to know.” Her gaze pierces into mine. “Have a care that you don’t follow in his footsteps.”
I say nothing. I simply listen. It is the second night that I’ve witnessed someone worthy of respect take my uncle to task. First Kassamir. Now Valeria. For so many years I wanted nothing more than to be like him. To have that kind of power and influence.
For the first time in my life, I wonder if I have valued the wrong thing. Maybe my uncle’s brand of power is not real power at all. And if that is true, then what should I have prized in those around me?
What is the measure of a good man?
Valeria reaches for the ceramic bowl along the windowsill. The ring she retrieves from inside glows softly, as if it has taken in the light of the moon itself. Before she hands it to me, she turns it over in her palm, her expression somber. “Your fétiche will work from tomorrow. It will protect you and you alone. Keep it safe.” When I reach for it, she pulls back. “I expect you to honor the wishes of those who care about you, Sébas. Avoiding the past will no longer be tolerated. Your mother understood the difference between loyalty and love. The next time you see me, I want you to tell me if you have learned what that is.” With a sly smile, she leans closer. “And your next apology will be better than the last one.”
I nod as I take the fétiche from her. The gold feels cool to the touch.
“Protect and be protected,” Valeria says.
“Thank you, Tía Valeria.” I wrap her hands in mine. “I will try to do better.”
“Yes, Sébas. I believe you will.”
BASTIEN
It is long past midnight when we leave Valeria’s shop. Late enough that most of the streets of the Vieux Carré are deserted, the sky above casting the world below in tones of indigo and ebony.
We cross the cobblestoned streets in silence. Despite his many protests, Arjun carries a linen-wrapped parcel of bread and gumbo.
He brandishes it with exasperation. “I’m flabbergasted by why it’s so difficult for you Yanks to understand that I don’t eat meat. It’s like you think I’m committing a cardinal sin. Let me ask you this: Did those slabs of alligator flesh actually appeal to you at one point?” He shudders. “It’s a dead animal, for God’s sake.”
I laugh. “If Valeria heard you call her a Yank, she would unhinge her jaw and swallow you whole.”
His mouth hangs ajar. “She didn’t support the rebel cause, did she?”
“Of course not. But it’s not as if any Yank would care about granting a woman like her the rights afforded to men.”
Arjun grunts in agreement. “God save the queen,” he says, his tone sarcastic.
I look upward. A fleece of clouds wraps around the moon, darkening the path before us. Still I feel like I’m seeing things clearly for the first time. My entire life, I thought everyone revered my uncle. He moved about in all kinds of circles as if he were born to rule. Whenever there was a problem, he appeared to have a solution. He offered me the guidance of a father and the wisdom of an elder all while presiding over a court of powerful immortals. Nicodemus was everything I wanted to be.
It is unsettling to realize the image I have of his greatness is not shared with those around me. My dead heart feels strange in the face of this revelation. I suspect it has something to do with Valeria Henri. Her nearness has kindled memories within me. Ones I have not contemplated for many years. The sound of my mother’s laughter. Of watching someone prepare a meal for me. Of listening to my father sing. Of squabbling with my stubborn sister.
Of being loved without demand or design.
I sense Arjun watching me. “What is it?” I ask.
“I confess I’ve been living in fear for the last two hours.”
“Because?”
“I can’t believe you haven’t accosted me for refusing to take you to the Sylvan Vale.”
It is sobering to hear this from a supposed friend. “What did you think I would do? Cut out your heart and feed it to Toussaint?”
“The usual.” Arjun wipes his monocle and places it in a small pocket of his waistcoat. “Offer me immeasurable riches. Cajole me. And then begin the process of browbeating me into submission.”
I frown. “That sounds rather uncharitable.”
“It’s what your uncle would have done.”
“It’s what I would have done, too,” I