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CHAPTER TWELVE: DREAMS AND REVELATIONS
MARIE
I lay there, panting and spent, the taste of coconut cream on my lips.
Did that really happen? The ache between my thighs told me it had, even if I lied to myself and wished that it hadn’t. Since fleeing the village, I had explored my sexuality, learning my body simply to ensure that I hadn't been the problem - that I wasn’t the one that was broken.
But I had never been taken like that - had never willingly given up control, mindless with my need, burning and achy until every crevice of my being was filled with him. I thought that last night had been a fluke - an anomaly, but today had cemented the truth. I had sex with a Demon and liked it.
I snorted, the thought making me near delirious. I supposed it could have been worse, I could have had sex with a lust Demon and it could have been terrible. But even that thought felt like a betrayal somehow.
I needed to phone someone - connect with someone outside of this village - someone that hadn't known my grandmother. I sat cross legged on my bed, the smell of sex and sweat lingered in the air as I put my phone next to me, the loud speaker ringing as I raised my arms above my head and stretched.
Normally I had to guide them to touch my clit, to twist my nipple, to go harder, but the Demon required no coaxing.
It shouldn’t have surprised me, not when he was a Demon who dabbled in lust, but his orgasms had taken me by surprise. I hated that I wanted more - hated that my body was already pooling with heat at just the thought of him. Once, I could have classified as a mistake - something that I could still rationalize away because I had still stabbed him. But here? In the tent? That had been no mistake, for when I had opened my eyes only to find him gazing up at me between my parted thighs, I knew exactly what I wanted - knew exactly what I was doing when I turned around and offered myself to him.
The question was, had I done that because I had wanted to or because I was under his demonic, lustful influence?
I wasn’t certain I wanted to know the truth because in this moment I couldn’t trust myself - couldn’t trust my own feelings.
Zoey finally picked up on the fifth ring.
“How are you doing?” Her voice was soft - empathetic, because while everyone within the Club knew that I had returned home for my grandmother’s funeral, only Zoey truly understood what expectations would be placed upon me.
This was the first phone call - apart from Charl - that I had made to anyone in the Club during my visit back home, and the sound of Zoey’s voice nearly crippled me, reminding me that I was not lost - was not adrift, but had a newfound family - one of my own choosing.
“You know why I’m calling.” I sighed out the words. I respected Zoey too much to pretend that I had called her for any other purpose.
“You want me to connect.” It was a statement - one that didn’t require an answer, but I nodded in the silence of my tent nonetheless, fresh tears pooling at the corners of my eyes, despite how euphoric I had felt just moments earlier as the Demon took me to new heights of bliss.
“Oui.”
“Give me her full name.”
I obliged because arguing was futile, no matter how I suddenly wanted to swallow back the words - retract what I had asked her for, because retracting it would do no good. I still needed to connect with my grandmother - still needed to understand what her vision was for me all those moons ago.
“Jeanne des Montagnes.”
Zoey inhaled sharply, telling me all I needed to know - she had heard of my grandmother, knew of her power and influence. It wasn’t surprising, not when her own family boasted their own Magickal lineage. In the end, to weave Magick was to operate within a small circle of people - all Witches knew one another, or at the very least knew of one another. Zoey’s Hoodoo roots rivaled my Gypsy ones, but I had never looked upon anyone within the Club as competition, only as family.
“Hang on.” I heard her hum down the line, no doubt positioning herself comfortably so that her mind could slip into that in between ether, the place connecting the living and the dead as she searched for my grandmother.
“I have her.” Zoey’s voice was strained down the line and I understood that she wasn’t able to channel the great Jeanne des Montagnes, and instead had to act as the medium between us, asking my questions and ferrying her answers.
“I came to say goodbye.” My voice sounded small and tiny to my ears, and suddenly I was that wayward child running barefoot over the hot stone paving, moving swiftly so as not to burn my feet before my grandmother could scold me.
“You are not bidding me farewell, we are merely pausing our collective journey.”
Such a typical answer from the old woman.
"I marked Julian." Another statement that didn't beg an answer - was something that my grandmother was probably already aware of.
"The boy had it coming." Her statement both shocked and reassured me, although it was odd hearing it spoken in Zoey's voice, and I had to remind myself that it was indeed Zoey simply answering on behalf of my grandmother.
I sucked in a breath, but Zoey's voice cut through any retort I may have offered. “You have always been extraordinary, Marie, always marked to achieve so much more than others, but at times, such greatness can seem crippling. I had hoped that Julian would ground you - would remind you that the simple things in life were what truly mattered. I chose him for you because he had no Magick - no great lineage to speak of. I chose him because he was utterly ordinary, but I did not count on him feeling so inferior that he sought validation elsewhere.”
For the first time in all my rage and anger, I was struck speechless, unable to even search for the words I wished to speak.
