For Phoebe’s twenty-first birthday as a warmblood, her parents had given her a small key-shaped pendant encrusted with tiny diamonds, and a party for a hundred friends. The key was to unlock her future, her mother explained, and Phoebe had worn it every day since. The party, which included a sit-down dinner under a marquee and dancing in the garden, was to launch her into her adult life and give her a memorable day to look back on when she was older.
For Phoebe’s twenty-first day as a vampire, she got another key and a much more intimate dinner celebration.
“It’s a key to your room,” Freyja said when she gave the small brass item to Phoebe.
Like many of the gifts Phoebe had received from vampires thus far, the key was symbolic, a sign of trust rather than a way of ensuring any real privacy in a household where any door could be broken down with a single push.
“Thank you, Freyja,” Phoebe said, pocketing the key.
“Now, when you lock your door, we will know that you wish some time alone and we will not disturb you,” Freyja said, “not even Fran?oise.”
Fran?oise had walked in on Phoebe while she was in the bathtub thinking of Marcus and trying to satisfy one of her more persistent itches. Fran?oise had put down the clean laundry and disappeared from the room without saying a word. Phoebe would prefer to avoid more moments like that one if she could.
“Miriam is waiting for you downstairs in the kitchen,” Freyja said. “Don’t worry. Everything will be completely fine.”
Until that moment, Phoebe had been unconcerned about whatever her maker had planned for her twenty-first, but the combination of Freyja’s words and the location of their meeting suggested this was no ordinary present.
Her first glimpse of Miriam’s gift confirmed Phoebe’s suspicions.
Sitting by the chopping block, a glass of champagne before her, was a middle-aged Caucasian woman. Miriam was with her.
They were talking about E. coli.
“Vegetables. I wouldn’t have thought they were the culprit,” the woman said, reaching for a carrot.
“I know. The cases in Bordeaux came from contaminated sprouts,” Miriam said.
“Exciting times for epidemiologists,” the woman replied. “Shiga toxins in an EAEC strain. Who would have imagined it?”
“Come in, Phoebe, and meet Sonia,” Miriam said, pouring another glass of champagne and offering it to her. “She’s a colleague at the World Health Organization. Sonia is joining you for dinner.”
“Hello, Phoebe. I’ve heard so much about you.” Sonia smiled and took a sip of her champagne.
Phoebe looked from Sonia to Miriam and back to Sonia again. Her mouth was as dry as dust.
“Sonia and I have known each other for more than twenty years,” Miriam said.
“Twenty-three, to be exact,” Sonia replied. “In Geneva, remember? Daniel introduced us.”
Sonia was old enough to be Phoebe’s mother.
“I’d forgotten you’ve been with him so long,” Miriam said. She turned to Phoebe. “Daniel Fischer is a Swiss vampire, and a very good chemist.”
“He put me through graduate school,” Sonia said, “in exchange for feeding him.”
“Oh.” Phoebe didn’t know where to look. Her wine? Sonia? Miriam? The floor?
“There’s no need to feel awkward. This is all quite normal—at least for me,” Sonia said. “Miriam tells me I’m your first.”
Phoebe nodded, unable to speak.
“Well, I’m ready when you are.” Sonia put her glass down and rolled up her sleeve. “The anticipation is worse than the doing of it. Or so I’m told. Once you latch on and get your first taste, it will be instinctive.”
“I’m not hungry.” Phoebe turned to go.
“That’s no way to treat your guest.” Miriam barred her way. She gave Phoebe a stern look.
Phoebe turned back to Sonia. She could smell the woman’s blood pulsing warmly through her veins, but it wasn’t the least bit appealing. Still, she would try. If she couldn’t manage it, she would try another time. She waited for Miriam to leave.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Miriam said. “You will not become one of those vampires who drinks alone, bolting down your food, ashamed to be seen. That’s how problems start.”
“You’re not going to—watch?” Phoebe was horrified.
“Not closely. There’s nothing much to see, is there? But I am going to stay here with Sonia until you’re finished having dinner,” Miriam said. “Feeding is a normal part of vampire life. Besides, you’ve never done this before. We don’t want there to be any accidents.”
Phoebe had managed to feed off Persephone without any mishaps, but there was no telling what might happen once she was exposed to the richer blood of a human.
“Fine.” Phoebe just wanted to get it over with.
As soon as she got near Sonia, however, her composure dissolved. First, the scent and sound of Sonia’s blood was distracting. Second, Phoebe could not imagine how the act could take place, logistically. Sonia was sitting on a tall stool. Phoebe would have to stoop to take the woman’s bared elbow into her mouth. Was Sonia supposed to stand? Or was Phoebe supposed to sit? Or was some other arrangement of limbs advantageous?
“Reclining is easiest,” Miriam said, following her unspoken train of thought, “but not always desirable, nor practical. Traditionally, the vampire knelt. It was considered a sign of respect, as well as gratitude, to the one who gave them nourishment.”
It wouldn’t be the first time Phoebe had knelt as a vampire. Something told her it wouldn’t be her last, either. Before her knees could hit the floor, however, Miriam had kicked a low, square stool out from underneath the counter. Fran?oise used it to reach items on high shelves. Apparently, that was not its only use in a vampire’s kitchen.
Once she had knelt down, Phoebe was at the ideal height to take blood from the soft skin inside Sonia’s elbow. Blue veins were close to the surface. Phoebe’s mouth watered.
Sonia rested one hand, palm up, on her knee. She picked up her champagne with the other.
“Did you hear the latest about Christophe?” Sonia asked Miriam.
The adults were going to continue their conversation while she ate. Feeling like a toddler on her low stool, Phoebe waited for some gesture of permission—an acknowledgment of what she was about to do.
It didn’t come.
“He’s taken up with Jette—again!” Sonia took a sip of her wine. “Can you imagine?”
“No!” Miriam sounded shocked. “But she sold his house while he was away on business. That’s not the kind of thing a vampire forgets—or forgives.”
Phoebe could hear Sonia’s maddening pulse and smell the tang of minerals in her blood. She could wait no longer.
“Thank you,” she whispered before closing her eyes.
She lowered her mouth and blindly bit down. Phoebe’s sharp teeth cut into Sonia’s skin, releasing the fluid of life into her mouth.
Phoebe moaned, the taste intensely pleasurable. This was nothing like sipping blood and wine from a glass. Feeding straight from the vein was intoxicating. She sucked as gently as she could, but the pull was insistent. Someone would surely stop her before she’d had too much.
“And his possessions, too,” Sonia said. “Perhaps Phoebe could help him reclaim some of what he’s lost. Baldwin told Daniel she is quite good.”
Normally the prospect of dealing in fine art would have had her complete attention, but Phoebe could think only of feeding.
“I’ll give Christophe a call. It would give Phoebe something to do until her ninety days are up,” Miriam said, as though Phoebe were not there.
“Poor thing. It’s a long time to wait. Daniel was shocked that you were being so traditional. It’s not like Marcus to take the old-fashioned route.” Sonia laughed.
Phoebe’s skin prickled and her hackles rose. What right did Sonia have to second-guess their plans?
“It was Phoebe’s decision,” Miriam said. “Ysabeau had a lot to do with it, of course.”