Suzanne McLeod - The Bitter Seed of Magic

Suddenly three of them split off and headed for me, their pale grey costumes streaking behind them like delicate wings blown by the wind. I recognised their black-and-white Pierrot faces: they were some of the Moth-girls from the blood-house where Darius used to live. I had a moment to brace myself before all three threw themselves at me, flattening me against the wall, thin arms wrapping around my neck and waist, hands clutching mine, and I was enveloped in a soft mass of rustling silk, satin and lace.

I breathed in the smell of rice-powder mixed with greasepaint as Viola smeared a waxy kiss on my cheek, caught the faint scent of liquorice-scented blood as Rissa’s long white hair trailed across my face, and felt the heat of the 3V infection pouring off Lucy’s arms around my neck. I laughed, squeezing hands and hugging them all, joining in their enthusiastic greeting—

The present disappeared as a memory speared into my heart.

She looked numbly down at her son where he lay cradled in her arms. The midwife had wrapped him in the blue blanket appliquéd with the red and white train. She’d bought it only two days ago, sure then that her superstitions were unfounded and nothing would go wrong. She touched his tiny, perfect hand … but unlike all those excited day-dreams she’d had, his little fingers didn’t curl round her own, but stayed limp and lifeless. That’s when she knew he wasn’t there, that he was gone.

I clutched Grace’s gold pentacle, and looked at the three Moth-girls. They were fanned round me in a semi-circle, almost like they were afraid I’d run away if they let me go. Behind them the crowd of excited, over-eager humans were snaking their way through the white zigzag ropes towards the coffin-shaped ticket booth. A large raven perched on top of the booth watching me. As I looked, it gave a loud caw, then flapped its wings and flew over the oblivious queue and out through the club’s open doors, disappearing into the night sky.

I turned back to the Moths.

I knew the heart-wrenching memory of the stillborn baby belonged to one of them, just as I knew it was the Morrígan’s bitter-tasting magic that had drawn the memory out for me to see. But I didn’t know which of the girls had lost their child, and none of the three appeared to know she’d shared the painful memory with me. I also didn’t know what, if anything, I was supposed to do about it.

‘You’re crying,’ Viola whispered as she slipped her thin arms back round my waist and squeezed. ‘Are you all right?’

I nodded, swiped at the tears and the sorrow from the memory dispelled.

‘Good,’ she said, then pouted prettily. ‘Wow, we haven’t seen you in ages and ages and ages. We’ve missed you so much, Genny.’

‘Yes, we’re so pleased to see you again,’ Lucy said, twining her fingers through mine.

‘’ave you come to see our Darius?’ Rissa swiped a tissue along my cheek. ‘Lipstick.’ She puckered up her own purple-painted mouth, then said, ‘It ’ain’t bin the same since ’e went and got the job ’ere and you not come any more.’

I smiled apologetically, realising I’d missed them too. ‘Sorry, girls. I’ve been coming here, and without Darius, well, you know …’ I trailed off, and we all stood and looked at each other awkwardly. I hadn’t really thought they’d want me visiting—after all, they’d been Darius’ little volunteer harem, as well as his breakfast, lunch and dinner most nights. And while we’d all had fun when I was there, I’d sort-of thought it was more because they’d put up with me as Darius’ blood benefactor than anything more.

‘Yeah, well, it’s not the same without him there, but you still could’ve come, you know.’ Viola squeezed my waist again. ‘We really, really do miss you .’

‘Right,’ I managed to say past the tightness in my throat. Tears pricked my eyes and I blinked them away. ‘Well, I really miss you all too.’ I smiled. ‘So I’ll come and see you on your next night off, okay?’

‘Yay!’ Lucy waved her arms in the air.

‘Good.’ Rissa sniffed as she smiled. ‘Then you will pay up for your poker debt.’

‘Ah, now I see it.’ I laughed. ‘You just want me back ’cos I’m crap at cards.’

‘Well, that is another reason,’ Lucy teased. ‘Oh, it is wonderful to see you again.’

‘Hey, you too, girls.’ I looked around, suddenly aware that someone was missing. Dread constricted my chest. ‘Where’s Yana? She’s okay, isn’t she?’

‘She’s fine.’ Lucy clapped her hands. ‘She’s got herself a sponsor .’

‘Really?’ I said, surprised.

Lucy nodded. ‘It’s true. Francine. She’s Golden Blade blood. They’ve been sweet on each other for a while, but the old hag Elizabetta didn’t approve. Francine was there when you visited; she used to wait in the rec room at the end of the hallway—long black hair, real sexy-like.’

‘Oh yeah, I remember.’ Francine was a petite black vamp with a liking for red leather. She’d always hung back, watching from the doorway, but she’d never approached me, for obvious reasons; she wanted to keep her head on her shoulders. ‘She okay, this Francine?’ I frowned, still concerned about Yana. The vamps who usually frequented the blood-houses were mostly the ones addicted to necking—the dangerous and highly illegal pastime of biting straight into the carotid artery.

‘She’s a real pussycat,’ Lucy shrieked, ‘and hot ,’ she added fanning herself. ‘But Yana’s all right with her, she’s one of the house standbys.’

The house standbys were powerful vamps who were experts at controlling a human’s heart rate. Without the standbys, the Moths would die the first time anyone necked them, as the blood gushes like a soda fountain, and the standbys make sure the Moths never lose more blood than their bodies can cope with. But even with the standbys a lot of Moths only survive a couple of years at most; their bodies just can’t take the abuse.

If Yana had got herself a sponsor, she might still make it to immortality.

‘Yana will come later,’ Rissa piped up. ‘She and Francine are doing, y’know.’ She crooked her fingers, and mimed fangs next to the half-dozen bite marks down the left side of her neck.

‘Ah.’

‘Francine doesn’t do necks though, does she?’ Viola laughed, and crooked her own fingers down Rissa’s cleavage.

‘Genny doesn’t want to know that!’ Lucy squealed, cheeks turning pink with embarrassment.

‘Nah, Genny doesn’t mind, do you?’ Viola smiled with sly invitation.

‘Save it for Darius,’ I said with a laugh. ‘He’ll appreciate you more than I will.’

She pouted just as Lucy shouted, ‘Hey the booth’s opening.’ She grabbed my hand, and pulled us into the zigzag of white ropes, cheerfully shoving past everyone until we ended up near the front of the queue, about five back from the ticket booth. Our place had been saved by two couples who were evidently Coffin Club devotees, since they were dressed in undertakers’ suits, complete with top hats and funeral wreaths of white roses in their grey-gloved hands. The flowers looked oddly luminous under the UV lights.

‘See them?’ Lucy whispered as she nudged me, following my gaze. ‘Plastic flowers. They paint them with this stuff to make them glow; I seen them do it last week in the loos.’

‘Yeah, we’re thinking of getting some of that stuff for our faces so they glow like our hands,’ Viola said, angling her palm under the lights so her member’s diamond glowed white. ‘Then we’d stand out more.’ She fluffed out her handkerchief-hemmed skirt and pushed up her small breasts under her top. Her skimpy patchwork of grey lace, silk and satin shone in the gloomy interior. ‘We look a bit dingy under these lights, don’t you think, Genny?’ She eyed me slyly.