Drink, Slay, Love

Chapter Twenty Nine

On Jadrien's arm, Pearl walked down the stairs. Even intensive scrubbing hadn't scoured away all hints of the mildew scent. The walls stank of centuries-old dust-or maybe that was the stench of the guests.

As she reached the bottom steps, she saw them: one hundred vampires drifting, slinking, and sliding through the cellar with silent grace. No footsteps, no sighs, no rustles, no spare sounds at all. She heard only the murmur of voices.

Around the vampires, a thousand crystals danced in the light of the electric sconces that Mother had installed. Each bulb imitated a candle-like flame, waving with amber light and casting shadows that wove and writhed on the cellar walls. Swaths of black satin were draped over the beams in the ceiling, a tasteful echo of the tacky glitter lace upstairs. Tiny Christmas lights twinkled from within the satin. The floor had been cleaned and polished so it was as sharp and clear as obsidian. Pearl stepped lightly off the last step. The air nearly crackled with age and power, and she smelled jasmine and dahlias mixed with the mildew.

Flat and empty eyes fixed on her blue satin dress and painted face. She lifted her chin and adopted her favourite don't-mess-with-me expression. Her fingers rested lightly on Jadrien's sleeve. As her escort, he guided her across the cellar to her Family, who flanked the empty dais-the king had not yet arrived, which was a relief. Her back still remembered the feel of Minerva's flail. His Majesty, she'd been warned, would not be so gentle with latecomers.

Jadrien bowed to Mother and Daddy and then retreated to join his Family, several tables removed from the dais, a status that undoubtedly chafed at Jadrien. Cousin Antoinette lingered to speak softly with him, while Cousin Shirley darted to the Family table.

Mother raised her eyebrows in a perfect arch at Pearl's dress. Pearl met Mother's eyes and didn't flinch. She might feel guilt over a lot of things, thanks to Evan, but this dress wasn't one of them. If she hadn't seen how good she looked in her own reflection, she would have seen it in Evan's eyes outside the burnt Dairy Hut.

Aunt Rose's mouth was pressed into a thin line. Her nostrils flared, a deliberate expression of her displeasure, since she hadn't breathed in several decades.

Aunt Lianne wore a similar look of distaste. "You wound me," she began.

"I approve," Mother cut in. "She's dressed for her hunt."

"As do I," Daddy chimed in too. "She looks lovely."

Uncle Felix nestled his nose in her hair. "She smells like humans." He inhaled deeply, and Pearl scowled at him until he backed away with hands raised in surrender. "You honour us with your hunt. Tonight will be unique!"

Of all the adjectives that he could have selected, that one was apt. "A night to remember," Pearl said. She swept her gaze across her Family and wondered if she should say something profound. Nothing came to mind. She noticed that Aunt Maria wore black lace roses clustered at her throat. Daddy looked dapper in his cravat and Dracula-esque cape. Mother, of course, was the most elegant, in a shimmering black dress that looked like a reflection of the night sky. But it seemed anticlimactic to compliment their clothes. And anything else would sound suspiciously like good-bye.

Jocelyn said, "I will record lines for posterity. And if the feast is a success, perhaps I'll even compose a poem in your honour, Cousin Pearl."

Shirley clapped her hands. "Ooh! But wait, what if she fails?"

"Then, a eulogy."

Pearl tried to resist an eye roll. Obviously, Jocelyn had coached Shirley to set her up for that punch line.

Uncle Pascha favoured her with a faint smile, the closest she'd ever come to affection from him. "'Thy eternal summer shall not fade, nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st, nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade, when in eternal lines to time thou grow'st.'" Pearl recognized the quote instantly-Evan had quoted part of the same sonnet to her on the day they first met. She wondered if Evan had ever written a poem about her. She should have asked.