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“May I come in?” she asks.
“Yes,” I answer hesitantly, unsure what to make of her.
She enters quietly, remaining near the door even after it’s shut, her hands clutched in front of her. She’s petite, and I can’t tell her age, but I sense something is off. She looks frail, her body swallowed by a large knitted sweater. The long white-blonde hair that hangs loose around her face is beautiful and unique, but I can’t help but wonder if she’s malnourished.
It looks like something has been sucking the life out of her, and I wonder if it's this house. That same dark energy I felt lurking last night and today.
“Hello,” the girl greets me softly. “I’m Rébecca, Azrael’s sister. And I suppose yours now too.”
There’s a hopeful note in her voice as she says that last part, and something inside me softens. I honestly didn’t know what to expect from Azrael’s family. In my mind, I had assumed they may all be evil. But I don’t think this girl has anything but innocence and goodness within her.
“Hello, Rébecca.” I offer her a smile, hoping she doesn’t notice the moisture at the edges of my eyes. “I’m Willow.”
“You can call me Bec,” she says as she shrugs a dainty shoulder. “If you want.”
“Okay,” I agree. “Bec it is.”
At that moment, Fiona takes it upon herself to introduce herself, walking over to greet Rébecca by rubbing against her legs.
“Oh, my God.” Bec’s eyes widen as she bends to greet Fi. “You have a cat?”
“I do.” I smile. “I think she likes you. A rare honor with that one.”
Bec looks pleased with the idea as she scratches Fi’s ears. “What’s her name?”
“Fiona.”
“She’s so pretty,” Bec coos. “I love her.”
It’s such a small thing, but it makes me happy to hear that. “You can come visit her anytime you want.”
“I would love that.”
She spends the next few minutes petting Fi, much to the cat’s delight, before returning her attention to me.
“I wanted to ask if you might like to have breakfast together,” she says. “And then I could give you a tour.”
My stomach rumbles on cue, reminding me how long it’s been since I last ate, and I offer Bec a grateful smile.
“Thank you. I’d love to join you.”
Over a breakfast spread that could rival a luxury buffet, Bec and I get to know each other. She chats quietly, telling me about her hobbies and asking questions about me. I learn she’s fifteen, though she doesn’t look anywhere near it.
She glosses over that fact and doesn’t mention if she’s ill, though I suspect she is. While I eat what feels like half of the food on the table, she barely touches hers. It concerns me, but I don’t know her well enough to ask about it. However, I make a mental note to ask Azrael later if I’m forced to endure more of his company.
After breakfast, Bec begins a tour of the estate as promised. The house is, admittedly, beautiful. It’s a mixture of rich wood, stone, and dark, polished floors. Every detail is ornate, right down to the light switches. Large, arched windows dominate the house, lending light to the gothic vibe. A stunning deep green seems to permeate every space, whether in the form of furnishings or plants, and I find it fitting. It’s the same aura of color I see when I look at Azrael.
I suspect they spent a lot of time and money renovating the place over the years, but it still feels hollow inside, like a body with no soul. A family lives within these walls, but it doesn’t feel like a home.
It’s so different from the way I grew up. My family is close, and we spend as much time together as possible. I suspect that isn’t the case here. Bec and I have spent at least two hours together and still haven’t seen anyone other than the staff roaming these halls.
Bec explains a bit of the family history as she leads me through the lower level of the house. Her parents are long-deceased, as is her brother Abacus, which she tells me is more recent. A note of sadness lingers in her voice after she mentions his name, and it makes me curious how he passed, but I don’t press for details.
The Delacroixes have always believed it’s the Wildbloods and the curse between our families responsible for the tragedies that seem to befall them repeatedly. I’m not about to bring that up with Bec when she may be my only true ally in this house.
As she shows me through the library, the living room, and out onto the lower terrace, I get the sense that she deeply admires her two remaining brothers, Emmanuel and Azrael. But at the mention of her grandmother, Salomé, something shifts in her. It’s a subtle darkening of her eyes, a rigidness to her spine that didn’t exist before. But it’s gone in the blink of an eye as she moves on to explain how the house is divided.
