The Overture of Fear & Passion (The Daemonica Symphony Series Book 1) Read online

  “Enchanté.” Her father said, introducing himself formally as he shook her hand before they all sat and fell into an awkward silence.

  It wasn’t until they all had drinks in their hands that Juliet felt that she had spent long enough being polite and was ready to get to the point.

  “What happened between you and my mother? Why didn’t she want you in our lives?”

  Peter nearly spat out his scotch, clearly unimpressed with her direct question. But Geneviève was unfazed. Juliet thought she actually saw a hint of amusement in her eyes. But it was gone in a flash as she seemed to consider the question, sighing and patting her napkin.

  “My dear, the world we come from is a very complicated place. It can be magical and beautiful beyond imagination. But it can also be dark and dangerous.” She explained cryptically.

  “Something happened to your mother that was truly horrible. Something no one should have to endure. It scarred her and made her turn her back on everything she had ever known, including her own family. Part of it was my fault. I had kept secrets from her and, as well-intentioned as my reasons were, keeping her in the dark left her vulnerable.” She fidgeted with the ring on her left hand.

  “My mistake was not trusting her. I treated her like a little girl when she had already become a woman. Her father and I…” she cleared her throat and took a sip of her martini.

  “We never expected her to react so strongly to learning to truth. We thought she would come to accept things naturally, over time. But she left; cutting us off and not giving us the chance to properly explain. To show her how wonderful her life could be.” She looked closely at Juliet before she pursed her lips and let out a long breath.

  “I understand that this is all very bizarre. But it’s all so complicated, I really can’t explain it very well.” She looked at Peter.

  “What did Vivienne tell you about all of this? How much do you know?”

  He shifted in his seat and looked at Juliet from the corner of his eye. He cleared his throat but was offered a reprieve from answering when the waiter arrived with their meals. They ate in polite silence, Juliet keeping her eye on her father the whole time, wondering what he was going to say. He began to fidget with his cutlery before finally answering.

  “Vivienne explained little before we got married. She told me she was estranged from her family and didn’t want to talk about her past. I was in love, of course I accept her request, especially since I also came from a troubled home. I never suspected it was something more…” He looked at Juliet thoughtfully.

  “When Juliet was born, she was unusually obsessed with watching her development. When I confronted her about it, she told me that she just wanted to make sure Juliet was normal. And apart from her musical ability which came as no real surprise, she was.”

  Juliet listened, unable to disguise her interest. She was unused to her father opening up about her childhood or to talk about her mother.

  “Vivienne was adamant about not staying in the one place for too long. The longest we lived anywhere was in London while Juliet was a baby. When she was school age, Vivienne insisted that we move. We never spent more than a year in one place after that. She blamed it on her contracts, but I know for a fact that she was the one insisting on twelve-month deals.” He looked at Juliet and took a deep breath and leaning back in his chair.

  “Vivienne finally agreed to stay in Paris when Juliet put her foot down.”

  Geneviève looked at Juliet with raised eyebrows and Peter looked at her, inviting her to take over.

  “I wanted to focus on my musical career. I didn’t like my chances of getting into the Conservatoire if I didn’t have a regular tutor. I also knew they preferred to admit French nationals and well, it all just made sense that we should live there for at least a year before I auditioned and then once I was in, I would be there for at least four years. I hadn’t decided yet if I was going to stay on for post-graduate studies.” She trailed off; in her first year her mother had gotten sick. Her studies had been completely forgotten and she’d officially withdrawn from school. It had broken her heart to do it, but at the time she needed to be with her mother. Afterwards, she took up tutoring and busking to help cover the bills. The cost of the Conservatoire just wasn’t an option.

  “I’m planning to reapply next year. I just need to get a steady job so I can help Papa pay off the medical bills and apply for a loan to cover tuition costs.”

  Geneviève nodded and pursed her lips.

  “You seem to have it all worked out. I must say, I think you have a lot of your father’s sensible nature. I’m very impressed.”

  Juliet looked at her father, it was true that she had a pragmatic streak, and he was definitely not much of a joker, but she was just so used to being compared to her mother that it caught her off guard when people likened her to her father instead.

  “You said earlier on the phone that at the end, she confessed to you? At least some of it?” She asked her father, who nodded before answering.

  “She told me about the ‘Otherworld’. I thought she was high on pain medication, so I disregarded most of it. I mean, what would you expect me to think? She was telling me about Demons, Witches, Vampires. Creatures that can change into beasts. People who can create fire in their hands. It all sounded like nonsense. But, when I heard the man this morning talk about Juliet as if she were one of them, it all came back. I thought, maybe some of it might be true. That’s why I called you.”

  Geneviève’s eyebrows drew together in concern.

  “What happened this morning? What man?”

  Juliet and her father exchanged a look before Juliet decided to answer.

  “A man attacked me this morning when I was walking home. I fought him off and got away. Then later Papa went and found him.”

  Peter took over the explanation; “I would have dismissed it as the ramblings of a drug fuelled rapist, but he was in a business suit for crying out loud. And the wall...” He looked at Juliet “The brick wall behind him, it was caved in, like a boulder had taken a chunk out of it. The main implied that he’d been thrown into it... by Juliet.”

  Juliet sucked in a breath; he hadn’t told her that before. Even if he had, she probably would have dismissed it as rubbish. But he was sober now, relatively. And he was still sticking to his story.

  Geneviève had grown quiet, but her frown had deepened. She looked at Juliet closely, as if checking her for signs of injury. She clearly believed the story and didn’t seem surprised by the mention of Demons and Vampires.

  “My dear, I’m so glad you were able to get away. A fully mature Demon can be incredibly strong. And you, not even twenty-one. You’re lucky to have gotten away.” Juliet nearly choked on her cocktail.

  “Sorry, what?” She asked as she watched Geneviève look from her to Peter and back again.

  “Ah, yes. It sounds to me like he was a Demon. Probably the same kind you are, hence, his attraction to you.” She fiddled again with her ring before taking a sip of her drink.

  “You’re telling me I’m a Demon?” She kept her voice as low as possible to avoid being overheard by other diners. She didn’t want to embarrass herself when she knew how ridiculous she sounded.

  “Yes dear.” She said, equally hushed, “I’m a Demon, your mother was a Demon and so are you. And from the sounds of it, a very strong one too. Which is surprising, since usually the power lessens with each generation.”

  Juliet shook her head and tried not to laugh. Clearly the woman was not all there mentally and sadly for her father, he had caught her insanity. She grew sad, wondering if maybe her mother had become a victim of dementia towards the end. It would explain the ramblings to her father at the time.

  “Juliet, I know this is all a lot to take in. And I don’t expect you to believe everything right away.” Geneviève looked serious for a moment.

  “This is the mistake that happened with your mother. We gave her too much information all at once and it overwhelmed her. We didn’t exp
lain it properly and it was too much. I don’t want to make the same mistake again. Please, will you give me a chance?” Her voice was pleading.

  Juliet nodded, deciding it would be kinder to placate the woman by going along with her delusions for now, they could see her back home to New York later and forget all about it.

  “I have a friend, more of a colleague really, he has a home in Romania where he provides guidance and training to those who are new to their… talents. Livingstone has been around for a long time. I went there when I reached maturity and the plan was to send your mother there too. They teach you all about the Otherworld; how to assimilate, how to control your gifts. Once a year they host a debutante ball to introduce the novices into society. It’s quite nice really, although I’ve been told that kind of thing is becoming a little bit passé.” Her smile was thin, and she fiddled with the napkin on the table in front of her.

  “What I would like to propose is that you might consider going there. I think it would be the perfect opportunity for you. A chance to learn all about the Otherworld.” Juliet looked at Geneviève and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Geneviève seemed to realise she hadn’t convinced Juliet. She pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow of her own.

  “I understand that you have your plans to get back to the Conservatoire. I think I can help with that.” Intrigued, Juliet sat forward in her chair.

  “If you agree to go to Livingstone, I will happily pay for your tuition fees as well as taking care of Vivienne’s medical costs. It’s the least I can do since we’re family after all.” Juliet leaned away again, she was not a charity case and didn’t appreciate the blatant attempt at bribery.

  “You don’t have to decide now,” she continued, “Just take a couple of days to think about it. I’ll be in Paris for the rest of the week. You can let me know what you decide by Friday. How does that sound?” Juliet nodded, crossing her arms as she looked at her father. He had remained silent throughout their conversation, but he tapped the edge of his glass before looking up at Juliet, his eyes focussed for once.

  “I think you should go.” Juliet looked at him, her mouth falling open.

  “I can’t make you go, Juliet. You have to decide for yourself. But I think Geneviève is right. If you can get answers there, I think you should do it.”

  Juliet was struck silent for the rest of the evening, she watched and listened as Geneviève and Peter exchanged more polite chit chat. He talked a bit about their lives before Vivienne had gotten sick and she watched the woman’s eyes fill with tears when he told her about the funeral.

  As they stood to leave, Juliet hesitated before asking one more question that had been playing on her mind throughout the evening.

  “Is my grandfather still alive?” She asked quietly.

  Geneviève’s eyebrows shot up at the question and Juliet wondered if she’d hoped to avoid the topic.

  “He passed away, shortly after you were born.” She said, returning her attention back to the diamond on her left hand. They exchanged goodbyes and left the hotel, taking a taxi home even though the rain had cleared.

  Chapter Five

  An early morning phone call had Juliet rubbing her head in tired confusion. Geneviève informed Juliet that she was sending over a friend who would help to shed some light on a few things. She hung up before Juliet could even ask her how she’d gotten her phone number.

  She immediately called Beatriz who insisted on coming over straight away, despite having been on her way to work. Juliet then called to cancel her morning tutoring appointments, having no way of knowing what this strange visitor would reveal or how long she might need to recover.

  Beatriz arrived while Juliet and her father were still eating breakfast and she hummed as she helped herself to a cup of coffee. She snatched the newspaper out of Peter’s hands, selected the section she wanted and returned it to him, oblivious to his scandalized expression.

  “Help yourself.” He said, under his breath.

  “Hm?” She replied, looking at the back and white paper in her hands. But he only shook his head and returned his attention to what he was reading.

  Juliet was actually surprised he was even there. He was rarely awake before noon, but he’d even managed to put on a clean shirt. But the dark circles under his eyes and the three-day old stubble warned her against getting her hopes up.

  Juliet filled Beatriz in on everything that had happened the previous day. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open as Juliet outlined her attack, her apparently supernatural defence and the unbelievable story her father and Geneviève had told her.

  “So, you don’t believe this woman?” She asked Juliet.

  “How can I? It’s complete nonsense.”

  “I don’t know, back in Brazil we have stories about things like this. Creatures that are not of this world. My brother Luca swears he saw an Alemoa when we were little.” Juliet looked at her blankly.

  “It’s like, what you call in English a ‘Siren’.” She explained.

  “But Beatriz that’s all just silly superstition. These stories come from antiquated folklore designed to uphold the patriarchy and to demonise independent, overtly sexual women.”

  Beatriz nodded in reply, “Can’t it be both?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, maybe there lies a little bit of truth in it. That would explain why different cultures all over the world tell similar versions of the same stories.”

  Juliet disagreed, “That’s just because societies in general are controlled by men who determine the narrative.”

  They were interrupted from getting into a lengthy debate about historical misogyny when the doorbell rang. Peter stood up from the table to answer it and returned with a young man following him.

  By the look of his casual jeans and T-shirt, Juliet would have guessed that he was in his twenties. Nothing apart from his messy brown hair gave any indication that he was either supernatural or crazy. Juliet wondered what on earth this perfectly ordinary looking person could have to reveal that would help Geneviève’s cause. Or maybe he was just going to spout more nonsense.

  They all stared at each other silently for a moment before Juliet became uncomfortable and introduced herself. He came over to the table to shake her hand and then Beatriz’s.

  “She’s human.” He said, matter-of-factly.

  “I am.” She responded, non-plussed.

  “She goes.” He said.

  “She stays.” Juliet said, her lips spreading into a thin smile as she challenged him with an eyebrow raise. He folded his arms in front of his chest.

  “They’re not supposed to know about us.”

  “Us?”

  “Otherworlders.”

  Juliet’s eyes widened. Here we go, she thought to herself. Beatriz seemed amused and Peter began clearing the table.

  There was a silent battle of wills as Juliet stared down the stranger.

  “Oh, alright.” He said, giving up and sitting down.

  “Geneviève sent me over because you’re having a little bit of a hard time believing what you’ve been told about our kind.” He explained. Juliet nodded and leaned back in her chair. Beatriz leaned forward, clearly fascinated by the drama that was unfolding.

  “She thought that I might be able to offer you some proof. I can completely understand. Afterall, we are taught to assimilate, to blend in so that we don’t draw attention to ourselves. The only way to do that is to convince the whole world that we’re not real, that any mention of our kinds is just fantasy and silly stories.”

  “So, what proof are you going to show me?” Juliet asked, resisting the urge to lean closer. He smiled and began to tinker with his watch, unfastening it. At the precise moment it left his wrist, his appearance began to change. It looked as if his skin had gone blurry around the edges. Juliet blinked a few times, thinking her eyes were unfocussed and when she looked again, his appearance had completely changed.

  Instead of a young man sitting at the table, a woman w
as there instead. She was probably a little bit older than the man, in her thirties or so. She had long curly black hair and striking blue eyes. The clothes were the same, but she filled them out differently.

  “Papaaa…” Juliet called; her nostrils flared as she began to breathe heavily.

  Beatriz let out a string of Portuguese expletives before crossing herself and mumbling a prayer at the ceiling.

  Her father, who’d been facing the other way, turned around and nearly dropped the dishes he was carrying. He looked around the room, as if trying to find the man who had now vanished and been replaced by this woman. With a clank, he put the plates in the sink and hurried over, standing behind Juliet and placing a hand on her shoulder.

  The woman seemed amused by all of these exchanges, she smiled and rested her chin on her hands as she leaned on the table. Juliet was lost for words. Beatriz never suffered from such a condition and took the silence as permission to ask questions.

  “How is this possible?” She asked.

  “Just a little totem.” Said the woman, indicating the watch on the table.

  “A ‘Totem’”? Juliet asked.

  “Hm, it’s what we Witches like to call the physical objects that we use to manifest spells.”

  “Witches?” Beatriz asked.

  The woman acknowledged Beatriz’s question with a nod but looked back at Juliet to answer.

  “Yes, Witches. They, along with Demons, Vampires and Shifters are all real. Your grandmother isn’t crazy. And if I were you, I would start packing.”

  “Packing?” Juliet asked.

  “You’ll need to pack quite a bit for a trip to Romania. Although, you can always just take the basics now and box everything up to be shipped to you later.”

  “Romania?” Juliet asked.