Estella crouched under a bulging tree root thick as her head. Damp earth filled her nose and accumulated beneath her finger nails. Her breathing misted in the air before her.

It was dark—the trees snuffed out any light.

“Come here little girl, I won’t hurt you.” It was the Stranger. That’s right. They were looking for her, hunting for her. “Where did you go little one? I have so much to teach you.” He was passing above her now, loudly sniffing the air. “Tsk tsk. What did you do to your scent? This makes it so much harder to find you…” closer still, “but not…” hot breath on her ear, “impossible!” His hands reached for her neck.

Estella jerked away violently, her legs tangling in the blanket while her upper body got caught in the curtains of her bed.

“Jacques! Jacques! Jaaaccccqquuueeeesss!” She cried over and over again. The Stranger was here or is here or will be here. Her grandparents said Jacques could help. He had to help.

She was fighting the fabrics, the bed, her fears when her newly minted guardian crashed through her door with the two other new additions to her life on his heels.

“Estella,” throwing of fabric, “mon Dieu. What is the matter, sorellina?” He grabbed her elbow and shook her gently. “It is me. It is Jacques. Your friend.”

Someone turned on the lights, “Please, tell us so we may help.” It was Theodora.

Through fits and tears Estella told them about her nightmare. “He’s here! He’s here. He killed them and now he wants me. He’ll find me in the forest.” Her words came out in a rushed cry.

Estella covered her face with her hands and missed the look Jacques gave his friends before pulling her small hands into his bigger one. “Shh. Shh. Estella, he cannot be here.” He reassured her. “It is impossible. The boundaries of Saint-Tourre are magically fortified. No one can simply walk onto the property and definitely not the house. Not without permission.”

“But our home in Georgia had boundaries! And he got to me there!” She felt so small being afraid of her own personal boogeyman. Her grandparents were gone. She couldn’t be afraid anymore.

But she was.

Jacques nodded, “Yes, he did find you in your borders but the magic at Saint-Tourre is different. It is… more advanced than what your grandparents did. There is no stone buried next to the gate here.” He looked at Matthieu who stepped forward.

“It’s true, Estella. The magic that protects Saint-Tourre is some of the strongest you can find in Europe.” He pressed his hand to his heart, “Even witches now don’t know how to replicate it.”

“But…” She insisted.

“But you are not alone.” Jacques cut her off. He gestured at all the adults surrounding her, “How many vampires is this Stranger? One.” He said, waving his pointer finger in the air. “How many are in this house? How many are here to see to you? To your care? To your safety? Three.” Now he was wagging three fingers at her. “We are all here, you are not alone Estella.”

She couldn’t help but giggle at his ridiculous finger wagging.

“There you see. It will be alright.”

“Will you tell us about your dream?” Asked Matthieu. Jacques glared at him over Estella’s shoulder. “The forest, perhaps?” The older man suggested.

Estella nodded but Matthieu intervened before she could begin, “but tomorrow in the light of day.” He gave her a commiserating smile as he leaned in close, “forgive an old man his eccentricities but I believe it does not do to discuss these matters in the dark.”

“No, it does not.” Theodora agreed as she dramatically draped her body over a chair at Estella’s new table. “Jacques, mon cheri, close the curtains. We will sit with petit Estella tonight on guard against what the moon cannot.”

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Estella blanched. She wanted to be brave. She wasn’t a small child. She shouldn’t need adults to sit with her until the monsters disappear from under her bed.

She wanted to not be alone.

The room dark once more, Theodora began to hum softly. Estella focused on that gentle noise, trying to catch the notes until eventually it all slipped away.

____

Once the two older vampires were confident the girl was asleep, they turned narrow eyes onto the formerly youngest member of their family.

“What have you not told us about the girl?”

He thought about responding to their indignant tone with an equally unpleasant one but decided better of it. They were concerned and alarmed. Neither would ever never dream of turning the girl away.

He bit his tongue, his body deflating against a chest of drawers. “She was bitten by a vampire. We don’t know who. Her grandparents stopped the transformation but the vampire lived. Estella says he came back and caused the crash that killed Marguerite and Timoteo.”

Theodora and Matthieu both hissed out curses.

Jacques nodded, “but there’s more…” He recounted all he saw in his friends’ home, the evidence of magic that they shouldn’t have had, “...and there was a letter. I was sitting on their terrace. When I went to rest my feet in the spare chair I heard the slipping sound of an envelope sliding and hitting the floor.” He reached into his back pocket, “And there it was.”

Theodora took the proffered envelope. Matthieu reached for a candle resting on the window behind them and struck a match to light it.

“They left you a letter?” Theodora made a long face and weighed the envelope in her hands, “They must not have a lot to say to you after decades of silence and leaving you their only grandchild.”

She opened it then and Matthieu leaned over her to read it with her. The pair were already predisposed to a serious disposition but their intent expressions deepened as they finished the letter. When she ended, Theodora rubbed her brow, a frown marred her features.

Matthieu took it from Theodora’s hands and lightly traced the handwriting with his fingers. His dark eyebrows were also knitted together.

“She loves us? Pour quoi?” He asked. “And why is she apologizing to us?” Matthieu gestured between himself and Theodora, who nodded her head in agreement to his questions.

Jacques sucked in a breath and leaned back into his chair. He had not looked forward to this conversation. His suspicions would open old wounds. He looked over at Estella but she remained peacefully unaware of their conversation. “Perhaps we could discuss this later?”

Matthieu and Theodora looked at each other and in a movement that would have been imperceptible to an unaccustomed observer, they shook their heads.

Theodora turned back to Jacques, “No. We think now is the time.”

Jacques leaned forward on his elbows, “Like I said, I learned some information about my friends that did not add up to what I thought I knew.”

“You mentioned the basic spell materials and books and the boundary slate.”

“But I did not tell you about the names on the slate.”

Matthieu cocked his head and Theodora narrowed her eyes. “What of the names?”

“The names were…interesting. Your full names were listed.”

They both drew back, Theodora covered her heart with her hand. “Our full names? Why would she know our full names?”

“How would she know?” Matthieu interjected.

Jacques swallowed hard. There was not telling how Matthieu would take what he said next. Or Theodora. The loss of Estelle and his children was a constant bruise on his heart. “I have a theory. Marguerite’s full name was listed on the slate as well. They wrote it out as ‘Marguerite Theodora de la Fleur de Luca.’” Matthieu sat in silence, his jaw tight.

Theodora, usually so composed, had her mouth hanging open.

“And Estella’s middle name is Theodora.”

“That’s not an usual name,” she hissed.

“If you’re an old woman,” he bit back.

He turned his attention back to Matthieu who still had not said anything, “On the plane we spoke a little bit. About Saint-Tourre. I told her about your family connection and the tragedy. She said her grandmother’s family suffered the same fate.”

Still he could not speak. Theodora intervened instead, “Many families suffered that fate, Jacques.”

“Many families were murdered by witch hunters in the nineteenth century? We all know the time for that kind of slaughter had passed.” He challenged.

“Enough,” Theodora hissed. “It is impossible.”

Jacques hoped Matthieu would say something, give him some indication of his thoughts. There were few in Europe with his kind of supernatural knowledge, resources, or experiences (being married and mated to one of the most powerful witch families had its benefits). If it was a possibility he would know.

Matthieu held onto his stoic expression. The only tell he showed that was listening to Jacques was his absentminded rubbing of the corner of the letter.

Jacques leaned across the table, “I am only saying that it is worth investigating.”

Theodora waved him out of the room, “Leave us. We will watch over the girl. You’ve distressed us enough tonight, Jacques.”

He did as his godmother requested and left them in the dark. Estella would be safe with them.