La magie de Bastien (phrase) Bastien's Magick

When I didn't answer, he set his hand affectionately on my cheek, staring into my eyes like he could see into my soul, and didn't hate a single thing about it. Like he could see how useless I felt and how worthless I was and didn't care.

He regarded me like he was willing to go to war against my doubts if that's what it took to convince me of his love.

My anger melted in the face of such understanding. But in its place came the overwhelming sadness I felt at being ostracized by everyone in my family.

If a vampire, hellbent on war and upholding his ancient duty, could look past my shortcomings and still want me around...then why couldn't they?

Mama claimed she wanted to save Proctor blood from being spilled by fighting the darkness, but they were willing to sacrifice me so easily. And I, desperate to prove myself and protect Sera, went willingly.

For a long time, I would've done anything to prove myself to them, but now, after seeing everything that I'd seen, I wasn't sure I had the same fight in me.

As if he could sense my overwhelming grief, Bastien's other hand snaked around my waist, and pulled me against him. He was the only thing I could see, eclipsing everything else in the room like the moon blotting out the sun.

And for the first time, I thought maybe...I could trust him with my secret.

Maybe it wouldn't push him away.

The longer I stared into his eyes, the more I believed it was possible.

I could feel the love burning between us, settling in the deepest recesses of my heart, trying to chase away all the doubt and hate that had been harbored there for so long.

But making the decision to betray my secret identity was no easy thing.

"Claire," Bastien sighed as his thumb grazed the lace choker. "Why do you refuse to let me try and remove this?"

I knew what I wanted to say, but didn't know how to say it. Still afraid of what it would do to us.

"I-I don't know," I stuttered.

When I saw the hurt and disappointment in his eyes at my feeble response, I looked away, unable to feel like a bigger failure than I already did.

But Bastien wasn't having any of it. He held my face between his palms and forced me to look into his eyes.

"You don't know, or you won't say?" 

A slight edge of irritation and impatience slipped into his tone, and it made me doubt myself even more.

How did I tell my husband that my family had a vicious hatred of his kind and all things aligned with the darkness? How could I explain that I no longer felt the same way about him? 

I was good at being a ghost–disappearing from the spotlight and lurking in the shadows or sitting outside in the garden where I could talk to plants that never said a word back.

I wasn't used to being heard.

But I cared enough to try.

I opened my mouth, trying to make the words come out, but I couldn't seem to say what I wanted to.

Irritated, Bastien dropped his hands from my face.

"Damnit, Claire!" he roared. "I'm your husband. I've defended you with my life. What must I do for you to trust me?"

His words threatened to break the threads of loyalty still beholding me to my family because he was right. He'd done more for me–cared more deeply for me–than anyone with the name Proctor. Save for Seraphina.

I didn't want this to come between us, but I couldn't make myself tell him the whole truth. If the necklace didn't kill me, then Mama surely would.

But I could tell him something.

"I can never take it off," I choked out. "Never. If I attempt to remove it, I'll...I'll die."

The words left me in a rush of emotion.

Bastien stared at me in shock as tears rushed to the corners of my eyes. But his shock quickly melted into fury.

I saw it in the way his hands curled into fists and the way darkness bled under his eyes like he couldn't control the monster within him. Not when he had this information.

"Who made you put this on? Who did this to you?" he demanded, gripping my shoulders. "Was it the sisters of the convent?"

His aggression caused me to slip into my own little world–retreating inside my head as I so often did when my family would yell at me.

The memories of their anger and disappointment and cold indifference came rushing back. Now, with a new way of looking at the world, I saw the cruelty of it all, and it made me sick.

"Sometimes," I said through tears, "I think...I think they must hate me, but I can't be sure. It's all...overwhelming."

The admission came from that deeply sad place inside me, buried so deep that I didn't dare to think them, let alone say them.

Bastien released me and began pacing back and forth. His fangs bared, and his eyes black as coal.

But through it all, his bloodstone pulsed out the rhythm of my heart. Bold and bright enough for me to see. And I focused on its light as he picked up a glass and threw it into the flames.

"When I get my hands on them, I will rip out their throats. Then I'll tear down Nightfall Convent, stone by stone. I'll...I'll..."

Bastien returned to me, taking my hands in his as he fell to his knees before me.

"I will never forgive them for the things they made you believe about yourself and the world around you. Nor for the hate and fear they put in your heart. Never."

Words had magickal power of their own, and Bastien's felt like a spell of devastation.

Only...his anger was focused on the wrong people. Because I hadn't been fully honest with him, he still believed the sisters of Nightfall Convent were to blame, and I didn't want their deaths on my hands.

"You don't understand," I tried to say.

"Yes, I do," he seethed. "They are the worst kind of people. Those who would use the sacred words of Diana to torment an innocent child."

Sacred words of Diana?

That sounded like something Mama might say, not a vampire.

"Since when have you had love for Diana? You're a–"

"A what?" he said, rising before me, still in his changed form. Eyes black and fangs lengthen. Towering over me like a dark prince. "A dark and unnatural creature? A monster worthy of your disgust?"

Not long ago, the sight of him like this would've frightened me, and perhaps a part of me still was, but I did not fear Bastien.

"That's not what I was going to say."

"It's what you believe."

I heard the sadness in his voice, and I wondered if he hated himself for what he was, just like I did.

I knew how lonely that feeling was. How it could drown you if you let it.

Holding his gaze, I tried to show him as much compassion as he'd shown me. 

"If you are dark and unnatural, then so am I. And we can be dark and unnatural things together."

The soft quirk of his lips coaxed a smile from my own. Then I watched as his face returned to that of a handsome prince, all signs of the vampire within disappearing.

He gathered my hands and held them against his chest.

"You are anything but unnatural, my dear," Bastien said quietly.

The fire popped and hissed. The candlelight flickered. The weight of the moment between us heavy.

"I just meant...I thought you were one of them. A dark witch."

He nodded thoughtfully.

"I was a witch once, as I've shown you. Named by my coven as the most worthy to bear this curse."

The shadow of his vampire nature crept across his features again, turning his eyes black and his incisors into sharp points before the change receded as if to show me he had control of himself again.

I'd known he was a witch. I'd seen the image of The Choosing.

"Which coven?" I asked, wanting to know every detail.

He considered me for a long moment. "I was born Sebastien Bassett of Amara."

My jaw dropped, and I stared at him like I was seeing him for the first time. "But, the Bassetts are Witches of the Light."

He nodded once. "As was I."

"You? You were..." My voice fell away, and a strangled gasp left my throat.

I was shocked, but at the same time, it all made sense.

The shimmer of his eyes and the way moonlight clung to him.

Had Mama known who he really was? Did anyone in my family? It certainly wasn't in the scrolls she'd given me to read on vampires. Or had this fact been lost to time?

"But your hair..." I whispered, lifting a hand to the soft gold strands that framed his face.

Nothing like the pale white of Diana's witches.

"The blood magick changed us all in ways we couldn't understand. Once the ritual was complete, my hair turned from white to blonde."

For the first time, when I looked upon Bastien's face, I knew there was a reason why I'd been mated to him. He was born in Amara, beside the banks of the Starfall River, the place I'd loved the most. Maybe it was the reason why I felt so safe around him.

While I loved Seraphina with all my heart and believed she was good to her core, I was starting to question whether my family deserved my undying allegiance.

Maybe my family wasn't the innocent victims that I believed them to be. They came to the Kemp lands and killed their matriarch. For what? Petty vengeance? Or were they trying to pick a fight?

Something Shreesa told me rang in my ears.

"All magick is monstrous if wielded by the wrong kind of witch, child."

Who were the wrong kind of witches? How could I know?

Bastien looped a section of my silver lilac hair around his finger and stared at the strands.

"Just like it changed you," he said with a sudden look of surprise.

I'd been so lost in my own thoughts, I didn't know what he was talking about. "Changed me how?"

"This is blood magick," Bastien said. "The binding spell. Perhaps it's not the necklace causing the problem, although there is something nefarious about it. Whoever bound your powers must've used blood magick. It's the only thing that makes sense."

Bound my powers? No.

A flash of terror tore through my body, like a bolt of lightning, making my heart race faster. Then, a jagged memory came–the one I saw in the graveyard. A bloodied river and the sound of a woman screaming pierced my ears.

I shook my head to clear it.

"Bastien, what are you talking about?"

He guided me to the edge of the bed and encouraged me to sit. I did so, still feeling confused.

"I don't believe you are a war orphan," Bastien explained. "I believe you and your sister are Kemps. Spellbound and left at the doorstep of a place where no one would find you."

No, that wasn't possible.

A woman's scream tore through my thoughts once again, disorienting me. I pressed my fingers into my temples to try and make the sound stop.

"I can't be a Kemp," I said distractedly.

Bastien took a slow, measured breath. "The name Donadieu is given to all orphaned children. You could be anyone, Claire."

"I understand that," I asserted. "But I can't be a Kemp."

His hand grasped mine. "I know it's hard to imagine, but–"

"I'm not a Kemp!" I practically shouted.

He waited for me to continue, but the damn screaming inside my head wouldn't stop. I didn't mean to be angry. I only knew I was.

I was frustrated with myself for all the lies I'd told him. For the women of Nightfall Convent who were blameless.

I shook my head to get the ringing in my ears to stop, but it wouldn't.

I needed him to stop pressing this. I needed to get the woman to stop screaming. I needed to tell him the truth because he deserved to know.

He'd been a Witch of the Light. He was my mate. My husband.

My white wolf pinned her ears back and growled, but I ignored her.

I trusted Bastien. He deserved to know. No matter how terrified I was or what I feared would happen, but the truth stuck in my throat, like I was being choked with it. 

"I'm–"

My words were cut off by a sudden and unimaginable pain that squeezed around my throat. 

I gasped for air, but I couldn't draw in a full breath.

"Claire?" Bastien said. "Claire, are you alright?"

At first, I didn't know what was happening, but then it came to me.

The barbs. The choker. The spell.

A warm drop of blood raced down my neck, and the world spun around me.

There would be no betrayal of my coven. Mama made sure of it.

She'd kill me before I gave any more secrets away.

Y'ALL GUESSED IT! Bastien was a Witch of the Light!

And I'm so dang proud of Claire for wanting to tell him the truth...only NOW what's going to happen? 👀