WALPURGIA ✔️

Chapter 40 - Is it really you!?

  ☽ 

1844

Strasbourg, France

Ever since Esme had reached her third year of age, ever since she could form full sentences, she proved her father was a vampire – the fast development was hard to miss. She was awfully clever, always had a comeback and knew spells of the top of her head in mere seconds.

"It's not that wand movement mama!", Esme nudged against my leg, hugging me. "Up, down, right, left, down, up! The movement of a binding spell!" Her affinity with the higher craft was scaring me though. She knew when I worked with light and shadow, feeling the aura of it.

Grandmother had been the same – but she pulled more to the lighter side. I could only hope Esme would too. On the light side, I could follow. Shadow too. Black magic alas I could not.

That was beyond my capability.

"Thank you, my clever owl", I kissed her hair and she giggled happily.

As Esme's amber eyes looked up to me again, I caught the twinkling in them.

There were these random bursts of energy which reassured me Esi was part witch.

Her unique eyes for one, proved that, but it also happened in small, but significant ways around her too: snow fall off things whenever Esme looked at them, candle light flickered when she was in the room, things randomly fell out of the shelves.

I feared she would awaken younger than the normal witch, like Genevieve had, but deep inside of me I knew it would happen.

Esme was like Genevieve. And that only meant one thing.

Why else where Genevieve and the goddess so stubborn about saving me the entire time.

Without me, Esme would go crazy and wreak havoc.

And as a messenger, this was dangerous.

   ☽  

"What are you making mama?", Esme tiptoed next to me, jumping slightly to see the kitchen counter. Drawing bored her rather quickly.
"Herbal blends", I lifted her up onto the stool; she peaked over my shoulders to see.

"Bleh!", she stuck her tongue out as I let her smell it.
"It's for tummy aches."

"Good thing my tummy doesn't ache", Esme reached for the jar of bay leaves, her long curls dangling over her shoulders. I really should cut her hair. She was only three, but her hair grew like weed.

Probably the vampire genes.

I touched her soft curls. They reminded me of Baldwin's – the touch of her hair always reminded me of him. The holes in my heart dared to consume me.

My Baldwin ...

I snapped the scissors away that waited for me to take them. I couldn't bring myself over it – no scissor would come close to her. Probably because I saw her and Baldwin in front of me.

"No touching of magical things."

"Unless mummy says so", she finished. Yet she reached for a jar again with a smile.
"Esmena Melissa de Chauvette-Brandt!"

"I just wanna hold it", she pouted, her eyes huge in an attempt to lure me in.
"Just like you 'had a look' at the Mugwort to prank Ann. Poor demon fell into a vision every two minutes!"