“Claudette!” Madame Martin called in a sweet,I swear I wasn’t just talking about youtone.
Claudette barely nodded back, making a beeline for Clem, whom she kissed three times in the standard French greeting.
Well, standard was air-kisses. Her lips grazed hungrily over Clem’s cheeks.
“Back in town, I see,” he said warily.
“Paris isn’t what it used to be.” Claudette shrugged, oozing antiestablishment attitude. Then she turned to me. “Geneviève. You finally made it.”
Zero subtext, all straight talk. Kind of refreshing.
“I did.” I held her arms as we traded air-kisses.
And, oh. Her studded faux-leather jacket didn’t hide that she’d gone from lean to thin. Too thin.
“Good to see you,” I said.
As a kid, I’d spent every summer in Auberre, and Claudette and I had been steady playmates. We’d grown apart in our teens, when Claudette started smoking, dressing Goth style, and hanging out with the wrong crowd, but I still counted her as a friend.
“That’s new,” I said, picking one of a dozen new piercings to point to.
She flicked her tongue, revealing the studs there. “This too.”
“Nice,” I said, going for tact.
Mesdames Martin and Fontaine exchanged horrified looks.
“What are your plans?” Clem asked.
She shrugged, exuding exaggerated,I go where the wind takes mevibes. “We’ll see.” She studied me for a moment before hinting, “Could stay a while if I had a job. You still need help with those guests?”
I froze, tongue-tied. My sister had filled me in on Claudette’s brief interlude working at the château. Claudette hadn’t been all too punctual or reliable, and she’d put more effort into flirting with the guys than into serving breakfast or cleaning. When she’d quit abruptly, my sister had been relieved.
Claudette was trouble, as everyone in Auberre knew. Me too.
And while most of Auberre knew Claudette hung out with the wrong crowd in Paris, they didn’t know that crowd wasvampires.
I did my best to look past the tattoos and attitude to the little girl I’d climbed trees and turned cartwheels with. I’d had many lucky twists of fate in my life. Claudette hadn’t. Didn’t she deserve a break?
Yes, but not with us. Not again,I could already hear my sister protest.
Claudette would distract the men and antagonize Madame Picard, our reliable housekeeper of fifty years. My sister would kill me for not consulting with her before opening my big mouth and for dangling a hot-blooded temptress in front of Henrik, our resident vampire.
Claudette’s aloof expression said she couldn’t care less, but I sensed her inner plea for just one more chance.
My magic didn’t stir, but it didn’t take superpowers to help a person in need. Plain old human compassion was enough.
“We can use all the help we can get,” I heard myself say.
Clem’s brow furrowed. Mesdames Martin and Fontaine exchanged looks that saidDisaster on the way. But Claudette’s hollow cheeks lifted a little, and her eyes lit up.
Even the danger Henrik posed, I figured, was better than her heading back to an entire coven of vampires in Paris.
“Can you come by tomorrow at eight in the morning? We can discuss details with my sister then,” I said.
That would give Mina almost twenty-three hours to holler at me, I calculated. Enough for her to get everything out of her system before Claudette turned up for work…if she turned up.
I feverishly hoped that would be the case.
