The woman’s brows snapped together. “Marina … are you sure?”
“Yes, Mama.” She squinted at Mika. “And you! You’re glowing.”
What did the girl mean? “Glowing?”
“Come,” the woman said before Mika could ask further. “Get up. We’re gonna figure this out now.”
Mika and Delacroix looked at each other. “Not like we have a choice,” she said.
“No.” His mouth pulled back into a hard line. “And I have this feeling … I need to know.”
She wished she could read his mind, because so many emotions flashed on his face in such a short span. “Let’s go then.”
Delacroix got up first, and then helped her up. When the woman saw Mika’s pregnant belly, she muttered a string of curses. “I wouldn’t have … if I had known.”
“I’m fine.” She dusted the dirt off her jeans. There was a feeling of relief that swept over her at the other woman’s concern. It at least reassured her that they wouldn’t hurt her or her baby.
They followed the woman and her daughter deeper into the woods, walking through the dense and thick plant life. Though there was no trail, they both seemed to know where to go. Mika saw a light up ahead, which she guessed was their destination. A few seconds later, they emerged into a clearing.
The air here seemed different, why, she didn’t know. Seven cabins stood in a semi-circle in the middle of the clearing, and they were led toward the one in the middle. There was a light coming from inside, and thick smoke curled up from the chimney.
“Stay here,” the woman instructed as she walked up the porch steps. She was about to open the door when it flew open, and another figure trudged out. “Mama?”
“Gabrielle! What’s goin’ on? Did you feel it?” came the deep, gravelly voice. “Somethin’ disturbs the shadows. I—” She hobbled forward with a careful gait, the light slowly revealing long locks of white hair framing a wrinkled face, and dark eyes that were as sharp as blades.
“He can walk the dark trail, Mama,” the woman said.
“Come closer, boy,” the crone said, gesturing with her withered fingers.
Delacroix took a step forward, his face expressionless. “I’ve lived in Pont Saint-Louis all my life. Never knew there were witches around these parts.”
Her mouth opened as she gasped. “You …”
The woman—Gabrielle—moved protectively in front of the old woman. “Mama, what’s wrong? Do you know this man?”
Those obsidian eyes never left Delacroix. “You’re alive.”
His brows knit in confusion. “Last I checked.”
“You were lost … we were told you had died, but … you’re here. Child of the shadows, you are home.” Tears glistened on the woman’s weathered cheeks, and she lunged forward, seemingly finding a surge of youthful energy. She nearly toppled down the stairs, and Delacroix caught her in an instant, arms going around her before she fell.
There was a crackle of energy there—recognition—as the two came face-to-face.
“Mama, what’s going on?” Gabrielle asked as she rushed toward them. “Take your hands away from my—”
“Gabrielle, oh, Gabrielle, don’t you see? I know you don’t have the sight, but look.” The woman sobbed. “Look into his eyes. Eyes passed down from our ancestors. Beaumont eyes.”
Mika did a double take. It had been staring her in the face the whole time, yet her brain didn’t put it together. Delacroix. Gabrielle. Marina. And the old woman. They all had the same eyes. “Are you—”
“You’re him. Who else could you be? She could walk the dark trail too.” The old woman pressed her face to his cheek. “You’re my Helene’s baby.”
“H-Helene?” he stuttered.
“My daughter. You’re Helene Beaumont’s son. And my grandson.”
“I … it can’t …”
“Of course you are,” the old woman insisted. “She was your father’s True Mate. When she found out about you, she was so happy. And so was your father …” A whimper escaped her mouth.
“My … mother and father? But I was told I was abandoned.” His face went pale. “I don’t understand.”
The old woman took a deep breath. “Come, child, follow your mémère. Let’s go inside. I have some étouffée on the stove. It’ll warm your stomach and cure what ails you. Bring your True Mate along.” She winked at Mika, turned around, and headed inside, Gabrielle and Marina at her heels.
Mika’s jaw dropped. How did the old woman know?
Delacroix took her hand in his. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“You can.” She squeezed his hand. “I’ll be here. I won’t leave.”
With a decisive nod, he led her up the porch steps.
Chapter Sixteen
The smell of spices, savory tomatoes, and crawfish tickled Delacroix’s nose as they entered the old woman’s—his grandmother’s, apparently—house. It wasn’t grand or fancy, but it was clean, the wood floors scrubbed down, the couch overstuffed and comfy, and various knickknacks displayed all over. If he ever dreamed of what a home would be like while growing up, he supposed this is what it would have been.
“Come see, come see.” She gestured to the table with her gnarled hands. “Sit, both of you.”
He itched for her to move faster, but from the look Gabrielle had given him, he knew it was best to let the old woman go at her pace. He pulled out a chair for Mika and then sat beside her at the large kitchen table. Much like the rest of the furniture, it was well-used and serviceable, and he could imagine hundreds of family meals eaten here. Meals his mother had eaten.
The revelation of his mother’s family had been a shock, one that he hadn’t quite recovered from. So many questions loomed in his mind all at once. Growing up, he’d been reminded by Remy over and over again that his parents abandoned him, so he never cared much for them. They didn’t want him, and so he didn’t want them either. Now …
The sound of bowls clattering on the wooden table knocked him out of his thoughts.
“Eat,” the
