I could see the dress that Maman was describing. I’d seen the jaune and the rose versions.
“Oh yes. It was violet girl who helped me the most. Her real name was Esmé. I refuse to call her by any other name. You see, she warned me of what was to come. That I would give birth to you and you would be ‘offered’ to service.”
This story made me uneasy. I’d just heard Luke telling the bones of it, but something told me this would be an unpleasant tale to hear.
Maman continued. “Well, rose girl had become his deputy. She had recruited us all. She told us that service was an honorable thing, that to give you to him would be the greatest gift I could give. But I didn’t want to give you up. Esmé told me that you would be slaughtered at the first full moon after your birth. I still had several months to go before that happened, but I would not let it happen. Esmé told me that I had to make them believe that I would offer you. Esmé and I were caged when another girl—one who had been on stage before me—brought her child, a boy, to the altar. The girl was weak from childbirth, which had only been two days before, so I forgave her. I don’t think she fully understood. At least I hope she didn’t. Esme and I were chained for the ceremony, but we were required to watch. It was a horrible ceremony. I had to witness it three times. There were candles that burned quicker, robes, and then…” Malique’s voice went quiet. “I knew I would never let that happen to you, but I had to go along or they’d kill me upon your birth and take you anyway.”
“Why?”
“When I was several weeks from giving birth to you, Esmé told me that I needed to escape. She pretended she was ill. She was an actress and she was good enough to distract the rose girl. She’d cut her arm and drained the blood into a cup. When rose girl looked away, she dumped the cup all over her violet dress. Rose girl was horrified, thinking something terrible was happening, like consumption. While Rose was tending to Esmé, who was rolling around on the floor very dramatically, I escaped while the door was open and ran through the hall. It was my only chance, Juliet. I had to run past the great altar and I saw the grimoire on its pedestal. Esmé had told me to try to take the leather book—your father’s grimoire—if I could manage it. She said that without it, the demon would be angry at your father and I might have a chance to get away. I grabbed your father’s purple robe and turned it inside out. It was black on the inside and I was able to use it to keep warm. I heard them torturing Esmé as I went out the side door and into the night. She’d told me that she wouldn’t endure another pregnancy—and that was certainly what they had planned for her. She said that she’d rather be slaughtered. And that, my child, is exactly what they did to her.”
“I’m so sorry, Maman.” This news was overwhelming. I felt like I’d been kicked. “Where did you go?”
“I broke a window and stole some shoes from a shop. They were too small, but they were better than nothing. I must have looked ridiculous with my long black cape and small shoes. That is how I looked when I met your father—the father who raised you—at the train station at Challans. I was so sick from hunger and so pregnant. I was thrown off the train at Challans because I had not bought a ticket. Well, I had no money. At this point I assumed it was all futile and that we’d be discovered, that I hadn’t ran far enough, but no one ever came for you. It was the strangest thing. As you grew up, the fact that you were alive and growing stronger would have been appealing to your real father. You would have been a greater sacrifice. When Marchant began to paint you, I was worried that you’d be found out. You look like your real father.” Malique touched the hair. “The hair, especially. His only turned red after. I thought he’d see himself in one of those paintings and discover where you were. I spent those years learning magic in the hope of trying to protect us. I knew the grimoire was powerful, so I called upon it. I was foolish.”
“Maman,” I said. “You weren’t wrong. Rose and Jaune did come looking for me, but I was protected. You protected me. Philippe Angier died in a duel a hundred years ago.”
“The administrator kept you safe.” Malique smiled.
I nodded.
“Then it was all worth it.”
“Well,” I said. “There were complications.”
“What complications?”
“Your spell kind of tied me to Marchant for four lifetimes.”
Malique looked stricken.
“But I’m going to try to break the curse. Any ideas?”
“You must know it will be dangerous.”
“I do know that, Maman.”
“I’m so sorry, my beautiful girl. Please forgive me,” said Malique before collapsing on the floor.
I sat there, looking at Malique, making sure he was breathing.
“I do,” I whispered.
He woke up several minutes later, rubbing his head.
“Malique?”
“Yes.”
“Is it you?”
“What do you mean?” He grabbed the chair and pulled himself up.
“Well for starters, you were possessed for a few moments.”
“That explains the headache.” He rubbed his temples.
“Does this happen to you a lot?”
“It is an unfortunate occupational hazard, but that was an unusually long period to be out.” He looked over at the clock—twenty minutes had elapsed. He sat down on the chair, picked up the knife, and slid it into a leather case.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he replied, but he seemed distracted.
“Nothing?”
“I think you are becoming very powerful. I can’t even summon the world of the demon for two minutes.”
“And?” I got up from the floor and sat opposite him.
“You’re a very powerful witch, but this curse binds people for eternity—through time and space—you get the idea. They’re nasty little things.”
“Do you come across a lot of these?”
“Sadly, yes. My spell. It unbinds. Very simple.” He rubbed his head. “Who was I… just now?”
“My mother. The original witch.”
“That is very good, but also very bad.”
“Why very bad?”
“Very good in that it means we got the right spell. Very bad in that we’ve called attention to ourselves. The demon will know.”
“What do we do now?”
Malique reached out and touched my arm. He slid the knife toward me. “Here.”
“What do I do with it?”
“I thought you knew.”
I felt a sense of dread spreading across my body. “Knew what?”
“You must stab your administrator. You must kill him. Stab him in the heart. It nullifies the contract.” He put his hand over his chest, like a child saying the Pledge of Allegiance.
I stared at the knife, resting in its leather holder. I felt the air leave my lungs. My stomach began to churn to the point I feared I would vomit. He was looking at me, horrified, and I realized that blood was dripping from my nose into a pool in front of me. “Malique, I don’t think I can.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m in love with him.”