me to walk back with you?”
I felt a lot happier now, knowing he was a friend of Gran�
��s.
“Well OK, but I don’t know the way from here,” I admitted.
“I do.” He flashed that smile at me again and I Looked quickly away. We walked along in silence for a little way until I got up the nerve to speak to him again.
“Why do you want to see Gran, I mean Inés?”
“Reina sent me ahead to check the cave was still usable. She is visiting Inés to give her some news”
“What on earth would you use the cave for?” I asked in astonishment.
His eyebrows flew up again.
“Why, for the council meeting of course!” he replied, giving me a strange look, as though that should have been obvious.
“Council meeting?” I tried to imagine the municipal council members clambering over the rocks. As there wasn’t one of them under the age of sixty and meetings were usually held in the salle des fêtes, this seemed unlikely.
“Why on earth would they want to hold a council meeting in a cave?”
Felix stopped suddenly and stared at me intently.
“You are Inés Corbeaux’s granddaughter?” He seemed suddenly anxious and my nervousness returned.
“Yes.”
He stared at me, as though he was sure I was lying to him but he couldn't figure out why.
“And you’re of her blood? I mean to say, you’re not adopted?”
I glared back at him. I didn’t know what he was getting at but I had the feeling I was being insulted.
“Of course I’m not bloody adopted.” I felt aggrieved, though I knew at some level I was being unreasonable, after all there’s nothing wrong with being adopted, but I had the distinct feeling the morning was taking a direction I wasn’t going to like.
He stared at me some more and then his expression changed completely as if he suddenly understood some private joke and he began to laugh.
“Oh. Oh dear, that’s priceless,” he spluttered, bursting out laughing and looked far too pleased with himself. “You don’t know! How is this possible? And she hasn’t told you!”
I stopped and glowered at him.
“Told me what exactly?”
“Oh no!” He held his hands up in mock defence. “That is definitely a conversation you need to have with Inés.” He smiled broadly. “Though what I wouldn’t give to see your face when you do.”
We had rounded a corner at this point and I recognised a narrow path that led back towards Gran’s house.
I stuffed my hands in my pockets and stomped off ahead of him as fast as I could. It seemed Gran had some serious explaining to do.
The route back was easier than climbing rocks but also a great deal further so by the time I got to the cottage I was feeling breathless, hot and very irritated. This was not helped in the least by the fact that Felix had effortlessly kept up with me and without having broken a sweat.
I wrestled with the door which seemed to be stiffer than usual and flung myself into the cottage.
I was about to demand an explanation when I noticed a beautiful woman leaning against the fridge. Her hair was black and glossy and flowed down her spine in silky waves. She had flawless, olive toned skin, a full, wide mouth, and intense dark eyes that glanced briefly at me as I entered the house. This, I assumed, was Reina.
She was dressed extravagantly and was covered in jewellery, a dozen silver rings and studs dangled from her ears, a huge ornate silver necklace inlaid with turquoise was clasped around her neck, and silver bracelets clinked gently as she moved her arms. I gaped at her for a minute, until I saw the look on Gran’s face. She was at the kitchen table and her mouth was tight with worry. Felix followed me in.
“Jéhenne, I’m so glad you’re back. I need to talk to you,”
“Yes, I think you do.” I crouched beside her, taking her hand gently. “Are you OK though?”
She patted my hand in return.
“Yes, yes I’m fine, but there is so much to do, things that I need to tell you.” She sounded agitated.
“We will leave you now, Inés,” said the exotic looking woman. “I shall see you tonight at the meeting.” Her voice was deep and rich, heavily accented.
“Yes, Reina. Thank you for coming.”
“It is always a pleasure to see you, Inés, though I wish the circumstances had been different.” She smiled, showing dazzling white teeth, and bent to embrace Gran.
“Ven, Felix,” she snapped, as though addressing a dog, and though he threw me another dazzling smile he followed without protest.
Gran got up and went over to the big dresser at the bottom of the stairs. It was a massive thing in dark wood and heavily carved with a hunting theme. Dead pheasants and rabbits draped over each other and there was a scene with a chasseur, or hunter shooting a deer. I’d always hated it when I was little, it had given me the creeps.
Gran opened the cupboard door, which creaked ferociously. It seemed there wasn’t a door in the house that opened without protest.
Gran fished about in the depths for a moment and came out clutching a home-made bottle of some clear liquid, which I guessed to be a kind of home-brew called eau-de-vie but knew for certain would be absolutely lethal.
She picked up two small glasses with the other hand and returned to the table. My misgivings about what she needed to tell me were growing by the second.
Gran poured out two shots of the clear liquid and handed one to me. “Santé.” She raised the glass and proceeded to down it in one. She’d apparently made it from a bumper crop of plums a couple of years before and as I didn’t want to offend her, I took a small, ladylike sip. The cold liquid hit the back of my throat and seemed to strip a layer of skin off my mouth on its way through. Bloody hell. It was a waste of good plums if you asked me.
However a warm and not unpleasant glow had begun in my stomach and I looked at Gran to see what came next.
She smiled ruefully. “I don’t know where to start.”
I looked down at the table, tracing a pattern with my finger on the colourful blue and yellow oilcloth that covered it as I waited for her to decide.
“Jéhenne, the world your parents took you to was not the world you were destined to inhabit. If you had stayed here with me, you would have been prepared. I would have taught you everything. As it is we have little time and I have so much to explain.” She paused and poured out another shot of eau-de-vie. I covered my glass with my hand. “This world is not as it appears, there is another hidden beneath the surface that is not visible to most mortals. You know already that you can see the dead.” She looked up at me and I nodded mutely.
“What about Felix and Reina, did you notice anything about them?”
I shook my head this time.
“They looked just like ordinary people, oui?” she queried. “Maybe they are a little more exotic than the usual but nothing extraordinary, non?”
“No, I guess not.”
“They are Nagual.” She sighed at my blank expression. “Shape-shifters. They can change into another form - an animal.”
I remembered when I was a kid watching cartoons of Tom and Jerry and laughing when, as Tom realised Jerry was about to blow him up or drop a piano on him, his jaw would literally drop to the floor. I had a feeling I was doing a fair imitation.
“Nagual?”
“Oui,” She nodded and took a breath, obviously realising I was going to need rather more information than this to buy into the story. “There are many other supernatural creatures that live in this world, either side by side with mortals or in secret. The Korrigan, for example, are secretive and dangerous. They inhabit water sources, wells, fountains and waterfalls and don’t interact at all with the mortal world unless humans make the mistake of getting too close. Faeries are a different story, the Light Fae that is, there are also Dark Fae, who will likely murder you if you refer to them as Faeries, and Elves too.”
“Faeries and Elves?”
My voice sounded funny, like it was far away and I wondered briefly just how strong that eau-de-vie really was. I s
tared at Gran, wondering which of us had finally lost the plot. I had a feeling it might be me as I felt instinctively there was truth in what she said.
“How can you tell what they are?”
“Not easily, because the Light Fae in particular do very well amongst mortals. The Elves and Dark Fae don't settle here as a rule, they find our world too toxic. But the Light Fae seem to manage. As a race they have beautiful skin, golden hair and blue eyes. They tend to be rather voluptuous as they have a very sweet tooth. They often end up as pâtissières or chocolatiers. You know Anaïs at that wonderful boulangerie in Brantôme?”
“No way!”
“Faerie.” She nodded. “Though she doesn't know it,” she added thoughtfully.
I frowned, considering. “Oh!” I said suddenly. “What about the lady in the Chocolaterie in Perigueux, where we bought those amazing Mendiants?” These were fat little discs of dark chocolate studded with candied peel, nuts and raisins. We’d eaten the bag full before we’d even got back to the car.
“Faerie.” Gran nodded and smiled.
“Oh, and the man in the boulangerie at Saint Saul?”
She shook her head this time, her lips pursed.
“Glandular.”
“Oh. Well, what else is there?”
He face changed, suddenly angry. “Jéhenne, this is not a game!” She slammed her glass down on the table and I jumped. “Some of these creatures are more dangerous than you can imagine. They must always be treated with the utmost respect.”
“Faeries are dangerous?”
She nodded, her expression grave. “Never ever trust the Fae, Jéhenne, especially Elves, they're tricky bastards. Ghouls are another matter.”
“What are ghouls?”
I had a feeling I didn’t want to know.
“Ghouls are basically good, often quite shy and would never harm a living creature. They live within the bodies of dead mortals and are sometimes mistaken for zombies. They can be unpleasant to deal with though, depending on when they chose their … erm new host or body. Even though they are able to move from body to body, they often don’t as most of them don’t seem too bothered by appearances.” Gran closed her eyes and swallowed hard. “They live on dead flesh.” She glanced at me to see how this had gone down.
“Oh.” I swallowed hard as that information sank in. “That’s just ... disgusting!” I exclaimed. My stomach churned and I could feel acid in the back of my throat. I snatched up my glass of eau-de-vie and downed what was left. It took my breath away and I struggled for air for a moment or two but at least it steadied my nerves.
“You mean dead bodies, don’t you?”
Gran bit her lip and nodded. “Not always, it’s much harder to get hold of nowadays and they’re not bad creatures, some live on raw animal flesh, but … for preference …”
I groaned.
“OK, what else?”
“Jéhenne, there isn’t time to tell you everything now but the reason we have called this council meeting is because a keeper has been murdered.”
“Murdered?” I said, horrified. “How, and what’s a keeper?”
Gran sighed and rubbed her eyes, she looked exhausted.
“Since time began the supernatural world has fought battles over its most precious artefacts. These are things that hold great power for those who possess them and in the wrong hands can cause untold damage. The wars that were waged over them killed so many, and caused such misery that even the most bloodthirsty among us became weary of it.
“A council was created with a representative from each group of creatures to see if a peaceful solution could be found. It took decades of discussion and many more died, but eventually they came to an agreement. The council decided that many of these objects would be placed in the care of the keepers.”
Gran got up and fetched the baguette she’d bought earlier, along with a Camembert, which had been sitting under a small glass dome on the dresser. She put them out on the table and handed me a plate and a knife.
“Keepers,” she continued, while she cut off a big chunk of baguette for herself, “are peaceful and secretive creatures. They have no interest in power or wealth or the lives of others. They do however like to own things; these things are generally of no great value and are usually come by honestly. They would never consider murder to get their hands on an object, no matter how they coveted it. They are also very good at hiding things.”
“So the objects were given to the keepers and they hid them?”
“Exactement,” she agreed handing me a big chunk of bread. “The keepers are honourable creatures and they know what is at stake. They would die before giving up the objects they held.”
“But why would one have been killed if everyone knows they would never give away the hiding place?” I asked, puzzled.
“We can’t yet be sure the creature didn’t give up its secret. We don’t know where the items were hidden, but maybe someone has found a way to get the information from them.”
“But how?”
Gran shrugged. “That, I don’t know.”
“Who would do such a terrible thing?”
“Oh there are many that would. It’s by no means the first time.” She sounded tired and bitter and I watched as she absently chased a crumb around her plate with a finger. “I think it’s most likely a vampire.”
I stopped chewing.
“You’re kidding?” Though I don’t know why I was surprised after everything Gran had told me so far. “Vampires? No. No! That’s just a legend … isn’t it? It is just a legend isn’t it, Gran?
Gran didn’t look up but stared at her plate intently, breaking the crumb into smaller pieces with her nail.”Non, Jéhenne, not just a legend.”
“You mean to say there will be vampires at the meeting tonight?”
Gran nodded.
I got a cold feeling, like ants crawling up and down my back.
“But that’s ridiculous! Aren’t they dangerous?”
Gran looked up suddenly and grasped my hand across the table. “Yes, Jéhenne, they are dangerous. Vampires are among the most powerful and most dangerous of all the supernaturals.” She squeezed my hand harder and stared at me intently. “They are not to be trusted. Do you understand?”
My eyes widened in surprise. Surely she didn’t think I was going to get friendly with a vampire?
“Don’t be fooled, Jéhenne, they can be very beautiful. When they want to they can be extremely charming, fascinating even.” She paused and let go of my hands. “Seductive,” she said, lowering her gaze back to her plate.
I flushed.
“Well, I don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about there.” I shifted in my seat uneasily, feeling a little flustered.
“Have you looked at yourself in the mirror recently, Nina? You are beautiful. They will want you, whether you like it or not.”
I could feel the heat in my cheeks, this was a conversation I really didn’t want to be having with my grandmother.
“It is important that you are at the meeting, chérie. It is time you took your place in this world, but for the moment at least, we must make sure you don’t draw attention to yourself.”
“Fine by me!” I nodded vigorously. I couldn’t have agreed more.
The Key to Erebus (The French Vampire Legend. Book 1) Page 4