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Grief grips its hold on me like a cobra around my neck and I cannot breathe. Digging my nails deep into the flesh of my hip, I pinch myself, hopeful to awake from this torrid nightmare. Yet, despite the small stream of blood pouring from my newly self-inflicted wound, I am all too aware this is no mere nightmare.
If only it were a nightmarish dream, perhaps I could arise to the beauty of the sun’s light while relishing in the grandeur of another glorious wintry Christmas morning. Instead, here I am trying to be strong for my mother and my young, disillusioned niece. How I am able to maintain my stoicism amid the beeping, and buzzing sounds swarming all around is a wonder.
I suppose I am in shock.
Of us two, and I being the more reckless of the Peyroux girls, I always thought if either of us would end on a cold metal slab it would most certainly be me. But once again, I am wrong; and deadly so.
How can I even begin to live this life apart from her? She was my rock. My safety net.
Caressa Peyroux-Nicaud was everything I could ever hope to be. Smart. Beautiful. A heart of gold and a well-spring of kindness issued from her like lava. She had it all. A husband who adored her and a child who loved her more than anything; and loves her still. My admiration of her knew no bounds. From her love for her family to her warm manner toward even the rudest person, I often wondered if she was indeed striving for sainthood.
My big sister has been with me through every joyful and painful moment of my life. No matter how big my mistake, there was never any hesitation in her regard to be at my side. Wrong or right. Still, even her chastisement was with such gentleness I suppose hard lashing was just not in her DNA.
Although it was more than two years ago, I can still remember the day she stood with me at the waters of hominum vita. My body shivered for fear, yet she stood resolute as she held my hand. A quivering wreck, I was still in shock that I was pregnant with the child of Decaux Marchand. Tormented by my own thoughts of how I could let myself come to such a pass; it was Caressa’s caring assurance that kept me steady.
Dutiful as ever, Caressa went into the water first. She wanted to assure me everything would be fine. Not being as pure as his wife due to his frequent, albeit non-murderous, regular diet of blood consumption, my brother-in-law supportively stood watch as the love of his life entered into the waters. It is known the hominum vita only accepts the purest of the supernatural kind, and while not marked by the vampiric strain and curse, Altrinions who consume blood to extend life are ineligible and are considered tainted.
But of course my perfect big sister is anything but tainted. Caressa is the personification of the word pure.
Still, fear held me hostage. While I’d never tainted myself with the spilled blood of mortals, I feared the waters would not accept me because of my entanglement with Decaux and my otherwise rebellious heart. It is for that reason I took slow steps toward the waters as my timidity lit my path. There Caressa stood, fully abandoned of her supernaturality in the waters, with her hands outstretched, awaiting my arrival.
My stomach churned within me. Although I am not certain whether the churning was due to morning sickness or fear, coiling knots of pain and nausea tormented my every step. Still, Caressa kept her eyes steady.
How could I now abandon the one thing that made me feel closer to my Papa Roux? My lycanthropy. The heart of my wolf pounded like a mad drum in my chest, begging me to forsake this quest. Tears burned like tiny fireballs down my cheeks as I neared the waters and a yelping howl shot through me as my wolf begged once more from within.
As thankful as I was for my sister and brother-in-law’s presence and support, even they could not keep my longing for my father away. I missed him more than anything.
But I missed Mother too.
And even though Mother said she’d rather stay home with my young niece; I suspect her pleasure with me had dissipated. She was disappointed and rightfully so. Not only was I now an unwed mother-to-be, but I was the to-be-mother of a monster’s child. If I could read her mind, I am sure she pondered where she went wrong with me. Although she never said a discouraging word to me about my pregnancy, her eyes said it all. In fact, it wasn’t until my precious Dacari took her first breath into this world that my mother’s regard toward me softened.
My Dacari has that kind of effect on even the stoniest of hearts.
Taking one final exhale, my wolf went silent as I reached the waters edge. Releasing both my fear and my grief, I put one toe in the waters and accepted my fate.
But the waters were not as accepting.
A big misty barrier arose from the borders surrounding the waters, preventing my entry. Boiling heat sizzled along its sandy shores, burning my feet, and pushing me back and away from the waters reach. Caressa called to me from afar, but her view was now shielded before me.
The lead Bulwark and caretaker of the waters came down from her perch at the tight edging of the bluff, waving her hand over the waters at her descent. Once more my sister became visible to me and she made her way toward me and her husband.
“Do not fear,” the Bulwark began. “For you have done no wrong young Lady Peyroux.”
“Then why do the waters not accept me?” I cried. For the first time, I realized I genuinely wanted to give up my supernaturality. I wanted to shed myself of anything Decaux could use to track me down.
“It is not you the waters cannot accept. However, you can only make such a choice for yourself, not for the one you carry. Your unborn child must be allowed to make the choice on their own. It is not a choice you can make. Return after the child’s birth. If you are still found worthy, the waters will accept you.”
Hearing the Bulwark’s counsel, I rested my hand at my abdomen. I couldn’t help but to marvel how much the tiny life inside me had once again shifted my course. Despite my apathy toward Mother, a newfound appreciation for her kindled in me that day. Though she’s always been private about her past I can only imagine how much Caressa and I reengineered her course.
Now, here I stand with my mother’s hand intertwined with mine as both sorrow and anguish flood the deep waters of our hearts. As the coroner pronounced the deaths of both my sister and her husband, an indescribable heartache pained within me.
For two years since the day the waters rejected my pregnant state, my sister begged me to return with her. And for two years I punkishly ignored her request or defiantly declined. Shortly after Dacari’s birth, I even found someone to do my alpha valuation just before my twenty-first birthday, making me ineligible to submit to the waters.
I thought we were safe.
I was wrong.
Throwing myself into all things Dacari and interior design school, I gave little thought of Decaux Marchand or his retribution. I did, however, remain a tad cautious throughout my pregnancy, but once Dacari was born everything changed.
Once we all moved to Washington, D. C. I really assumed the past was behind me.
But now I know that was my biggest mistake.
Upon Ms. Greenlee’s inspection of the alleged car accident she found a Mercy blade. The only knife capable of killing a supernatural being. Had it not been for the kind sacrifice of the truck driver, another hybrid Altrinion-Wolf like myself, who rammed the truck into the evil assailants, claiming his own life, my precious niece might also be lost to us.
The Mercy blade had a ruby stone at its hilt. The dark familiarity of the blade told me the truth. I had seen it before, on the hip of Chartreuse Grenoble.
Decaux always sent her on his murderous missions. And this time I was the intended target. If only I had surrendered myself to the waters, maybe they would not know where to find me.
None of it matters now. All that is important now is taking care of my family.
Instead of exhaling as I’d done before the hominum vita, this time I inhale. All of the responsibility and accountability of protecting my family now solely rests on me and I now breathe in my newfound obligation wholly.
I know not whether there will be a second attack. However, I do know this: should they choose to return I will be ready.
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Coming Soon...
Break the curse or embrace the nightmare
Dacari Peyroux has a story all her own!
About L.C. Son...
KNOWN FOR HER AMAZON Best Selling Short Story, With Hearts Like Fire and the series starter and epic fantasy novel, Beautiful Nightmare (Book One), L.C. Son is the happy wife of more than twenty years to her teenage sweetheart and the loving mom of three.
Growing up, she spent hours reading comic books she "borrowed" from her older brother which inspired her love for heroes and all things fantasy and paranormal. Much like the characters she adored, she lives a duplicitous life. By day she works tirelessly to champion the employment of persons with severe disabilities. By night, she puts on her wife-mom cape, sharing with her husband at their church and juggling their kid's highly active schedules.
Presently, she's working on the next installment in the Beautiful Nightmare series.
For the latest info and to join the member-only newsletter visit: www.lcsonbooks.com.
More from L.C. Son...
Here are a few more books and short stories in the Beautiful Nightmare Universe: