Fangs of a Butterfly

CHAPTER 39

Maybe a week passed before Laurel appeared in my room one night, ghostly with her candle, not turning up the lights as to wake Lark.

"What?" I asked, sitting up immediately. I was guessing she came on Veronique's orders, and I was right.

"Veronique and I would like to have a discussion with you about your future prospects."

"Sure," I muttered. I checked Lark was sound asleep before I snuck away.

As I walked down, heavy feeling in chest, I already knew it would be about Uriel. The only one who I ever 'loved'. Uriel, who I loved but have never touched in an impure way.

Downstairs the lights were all off but Veronique's drawing room. Inside she sat on the couch with her hand quilted covers and pillows. It was a pretty world, I thought, nothing like Elsie's place. Veronique poured me tea, real tea, from a floral teapot with a border of leaves. I inhaled in the scent of herbs and flowers this time.

"You've met your mother," Veronique said slowly when I sat across from her.

"Yes."

"How was she? Did she wish to live with you?"

"She wasn't my mother."

"Pardon?" Veronique paused as she went to pick up her cup. I took mine and drank, but the taste wasn't appealing to our tongue. It was like water with some bitterness. I added some sugar cubes, using the metal tongs carefully.

"Excusez moi?" she repeated herself.

"You're excused. I simply realized she wasn't my mother, so I don't need to find a mother anymore. Agnes, Edith, or her. I'm done with this."

"So have you thought of what you'd like to do now? Talk to the remaining vampires in Jardin? Escape with them, maybe?"

"Not really," I said flatly. "I'll stay with Cecile."

"I didn't want to spoil the news, but she's been afraid to tell anyone but Gregoire and I as of now that she's actually with child."

I dropped a cube and it fell onto the table. Only one side of it collapsed, breaking off into smaller pieces of sugar until it was eventually fine grain. It was like a house collapsing.

I was suddenly in the tower again as people rushed around me.

"...is with child!"

"She's bearing a girl?"

"I hope it's a girl..."

"Oh, wonderful news!"

And then I saw the faces of Lorelei, Elsie, and me. Our grimaces, so similar to one another's.

"Marie? Margery? Margery—"

"I heard." I dropped the tongs and picked the remaining cube of sugar with my hands.

Despite Veronique's protests I dropped it into my tea and the gentle splash made me think of Edith's hands being cut, finger by finger, until all there was were ten sausages on the dock.

I held my hand to my mouth and this time I vomited, only liquid, but Laurel was quick to guide me towards a pot in the room, and I vomited there. Burp after burp I felt more sick and I wanted to cleanse my insides, all the blood I drank from those men, all my memories of the tower and clan and that woman.

Veronique and Laurel's soft whispers reached my ears as Laurel laid me to the couch to rest. Sobbing, I imagined Cecile bearing a child and wished I could've been born to a loving mother like her, even to a loving father like Gregoire—parents who loved me. Parents who wanted me.