The Immortal Queen Tsubame: Awakening (4 page)

“Oh yeah?” MaLeila asked expectantly.

“They’re personal,” Bastet emphasized.

“That may be true but his personal reasons don’t give him the right to act like an ass when he could just tell me the reason. We’re not strangers,” MaLeila shot.

Bastet sighed and glanced back at Devdan’s room door. Then she looked at MaLeila and said, “If you tell Devdan I told you this, I’ll lie and say you got a new power and then he’ll freak out and leave for a few weeks if not months. So if you want the ass to stick around, keep your mouth shut—that goes for you too, Nina,” Bastet added.

Once both girls nodded, Bastet leaned in and said, “He doesn’t want you to be like his mother.”

“His mother?” MaLeila asked. She had only ever heard Bastet or Devdan mention the man’s mother a few times, but MaLeila couldn’t say whether or not it was a sore spot for the man. Devdan didn’t say much about any of his personal life, like his entire existence was a sore spot.

“She was their slave master’s mistress. Supposedly, he was really in love with her, or maybe obsessed might be the better word, but that didn’t stop him from marrying a white women in his social standing and having a whole family for show. As far as Devdan was concerned, his mother was nothing more than a bed warmer.”

“Wait. Was Devdan…?” Nina trailed off.

“Was Devdan his master’s son?” Bastet finished for Nina and then shrugged. “It’s certainly a possibility but Devdan won’t confirm it one way or another.”

MaLeila rolled her eyes and said, “Well this isn’t slavery anymore.”

“That’s true. But Devdan’s built up a lot of prejudice against people of white European descent and for admittedly good reasons. There are a lot of things that haven’t changed, MaLeila. Whether or not you go out with Marcel is your choice. I won’t stop you and though he may not like it, Devdan won’t either. But I don’t want you going into it blindly or naively. You know how the magical world is and you know how it’s treated you in the last six years. Be careful,” Bastet warned.

MaLeila planned to be and with that thought in mind, she decided one date with Marcel wouldn’t hurt. She ended up choosing where they were going because according to him, she knew her hometown better than he did. She decided on the Little Five Points area, a quaint little district known for its alternative and diverse culture where a lot of college students like to habitat and where MaLeila’s brother used to take her once a month as a treat. Not only was it casual, but it was familiar to MaLeila so she’d relax, because Bastet and Devdan had her more than a little wary of Marcel’s intentions.

“Wow. They don’t advertise these places in the American destination vacation brochures,” Marcel said as he got out his car, attention promptly going to a particular graffiti art.

MaLeila laughed and led Marcel to a pizza restaurant, where upon having their pizza served, he pointed out that it was a very different pizza than in Italy.

“So you’re from Italy?” MaLeila asked. She only had Devdan’s assumption to go on, so MaLeila hadn’t been sure. He was so fluent in English, MaLeila wouldn’t have known he wasn’t from one of the ruling American magic families who was trying to gain more favor or a position with the Magic Council.

“I spent a lot of time there. I’m actually German.”

“Then me dragging you to this neighborhood must have been one hell of a cultural shock.”

Marcel shrugged. “Not really. I’ve been a lot of places in the world and there are quirky little places like this everywhere you go. The world isn’t as different in some places as we’re led to believe.

That certainly explained to MaLeila why he seemed so comfortable. Even when he showed up at her house dressed in a casual button shirt with the top few buttons unbuttoned that exposed the chain of a necklace inside his shirt and black slacks, his hair messy but presentable in an expensive looking sports car, MaLeila didn’t think he would be able to let down and relax, to talk to her as more than just Claude Thorne’s powerful heir, no matter how different she thought he seemed. He proved her wrong, which led to her next question.

“How old are you?”

“Does it matter?” Marcel asked in return.

It didn’t. In the magical world, especially the more powerful you were, age really was just a number and there was no taboo about dating or marrying someone who was much older or younger when everyone tended to live longer lives than the average person. Still, MaLeila wanted to know.

“Twenty-nine.”

MaLeila narrowed her eyes, “Is that the age you use for the sake of blending in or is that your real age, Marcel?”

Marcel laughed and said, “It’s my real age.”

At some point, MaLeila learned that she had been right about being sent by his family to serve the council for more political favor and perhaps in the next century or so to be on the council. He also admitted that it was something of a punishment.

“How would they react to you going out on a date with me?”

Marcel shrugged. “I’ve done worse in their eyes. Besides, who wouldn’t want ties with Claude’s heir? And before you ask, no. That’s not why I asked you out.”

It was after she was exhausted of all her questions and they were walking through Little Five points, stopping every now and then to go in a novelty shop or look at the various art on the walls that Marcel asked her, “What do you see yourself doing in the future, MaLeila?”

The question caused MaLeila to hesitate. Of all the questions he could have asked, he decided to start with that.

“Talk about cutting to the chase.”

“I see little use in small talk,” Marcel said, “especially when I know things like where you’re from, your magic, and everyone other story that has spread through the magical world about you.”

“Some of which aren’t true.”

“Which means that’s a game we’ll play at a later date if you let me. But really, what are your plans?”

MaLeila shrugged. “Not sure. Never really figured anything out beyond finishing high school and going to college for something. Trying to fend off attacks from other sorcerers didn’t allow me a lot of time to figure out what I wanted to do with my life.”

“Hm. Have you ever considered something in the magical world?”

“The magical world that wants nothing to do with me?” MaLeila asked. “Right.”

“Then create your own magical world.”

MaLeila laughed. “Really?”

“All the head magic families started with powerful sorcerers and sorceresses who got married and had children and grandchildren and took on apprentices and the next thing you knew they were a respected and powerful family.”

“And who, Marcel, would want to be a part of my future respected powerful magic family?” MaLeila asked jokingly as she started to walk ahead of Marcel.

He managed to get in front of her and face her while answering immediately, “I would.”

“You would?” MaLeila asked skeptically.

“Yeah. Why not? In a hundred years or so, you’ll be laughing at the council.”

“So it would be a power play?”

“Well, you’re not exactly bad company either,” Marcel added in a feigned afterthought causing MaLeila to hit him on the arm and try to walk around him. He didn’t let her.

“Seriously,” he said. “I would be a part of your future, powerful magic family or not, if you let me.”

By now, Marcel had invaded her personal space, his face inches from her own. And though he was obviously waiting for her to give him an answer to his question, his proximity, feeling his breath against her lips, his magical aura brushing against hers, distracted her from making coherent thoughts and MaLeila had no interest in gaining her wits back.

She guessed Marcel took her not backing away as some sort of permission and then MaLeila felt his lips against hers rather than his breath. She immediately moved her lips in harmony with his and wrapped her arms around his neck, at which point, Marcel pressed his lips harder against hers. Then he opened his mouth and licked the seal between her lips. As soon as she opened her mouth, his tongue entered it. Every nerve tingled, her sensitivity to all physical sensations escalating two and three fold, so that when she felt Marcel’s hand on the back of her shirt, it was as though his skin was touching her and even though it felt like they were skin to skin, it wasn’t close enough.

MaLeila felt light, like she was floating, and it was only when Marcel pulled away that she realized that he had picked her up off her feet. He sat her back down, looking a little smug. If MaLeila weren’t still trying to recover from the sensations of their kiss, she would have been annoyed that he might think he had power over her because of a kiss.

“Wow,” MaLeila muttered.

“Glad you enjoyed it,” Marcel said finally moving out the way so that he wasn’t blocking her walkway.

That was an understatement. To MaLeila, it had reminded her of using magic for the first time, knowingly anyway. Bastet insisted that it was likely MaLeila had been subconsciously using magic her entire life, but it was one thing to use it by accident and another to purposely use it. MaLeila had used much more powerful, much more complex, much more dangerous magic since she first discovered magic when she was twelve, but there was nothing like that first purposeful piece of magic, nothing would ever feel like the first time she simply warmed up a cold gas station cappuccino with her magic.

“It felt like magic,” MaLeila said honestly.

Marcel shrugged. “It wasn’t, but we could work that in if you want.”

MaLeila did scowl that time and started walking again. Marcel chased behind her, all the while laughing and saying playful apologies.

4

MaLeila slipped into the room without knocking, knowing her male guardian wasn’t asleep yet, if he ever went to sleep. Devdan rarely, if ever, slept through the night. In fact, before he started going to high school with her for her own safety, she would find him sleep with the rising sun and he wouldn’t awake until the early afternoon. After he started going to school with her, he would try to get a few hours of sleep at night, but more often than not, if it wasn’t the weekend, he’d go to school, come home, go to sleep and be awake from the late evening to the morning hours.

Just like she assumed, he was sitting awake on his bed with his jeans still on and a wife beater shirt reading a book. He didn’t look away from the book as she closed the door behind her, nor did he look at her when she sat down next to him on the bed leaving a few inches between them so he didn’t feel like his personal space was being totally invaded.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” he said in response. He still didn’t look at her, but his eyes weren’t moving across the page anymore. As far as MaLeila knew, looking at the book was his way of keeping distance between them even when they were in such close proximity, a proximity he only allowed when they were alone and shielded from the rest of the world like in his room. Sometimes, rarely, her room too.

“How was your date?” Devdan asked.

“Nice,” MaLeila replied.

“I didn’t expect you back until later.”

“To do what?” MaLeila asked. “You thought he would take me to his place and have his way with me. That I would let him after a first date?”

Devdan shrugged. “You all think differently nowadays than we did when I was your age.”

Devdan rarely if ever drew attention to the fact that they grew up in two different eras and that he was older than her at the same time, only when he needed to remind her why he didn’t quite comprehend the customs of the twenty-first century.

“Oh please. You guys weren’t saints in the 1800’s. You just didn’t talk about it so openly,” MaLeila scoffed.

Devdan didn’t reply, but his lips twitched which was a smile enough for him.

“Seriously though,” MaLeila replied. “We’re taking it slow. Seeing where things go. If they go anywhere.”

“Marcel certainly didn’t look like he was in agreement with that,” Devdan commented after she was done.

“What do you mean?” MaLeila asked.

Devdan glanced toward his window which looked out to the street on the side of the house. MaLeila didn’t get the connection until she realized that it had been on that street outside of Devdan’s window that Marcel had given her his final kisses until finally she pushed him away. She thought they were being discreet at the time, her not letting him walk and kiss her all the way to the door so Bastet couldn’t be nosy and watch, but she had forgotten Devdan’s window looked onto that street. She didn’t think Devdan would look out the window and watch like Bastet would.

“I saw movement out the window, so I looked to see what was happening,” he said as though reading her mind.

MaLeila opened and closed her mouth, not sure what she was supposed to say. For some reason she almost felt ashamed, like she should be humiliated that he had seen her and Marcel kissing. Not in the way she would feel if Bastet had been peeking through the window and wound up teasing her, because Devdan wasn’t teasing her.

Uncomfortable with the knowledge that he had seen them and wishing that he hadn’t said anything at all, MaLeila decided to divert the topic to what she had come in the room to talk to Devdan about in the first place.

“You could have told me about your mother.”

Devdan, who had started reading his book again based on how his eyes had been moving across the page, stopped reading again.

“My mother?” he asked slowly.

“Bastet told me you didn’t want me to be like her.”

Devdan put his book down, closed his eyes, and sighed.

“Bastet told me not to tell you she told me, so don’t tell her I said anything.”

“Then why did you say something?”

MaLeila crossed her arms and continued to look at Devdan as though they were talking about a lighter, less personal topic even though she could tell by the set of Devdan’s shoulders he was at the very least annoyed that Bastet had divulged something he hadn’t to MaLeila. Despite all appearances, despite the bickering between the two, Devdan was closer to her than he allowed people to believe they were. And if there was one thing MaLeila was sure of, it was that Devdan knew her better than anyone else in a way that he didn’t bother to get to know anyone else. Most people mistook him for being shy and sometimes he was, but for the most part he was aloof. Bastet may have been the one named after the cat goddess but if anyone was more catlike in their personality it was Devdan. Always scurrying on the perimeter, always observing, only committing things to memory about people that he might find useful or cared to remember. Only getting involved or giving his opinion if he absolutely needed to. But it seemed like it was necessary for him to observe and remember everything about her, even the things MaLeila didn’t know about herself and he never had any bashfulness in letting her know that he knew it. Thus, MaLeila figured she could at least give him the same courtesy even if she found out through third party information. Maybe next time, he would just tell her.

Devdan would probably find a way to run her off if she told him all that though, so MaLeila simply responded, “Why should it have been secret?”

Devdan didn’t say anything for a few moments, but MaLeila knew she had said the right thing based on how his shoulders relaxed. He tapped his book in his lap before saying, “What Bastet said might have some truth in it, but I’m rational enough to at least know that every situation that looks like my mother’s isn’t exactly like it. Marcel seems okay.”

MaLeila sat up, eye wide in surprise. “You think so?”

“I said seems.”

“Fair enough.”

“And if he isn’t, I’ll just shoot him.”

MaLeila wasn’t surprised by that. If Devdan had been willing to point a gun at her when she was fourteen, he’d certainly kill a grown man who was a representative of the magic council. But since Devdan wasn’t
as
singularly persistent as he was back then, MaLeila might be able to convince him not to kill anyone. What did surprise MaLeila, though, was what Devdan hadn’t explicitly said, but certainly implied. The casual manner of his comment told MaLeila that what Bastet suggested had him worried was easily dealt with. It explained why he hadn’t diverted the conversation when she brought up his mother.

“So are you going to tell me the real reason you were being an ass about me going out with Marcel then, besides all the obvious ones?”

That got MaLeila the reaction she thought she would get when she brought up his mother. His shoulders tensed, his eyes narrowed, and he lifted back up his book, effectively signaling to her that he was shutting her out if she didn’t back off. MaLeila figured she had enough time for one more statement before Devdan was done.

“You know,” she began carefully. “If right now you told me that you didn’t want me to date Marcel—not that you didn’t like the idea, but that you didn’t want me to—I wouldn’t. No questions asked.”

“Would you?”

He sounded uninterested, but the fact that he acknowledge her again said he was at least curious.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Because she wanted him to. Because she didn’t mind waiting on him. Because she had the rest of her life, however long she chose for it to be to wait on him. Because if he assured her one day he’d want to be more than just a close companion, a guardian, a bodyguard, she’d believe him because he never promised her anything that he would never do. Because if he gave her one clear cue, instead of all the mixed cues he seemed to send, she’d know waiting on him wouldn’t be in vain and she wouldn’t look back at her life as a culmination of missed opportunities elsewhere.

MaLeila nearly rolled her eyes. He would definitely leave, at least for a while, if she told him all that. She had to answer him though. He was waiting for it, fingers pausing on the corner of the right page, ready to turn it so he could start reading again.

Finally she settled on saying, “Because I trust you, Devdan. That simple.”

That said, MaLeila decided to leave Devdan be with his book again and walked out the room.

MaLeila should have known that wouldn’t be the end of it; that Devdan wouldn’t just let her walk out with that kind of declaration and on that note. At some point, he was going to come back and ask her about her candidness. He would mull over it first of course, try to figure it out himself and quite possible come up with the right answer, but he wouldn’t be satisfied until he heard more from her. And until his curiosity got the better of him and his apprehension, he would distance himself from her, being nowhere to be found when she wanted to slip into his room to talk, even if she did most of the talking while he simply listened and watched her, walking her to and from school and disappearing in between.

While Devdan was keeping his distance from her, Marcel got closer. MaLeila was still wary of him though. Always in the back of her mind whispering to her in a voice that sounded like either Bastet’s or Devdan’s was the fact that he worked for the council. That meant that at any time she could do something and he’d report and she’d be in trouble. So far though, Marcel seemed to share the same disdain MaLeila had for the council.

And while having Marcel around for more than business was nice, it also proved to be a distraction, so on a slow weekend when Marcel had to go take care of business in Rome, MaLeila decided to catch up on homework assignments and school projects that she hadn’t had time to get to.

“You’re home,” Devdan said, breaking MaLeila’s focus on her math homework.

She looked up to see him lounging on the couch on the other side of the coffee table where she was doing homework. She was surprised to see that he was even home, let alone making such an unnecessary observation. It wasn’t that she minded, but Devdan never stated the obvious, nor did he participate in small talk.

“Yeah,” MaLeila finally replied. “I’m catching up on homework. Marcel’s been a distraction lately.”

Devdan moved to sit on the floor next to her and grabbed her Spanish homework and a pencil before beginning to swiftly and easily fill out the handouts.

“Devdan.”

“Yes, MaLeila.”

MaLeila had taken his early small talk as a sign that he needed to talk to her about something, but he had obviously changed his mind if he was so irritated with her calling his name. Even in his irritation though, MaLeila enjoyed the way her name rolled off his tongue. He rarely if ever used her name, but when he did he said it like it was something tangible, something that hand to be handled delicately like a glass ornament or a precious jewel less it break or get worn out if he said it in any other way except gently.

“First, not so neat. Second, Ms. Laney will wonder how I got a perfect score on all the homework and still have trouble with the classwork. She’ll think I cheated.”

Devdan promptly flipped the pencil in his hand over, erased an answer, and rewrote it, this time less neat and without the accent mark that had been above one of the letters before. MaLeila tried and failed to bite back a smile. It was little things like this, Devdan sitting next to her and doing her homework, even when he never did his own, that endeared him to her more and more, made it harder to ignore the flutter in her heart for him. It was easy to be impressed by the big things, the willingness to fight, the willingness to protect, the willingness to kill if needed for her. But even still, nothing was ever too little or too much of a bother if she needed help and he could give it, even if he acted like he didn’t care to be bothered.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

MaLeila blinked and then fought to keep the heat from rising to her cheek at being caught staring at Devdan. He looked at her with an expectant guarded expression.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” she said.

“Didn’t answer my question.”

MaLeila could go back to her homework without answering him and she knew Devdan wouldn’t ask her again, but unlike Devdan, she wasn’t good at leaving things hanging out in the open.

“Just… glad that you help me so much, even when you don’t have to.”

“Nothing I wouldn’t have done for Claude. It’s nothing special.”

“That’s what you say.”

“Is that why you have so much trust in me?” Devdan asked.

Though MaLeila had expected him to bring the point back up, it had been so long, she thought he might have decided against it by now. As much as she had been expecting it though, she was still unprepared to answer it.

“Because I do. Why do you need a reason for it?”

“I guess why would you bother telling me that is the better question?” Devdan decided.

“Is it a crime?”

“Just seemed pretty pointless.”

“There you go, belittling my feelings again,” MaLeila grumbled.

“I’m not belittling you.”

“Then why are you making such a big deal out of a harmless comment.”