“Never. I’ve never even drunk from a live body. And Bludmen don’t care for daimon blood.”
The girls began whispering again, and Blaise stepped out of their throng.
“It’s true. Madame Sylvie tested her against Monsieur Philippe. She kissed him on the cheek.”
The purple daimon let out a glittering laugh. “If you can get close to that buffet of flesh without drawing blood, you can withstand anything.”
“I almost killed him just last week, and I can’t even eat him,” added a pink daimon.
They all laughed and crept forward, and I closed my lips over my fangs to smile.
Limone pushed her way past the girls and stood to face me. Her cheekbones were hard-cut, her face pointed and austere. Hers was a cruel beauty, and in a way, I envied her. Even after being bludded, I still felt too soft, too curved, too pink-cheeked. No one would mess with Limone.
“Just because a dog licks your hand does not mean it won’t turn on you.”
I showed my fangs, my posture as straight and aggressive as hers. “I don’t plan on licking you or turning on you,” I said. “I’d rather be friends.”
Her nostrils flared, her eyes narrowing to glittery green slits like cracked glass. “I don’t have friends. And I don’t keep dogs. And if you ever try to lick me, I’ll cut off your tongue.” Her long fingers waggled in the air, their wicked points even more dangerous-looking than my actual talons. “You don’t belong here, Demi. Go back to Darkside where you belong.”
My human instincts told me to cower. My Bludman instincts told me to murder. I fought them both and took a step toward her with a steely smile. “Oh, I belong here.”
She snorted and shoved past me, knocking into my shoulder in a way that made me bite back a hiss. “Not for long.”
After her door slammed behind her, Mel pulled me close again by my shoulder. “Here, Demi. I think I have a spare blanket. And Leola, didn’t you keep one of Mireille’s night shifts?”
With nods and murmurs, the other daimon girls disappeared into their rooms, returning swiftly with small gifts that I didn’t know how to repay, considering I had nothing but what was on my back. The talents that would earn my keep in Paris were no good to them.
Tears filled my eyes, and I clutched the worn old nightgown to my chest as Mel fluttered her hands at two girls carrying pillows and blankets. A blue daimon with a cheerful smile made the bed carefully, tucking the ripped quilt as if it were made of finest silk and fluffing the old pillow.
“I can’t thank y’all enough,” I stammered. “Your kindness is too much. I can’t repay—”
Mel held my face in her hands and closed her eyes, breathing in deeply. “You already are, chérie. We can taste your thanks on the air. Your heart is sweet, like flowers in the spring.”
I noticed that the other girls had set my bed to rights and were also smiling dreamily, their mouths open as they breathed.
“It will be good to have you around. Like a midnight snack, yes?” Mel said.
The violet daimon nodded eagerly. “Lads below bring only lust and the smallest bit of amazement. But you’re still fresh, you see.” Her short, curly hair reminded me of Emerlie, and I gave her a wobbly smile.
“I’m Lexie,” she said with a curtsey. “Even if the door says Alexandra.”
“And this is Beatrice, though we call her Bea.” The blue girl who had made my bed nodded and gave a little wave with long, elegant fingers. Mel slung an arm around Bea’s waist, and Bea put her head against Mel’s shoulder. “She can’t talk, but you’ll pick up some signs pretty quickly.”
Remembering a few simple bits of sign language I’d learned in elementary school, I signed Thank you, hoping that the gestures carried the same meaning. Bea’s face lit up, a shiver of sky blue rippling over her skin. Her fingers flew excitedly with a flurry of signs, but I didn’t recognize anything else, except something that looked like crabapple, which wasn’t helpful.
“I’m sorry. That’s all I can remember. But I’d like to learn more.”Bea waved a hand, and I didn’t need to wait for Mel to translate Don’t worry about it. Thanks is enough.
A gong rang below, and most of the daimons scurried out my door. As they disappeared, I felt the warmth go with them.
“You’re leaving?”
Mel turned around, her grin quirking up like it had when she talked to Vale. “It’s only intermission. We still have the second half of the show. And after . . .”
Lexie snorted, and Leola sighed heavily and blew a puff of air into her bangs.
“What happens after?”
Mel rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Nothing you need to worry about tonight. Get some sleep. Tomorrow we’ll teach you the ropes.”
“Oh, I’m from a caravan. Shouldn’t be a problem.”
All three of them burst into laughter.
“Oh, la,” Mel said. “You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.”
9
Falling asleep was all but impossible, thanks to the whoops and catcalls and clapping and stomping and music, always music, beneath the floor. That was one thing I’d taken for granted about caravan life: for the most part, it was quiet and allowed for privacy. After the last round of applause and demands for an encore died away in the theater below, I enjoyed a brief period of soft murmurings and shufflings as the house cleared out. And then silence. I waited for the girls to thunder upstairs again, but they didn’t. Only a few tired footsteps and gently closing doors broke the calm. I was on the verge of sleep then, but I did note that there should have been more of them, and I wondered where the others were. It bothered me but not enough to keep me awake.
It had been a long, long day, as if an entire week had passed since I’d stepped out the door of the inn in Callais, giggling and whispering with Cherie, Mademoiselle Caprice’s silvers heavy in my pocket. Now all I had there were a few francs and a bludbunny foot that had proven far from lucky. Funny how I had skipped the city of Ruin only to find true ruin. My outfit was destroyed, most of my money long gone. The only thing I had in excess were hairbobs, mine and Cherie’s.
When I woke up the next morning to the sound of a woman’s harsh, nasal cawing, I was clutching the bedraggled feathers of Cherie’s fascinator in my hand as if it had been my friend’s fingers. My dreams had been only of smoke.
“Vite! Vite! Vite! Wake up, my little hens. It is time.”
My door flew open, and I sat up blearily. The daimon staring at me from the hallway was a stranger, but that didn’t stop her from rushing across the room and dumping me out of the bed onto the dusty floor. She hadn’t very far to go, after all.
“Oh, so zis is the little tame Bludman I hear so much about, eh? Ze Demitasse? Looks like ze cup is half empty this morning. Vite, now! Hurry! The sun is up, and so will you be!”
I was too sleepy still to bother hissing and simply stared at her as if she had three eyes, mainly because she did. Of course, the third one was painted on her forehead in what would have been an Egyptian style on Earth. She wore a cobra headdress and golden robes and sandals. Her skin was the molten gold of sand in the sunset, and she was long-limbed and unnaturally skinny. She leaned down to slap me across the cheek but gently. I bit my lip to hold in a growl.
“Now,” she said firmly. “Or you’re out on the streets.”
I could only nod.
She flapped out the door like a crane that had crashed through a costume shop, and I stood, still a little sore from my time on horseback. Funny, how I could contort my body into all sorts of unnatural positions but could barely walk after a few hours of riding behind Vale. I closed the door and dressed quickly without benefit of the ewer of water that seemed the bare minimum for bathing in Sang. Yesterday’s clothes were now dirt-infused rags that needed to be boiled in lye, but I couldn’t very well go out in the cobweb-thin nightgown I’d been given. With no mirror, I could only pat my hair and hope there was a dressing room somewhere below so that I wouldn’t seem an utter mess to my new coworkers.