The Lucas Letters: Despatch Five

Duty yields to forbidden desire in the personal communications of drac physician Lucas Rouseau.

Karenza Grant

Aug 19, 2026

The Lucas Letters are best read in order

Find the previous despatches here

The Lucas Letters: Despatch Five

SLAUGHTER: DO NOT SEND

15^th March

Dearest Belomar,

The weather is fickle. March is a strange month indeed.

It has been weeks since I have written, since I have needed to write. Which shows the solidity of my resolve that the relationship I will have with Camille Amiel as my Keeper partner will go ahead as planned. It also verifies my conviction that the physical stirrings I feel for her are just that.

Mere stirrings. Mere attraction.

And what I’m about to recount only strengthens my intent. Writing is consolidation in one quill scratch after another. Thought made tangible.

It has been a month in which I’ve worked long hours at the refugee centre, and all the while the paperwork for my acquisition of the Tarascon practice has proceeded without a hitch. In fact, I’ve just returned from the town itself, my visit primarily to view houses, but also to become acquainted with the finer details of Hector’s practice, and to get a feel for the place once more.

Tarascon was cold. As bleak as only March can be. The promise of spring was near and yet so far, a little brave almond blossom taunting that warmth and vitality lay ahead.

I viewed a few houses, a couple suitable. One in particular that I’d marked as hopeful turned out to be ideal, situated a few miles from town above a hamlet, the location secluded, opening onto the foothills, which will give me free access to hunt. The established medicinal herb gardens are an added attraction. Most of the plants lay asleep, furled under the soil, their vitality palpable as they wait for spring. Oh, and a small lake sits at the side. I will be able to swim there.

And strange, while I was viewing the property, who should I see on the edge of the thicket that borders the lake? The Mascou again, a trail of ice and bitter freeze in her wake, her tattered dress, lanky hair and angled bones disappearing into the undergrowth. I’d seen the fae embodiment of winter back at Camille’s farm, and it had been late in the year to see her then, but now, it was odd. Despite March’s fickle nature, the harshest notes of winter had abated since the Keeper trial.

And then, to my surprise, I saw another later in the day, one of the Mascou’s bitter sisters flitting into the trees behind Hector’s surgery. Not unheard of, but unusual. A sign that spring would be late, no doubt.

I release a laugh, warmth welling up in my chest as I write this, thinking of Hector’s practice, where I was ensconced for the rest of the day, sitting in on his afternoon surgery.

Different to Paris, certainly. Hector has a woman in town take his phone bookings while running her laundrette. Madame Balloon had been booked in for a stain removal and Monsieur Vaux for his whites to be brightened. Talking of Monsieur Vaux, it wasn’t actually him requiring the appointment, but his Alsatian, Ripper, who had mange. The dog wouldn’t enter the vet’s, and as he was ready to tear anyone’s throat out for suggesting the idea, nobody would argue with him. He had, however, taken a shine to Hector, who gave him treats occasionally and offered to help.

Another curious case was that of Monsieur Leclerc, there for his allergies. He’d taken a job cleaning up after the tourists in the Cave of Bédeilhac as there was nothing allergenic underground, and he couldn’t understand why he’d had a flare at work. I understood, though. The cave is the Men’s main residence, and no doubt their skins and furs were aggravating him.

But, my friend, I must get to the matter that compelled me to write. While we were hearing of Monsieur Leclerc’s troubles, a scent caught me.

Delightful, sweet honeysuckle.

I closed my eyes, absorbing its redolence. It brought warmth to the chill day, nourishing my black heart.

And then I came to my senses.

She was here. In the waiting room outside Hector’s office.

It was my intention to avoid Camille Amiel until I moved into the area and gave her verity to reveal the hidden world. This meant not entering the cafe where she worked and not walking her regular routes, for I admit, I’d learnt them all whilst observing her initially.

This is because the final enchantments of the Chateau de la Lune ensure a degree of amnesia in the candidate until the hidden realm is revealed, and even then the amnesia wears off gradually. But occasionally the forgetting can be swept away by encountering someone from that place, which may result in confusion and, in some cases, mental breakdown, though I have the impression that Camille is of extremely sound mind.

Even so, it was too much of a risk. I would reveal myself when the time was right, and not before. But I was stuck in Hector’s consulting room.

I can hear his voice now. ‘Who do we have next?’ Keen eyes sparkled beneath steel-grey waves as he ran his finger down the list and rubbed his jaw. ‘Ah, Camille, who appears to have been booked in for a sock repair.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t know what to do with Madame Villy.’

As he called Camille’s name, I froze. I was trapped. Penned in like the prey I corner and devour.

I scanned the room. The window was closed and appeared to be locked. There was a cupboard. But honestly, what had I been considering? Climbing out? Hiding? Both were ridiculous, never mind they would’ve undermined my professional standing and the practice transfer in an instant.

There was only one thing I could do. As Camille’s footsteps echoed toward the door, I pulled myself together. ‘Hector, you’ll have to excuse me for a moment.’ I made a faux glance at my phone. ‘There’s a matter I must attend to. I’ll be back shortly.’

He looked nonplussed. ‘Of course, Lucas. Take all the time you need.’

I opened the door and strode out, glancing away from Camille. I could feel her gaze as we headed toward each other, but against everything I had, I forced myself not to succumb to her lure, not to make eye contact. Instead, I raised my chin and affected the air of the absolutely unbothered.

As we passed, our arms brushed, her scent swathing me.

And for one stupid moment, I almost paused. I almost turned to her.

The compulsion to drink her in, to connect, to speak with this creature who’d outwitted me at the chateau was overwhelming. But Belomar, you should have seen me, you should have seen how I held my resolve as though a troop of the most vicious ogres were hellbent on our destruction on the battlefield, and all of Fae depended on us defeating them. For that is how much determination it took.

I left the surgery and stood outside in the biting wind under the trees and listened to Camille’s consultation, for my drac hearing is as good as ever. She had a cold, one she couldn’t shift. It had started after the trial, not that she knew it. But I did. I knew how I’d put her through hell. How her body was coping as best it could.

A part of me wanted to help with what ailed her, for I have all the potion she could ever need, and yet… a part of me delighted in her vexation, for if dracs are not murderous, they are tricksters, and that is my nature, though I profess to both attributes at times.

And as I was all ears to their conversation, something unfurled within me. Something new that even now sends a thrill through my dark sinews.

The urge to play with Camille, to tease her, to pull out her worst attributes… and her best. To come up against her. To try every single part of her.

So Belomar. I’m processing once again. Processing what she has brought out in me. Processing where Camille and I stand, and how we will build a relationship she knows nothing about. And most delightfully, how I may push her to her very limits.

This is going to be an interesting partnership, indeed.

Status: SENT

To: CecileLeroux@SabarthesProprietes.fr

From: LucasRouseau@gmail.com

Subject: An offer on the Alliat property

Date: 15^th March

Dear Cecile,

Thank you for showing me around the properties in Tarascon yesterday. I would like to make an offer on the Alliat house. To secure a swift sale without complications, and that I am the only buyer in consideration, I tender the selling price plus €50,000. Please convey this to the owners immediately. Also, I will be arranging for you personally an additional €10,000 to ensure a smooth and timely exchange.

Best,

Lucas Rouseau

Status: SENT

To: LucasRouseau@gmail.com

From: CecileLeroux@SabarthesProprietes.fr

Subject: An offer on the Alliat property

Date: 15^th March

Dear Doctor Rouseau,

Our gratitude is abounding for the generous financial support of our agency. I have excellent news, the vendors have accepted your offer and are more than happy to start the paperwork immediately. The property is yours. I’ll get things moving straight away and will be in contact soon with the first of the documents.

Best,

Cecile

Cecile Leroux

Agent immobilier

Sabarthès Propriétés

Tarascon-sur-Ariège

Tél: 05 61 45 55 93

Thank you for reading!

The next instalment will be in a month’s time.

For those of you who haven’t read Folkloric yet, the series can be found here. And the prequel novella eBook Folkloric Fae is available as my gift to you on subscribing to my mailing list.

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