Birthed Vow Page 4

  I nodded but kept silent. My thoughts were racing. This is what the Ahimsas had always wanted. Part of the reason why Carlotta had agreed to join the effort to rescue Phoebe from Shewsdale Manor was to gain the chance at forming an alliance with the Arcane Realm. And that had gotten her killed. She had helped me so much. Even after death she was still helping me, as my ghostly guide and mentor. Beaufort had murdered the love of her life and now she’d never get a chance to avenge him. But I could do it for her. I could destroy Beaufort and the Spirit Realm and make up for all the people I’d lost in this fight. Darla, Carlotta, Lance - I owed it to all of them to grab hold of this chance with both hands. Cosying up to Nik on a regular basis with the Arcane Realm’s full blessing was an added benefit.

  I only realised a smile had crept onto my face when I saw it reflected back at me by Davenport and Ishida. They knew they had me.

  “Okay, maybe I do know someone who could stand in as my doctor.”

  Davenport’s gaze shifted from left to right. He avoided my eyes as he asked me his next question. “Our source tells us this individual is a person of colour.”

  My jaw dropped open and I stood up and rounded on Audrey, my hands on my hips. “Goddammit Audrey! Is there anything you haven’t told them?”

  She pursed her lips, feigning an expression of indignation. She was a good actress, but I knew she was the only one who could’ve blabbed, and I was not happy about it.

  Davenport waved his hands up and down. “It’s alright. I’m not a racist. I hope you know me well enough by now to know that. But the Spirit Realm aristocrats are typically white supremacists - like Hugh Beaufort himself. That’s one of the reasons they are such natural allies.”

  Ishida took over. “The same witch who changes your appearance will have to change your vampire friend’s. He should look Caucasian, to fit in with expectations about what the Marquise would choose in a physician.”

  “I don’t want you to change the way he looks.” I love the way he looks.

  “It’s not forever. As soon as the mission is over you go back to the way you looked before.”

  I crossed my arms. “Let me get this straight. I have to change the way I look. I have to change the way I act and sound. My boyf… erm friend has to change the way he looks.” I blushed furiously at my slip up, but everyone had the good grace to pretend they hadn’t heard. “And then I have to go and live with a bunch of white supremacist snobs and convince them I’m one of them before finding out a way to rescue Phoebe and end the war without any further bloodshed?”

  Ishida and Davenport looked at each other and then back at me.

  “That’s an accurate summary, yes.” Ishida nodded.

  “You’re asking a lot.”

  “And you have the sense of adventure for it.” Davenport’s smile was nervous.

  “You get to wear a lot of fancy dresses and attend a lot of balls.” Audrey raised her eyebrows and smiled at me.

  “Come on Audrey.” I rolled my eyes at her. “You care more about that kind of stuff than I do.”

  “Yeah, yeah, so you kept the dress you escaped Beaufort Heights in and had it altered and dyed for no reason at all.”

  My smile dropped. “I kept that dress as a symbol of my strength and resilience.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “You’re telling me, you didn’t enjoy living the high life at Beaufort Heights at all… not one little bit?”

  My lips twitched. “Well… maybe just a little bit.”

  “This will be more of the same. You’ll be wined and dined. You’ll ride in a horse and carriage like Cinderella on her way to the ball. You’ll have servants, the finest food, live in the lap of luxury. And all you have to do in return is some exciting spy stuff. That doesn’t sound too hard, does it?”

  “Why don’t you do it then?”

  “I don’t have spirit powers.”

  As much as I hated to admit it, this was a good plan. It was a way to get to both Beaufort and the Spirit Realm at the same time whilst rescuing Phoebe. Wasn’t that what I wanted? Hadn’t I already decided that was the only way to keep everyone I cared about safe? My family, my friends, the Ahimsas… they could stop hiding and live normal lives, spreading their creed of vampire veganism and peace with humans. I could get everything I wanted, and my friends could get everything they wanted too.

  “Alright I’ll do it.”

  Davenport closed his eyes and exhaled, his chest deflating as his shoulders lowered.

  A murmur of excitement and several whoops rose from the assembled group. Two wizards high-fived. They were acting like their pompelball team had just won the grand annual tournament. I sure hoped I wouldn’t let them down.

  “Excellent!” General Ishida clapped his hands together, his dark eyes sparkling and a wide smile spreading across his face. “In the hope that you would agree, we’ve already scheduled a session with your elocution and etiquette teacher, Madame Fouchet, tomorrow. She’s an expert on Spirit Realm etiquette having lived there for twenty years.” He looked across the room and made eye contact with a female agent. She had a dark complexion and dark hair cut in a blunt bob. Her severe fringe framed her heavy eyebrows, high cheekbones, and a pronounced nose. “This is Agent Harper,” he gestured to the woman. “She is a spirit witch immigrant and now she works for us. She will travel with you as your maid. Her fluent knowledge of Lingues D’Esprit will prove invaluable should the need arise.”

  She bowed her head. “It’s an honour to meet you and even more so to work with you, Agent Ryan. I’ve heard much about your successes in the field against the Draculs.” Her eyes shone in a way that made me blush.

  “Most of it was luck,” I mumbled.

  Ishida waved his hand. “She’s being modest. But so are you.” He looked at me to explain further. “Agent Harper has done much of the groundwork that has led to this mission, including gathering all the intelligence on the Marquise. I’m confident you’ll make a great team.”

  “Your meeting with Madame is at twelve hundred hours tomorrow. Don’t be late. She is a hard task master but she’s the best in the business. We have briefed her on who you are and your part in this mission. You can trust her and be honest with her.” He looked me up and down. “I suggest you wear something more feminine…”

  More feminine? I looked down at my trainers, jeans and top. What was wrong with it?

  “… And smarter,” he added. I thought he’d finished before he finally added. “And perhaps put your hair up… in a chignon or something of that nature.”

  A chignon?! I barely knew what a chignon was let alone how to do one. This woman must be a piece of work if she thought jeans and a top was scruffy. Probably yearned for the stone ages when women all wore bonnets and carried parasols.

  A horrible feeling spread through my centre as I started to wonder if this etiquette training was going to be as challenging as the mission itself.

  5

  The next morning, too bright and early for my liking, me and Brother Mateo set off for my etiquette lesson. As much as I’d bristled at the monk inserting himself into my life at first, I was already starting to get used to him. His shadow-like presence was reassuring in a Realm in which enemies could lurk around any corner. If he hadn’t appeared when the Spirit Realm army had first attacked, I wouldn’t be alive. He deserved my respect for that alone. He was a man of few words, and this was something I appreciated. But now he turned to me, “you understand my vow requires I stay by your side during your lessons, Trionaide?”

  “I’m not sure the teacher will like that. I get the feeling she’s the fussy type.”

  His statement was simple and emphatic. “I will find a way to persuade her.” He dipped his head and resumed his peaceful silence.

  How would that go down? Maybe the teacher wouldn’t be as picky as I anticipated.

  Madame Fouchet lived in the fashionable, upscale neighbourhood of Heinpoint. The last time I’d been here Phoebe and I had been attacked by the Kizmetari and I shivered
at the memory as I walked past Hallow Mallow. The cafe’s interior had been repaired and there were no signs of the bullet holes or damage that had been caused by that encounter. Although this neighbourhood was next to the Central district, it had escaped the Spirit Realm bombing, unlike nearby Getzia. Nonetheless, a distinct cloud of fear pervaded the witches and wizards I saw walking and flying past. The unhurried, leisurely strolling that people used to do around here was gone. Replaced instead by hunched shoulders and nervous glances at the skies. The threat of bombing, which could come at any time, made everything that much harder. And it made me all the more determined to ace this assignment.

  Glancing at the paper directions General Ishida had given me, I realised we were coming up to the house. It was a large, detached townhouse bordered by a garden featuring masses of indigo and yellow crocuses and white snow bells. A large cherry tree stood in the corner, just coming into pink blossom which the wind carried onto the lawn, lending a dreamy quality. It was a reminder that despite the crisp and frosty weather, spring was in the air. The days were getting longer and the nights shorter.

  I walked up the steps to the front door and rapped on the door knocker. Mateo tactfully stayed a few steps behind. The woman who answered was my height, very slim with a dancer’s build and protruding collarbone. Her grey hair was scraped into a bun, which emphasised her sharp cheekbones and straight, long nose. She had a full face of impeccable make up including dark damson lipstick. Her clothes seemed artfully arranged on her sylph-like physique. A top with not a single crease, a cardigan that seemed moulded to her chest and a mid-length skirt which emphasised her delicate ankles. She leaned on an ornate cane, an action that seemed redundant since her posture was perfect. Cat eye spectacles were suspended from a gold chain around her neck. Her eyes were a sparkling, bright blue and they now took me in as she crossed her arms and leant on one foot. “You must be Bree.”

  “Yes.”

  “Pleased to meet you my dear. I am Madame Fouchet.” She arched an eyebrow and craned her neck to one side as her gaze found Brother Mateo. “And who, Sir, are you?”

  “Brother Mateo, at your service.” Closing his eyes and putting one hand on his chest, he bowed deeply. When he straightened up, his cheeks reddened briefly, and he looked away before continuing. “I am a member of the druidic, divine brotherhood. I am also Bree’s mentor and protector.”

  Madame Fouchet’s eyebrow creased, and the corner of her lip flickered with the suggestion of a smile. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Brother Mateo. A man of the cloth is always welcome in my house.” She paused and I could see she was formulating her words carefully. “But I’m afraid I must insist you wait in another room during our lessons.”

  Now this was going to be interesting. How would Mateo square this down with his vow?

  Madame Fouchet looked at him from under her lashes in a way that was both charming and yet oddly maternal. “After all, she cannot have two mentors whilst under my supervision. You may wait in the parlour during my instruction. I’m sure you will welcome the opportunity to conduct your meditations in silence.”

  I looked from her to him. Mateo’s head was tilted to one side and his pupils had dilated. A helpless look entered his eyes, something akin to what a little girl does when she spots a puppy. “As you wish, Madame.”

  And that was it! Not so much as a whisper of objection from him

  My jaw dropped open. Had she hypnotised him or something?

  “Close your mouth, dear, you’re not catching flies.” Madame Fouchet commented before turning around. “Follow me into the drawing room please.” Her cane tapped on the floor at even intervals as she walked.

  Drawing room? Whatever a drawing room was, I had a strong suspicion it had nothing to do with art.

  The inside of her house smelt like jasmine. Small, tasteful oil paintings hung along the emerald-green painted walls of the entrance hall. A runner rug woven with Japanese art lay on the dark wooden floorboards. “Brother Mateo, you may wait here.” She turned a doorknob, revealing a stately room, expensively decorated, and filled with what looked like antique furniture. “May I get you a drink? I have tea or coffee. Or what the history books tell me used to be druid favourites - mugwort tea or hawthorn cordial.”

  Mateo’s eyes lit up. “Mugwort tea please. If it is not too much trouble.” He entered the room and sat down on one of the antique chairs.

  “I will be with you shortly.” She closed the door behind her and looked at me. “If his politeness rubs off on you, you will be off to a fantastic start.”

  I smiled weakly, remembering how Mateo had scolded me for my rudeness just the day before.

  She led me into a room even more exquisitely decorated than the last. What looked like an antique lounge set, including a sofa and two armchairs, was placed around a coffee table. The table was set with china teacups and saucers, milk, a bowl of sugar lumps, a coffee jug and teapot. A plate of good quality biscuits finished the set. A large Persian rug was underneath the coffee table and a roaring fire crackled in the hearth. But it was the walls that captured my attention the most. Every inch was crammed with art of all types. Older oil paintings were juxtaposed with contemporary works and abstract art. A huge, floor length mirror was the only thing that broke up the collection.

  Madame Fouchet followed my gaze. “It’s my greatest passion. I used to be a ballet dancer.” Her eyes clouded briefly before she corrected her expression. “When age and injury took that away from me I found solace in visual art.” She gestured to one of the chairs. “Please, take a seat.”

  I slouched down on one of the chairs, splaying my legs out. I knew it wasn’t a ladylike way to sit and I had no idea why I was deliberately trying to wind her up. But I’d always been a rebel and she had more than a touch of school ma’am about her.

  One of Madame Fouchet’s eyebrows quivered but she made no comment. Instead, she asked, “tea or coffee?”

  “Tea please. Milk and two sugars.”

  Sitting down, she placed her cane to one side. Then she picked up the milk and poured a small amount into one of the cups. “One must always pour milk into the cup before tea.” She picked up the teapot and paused. “The reason for this is that the bone china used in high society is so fine and fragile that pouring the tea first will result in the cup cracking.” She poured the tea and picked up the saucer with the cup on top of it. “One must never offer tea without a saucer, such a mistake risks burning the hand of your guest.”

  I leant forward and took the cup and saucer from her. “Thank you.”

  “You may add your own sugar.” Her eyes flicked down to the sugar bowl in which were lumps of sugar and a pair of tongs. Her eyes searched mine, as if daring me not to use the tongs.

  After brief consideration, I thought better of it. Picking up the tongs I added two lumps to my cup and stirred. Two lumps might be a bit sweet in these diddly little cups, but I was counting on the sugar to keep me awake. I could already sense these lessons were going to take me on a trip down snoozeville lane.

  “Now, let’s get to know each other shall we?” She sat upright tucking her feet neatly under her chair with her legs together and slanted to one side. Then she laid her hands on her lap. “I know you’re the Trinity, but I don’t know who you really are. Why don’t you tell me what kind of upbringing you had?”

  I raised my eyebrows. I’d made a lot of peace with my childhood in recent months, but it was still a subject I’d prefer not to dive straight into with someone I’d just met. “It was… I mean, I was… I’m working class. Mam was a retail worker and Dad worked on building sites.”

  “Any siblings?”

  “One brother, Frank. He’s older than me.” My lips turned up into a smile.

  “You love him dearly.”

  “I almost lost him recently… it’s a long story. Anyway, that’s part of the reason why I’m involved in this mission.”

  “You want to keep him safe.”

  “Exactly.” I took
a sip of tea and then placed it on the coffee table and reached for a biscuit.

  She picked up her cane and whacked my hand with it.

  The walking cane was thick and heavy - it felt like an iron rod across my knuckles. I snatched my hand away, rubbing it as I grimaced. “Ooow!” The sharp pain sang out as my hand reddened.

  Her expression darkened. “You wait until you’re offered.”

  “You didn’t have to hit me.”

  “Pain is the best teacher.” Her fingers moved to her breastbone and rubbed a gold locket which I hadn’t noticed before, dangling at her neck. Her eyes glazed over, flashing with darkness. But then she corrected her expression, fixing her features into a placid smile. “Would you like a biscuit?”

  Was this woman mad? “Yes please.”

  She nodded. “Help yourself.”

  I hesitated, unsure if this was a test. Was I about to get another hand smack? But when I reached out she merely watched me, with the same weirdly placid smile on her face.

  Then she continued the conversation from the point at which we’d left off, as if nothing had happened. “The Spirit Realm has grand ambitions from what I hear. You’re right to want to keep your brother safe. Is he also in the Realm?”

  “No. He’s actually my half-brother and he’s human. I inherited my abilities from my druid father.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Druid? Interesting.” She picked up her tea and took a sip before putting it down again. “And what about your schooling?” Again, she rubbed her locket.

  I bit into the biscuit. Lemony buttery sweetness filled my mouth. These biscuits were amazing. I wasn’t aware I’d closed my eyes until Madame Fouchet’s sharp voice interrupted my reverie.

  “Don’t swoon dear, it’s unbecoming.”

  Blinking my eyes wide open, “Sorry, I didn’t realise.”

  “And don’t follow the word ‘sorry’ with further excuses. ‘Sorry’ is a full sentence. If you make something a big deal, it becomes a big deal.”