Having witnessed the Celestial’s tragic lying skills, I panic. ‘Ah Lang didn’t tell him the tea is from me, did he?’
She laughs. ‘He thinks it’s from Marianne.’ She sits up. ‘Jing, you don’t need to hide that you’re helping him.’
‘If Tony knew, he’d refuse to drink it.’
‘Avoiding each other won’t solve anything. Come join us tomorrow. You can see for yourself, he’s getting better day by day.’ She eyes my still-full bowl of noodles. ‘You also need to eat something proper.’
In the morning, Gigi drags me to the dining carriage. The Durands are seated at the large table, their plates filled with pain au chocolate and bao, drinking cups of coffee and chocolat chaud. Mémère nearly drops her cane in her rush to greet me.
She takes my hands in hers, searches my face, frowning at what she finds. Glancing for Marianne, she speaks quickly.
‘We’re so glad you decided to join us,’ Marianne says, her sharp eyes scrutinising me. ‘Let me get you some food. What would you like to eat?’
Mémère guides me to the seat beside hers as Marianne lists my breakfast options.
‘—fan tuan, xiao long bao, congee, croissant, baguette and jam, fried sticks, soy milk, blood buns—’
I press my lips together, hoping she stops.
‘—and we have plenty of fresh blood in bottles...’
Bile pushes up my throat; I run from the table, hand pressed over my mouth, racing back to my room. I can see the door to my cabin; but suddenly, Lord Aengus is in the corridor blocking my way. His eyes grow wide as he registers me barrelling down the hall. Somehow, he manages to sidestep and I make it to my room. The door swings shut behind me and I vomit all over the floor.
After I’ve cleaned up, Gigi brings Marianne and Mémère to see me.
Mémère sits on the edge of my bed, holding my hand and stroking my hair, a furrow between her silver brows. Gigi and Marianne sit at the table, a wicker basket between them.
‘Gigi tells us you haven’t been eating, or drinking any bl—’ Marianne stops abruptly when Gigi frantically shakes her head. She nods her understanding and seems to carefully consider her words before speaking again. ‘Mémère wants you to know that she is very proud of you. She said you performed the ritualperfectly. Even though Tony was ill, the benesangue rooted, and bloomed. He will become – actually, he already is, a powerful vampire.’
‘He’s healthy?’ I ask.
Marianne nods. ‘Better than healthy. He’s one of the strongest vampires Mémère has ever met. His mind is clear and as fit as it was before his illness. I think he will thrive in his new life.’
A tear rolls down my cheek. He’s safe and he’ll thrive. I can’t ask for more than that.
‘The gift takes a heavy toll from the giver,’ Marianne continues. ‘Our father, and his father before that, spent decades preparing mentally and physically in order to perform the ritual. But we had no time. You did amazingly well under the circumstances.’
She opens the basket and pulls out a long baguette and a small dish of butter. ‘Not eating isn’t an option; immortal you may be but you are not invulnerable. For vampires, room-temperature food without strong smells is best and shouldn’t trigger any nausea. Bread and butter usually does the trick.’ She breaks off a section, the crust crackling under her fingers, butters it with a small knife, and offers it to me. ‘Try?’
She’s right, the bread is inoffensive. The combination of fluffy bread, crunchy crust and creamy butter strikes just the right balance. It’s gone in a few bites. Mémère nods, smiling proudly as if I’ve achieved something, when all I’ve done is cram some bread in my mouth like a greedy duck. Even so, I squeeze her hand, happy to have her by my side.
Marianne butters the rest of the baguette. ‘Don’t eat it all at once or you’ll get a stomach ache, but you must eat it all today, alright?’
I nod.
Mémère pats my hand, speaking low. Marianne translates: ‘You’re precious to us; you must thrive, too.’
For the final days of the journey, I stay in my room and eat buttered baguette. Mémère and Marianne drop in to chat. We even play a few games of Da Lao Er. Gigi makes sure to update me on all the happenings: Tony and Lord Aengus’s surprise kinship over the way their conditions brought changes to their lives. Tony and Max have come to a detente of sorts (though Gigi thinks that’s more to do with the fact that Tony is strong enough to crush Max’s skull with one hand than any epiphany or remorse on Max’s side). And the biggest news of all: Ah Lang has finally tired of Da Lao Er and returned to his music. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Gigi so relieved.
Every day Marianne reports,Tony is doing really well.
I want to see for myself, to make sure he’s healthy and well, without my every thought fleeing in panic, or feeling like shit on the bottom of his shoe. So on the last night, while Gigi snores softly across the room, I slip out and tiptoe down the softly lit corridor.
The train sways gently but silently. I lean against the wall by his cabin door. Inside his room, three hearts murmur beneath the rhythmic breathing of deep sleep. It’s easy to pinpoint Tony’s; his vampire heart beats much slower than the other two, but it beats, steady and sure. His blood flows with a smooth whoosh in his veins.
I slide down the wall and hug my knees. His heart is healthy and strong, drums with the promise of his immortality. I breathe easily for the first time since we left Paris. No matter what he thinks of me, his heart is safe. It will endure.
I close my eyes and search for Tony’s scent. Marianne said when the camphor comes to the fore it’s a sign that the benesangue has taken. The camphor is indeed the main note now, more intense, as is the wisteria. I prefer it to the desiccated rose the others carry. A musky woody scent, with a touch of floral. It suits him. The watermelon rind and snoware less distinct, almost unnoticeable, which makes me a little melancholy. My favourite smell. I’ll miss it.
