I give her a playful glare. Her laid-back approach is part of what makes her element to call water. Steady when situations get hectic, she always keeps a cool head. She has a slow burn temper much like water. A calm body of water is a beautiful, tranquil thing to behold. Rile it up, and it turns deadly.
“I was surprised when she started talking about the Reaping,” Fel says in a hushed tone.
“Me too. She usually avoids the topic like the plague.”
“It’s like Vietnam. Most of the people involved won’t speak a word about it. Do you think it means something? Her opening up?”
“Yeah. She knows she’s getting a bit long in the tooth to hold onto secrets unless she plans to take them to the grave. I think we’re all in for some shocks,” I say, thinking of her tryst with a certain vampire in the Cortez Court. I never would’ve pegged her as a rule breaker. There’s more to their story than we know. So far, I’ve kept my mouth shut out of respect for Mémé. I’m not sure how much longer that’s going to hold.
“It’s hard to think of her as a person. That sounds awful, doesn’t it?” Fel laughs. “I don’t mean it that way. It’s just, she’s always been such a wise older woman with graying hair, and a regal bearing, regardless of the responsibilities she’s shouldered. Youth syndrome makes us forget our elders have lived a life long before we were even thought of.”
“We should actually get the cooking started before they realize how long we’ve been gone and come and check up on us.” We pile the sachets onto the long shelf, and I turn on the gas. I imagine energy flowing through my body to my palm. A flame flickers to life on my palm, and I light the gas.
“It comes so easily to you now,” Fel marvels.
“After the sessions Mémé’s been putting me through, it’d better.” I shudder as I think of our crash course in training. “She’s tried her hardest to shove years and years worth of training and information into a thirteen-month period. If I’m not looking in grimoires or old journals, I’m with the court learning etiquette, sword play, and how to think like them. Their customs are nothing like our own, Fel. It’s like falling into the upside down and the past in one go round.” A strange blend of dominance, power plays, and an almost European-style of royal hierarchy, the courts are a tangled web, impossible to navigate without knowing all the nuances.
“Want to take a walk?” I ask, eager to steal a few more minutes of quiet with her.
“Yeah.”
The bright purple lavender calls to me. I make my way through the knee-high rows, skimming my fingers over the tops. Pausing, I inhale the sweet fragrance. “I missed this place when I was away.”
“What are they like?”
I cock my head to the side. “The court?”
“Yes.” She bites her lip and toys with a sunflower stalk a half a row away.
“I don’t mind talking about them.” I frown as I chase the thoughts in my head. “Putting it in words is difficult. Their instincts can be extremely primal, and animalistic like Weres. What makes them so different is their ability to think rings around our best strategist. Their minds would rival Machiavelli. Constantly calculating minds, they think like people play chess, anticipating the next best move. Their main goal is always survival. Though loyalty and honor are a very serious matter.
“Despite the passage of time, they have maintained something medieval. A fact we should all be grateful for by the way. If they ever abandoned that code, I dread the ravaging that would follow.” Kept in check and controlled by a carefully kept code, a stringent set of rules, and powerful players ready to enforce them, the vampire population runs like a well-oiled clock. If they ever made a true go at world domination, hell would be unleashed on earth.
“That is a frightening thought.” Fel shifts her weight uneasily.
“Believe me, I know more than I ever wanted to.” I grimace. “The brutality they deal in is a lot to take in. Once you’ve seen, there’s no such thing as unseeing.” I shudder.
“Suddenly I don’t envy you and your vampire boo the same.” She pouts.
I snigger “Vampire boo?”
“It’s what I call Cristobal in my head,” she admits sheepishly.
“Please say it out loud one day,” I beg. “His face would be priceless. He’d be properly scandalized. We’re dragging him into the twentieth-century kicking and screaming.” Imagining his unamused expression, I chuckle.
“You walk the line between two worlds. Be careful you don’t trip and stumble headfirst into one of them.” Fel’s words are hollow.
I turn to look at her. “Fel?”
“You are the bridge between two worlds. To prepare for what will be. You must discover what once was. Things in the darkness have been waiting for an opportunity to return. Alone we will parish. Together we can vanquish.” She blinks.
“Felicite?” I whisper, grabbing her arm.
“What?” she asks, dazed. Her eyes are unfocused, and her voice is weak.
“Do you remember what you just said?” I study her carefully as I grip her forearms gently, supporting her weight.
“That I call Cristobal your vampire boo in my head?” she says huskily.