Mirrorball [Stiles Stilinski | 3 ]

The Maid Of Gevaudan

Chapter thirty-four

The Maid Of Gevaudan

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Flora drove through the empty streets of Beacon Hills, trying not to damage the jeep she stole from Stiles.

She felt bad about leaving the mess that was the lacrosse game but she had no other choice. If Lydia wanted her somewhere or thought that something was serious, then she needed to be there.

"Marie-Jeanne was a lot like you two, skeptical of her own abilities." Gerard started when Flora arrived. "And once just as skeptical of the supernatural." His wrinkly eyes moved to Flora. "Even if her friend was the most supernatural being out there."

"The wine is not as good as it was last night."

Marie-Jeanne stopped peeling her apple with the dagger in her hands. "Maybe it's because you drank too much last night." She joked and looked at her friend Camellia.

The long-haired blonde woman scoffed. "I can handle my wine." She playfully wiggled her eyebrows and chugged the rest of the liquid.

"You're a healer, you should know better." The brunette murmured and offered her a slice of the fruit. "What do you think about the La Bête?"

Camellia poured herself more of the drink and watched as the elderly man nailed a drawing of a big animal on the wall next to them. "Maybe it's just a big wolf?" She suggested. "Merci." Her gentle voice thanked the man who brought another bottle of wine.

The man blushed when the woman looked through her eyelashes, winking.

Marie-Jeanne shook her head and took a sip from her own glass. "Not every man is worthy of your attention Camellia."

The blonde woman tapped her fingers on the wooden table as her eyes trailed over the full tavern. "A girl can't say no to a dance, can she?" She smirked, her eyes stopping on a young man across the room. "Sebastien is going to be all right, don't give up hope."

The brunette looked up from the letter she was reading. "I'm not." She sighed, a sad smile appearing on her face.

"Her name was Agnes Mourgues, she was eleven years old."

The two females turned to the table behind them, listening to the men as they discussed the recent killings of the La Bête.

The greasy man noticed Camellia's stare, scoffing. "What are you staring at, witch?" He spat, alarming the whole tavern.

Camellia pointed at her chest, faking a frown. "Burn me." She fooled around, not bothered by the offense.

The woman didn't have the best reputation because ladies from all around the country came to see her when they had some medical problems and the men hated that.