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“You’ll have to forgive the mess,” Celeste says as we enter, though it looks immaculately clean and tidy to me. “I don’t often invite people to stay, least of all vampires.”
The thought of what she’d think of the absolute hole I live in makes me mortified. Even the cash she’s placed casually on the dresser to pay me for tonight looks ordinary here, while it would look dirty and suspicious back home.
“It’s perfect, really.”
“How are you healing?” she asks, already lifting the wet fabric of my shirt.
Oh Lord.So close to the surface tonight, the monster in me struggles for dominance at her touch, full of hungry desire. I clear my throat. “Fine, it’s fine. Almost gone, really.”
She runs her thumb over the spidery scar-tissue on my stomach. “That’s quite remarkable, witch blood or not.”
“It is?” The words come out without my permission while I’m too busy staring at her.
“It is.” She lets go of the shirt and takes a strand of my hair in her hand with a frown. “I let you a bath, though I think you should probably wash the river off first.” She gestures towards the bathroom. “You can use anything you need.” Looking like she just remembered something, she adds, “Oh, and the curtains should block out any sunlight.”
“Are you sure me staying here isn’t too much trouble?”
She waves her hand with a frown. “Don’t do that, either. I don’t offer things I’m not actually willing to give.”
I bite my lip as I watch her saunter off towards the door, not sure about the origin of my disappointment.“Thank you!”
Her smile is enigmatic as she looks back through the door. “Good night, kitten.”
***
I lie back in the hot water and sigh, closing my eyes. It feels fantastic to finally be warm. The smell of whatever expensive oils Celeste has put into the bathwater is soothing and makes me feel like I’m at the spa. Amidst my comfort, there's a little bit of disbelief. How did I go from being half-dead in the Myrrh & Adder to being here?
Not that I have any delusions about what this is: a visit to the land of the wealthy, nothing more. None of this is mine to keep and soon enough I’ll be back in the moldy shower of Pavel’s apartment, watching the door because it doesn’t lock.
But there’s something else there, in my melancholy. Yes, these comforts are temporary, but much worse is that this power is also temporary. I think of throwing that lighter, tackling that man to the ground. I did something tonight, even if I’m not sure of the impact I actually had. I was strong. It makes the thought of shaking with hunger and scrambling for blood so much more unbearable.
Licking my lips, I savour the lingering taste of blood in my mouth. That ever-present animal part of me wantsmorewith reckless abandon.Moreblood.Moremoney.More…I think of that drawer at the bottom of Celeste’s closet and then quickly dismiss the thought.
I stay in the bath so long I run the risk of dissolving, trying to savor every minute. Even if I still had my own place, a freestanding bath with copper taps and propped up on little carved griffin feet does not come by every day. I feel like a queen.
And I feel even more like a queen when I get into the bed. For a while, I just roll around, trying out different positions and testing every pillow. But all the comfort does nothing to slow down my heartbeat or the thoughts rushing through my brain. It’s like a vortex, sucking my thoughts downward into the darkness in some kind of hellish spiral: rehashing fights with Casey, remembering myself dead on my apartment floor before my final transformation, losing that very apartment, my night at the Myrrh & Adder… The last has taken on new and ugly proportions in my weeks of work with Charon’s Veil. I’m not sure what Celeste replaced the memory of those guys with but from Alastor’s lewd comments, it sounds very graphic. I’ve been telling myself not to bring it up with Celeste because it’s not a big deal. But it haunts me anyway.
When it comes to my insomnia, I might as well be sleeping back at Pavel’s apartment. I look at the time on my phone: nearly six in the morning. Maybe it’s just too early for me.
After staring at the ceiling for a while I get up and stick my head out of the door. The light above the stairs is still on. I tiptoe out into the hall, peering over at Celeste’s bedroom door. It’s open, the lights off.She must still be awake.
Slowly, I make my way down the stairs, instinctively avoiding the squakiest of the steps. Quiet music spills out from the living room, the door to which stands open just a crack. Celeste is sitting on a chaise lounge by the fire –I guess regular chairs are for peasants– and reading. On the side table next to her sits a glass of wine, half-drunk with lipstick on the rim.Alright,I think awkwardly.I’m just not going to bother her.
Before I can begin my retreat, she says without looking up, “Can’t sleep?”
I sigh. Of course, she has some witchy sixth sense to know I’m here. Slipping into the room, I say, “No but I never can.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“You're not asleep, either.”
Her smile looks pained. “No.”
My eyes slip to an ashtray on the coffee table, cold stumps of Ghostshade sitting in it. The Centaur tribes who first cultivated the plant named it ‘Plant of the Untethered’ after the effect they perceived it had on a person’s soul– the way it detached from their body. I once saw a documentary on how they used it for minor surgeries because though people could still feel pain, they no longer cared. The affairs of the body become irrelevant when you’re high on it – making it possible to bear hunger, pain, and sleeplessness to the point of collapse.
“Sit.” Celeste gestures to one of the chairs. “Wine?”
I shake my head, though I'm mildly flattered to be mistaken for the kind of person who drinks wine. “No, thanks.”
