T
Tegan
Guest
Sophie frowned at the sight of Astrid drinking by herself in a lounge chair at the edge of the lobby.
There were seven of them, wards of the Royal Opera House, groomed to entertain North London. Astrid had no idea what strings her sponsor had pulled to ensure her a place in the chorus. Her presence in the Company was an abnormality.
In the darkness of their shared room was where they unveiled their cherished fears in hushed tones, always keeping one ear trained on the door, should Madame Swann come skulking by. Sophie let slip that a well-dressed man had heard her singing for food in the streets. He plucked her up without a word and took her to the Opera House. She was eight years old.
"Come on, dance with us for once," her eyes were heavy-lidded, almost dreamy, her breath smelled of Carmot. Something stirred at the edge of her memory. She had heard it somewhere before.
"Whose eye are you trying to catch Sophie?" Astrid allowed herself to be led through the crowd.
The two girls brushed past George in their hurry, the redhead, the one in blue, gave him a small wave of apology, leaving the scent of poppies in her wake before she was pulled into the larger section of the lobby. There, a band played and the Spouses and performers danced together.
She imagined she was dancing among a twirling promenade of bejeweled pastries. She envisioned the vampire lords biting into them, their wounds oozing strawberry jam.
Astrid shook her head, freeing her brain of the cogitative champagne bubbles. She needed a new plan. Getting into one of the Factories was proving too difficult. They had come close to catching her the other night.
She spotted the familiar figure of the captain conversing with the Judge at the edge of the dance floor. She'd lost sight of Sophie in the decadent swirl. She was dancing close to a young man in red.
"Is this all right?"
"He wants me to dance with the others," he whispered, his dark eyes flashing petulantly.
Her movements were an unfamiliar, clumsy imitation of theirs. She exerted too much life into her limbs, so that they moved without grace. Her face was flushed. Her eyes had narrowed with laughter. She seemed more concerned with enjoying the dance than performing the steps correctly.
She knew she would have to charm and seduce the Norlon Angels if she was ever going to get inside the Factories. She'd spent the last month observing, learning the rules of this strange game between the humans and the vampires, so that she would know how to artfully break them. They were opulent, perfect to the point of vulgarity. The Angels would pardon any sin except the sin of dullness. Like children, they only wished to be amused, intrigued, delighted. And she would give it to them.
Her clear eyes drank in the brief glimpse of the Captain helping the Judge drink from a flute.
Astrid was surprised by Sophie, suddenly before her again, taking her by the hands and spinning her. Above them, the massive clock struck midnight.
"Happy Birthday." She was twenty years old, now. How did she know?
By the grin on Sophie's face, the knots forming in her stomach, the way she kept spinning faster and faster. . .
It was time for Astrid Mercier to make her debut.
Her shoe slipped from her foot and sent her flying.
By the shape of the O Sophie's mouth had formed.
By the sound of a few muffled gasps.
Astrid knew her trajectory had been accurate. She was falling straight for the Judge.
She was not surprised when the captain quickly filled the space between them, catching her firmly by the shoulders. But it did not stop the startled gasp that escaped her lips.
There were seven of them, wards of the Royal Opera House, groomed to entertain North London. Astrid had no idea what strings her sponsor had pulled to ensure her a place in the chorus. Her presence in the Company was an abnormality.
In the darkness of their shared room was where they unveiled their cherished fears in hushed tones, always keeping one ear trained on the door, should Madame Swann come skulking by. Sophie let slip that a well-dressed man had heard her singing for food in the streets. He plucked her up without a word and took her to the Opera House. She was eight years old.
"Come on, dance with us for once," her eyes were heavy-lidded, almost dreamy, her breath smelled of Carmot. Something stirred at the edge of her memory. She had heard it somewhere before.
"Whose eye are you trying to catch Sophie?" Astrid allowed herself to be led through the crowd.
The two girls brushed past George in their hurry, the redhead, the one in blue, gave him a small wave of apology, leaving the scent of poppies in her wake before she was pulled into the larger section of the lobby. There, a band played and the Spouses and performers danced together.
She imagined she was dancing among a twirling promenade of bejeweled pastries. She envisioned the vampire lords biting into them, their wounds oozing strawberry jam.
Astrid shook her head, freeing her brain of the cogitative champagne bubbles. She needed a new plan. Getting into one of the Factories was proving too difficult. They had come close to catching her the other night.
She spotted the familiar figure of the captain conversing with the Judge at the edge of the dance floor. She'd lost sight of Sophie in the decadent swirl. She was dancing close to a young man in red.
"Is this all right?"
"He wants me to dance with the others," he whispered, his dark eyes flashing petulantly.
Her movements were an unfamiliar, clumsy imitation of theirs. She exerted too much life into her limbs, so that they moved without grace. Her face was flushed. Her eyes had narrowed with laughter. She seemed more concerned with enjoying the dance than performing the steps correctly.
She knew she would have to charm and seduce the Norlon Angels if she was ever going to get inside the Factories. She'd spent the last month observing, learning the rules of this strange game between the humans and the vampires, so that she would know how to artfully break them. They were opulent, perfect to the point of vulgarity. The Angels would pardon any sin except the sin of dullness. Like children, they only wished to be amused, intrigued, delighted. And she would give it to them.
Her clear eyes drank in the brief glimpse of the Captain helping the Judge drink from a flute.
Astrid was surprised by Sophie, suddenly before her again, taking her by the hands and spinning her. Above them, the massive clock struck midnight.
"Happy Birthday." She was twenty years old, now. How did she know?
By the grin on Sophie's face, the knots forming in her stomach, the way she kept spinning faster and faster. . .
It was time for Astrid Mercier to make her debut.
Her shoe slipped from her foot and sent her flying.
By the shape of the O Sophie's mouth had formed.
By the sound of a few muffled gasps.
Astrid knew her trajectory had been accurate. She was falling straight for the Judge.
She was not surprised when the captain quickly filled the space between them, catching her firmly by the shoulders. But it did not stop the startled gasp that escaped her lips.