Lady Ay bowed low to me. ‘I am very sorry for my sister’s behaviour,’ she said. ‘She was worried for me, and overreacted.’ Their bond was touching. I had hoped my children would watch out for each other in that way. But alas, Maximilien and Marianne only fought.
‘Of course she will offer you more than one boon. Would three be acceptable?’
‘Meimei – one is more than enough!’
It was at that opportune moment I happened to cough. The itch in my throat was unbearable. ‘Is the dagger still here?’
Lady Ay was on her feet immediately. ‘I placed it over there—’
‘Could you immerse it in salt water? It will neutralise the scent at least. I have a small jar of salt over by the samovar.’
Lady Ay hurried away.
Lady Rey stared at her feet, looking morose. ‘The silver really hurts you?’
‘Silver usually doesn’t, but that dagger – perhaps it’s the etchings on the blade – highly unpleasant,’ I said.
‘So the talismanic scripts affect you as well,’ she said. ‘Perhaps we do have something in common, after all.’ She bit her lip, regarding me with resentful suspicion. ‘What do you want for your first boon?’
‘Are we agreed on three boons?’
She was silent for a while, which suited me. I did not feel fully myself, and it hurt to speak. But she agreed, in the end.
This is where the journal ends. I like the father I see in these pages, brave, respectful, and funny. My mother too – feisty and loyal, not the sad shell she became after my father left us. It makes me realise how similar in temperament I am to my mother and, oddly, how similar Tony is to my father. He forgave my mother many things; even though she tried to kill him, falsely accused him, tried to kill him again, he didn’t hesitate to save her over and over, nor did he try to keep her by his side. Hewas content to keep watch over her and protect her the best he could.
Like Big Wang did his best for me. Maybe that’s how you’re meant to love someone.
Thirty-Nine
Longing
Gigi returns from the impromptu jam session with a steaming bowl of noodles, a bottle of blood and plenty of gossip. She places the noodles and blood on the table for me then flops onto her bed.
The bottle is warm. I can scent it even through the glass – a fruity sweetness, ripe apricots, with a mineral note, like fresh oyster. My fangs snick through my gums, accompanied by that familiar sting. The last time I had any blood was in Mémère’s salon, after... My habit has always been a glass a day. But since, I haven’t felt the need. Haven’t wanted it at all. In fact, the scent, the colour – a deep brownish red, the way the blood sloshes, thick and sluggish, in the bottle, turns my stomach. I set the bottle down quickly and cover my mouth, retching.
Gigi is by my side in a shot. Keeping my gaze averted, I shove the bottle at her. I don’t have to ask twice. The bottle disappears from the table, the scent fading. Our cabin door opens, shuts, muting the smell to a tolerable level. I lay with my cheek on the table, counting my breaths until the nausea passes.
‘You’ve barely been eating and you haven’t drunk any blood—’
The mention of it brings a fresh wave of bile. I flail my arms to make her stop.
‘Alright,’ she says, ‘but eat the noodles at least.’
‘Fine,’ I grumble, and pull the bowl and chopsticks towards me. I obediently put noodles in my mouth, but the smell is too much. A few mouthfuls and I can’t stomach any more.
‘You missed a good show tonight,’ she says. ‘Marianne and Lord Aengus sang a duet while Ah Lang played his pipa. Even Mémère joined in – she has an incredible voice.’
‘I take it Lord Aengus’s conversation with her went well?’
Gigi nods. ‘He seemed quite thoughtful. I’m sure he’s very relieved he no longer has to hide. Ah Lang also taught the Durands how to play Da Lao Er.’ She lets out a frustrated huff of breath. ‘I thought music might distract him, but after a few songs he went right back to the cards.’
‘Did he always play this much?’ I try to remember if we played during our trip to mortal Shanghai.
‘It’s been a while. He has periods where it’s all he wants to do, and periods where he forgets cards even exist.’ She shrugs and makes a face as if to say:What can you do?‘I almost forgot the best part of the evening. Max threw a huge tantrum at his losing streak, and had to be marched to his room by Mémère. I’ve never seen Ah Lang look so smug.’
‘Max was there, too?’ I can’t believe I’m the one being left out. To dull the stab of bitterness, I recite to myself:I’m giving Tony space,I’m giving Tony space,I’m giving Tony space. And then, because I can’t help myself, I ask, ‘How’s Tony?’
‘He’s less angry,’ Gigi says. ‘Ah Lang says the pu-erh tea has really helped with Tony’s stomach cramps. They hardly bother him anymore.’
