Pretty When She Destroys (Pretty When She Dies #3)(44)

“Your kind of magus is very rare. Does it run in the family?”

Baptiste nodded. “Those of us with maroon eyes usually have the gift.”

“Rachoń?”

“The Summoner killed her and changed her before she manifested any abilities. Maybe the powers would have been latent in her. It’s hard to say. The eyes are a good indicator, but the abilities don’t always develop. My great grandfather told me stories about our family in Africa being able to hold off enemy tribes with the power of earth, fire, and air. Sadly, the generation that was conquered and sold into slavery couldn’t wield the power.” Baptiste shrugged. “So here we are...strange how fate works. We lost our tribal homeland, but now control Louisiana.”

The sweet smell of the wildflowers planted in the greenbelt floated on the night breeze. It was a tranquil view considering all that had occurred that night. The shadows shifting through tall grasses and tree trunks were cast by the swaying tree boughs and not the creatures of the night.

“It’s beautiful here. Reminds me a little of my home. The big porch, the feel of magic in the air.” Baptiste turned around, leaning on the rail, emulating Cian by crossing his arms. “Rachoń told me you were a slave.”

“Cromwell sold my family to plantation owners in the West Indies during his purge of Ireland.”

“Do you remember Ireland?”

Cian shook his head. “You live as long as I do and you forget so much.” He often struggled to remember the names of his wife and children. His wife’s face and voice had long faded from his mind, and he feared any recollection of her was false.

“There are members of my family who claim to remember Africa. Of course, they also remember the plantations of the South.” Baptiste’s maroon eyes were thoughtful. “The Irish used to be considered subhuman. There were even ‘scientific’ arguments to support that viewpoint.”

Unsure of where Baptiste was going with this thread of conversation, Cian just slightly shrugged. “People find reasons to support their hate.”

“You see, I find it interesting that you and Rachoń have so much in common. You were both slaves, spat upon by others, and then turned by The Summoner, yet none of that seems to bind you together. I know she respects you, but she doesn’t like you.”

“The feeling is a bit mutual,” Cian admitted.

Baptiste gave Cian a slow, lopsided smile. “Well, just so you know, I am a man who makes up my own mind. I came here to fight against The Summoner because he killed the man who was my father figure throughout my life. I’m not here to undermine you, or spy for her. I am aware of your pasts, but I’m more concerned about the future. My future and that of my family.”

“I am sorry about Prosper. I had very little interaction with him, but I remember him as someone who was loyal.”

Tilting his head, Baptiste’s gaze settled on the view within the windows. The people in their cadre were settling into the back room. “I just want you to know who I am and where I stand. It’s important for us to trust one another. Tonight proves that The Summoner has his sights on Amaliya.”

“And Samantha. He somehow knows she’s a phasmagus.”

The flash of headlights down the hill made Cian a little uneasy. The street was closer than he’d like.

“A phasmagus. Unbelievable.” Baptiste grinned.

“An elemagus. That’s unbelievable.”

“There are a few of us left in the world.”

“Thanks for the help with the demon, by the way.”

“Glad to help.”

Cian rather liked the man’s measured way of speaking. It was obvious that Baptiste was not one to mince words. He respected that. “I hope you don’t mind staying with Jeff.”

“It makes sense. The witch and dhamphir are staying with you. I should be here with the phasmagus and human. It evens it out a bit. I do appreciate the hospitality.”

Glancing over his shoulder, Cian saw Aimee tending to Amaliya’s scorched arm while Cassandra watched with a worried expression. Alexia and Benchley were still arguing about matters that Cian didn’t really care about. Sometimes he found the siblings to be insufferable.

“The demons are a concern.” Baptiste was also watching the people within the house.

“Aimee will be preparing weapons against them.”

“It’s good to have a witch on our side.”

“That it is.”

While the vampire was observing the scene inside the house, Samantha and Jeff reappeared. It bothered Cian to see she’d been crying. The guilt he felt for dragging her into his dark world still ate at him. He still loved Samantha, but not in a romantic way, and he’d always want her to be safe and happy.

Spotting Baptiste and Cian through the window, Jeff hurried over to the exit that led to the porch. The hunter stepped out to join them, the door clicking shut behind him.

“Are we going to talk about what went down?” Jeff asked, his heavy brows angled in such a way that revealed his nervousness.

“In a moment,” Cian answered.

Jeff shifted around nervously. “Should we be out here?”

“The ward is in place,” Baptiste assured him, lifting his eyes toward the glimmering dome that Jeff couldn’t see.

“This place is actually very defensible,” Cian added. “I’m going to speak to Aimee about adding spells around the property to slow down any possible attacks.”