Chapter 14 #3
‘Actually,’ Ah Lang says, ‘you told all the ministers who came to speak with you that they were beneath you, and that we should “learn to see true superiority and grace” as exemplified by your person.’
Marianne actually gasps at this – and stares at her brother. It’s only when Mémère raps smartly on the arm of her chair that she translates.
‘I never . . .’
‘I remember quite clearly you saying I was a bridé chinetoque mangeur de chien.’
I didn’t know Ah Lang knew any French, and the way Marianne exhales, her face twisted with disbelief, means she understood what he said. But she doesn’t translate.
Mémère clearly understands too, for she stares at her grandson with open-mouthed horror. ‘Dis-moi que ce n’est pas vrai.’ The words are barely a croak.
Only Gigi and I have no idea what he said, but from everyone’s reactions, it’s nothing good.
Maximilien’s gaze darts from face to face and he is momentarily shamed into silence.
‘He’s lying,’ Maximilien finally splutters. Marianne translates, leaning away from her brother as if he’s something vile and nasty.
Ah Lang laughs. The sound is devoid of humour.
‘As I understand it, vampires have preternatural senses. You can smell if I’m lying, no?
’ He waits until Mémère acknowledges his point before continuing.
‘I recall very clearly that you tried to bite me when we came to Lord Yun’s defence.
We bundled you back onto a clipper and returned you from whence you came.
’ He inclined his head in Mémère’s direction.
‘Abundant apologies, venerable Mémère, for burdening you with such ugly truths. But to stand any chance of successfully petitioning the Jade Emperor, you should know the whole story.’
After Marianne finishes her translation, there is a long silence. Mémère’s eyes are closed, and her chest rises and falls as if she’s trying to catch her breath. When she opens her eyes again, they are stained with blood.
She makes her way around the silvery lump of dead vampire at her feet, accompanied by the clack of her walking cane and stops before us where she slowly, gracefully, lowers herself to her knees.
I do not miss Maximilien’s gasp, nor the revulsion in his voice.
‘Mémère!’ He follows with a stream of protest. I don’t need to understand to hear the censure in his words.
She turns towards him, regarding him not with chagrin, but a cool detachment.
Shaking his head, he wheedles and whines like a begging child until he seems to accept she will not be moved.
He slumps, falls silent, eyes red, quite pathetic.
I almost feel sorry for him. Almost, but not quite.
She speaks, each word ringing with inexorable command. Maximilien jerks back like he’s been slapped then rushes to her side, stumbling as he goes, before dropping with a thud to his knees. Marianne joins them without a word.
Mémère kowtows, forehead to ground. Stays there until her grandchildren do the same. Maximilien waits until the last moment, his shoulders shaking, but with a defeated slump, he touches his forehead to the ground. Only then does Mémère straighten. She gives Marianne an imperious nod.
‘House Durand begs the noble Celestial deities to contain our abundant apologies,’ Marianne says.
‘House Durand was labouring under a terrible misapprehension. We have been at fault this whole time. We humbly offer ten thousand regrets for any harm to your venerable persons.’ The vampires kowtow again.
I glance at my friends – their expressions are hard, but in that instant something in me shifts, a protectiveness for these people, especially Mémère.
She is family. My grandmother and an elder.
I cannot let her stay on the ground so I hurry over and gently try to pull her up but Mémère will not be moved.
‘Please, get up,’ I say. ‘There’s no need to be so formal.’
‘Jing, they hijacked our train and kidnapped us. Scared us half out of our minds,’ Gigi says. ‘The apology is correct and appropriate.’
The vampires kowtow a third time.
‘House Durand deeply regrets the injuries suffered by her Imperial Highness and her friends. To right this dishonour, my chevalier requested La Grande Morte, offering his immortal life as recompense. If her Imperial Highness does not consider our offering sufficient, all of my chevalier present on the train will submit to La Grande Morte.’
All of them? I glance at the corpse, or what’s left of it – a smallish puddle of silver mist.
‘Gigi, please,’ I manage to say before bile pushes up my throat again; I cover my mouth and retch.
‘There is no need for that,’ Gigi says, her voice impressively even, though I can tell from the wrinkle in her pretty nose that she finds the violence of this punishment distasteful. ‘Please, rise. That’s enough.’
Marianne nods, and Mémère, with a look of satisfaction, stands. Maximilien stands, too, his face twisted. When he looks at me, his grey eyes burn with hate.
‘I do not like your way of getting attention,’ Gigi continues. ‘I am moved by your story and by your kinship with Lady Jing. I shall consider your petition and speak to my father, but I make no promises. His counsel is his own.’