‘I like this,’ Gigi declares.
Most of the tables in the bar also have the water fountains.
Tony Lee inspects his glass, sipping thoughtfully. ‘Isn’t absinthe banned in France?’
‘Perhaps for France,’ Marianne says, ‘but not for House Durand.’
Thirty
Bad Tastes
The bar is packed tight with mortals and vampires. The scent of them is so concentrated, a woozy giddiness takes hold of me. The absinthe adds to the feeling of euphoria. Even Tony seems less severely disapproving. He chats in French with Marianne and Lord Aengus. When a jazz band sets up at a corner by the bar, Ah Lang’s face lights up.
Catching Marianne’s eye, I tip my chin at Ah Lang. ‘The band should ask him to play. He’s amazing with the double bass and he sings, too, but only in English, I think.’
‘The musicians don’t speak much French, so that works perfectly.’ Marianne shouts something to the saxophone player, who laughs, and rattles something back. ‘Ah Lang,’ she says. ‘They happen to be short their double bass player. Can you help them out?’
Ah Lang’s eyes shine. ‘I’d be honoured.’ He practically leaps over the table to join them.
‘I hope he sings my song.’ Gigi’s eyes follow her man, but her sappy expression turns sharp when she notices a trio of women, fully naked, gathered by the bar, right in front of the band. They rake Ah Lang with appreciative gazes. ‘I think I’ll sit closer, so I can hear better.’ Gigi strides through the bar and positions herself directly in front of the trio, close enough that she only need raise her arm to touch Ah Lang.
The women frown and mutter. Gigi turns, glacially slow, and pierces them with a withering glare, as iftheywere disturbingher,then turns her attention back to Ah Lang. The trio splutter,but, seeing Gigi wholly unmoved, relocate themselves further back along the bar. I can’t help laughing. It’s classic Gigi.
The lights dim and a hush settles over the darkened room. Into the silence, a saxophone croons an almost plaintive melody, ending in a single quivering note that hangs in the smoky air. The room seems to hold its breath. There’s an explosion of light and sound as the band swings into motion and the crowd moves in time with the beat.
‘Viens.’ Mémère stands, gestures for me to follow.
I glance at Tony and Lord Aengus – I don’t want to leave either of them alone with Maximilien, no matter what promises Mémère has made. Him, I do not trust.
Noticing my hesitation, Lord Aengus says, ‘Tony and I will see if Gigi needs a drink.’ He glances at Tony’s grimace. ‘Tony, there’s nothing unnatural with nudity. They embrace their bodies; it’s quite freeing.’
Tony isn’t convinced. I glance between him and Mémère, torn; he sighs, and follows Lord Aengus to stand with Gigi. Lord Aengus busies himself greeting everyone, while Tony stares woodenly at his feet.
Satisfied he’s safe, or as safe as he can be in a room full of vampires, I join Mémère.
‘He’s a good one,’ Marianne says, linking her arm through mine as we follow Mémère through the room. ‘Mémère wants to know who you like the smell of?’
I breathe a little too deeply, the absinthe compounding the effects of the yang qi and blood, and end up floating on a pinkish sense of euphoria. I giggle. ‘Everyone.’ I glance around. ‘Do you ever wish you could be naked like them?’
Marianne ignores my question. ‘Mémère wants you to practise. Our pursuivants tonight are all willing to be your pincushions. They are not afraid of a little pain if you don’t manage the taste perfectly.’
The idea of feeding here, in front of everyone, sobers me right up. I glance at my friends. Ah Lang is in his own world, eyes shut, moving to the music, fingers dancing over the strings, unmoved and unbothered by the vast amount of skin. Lord Aengus has his arms around the trio of ladies Gigi scared off. Tony leans against the bar, his head slightly inclined as if he’s contemplating the drink in his hand, but his gaze tracks me around the room. Gigi too is keeping an eye on me, though she’s not as subtle about it. She grimaces with obvious disgust as two people next to her start coupling.
A sour pang twists in my gut – reminding me of how others reacted to me simply because I drink blood, not yang qi.
Mémère and Marianne, even Maximilien, drink blood from teacups as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. For the vampires, it is. I shake off the old shame. It’s ridiculous to feel bad. Ah Lang’s right. This is my heritage. I shouldn’t feel ashamed for what is natural and necessary.
‘I can taste from any pursuivant?’ I ask, a little shy.
Marianne nods. ‘We have a strict protocol – we must not taste any pursuivant more than three times in one week. Overexposure to the pathogens in vampire saliva can cause sangue poisoning in mortals, a terrible sickness which devours a person’s memories before they die.’
‘Is there no cure?’
Marianne shakes her head sadly. ‘No. It’s also highly contagious between mortals. Before we figured out how to control the spread, we lost entire villages. Now any mortal showing symptoms is immediately culled.’
I shudder at the thought. ‘How will I know who is safe to taste?’
‘The pursuivants themselves will tell you. We also leave a faint scent marker on the skin when we taste, so you’ll know not to taste the pursuivant until the marker fades.’ Marianne laughsat my expression. ‘You won’t need to worry about any of this. Mémère will choose for you.’
