Blue

Part#4

I creep around to tidy up the mess before that adds to my punishment. I am no

model mother figure but all I have to go by is the puppy we kept in the courtyard as teens

and the websites on my phone. The puppy was so cute, and we did a lot of internet research

to figure out how to care for it too!

Of course, some answers we had to figure out for ourselves. For instance: there are

no practical guides to “How to hide your puppy from vampires” on the internet; we checked. We

were discovered shortly after we found it. Apparently, when food – meaning us – smells of

dog, people notice.

With everything back in place and clean, I sit on my knees to watch the babies sleep.

Their stories of how they came to be here is unknown to me, but at least for now they can

rest in peace. A sense of protectiveness roam through me, and I do not move.

“Blue,” Madame Levine’s piercing voice stirs the twins and I about tackle her out of

the door waving my arms.

“Shh-sh-shh! They’re sleeping!” I hush-shout at her. It is a bad move, but I only

know that now because of the glare. Her stern look forces sense into me.

“Lord Rothchildes wants you to bring them to the council room,” Madame Levine’s

frown is deeper than usual. She looks faint; the kind of faint of someone who received bad

news disguised as good news. I know it bothers her when one of us leaves and from the look

on her face, one of us is about to leave. Perhaps the offer for Anja meets their standards. Still,

there is the matter of the two children and until they are safe and sound, I’m responsible for

them; aren’t I?

“They are sleeping, and to wake them—” I protest. She cuts me off fast.

“Do as you’re told, Blue. Just this once, do exactly as you are told. Pack them up, and

bring them. Be quick about it,” she turns away but before she leaves, Madame Levine gives

me a little smile over her shoulder and catches me pulling an ugly face in response to her

command.

“The gods give him patience,” she sighs. She turns to leave but a step away, she

gives me a wink and a strange smile, “Good job, Blue.”

Good job? Well, now I’m worried. Where’s the lecture, the disciplining, the reprimand for stepping

out of line? Okay, I did do a good job – the kids are clean, fed, winded and sleeping. Yeah! I did do a good job.

“Pack them up,” I repeat and mimic Madame Levine in a grumble “Like they’re

common household objects.”

My heart softens the moment my eyes find the two bundles on the floor.

Your mission, if you choose to accept it ... I stare down at them and grin. Oh, I choose to accept

it, you can bet your pretty little curls on it. I’ll not wake you up if I can help it.

Careful as anything, I pick the babies up after re-packing the bag. They do not move

much. I freak out for a second wondering if I killed them. A quick shake of each arm stirs the

bundles and reassures me I’m not a murderess. The bag is lighter and easier to carry now

that it has only the needed things and plenty of disposable diapers.

Walking on eggshells not to wake the kiddies, I set out to the council room.

On the way out I notice the time.

How on earth is an hour missing? Did it take them this long to find me? I guess I should be grateful

and not tempt fate by pushing my luck further.

A hard push with my foot opens the door. I hold it open with my shoulder and stick

my head through first. If it is loud – or deadly – I’m not going inside. I’m already in a lot of

trouble so I may as well go all out and make sure these poor children don’t have to suffer

their environment. Against all odds, it is dead quiet inside, and Madame Levine waves me

closer.

Okay, so far so good. I guess the scolding will commence shortly, if I can only hold them off until the

Rothchildes children are out of earshot, then I win. Although, I suspect my transgression and the sentence for it

is to be witnessed in public.

“It is settled then, Lord Rothchildes,” Antoine speaks kindly “If you would just

allow her to pack up a few personal belongings, she can leave right away.”

“I can’t imagine she will want for anything; I will see to her immediate needs,” the

man from before grouches “But if you insist, you can send her belongings at your earliest

convenience.”

Pointedly I refuse to look at him. Shuffling closer to Madame Levine, I battle with

what I must do, and what I want to do; which is not be here. Madame Levine wraps a hand

around my upper arm and squeezes it. A look silently questions her for which I receive

nothing more than a twitch of her head to pay attention.

What is going on? It is just … too … quiet.

I look at Anja, expecting her to be doing the usual mental dance of joy and projecting

it with a typical curl at the right corner of her mouth. The victory smirk is absent, so I check

the other donors. None of them appear to be showing any external signs of happiness either.

In fact, they all appear to be rather put out.

“Blue,” Prince Antoine calls on me. My head lifts enough to see his hand extend an

invite to approach.

Here it comes … The Abominable Dad wants his children back.

With an unwilling sigh to give them up, I step toward them.

“You are to accompany Lord Rothchildes, my girl. You shouldn’t be without your

personal things for more than a day –”

“What?” I all but yelp which disturbs the bundles I hold.

Autopilot yanks at the controls and slams right back into the driver’s seat.

Bouncing in place, rocking my arms and shushing at the little noises from the

blankets I swallow over and over. Madame Levine steps to my side; her fingers dig in

harder than before, bruising the soft skin of my upper arm. I know this move and I keep my

tongue still. She can break my arm in an instant. I’ve never experienced this at her hands but

I’ve seen what she does to the trainee fighters. Unlike them, I don’t heal so well.

“She’s ready M’lords, perhaps a little distracted for the charges she took upon herself

already; definitely a sign of—a”

Madame Levine is cut short by the deep voice, which dips further, “You do not need

to sell me on a choice I’ve already made, Maylee. She kept them quiet for over an hour and

thank the gods she cleaned them up. I am sure the sour odor will wash out of her hair, else

we shave it off.”

I close my eyes, count to three but don’t make it to ten.

I don’t want my hair shaven!

“Yes, it will,” I mutter in a mood of my own.

Unlike your sour personality.

“Then we shall go. I bid you all a good day. Thank you for your help, Maylee.”

I look on while a pair of shiny male shoes stops in front of Anja’s black sandals.

“I dislike where your thoughts are. No donor has the right, or should have the audacity,

to question the choice of their employers. Had you been mine, I’d have snapped your neck

where you stand and chalk it up to an expensive lesson learned. The amount of bitterness

and venom in you drips into your blood, I’m sure it would poison the most hardened of us.”

After a growl and a short pause, he speaks again, “That goes for just about every one of you

in this room!”

My heart leaps into my throat. I missed the main event, but I can’t imagine Anja

stepping out or questioning anyone. It does not fit her perfect role-model record; and now

I’m scared senseless too, because if he will snap her neck, what will he do to me?

I am nowhere near as poised or – cringes – I’m doomed.

The reality of this word reasserts itself.

Donors are raised as food. We are at the mercy of our keepers, and not all of them

will treat us with dignity or allow us the freedoms we enjoy while in this coven. We call this

place home, but truth is, we do not have a home. Best I start a revision of what that means in

the bigger scheme of things. I am disposable