Chapter 32
Thirty-Two
The Deal
The chevalier heaves the Dagda over her shoulder and mists away with Mémère. The others head back to Maison Loo, their eyes full of questions.
Marianne mists us into a low-ceilinged stone chamber, small enough to be lit by a single lantern’s anaemic light. On a thick stone slab in the centre of the room lies Tony. He’s shirtless, shivering violently and glistening with sweat, his ragged breathing loud in this tomb-like space.
I drop to my knees and press a hand to his clammy cheek. ‘He’s burning up. We have to get him to a hospital.’
Marianne doesn’t move. ‘He has sangue poisoning, Jing.’
Sangue poisoning. I remember Marianne saying it was caused by overexposure to pathogens in vampire saliva. But that doesn’t make sense.
‘There must be a mistake. I’ve never fed from Tony. Today was the first time I’ve ever fed from a mortal.’
‘I’m so sorry, Jing. I didn’t know – I never thought he would stoop so low—’
He? ‘What are you saying?’
She exhales, unsteadily. ‘We are extremely vigilant when it comes to the health of our pursuivants. When Mémère saw how unwell Tony had become over the course of the evening, she called her chevalier to check him over, as per safety protocols. Symptoms are similar to the flu and come on quickly – headache, fatigue, fever. But there is also a telltale smell, a sweet rotting scent, unique to le douleur. Tony had them all. We had no choice but to enact our quarantine protocols. There was no time to explain. Our doctors examined Tony again to be certain, which delayed our return. They identified the scent marker of the vampire responsible. Max has been secretly feeding from Tony without our knowledge.’
‘Max? But why? Tony has done nothing to him.’
‘We don’t know. The chevaliers are searching for Max to question him. I’ve known Max a long time. He is petty and selfish. My guess is he was angry with you and decided to hurt someone you cared about.’
Marianne’s admission lands on my chest with the weight of a mountain, dislodging the rest of Marianne’s description from my memory: Highly contagious . . . any mortal showing symptoms is immediately culled.
I huddle protectively over Tony. ‘Mémère swore my friends would be safe and unharmed.’
Tony groans under me. His eyes flutter, then open. I cradle his face, but at my touch he recoils, tumbles off the stone slab.
‘Be careful!’ I reach out, meaning to help him, but the terror in his gaze freezes me in place.
‘Tony?’ I say uncertainly.
He shakes his head, as if trying to clear out cobwebs. Like before, it takes him a moment to recognise me. ‘Jing?’ He grabs my hand. ‘Where are we?’
‘In the catacombs,’ Marianne answers.
Tony swings his head towards her voice like a blind animal. ‘What have you done to me?’ he growls.
He grips my hand so tight his knuckles are white. ‘Don’t let go, Jing.’ There’s a desperate edge to his voice. He turns his head towards me, but his gaze is cloudy and unfocused. ‘I can’t see.’
‘What’s wrong with his eyes?’ I ask.
‘His organs are giving out. First his sight will go, then his mind. He won’t be lucid for much longer.’ She gentles her voice. ‘We have a duty to all those living under our protection. We have to let Tony go; there is no other way.’
Mist sparkles in the low light; Mémère appears beside Marianne. I glower at the both of them. Tony needs a hospital, not this dank stone cell. But we’re trapped; the only way in or out of this room is by mist. The best I can do is move us so the wall is at our back.
Tony leans against me, lifts a hand to my face. His fingers are scalding hot against my cheek. ‘Jing, don’t cry.’ His eyes roll back and he slumps in my arms.
‘Tony!’ I shake him. ‘Please, wake up.’
His eyes flutter, slowly open.
Relief courses through me. ‘Stay with me, okay?’
But this time, Tony cowers at my voice. ‘What’s happening? Who are you?’
His fear and confusion cracks my chest wide open, shredding my heart raw.
‘No, no, no. Tony, it’s me, Jing.’
He pushes at me, trying to get away, getting more and more hysterical until he curls in on himself, whimpering.
Rage fills me. ‘You will not touch him.’ The words are a low growl.
‘There is no other way, Jing,’ Marianne says. ‘This sickness cannot spread.’
Mémère puts a hand on Marianne’s arm, murmuring low.
Marianne says, ‘Mémère will release his soul herself. He won’t feel any pain. She is quick and exact.’
‘I won’t let you kill him.’
Marianne translates. I see the moment Mémère understands because her gaze hardens with resolve and the air around her shimmers.
‘Wait!’ I bark. ‘If you take his life, you forsake mine.’ I hold Tony even tighter. His every cry and whimper slices my heart.
Marianne translates. The mist dissipates; Mémère stays where she is, for now. My mind races, searching for options, and finding only one. The question is, will it work?
‘Do you understand how many will suffer if we spare him?’ Marianne says. ‘It is too dangerous!’
‘The sickness only affects mortals, is that right?’
The question makes Marianne frown but she nods nonetheless.
‘If he became vampire, would it restore his health?’
Marianne’s eyes widen as she understands where I’m going with my questions. Her expression turns hard. ‘There is a chance it might. But even so, we cannot allow it.’
A chance. That’s all I want. ‘Then gift him benesangue. Make him vampire.’
When Mémère hears my request, there’s no hesitation in her answer. ‘Non.’
Her definitive tone, as if the matter were settled, only sharpens my resolve. Bullhead taught me that in battle, as in life, to overcome our adversaries we must know them as well as ourselves – a lesson from Master Sun’s Military Methods which has served me well over many a kanhoo game.
My goal, and my weakness, is to save Tony from death.
House Durand’s goals are many: they wish to keep their people safe from le douleur; they wish to find my father; as the last vampire in flesh of House Durand, Mémère’s living link to her son, they wish for me to remain part of their family.
I’m an intrinsic part of their goals, as well as their main weakness.
On balance, they have much more to lose.
I lift my chin and play the only card I have.
‘If you take Tony from me, I will never forgive you. I will abjure our blood ties. House Durand will become my sworn enemy and I will dedicate every waking minute of my immortal existence to destroying every member of House Durand, starting with Maximilien.’
Marianne stares open-mouthed at my declaration.
‘Translate!’ I hiss.
She flinches, then does as I command. As Marianne translates, the steel in Mémère’s eyes fades to chagrin then widens into horror. Her lips quiver. She tries to speak but I cut her off.
‘If you don’t help me save Tony, I will ensure no vampire ever sets foot in Tian and you will never discover what happened to Romain de Durand.’
‘How can you be so cruel?’ Marianne whispers. ‘He was your father, too.’
‘Romain is my father in name. I never knew him. But Tony Lee? Tony is my life. If you take him from me, I will burn the world, even if I have to burn with it.’
This time, when Marianne relays my words, Mémère finally understands they are as trapped as I am.
Mémère speaks, a low murmur in counterpoint to Marianne’s trill as she translates. ‘Benesangue does not suit everyone. We choose the recipients carefully. They must be in good health—’
‘I DON’T CARE!’
Marianne ignores my outburst. ‘Some see it as a curse. Some go mad. Tony is already weak and his mind addled with sickness. The benesangue may not take.’
‘Then I am no worse off than I am now.’
For the first time, being regarded with pity doesn’t bother me. I lift my chin, determined.
‘If the benesangue takes, are you certain your Tony wants such a gift?’
I hesitate. I never want to be one of them. My heart feels like a stone in my chest as I kneel beside him, knowing I ought to let him go.
Tony’s breathing is dangerously shallow.
I watch his chest rise and fall. Listen to his heart stutter.
Inhale his scent, the snow and watermelon aroma I love so much.
A sob tears through my throat and I realise I can’t do it.
I can’t let him die. I’d rather him alive, hating me, than not knowing me at all after drinking Madame Meng’s tea of oblivion.
‘It doesn’t matter. Make him vampire.’
Mémère and Marianne speak in quick bursts. Finally, they fall silent.
‘Romain was the last vampire in flesh to gift benesangue. You are the only one now who can make Tony vampire.’
‘But I don’t know how.’
‘Between his sickness and your genetics, we don’t know how the gift will affect him. If you are willing to take this risk, Mémère will guide you, on one condition.’
‘What condition?’
‘You will move to Paris and live with us so you may understand what it is to be vampire. What it is to wield such a gift.’
Gigi asked me at the start of this trip if I would ever move to Paris.
I don’t want to leave Big Wang, Gigi, Old Zao, Bullhead, even Horsey.
I don’t want to miss my visits with Madame Meng, or my beloved pixiu.
A sudden selfishness seizes me. I’ve only just started to appreciate all the good things in my life. I don’t want to give them up—
‘His heart is giving out, Jing,’ Marianne says. There’s no reproof in her tone. ‘Make your decision. Help us help you.’
Tears drip from my chin as I listen to Tony’s fading pulse. Even his laboured gasps have grown quiet. Madame Meng, give me strength.
‘Tell me what to do.’