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He cast his eyes around the room, trying to ignore the din that pounded at his ears, and the overwhelming smells that almost sickened him.
"The women, see, near the far wall," said Marius. "They want to dance. That's why they're here. They're waiting to be asked. Can you do it as you dance?"
"I can," said Thorne almost solemnly, as if to say, Why do you ask me? "But how do I dance?" he asked, watching the couples who crowded the designated floor. He laughed for the first time since he'd ever gone North. He laughed, and in the din he could barely hear his own laughter. "I can drink, yes, without any mortal ever knowing it, even my victim, but how can I dance in this strange way?"
He saw Marius smile broadly. Marius had thrown his cloak back over the chair. He appeared so calm amid this awful unendurable combination of illumination and music.
"What do they do but move about clumsily together?" Thorne asked.
"Do the same," said Marius. "Move slowly as you drink. Let the music and the blood talk to you. "
Thorne laughed again. Suddenly with a wild bit of nerve he rose and made his way around the edges of the crowded dance floor to the women who were already looking eagerly towards him. He chose the dark-haired of the three, because women with dark eyes and dark hair had always fascinated him. Also she was the eldest and least likely to be chosen by a man, and he did not mean to leave her harmed by his interest.
At once she rose, and he held her small limp hands in his and guided her out onto the polished floor, the relentless music suggesting nothing but an easy senseless rhythm, which she took up immediately and awkwardly, her fine delicate shoes clicking on the wood. "Oh, but your hands are cold!" she said.
"I'm so sorry!" he declared. "You must forgive me. I've been in the snow too long. "
Yea gods, he must be careful not to hurt her. What a simple trusting being she was, with her eyes and mouth sloppily painted, and her cheeks rouged, her breasts thrust forward and held in place by tight straps beneath her black silk dress.
Boldly she pressed against him. And he, enfolding her as gently as he could, bent down to sink his tiny fangs most secretively into her neck. Dream, my precious one, dream of beautiful things. I forbid you to be afraid or to remember.
Ah, the blood. After so long, it came, the blood pumped by her urgent little heart, her defenseless little heart! He lost the thread of her swoon and entered his own. He saw his red-haired Maker. And in a hushed moan he actually spoke aloud to the woman in his grip. Give me all. But this was wrong and he knew it.
Quickly he pulled away, only to find that Marius stood beside him with a hand on his shoulder.
As he let the woman go, she looked at him with glossy drowsy eyes, and he turned her in a rapid circle, laughing again, ignoring the course of blood through his veins, ignoring the weakness for more blood that overtook him. On and on they danced, as clumsy as the other couples. But he was so thirsty for more.
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At last she wanted to return to her little table. She was sleepy. She wouldn¡¯t think why. He must forgive her. He bowed and nodded, and he kissed her hand innocently.
Only one woman of the trio remained. Marius was now dancing with the other. Thorne offered his hand to that last of the three women, and vowed that this time he would need no guardian.
She was stronger than her friend. Her eyes were lined in black like an Egyptian, and she wore a deeper red on her lips, and her blond hair was full of silver.
"Are you the man of my dreams?" she asked him, raising her voice boldly over the music. She would have taken him with her upstairs in the inn at this moment.
"Perhaps so," he said, "if you let me kiss you," and caressing her tightly, he sank his teeth quickly into her neck, drinking hard and fast, and then letting her go, watching her drift and smile, cunning, yet sweet, unaware of what had happened to her.
There was no getting much blood from these three. They were too gentle. Round and round he turned her in the dance, wanting desperately to steal another drink but not daring to do it.
He felt the blood pounding inside him, but it wanted more blood. His hands and feet were now painfully cold.
He saw that Marius was seated again at their table and talking to a hulking heavily dressed mortal who sat beside him. Marius had his arm over the creature's shoulder.
Finally Thorne took the pretty woman back to her place. How tenderly she looked at him.
"Don't go," she said. "Can't you stay with me?"
"No, my dearest," he said. He felt the monster in him as he gazed down at her. And backing away, he turned and made his way to Marius.
The music made him wobbly on his feet. How dreary it was, how persistent.
Marius was drinking from the man as the man bent over near him as if listening to whispered secrets. At last Marius released him and righted him in his chair.
"It will take too many here," said Thorne.
His words were inaudible in the din of the electric music but he knew that Marius could hear him.
