Belle Morte Bites (Belle Morte 4.3)

A Meeting at the Marquee: Part Four

England, 1971

The rain sounded like gunshots on the roof of the small B&B.

Ysanne sat on the foot of the bed she shared with Isabeau. Isabeau stood by the window, looking out at the grey sheets of rain.

The mood was tense.

"Things have changed, haven't they?" Ysanne said at last, unable to bear the silence anymore.

Outside their room, old floorboards creaked as another guest walked past, and Isabeau shot the door an irritated look.

It had been two years since they'd left London. They were getting noticed, and whenever that happened, it was time to move on. Every vampire knew that – Isabeau included – and it certainly wasn't the first time either of them had had to pull up roots and move on, but Isabeau was taking it particularly hard this time.

She had loved London, and Ysanne would have done anything to make it so that Isabeau could stay. But some things were beyond even Ysanne Moreau.

They hadn't moved anywhere permanently, instead falling back into the way of life that was so familiar to vampires – travelling around the country with no real sense of direction.

Once, Ysanne suspected that Isabeau would have been fine with this.

Now she wasn't.

The world had changed again. The musical revolution, sexual freedom, and fabulous fashions of the 60s had given way to strikes and economical turmoil and the grim sense that the decadent, hedonistic atmosphere of the previous decade was over at last.

"Isabeau, say something," Ysanne said.

They'd been staying in the B&B for a week, and even though the bed they shared was small, it felt like there was a great chasm between them every time they went to sleep.

"What do you want me to say?" said Isabeau dully, turning back to the window.

"Tell me what you're thinking."

"I think you're mad. How can you look at the world and think it's time for vampires to reveal ourselves? As women, we're not even allowed in a Wimpy Bar by ourselves after midnight. As queer people, we're still facing brutalisation by the police, and discrimination in all other areas of life. You and I are nowhere near close to enjoying equal rights with straight human men, and you seriously think that the world is ready to know about vampires?"

"When we first met, you asked if I thought vampires would ever be able to freely walk among humans, and I said yes. You've always known I believe this," Ysanne reminded her.

"But not now!" Isabeau exclaimed, whirling around.

"Isabeau, I'm not suggesting that we immediately out ourselves. All I'm asking is that we discuss it."

"What is there to discuss?" Isabeau snapped. "You're the one who warned me that I still needed to be careful when we were partying in London. Have you forgotten that?"

"No," Ysanne said. "But I think things have changed since then."

"They have, and not for the better." Isabeau slumped against the wall, hugging herself. "I thought the 60s had opened up a brighter future for everyone, but it was just a dream, wasn't it?"

"Nothing lasts forever," Ysanne said.

Isabeau made a disgusted noise.

Irritation sparked. "You seem to be blaming me for this. I have no control over how the world turns."

"I'm not blaming you."

"But you are. Ma belle, you haven't been the same since we left London, and I'm tired of pretending otherwise. When I first met you, you saw the world as something beautiful. You helped me to see it that way. And now?" Ysanne spread her hands. "You're angry, and maybe you don't mean to take it out on me, but that's what you're doing."