by C M Thorne
She paused for a minute, listening for sounds of anyone else moving around, but the house was quiet, soft music floating up the stairs from the floor below and the faint, distant sound of the city beyond. She tried to reach out throughout the massive house as she had done with her roommates, but she wasn’t sure how she had done that. Thea could not feel anything now no matter how hard she concentrated and tried to imagine feelings others in the house.
Skipping down the rest of the stairs to the first floor, Thea moved quickly across the foyer. She kind of knew the layout of this floor and moved to the family room through to the kitchen, not passing anyone else on her way. Thea ran her hand along the counter of the kitchen island, wondering if she should rummage for food or wait till she found someone.
“Would the house even have much food?” she wondered, imagining that they probably sent one of their staff to market or to restaurants for meals. She moved over to the massive stainless steel fridge and was surprised to find a highly organized, very full fridge. She could not resist looking through organized glass containers and then pulling out some chicken and pasta. Thea pulled open drawers around the kitchen until she found a fork and set to devouring the cold dish. She leaned over the island slightly as she polished off the food and set the container in the sink.
Her stomach still rumbled and she returned to the fridge. She snatched a can of lemon carbonated water, popping the tab and chugging it. Thea did not know what had come over her, but she couldn’t stop herself. She was compelled forward, driven to eat more. She opened up the drawers in the large refrigerator and searched through the assorted foods, biting into a yellow and red apple, grabbing a block of white cheese, snatching a bag of turkey, and grabbing bottles of sauces and spreads.
She put everything down on the counter and moved to the pantry, searching for bread and chips. Thea turned away moments later with two loaves of bread, several bags of chips, a jar of pickles, and a tin of what she assumed were homemade cookies. As she set everything down on the counter, someone cleared their throat and she froze. Diane was standing on the far side of the kitchen, hands on her hips and a smile spread across her face.
Her sister wore a silvery satin blouse, that tied tightly across her hips bones and billowed out around her arms before cinching at the wrists. She was wearing a tapered pair of black pants and emerald pumps, which seemed to look like they were suede. Her hair fell in perfect Hollywood waves of rich mahogany and she had a soft red lip. Diane was stunning, as she always seemed to be. “Hungry?” Diane arched an eyebrow in amusement.
She shook her head slowly, embarrassment rising up into her cheeks with rosy heat. “I didn’t really eat last night and I just,” she looked across the counter, realizing that she had grabbed more food than she had thought, “I don’t know.” She laughed lightly and diverted her eyes.
Diane walked closer and looked over the food on the counter, before turning her eyes to Thea, looking her up and down. “Oh, love,” she tisked. “Why are you wearing that? Not that it isn’t cute on you, but there are fabulous things in that closet.”
Thea nodded, hands leaving the food she had had in her arms on the counter, though her stomach groaned in protest. “Yes, there are beautiful things in there.”
“But?” Diane asked. Thea flushed again and Diane nodded, “Not all are to your taste.”
“Mhmm,” Thea bit her lip, not wanting to delve into her reticence at tearing through the closet as if the things inside were her own.
“I have an idea,” Diane brightened up, waving her hand over the food. Everything began putting itself away, floating through the air. “Why don’t we go get lunch in town and we can do some shopping?”
“Oh,” Thea gasped a little. “That sounds really nice, but I don’t really have money for anything too extravagant.”
Diane laughed lightly and covered her mouth. “Love, we would not expect you to pay,” Diane laughed a little harder, the sound coming from her gut.
“Uh,” Thea looked down at the countertop, searching for a polite way to decline her sister.
“You have no excuse, sister,” Diane said brightly, coming over and looping her arm through hers and pulling her along. “Besides, I am in need of a distraction after that circus last night.” She laughed and rolled her eyes. “We will have a car take us. What sounds good for lunch?”
As Diane pulled her towards the front of the house, Thea realized she didn’t have her phone. She didn’t dare slow down Diane however. Her sister was like a cheery, unstoppable force once in motion. It would be easy to go along with her. And far quicker.
They grabbed lunch at an expensive restaurant, whose prices made Thea balk. She had to admit though that her three course meal and two glasses of wine did make for some of the best food that had ever touched her tongue. She had savored the flavors as best she could, thinking back to the food on the way to wherever Diane was taking her to shop.
She clutched a flute of a fruity spritzer that Diane had concocted from the small bar in the long black car they rode it. It was good, but she was losing the flavors of lunch in her mouth, though the wine and now the spritzer still kept a pleasant warmth throughout her body. She watched the city go by as Diane chittered away on a phone call that she had taken on a small earpiece in her ear. Thea did not recognize any of the landmarks that went by and wondered how long her family had been here. Had they seen the city made into what it was today?
The car rolled to a slow, soft stop and Diane hung up abruptly. “Are you ready?” she asked, opening the door and stepping out onto the sidewalk. Thea scooted out and looked down the long street of grey-white buildings and bustling crowds. “Welcome to Oxford Street, love. A staple for shopping and the start of our adventure today,” Diane grinned and reached out to grab her hand, dragging her along.
They went to several shops, though Thea found herself liking Selfridge’s more than some of the smaller shops. Diane put her in a dressing room with two armfuls of clothes and sent off store attendants for more things. Thea wasn’t even sure how long they were there until they walked out followed by four people loaded up with bags full of clothes and shoes. The sun was low in the sky and the car was waiting for them at the curb, trunk popped to take their boon.
The middle aged male driver had gotten out and instructed the attendants on how to place things in the boot, as he called it. Diane slipped into the car, answering a call again.
Thea stood there for a minute, half listening to her sister explain to someone where the two of them had been, and half noticing a feeling that tugged at her gut. She turned around slowly, looking down the street of shops. A large black bird was perched on a lamppost a little further down and on the other side of the street. Another waited behind it, perched on a window ledge. Both of them seemed to be watching her and a strange chill ran up her spine. One of the city’s large, red double-decker buses passed along the street and a man seemed to appear out of nowhere beneath the birds.
The man was wearing a long brown trench coat and a wide brimmed hat. She could not see his face well from this distance, but his trimmed white beard did stick out. Another bus came roaring down the street and just before it passed in front of the man who was most definitely watching her, just as the birds were, one of his eyes flash bright and silver. The bus passed by in a blur and the man was no longer there, nor were the birds.
Thea blinked hard and looked around, feeling disoriented. Diane was off the phone and staring at her from inside the car with a weird look on her face.
“You ready, Thea?” she asked softly.
Thea nodded and moved to the car, looking around one last time.
“What is it?” Diane sat up and looked out the back window, “You alright?”
“Yes, yes, I’m okay,” Thea nodded emphatically, smiling slightly and sliding into the car.
Diane looked at her skeptically and then turned away, “So, I was debating what else to do, but Adella has called us home for drinks before dinner.”
Th
ea raised an eyebrow in response and nodded slowly.
Diane leaned forward and grabbed herself a flute, mixing a drink with expert ease. “Bacio del Limone?”
“Excuse me?” Thea asked in response, reaching out and taking the chilled glass of bubbly yellow liquid, crushed ice, and what looked like berries.
“A lemon kiss,” Diane smiled and quickly made one for herself. “I like to use currants and blackberries, but we only have raspberries right now. Not bad still.” Diane sipped at the drink, flopping back against the seat and sighing.
Thea took a drink and sighed. She glanced at her sister and cautioned a question, “Are we going to be doing many dinners where I feel like I’m the new attraction or exhibit?”
Her sister sputtered a little and set her drink down. “Is that how you felt last night?”
“A little,” Thea looked away, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks. She hated to feel like she was coming off sheepish, but she had been worried about asking the question in the first place. Might as well be honest now, she assured herself.
“Oh,” Diane looked down, lavender eyes scanning the floor of the town car, “I’m sorry you feel that way. Adella isn’t the best at,” she paused and looked out the window, “making people feel welcome.”
Thea set her own drink down and decided to go with the feeling in her gut. “Harry said something weird last night.” Diane turned her head and looked at her with a questioning gaze. Thea added, “I have to admit, it struck a chord.”
Diane nodded once slowly. “What did he say?”
“Well,” Thea broke eye contact, not knowing where to look. “It was strange. He implied that Adella was just showing me off, like I was somehow going to entice people away from our uncle, Nigel.” She remembered that she had wanted to ask who Nigel was, but felt like this topic needed to be gotten out of the way first and foremost.
“Ah,” Diane nodded. “Adella does hope to garner more of our family out of neutrality and into supporting her. Nigel will take this disagreement into war if he deems it necessary. I actually fear it is what he desires.” She shook her head and continued, “But, that would only serve to weaken our family during a time where the world of immortals is unsure. War would weaken us and open us up to attacks from whoever went after our father and my brother.” Her words had gotten quieter as she spoke and her eyes had almost glazed over, brimming with tears.
“So she isn’t exactly using me, but she isn’t really hiding me either,” Thea offered. “Is that what you’re saying?”
“More or less,” Diane answered frankly. “Adella would love for you to join the family fully and pledge yourself to her side. You have power, no mistake, and you could mean a lot to those who are reluctant to pick a side.”
Thea’s eyes widened, a strange feeling hollowing out her gut as she didn’t know how to feel about what her sister had just said.
Diane seemed to notice and continued slowly, “Listen, Adella doesn’t know what to do with you, Thea. She barely knows how to interact with us. We have been sisters for over five millennia and, while I would say we are close now, it did take a lot of work and many years to become so.”
Diane grabbed her drink and took another long sip. “Adella sees everything logically, strategically. I don’t think she can help but see you for your uses,” Diane set the empty drink down. “She sees us all that way. I do think she cares for you though, in her way.” She put a hand on Thea’s lightly and added, “We just lost our father and brother. She is hurting and she does not deal well with that.”
“Right,” Thea answered softly, breathlessly. “I don’t blame her for that. I guess, I just need to feel like I’m more than a shiny new toy. Feel more like I’m,” Thea trailed off, again not wanting to say the wrong thing or seem too whiny.
“Like you’re actually family,” Diane offered and Thea nodded in response. “I am here for you.” She patted her hand and smiled. “I’ll make sure to keep our sister in check.”
CHAPTER 14: HOUSE AT THE CROSSROADS
TRIX WAITED IMPATIENTLY in the living room of her flat in the Quarter. She drank a jigger of rum, letting the hot peppers that she had infused into it burn down her throat pleasantly. She drained it with a deep gulp and slid the glass down onto the glass-top coffee table, sitting back and tossing her curly hair over her shoulder. She was dressed in a silk, teal halter dress, which had a high slit up the front to reveal her long, thin legs. Several golden bangles fell around her wrists and she had a thick, chunky necklace on, covered in large, ostentatious diamonds and other sparkling gems. Her heels were bronze and strappy, winding up to just below her knees. She felt sexy, good enough to go to the Great Master to ask for not only protection, but the backing of all the loa.
Bastien had come home late from whatever meeting he had been at and seemed to be taking his sweet time getting ready. It was a good thing that the Great Master did not expect them for close to an hour, because being late would not help entreat him to defending Trix. The front door squeaked slightly as it opened and Trix felt the familiar energy of her step-son, Nicolas. She turned her head as he walked in, dark leather shoes clacking on the wood floors almost like a high heel. He was dressed in a burgundy suit, black button-up and steel grey silk tie beneath.
“Nico,” she smiled up at him.
“Trix,” he nodded and his hands came forward from behind his back, revealing a fat rounded bottle of white rum. “One of the most expensive in the city,” he bowed his as he held his hands out, presenting the frosted bottle to her.
“Perfect gift for the Sky Father,” she replied with a grin. “Thank you, son.” He bowed a little deeper, an arm folded across his middle.
She sighed in exasperation as two more of her family appeared, father and son stepping into her family room with a soft pop as they teleported. “Clément,” Trix called out, irritation singing as she narrowed her eyes on her husband’s immediate younger brother, “you know I told you to use the door!”
“Pardon my manners, madame,” he bowed his head, words dripping with a fair dose of sarcasm. His short afro of black hair was greying about the temples and he wore a traditional black suit. His son, Dominic, had come with him, looking much like his father, except a few inches taller and less greyed.
Dom wore a jewel green blazer over dark pants and a plaid shirt of various shades of yellow, orange, and blue mixed with broad stripes of white. He bowed his head to Trix, the action truly one of respect from him. She knew that Dom actually recognized and revered her power, unlike so many others.
“Next time, I will take a price for such insolence, you bastard,” Trix said, pointing at him with one perfectly manicured finger, still lounging back against the couch.
“Yes, ma’am,” he laughed lightly, still partially fearing her potential retribution.
Bastien came down the hall then, hair looking oiled and fresh. He wore a charcoal grey suit and white button-up, which gleamed in the light. He was incredibly handsome, youthful and as full of power as when they first met. She lost herself in simply appreciating him as he moved, tearing her eyes away and taking a calming breath. There would be time for appreciating him more fully after they got through this.
Despite the passion between them, they had never had children of their own. Only Bastien’s son from before she had bound herself to him graced their immortal lives. Trix was fully able to bear progeny, but had long vowed to herself to not mix her own power with another’s in such a way. She was so much more than her family acknowledged, or even knew. Occasionally, the heat between her and her mate made her breath catch, making her debate for just a moment if she would break her vow. She shook her head. Trix could not break it, not even for Bastien.
“Where’s Bart?” she asked her husband about his youngest brother, who was irregularly late.
“He already there, mon cheri,” he answered, moving closer to the couch and offering her his hand. “We will meet him at the Master’s.” She put her thin hand in his large hand, rough and warm. He
pulled her up and his power wrapped around them, taking them away from their home.
They appeared as the sun had set, the western sky still bleeding color, slowly giving way to the purples and blues of the coming night. They stood in the middle of an old crossroad, marked by a singular post with painted wood signs, barely legible now in their faded age. It was unassuming, but a place of power.
The others appeared around them and Trix turned to the old plantation house, whose property was nestled between the roads. Bart stepped out from nothingness on the gravelly side of the old roads. He was taller than Clément, but still quite a bit shorter than Bastien, dressed in an impeccable black suit.
“Evening, brothers,” he spoke with a deep, cool voice as he looked them over. “Beatrice,” he bowed his head to Trix as he stepped forward. “Master Albin and the others await us.”
Bastien grunted and nodded, taking Trix’s hand and moving them toward the house in a blink of the eye. While the plantation house looked run down and sad from the crossroads, it transformed once they set foot on the land of the Master. It gleamed in fire lit lamps along the drive, walls a brilliant, fresh looking white. Music floated out from the windows mingled with the soft babbling of voices. Bart walked out in front, moving up the steps of the porch to the towering, heavy double doors, which opened on their own as he approached. The music grew louder, a happy mixture of piano and stringed instruments.
Bart stepped to the side and allowed Bastien and Trix to enter first, into the wide foyer and toward the sweeping staircase beyond. Bart came up along their side and he waved his arm out casually. A set of double doors to their left responded, opening up on the ballroom. Many of the families were inside already, enjoying an evening of dance and socializing. A grand piano was set up at the back of the long room, near the front windows, where a mortal played. He was accompanied by a man on cello and two female violinists behind him. On the far wall was a grandiose stone fireplace, before which sat Albin and his wife, Aurelia, in two high backed chairs.
