Etienne felt his hopes for the evening dissolve into a pang of loneliness.
"What's this?" Rachel asked with suspicion. Lissianna's friend Mirabeau held out a plate containing what looked very like a slice of cake.
"German seven-layer chocolate cake, dear," Marguerite answered.
"Real cake?" Rachel asked. She accepted the plate and murmured a thank-you to Mirabeau.
"Of course." Etienne's mother chuckled. "What were you expecting?"
"I don't know," Rachel admitted with a wry twist of her lips. "Black Forest blood cake?"
Marguerite and the women around her burst into gales of laughter. "Isn't she adorable?" Etienne's mother asked when it died down. Rachel blushed, for there was general agreement voiced.
She'd had a surprisingly good time at the shower so far. Marguerite had taken her to a special salon to purchase a gift for Lissianna, insisting on paying for it herself when Rachel realized that she hadn't brought her purse. Actually, despite Etienne's claim that he'd put it up in the room she was using, she had yet to see it. But then Rachel hadn't really looked; she hadn't needed it for anything since being turned. She had decided she would have to look around when she returned to the house, because she wanted to repay Marguerite right away. The woman had been incredibly sweet, and Rachel didn't want to take advantage of her kindness.
"What woman could live without chocolate?"
Rachel glanced to the speaker--Jeanne Louise, a woman as beautiful in her way as Lissianna and Marguerite, though she looked nothing like them. Her face was rounder, her lips a little thinner, her eyes more exotic and her hair a midnight black. She was a cousin to Lissianna and niece to Marguerite, and while Rachel liked all three women, Jeanne Louise was someone with whom Rachel was pretty sure she could be best friends. The woman worked for Argeneau Industries in their labs, and had regaled her with stories of the work she did. She'd been rather vague until realizing Rachel had no problem following what she was saying; then excited to find someone who had a working knowledge of experimental techniques and jargon, the other woman went into depth, fascinating Rachel with the tests she was performing. It seemed Argeneau Industries was as interested in medical research as anyone else.
The two women had only stopped talking once the games started, which were, much to Rachel's amazement, the usual at wedding showers. At that point, it had all seemed so pedestrian she might have forgotten the guests were vampires. Rachel sat silent for a while, simply noting the different looks and personalities in the room. The guests were all different: short women, tall women, beautiful women, homely women. As for personalities, there were a couple of sophisticated types who seemed to drawl their words and look down their noses; girl-next-door types who were sweet and kind; a few smart-girl types who looked slightly uncomfortable and spoke softly; and there was even a vampy vamp in a skintight black outfit who teased
Lissianna unendingly about the wedding night to come. It was your basic mix, just like your everyday shower.
Forgetting that Marguerite could read her mind, Rachel had been startled when the woman suddenly leaned close and murmured, "Of course it is, dear. We're normal people, just as you are."
"Except that you're all several hundred years old and likely to get a lot older," she'd pointed out.
"So will you," Marguerite reminded her with amusement. "But we're all still just people. Think of us like cars. We have extra rust protection that will make us last longer, but we're still just cars in the end--with the same worries and concerns as cars without rust proofing. Besides," she'd added, "there are a couple of girls here who are under a hundred. Jeanne Louise is only ninety-two."
Rachel had turned to look at the beautiful lab technician and shaken her head. "She's the sexiest ninety-two I've ever seen."
Jeanne Louise had overheard the comment and laughed.
"Besides, Black Forest blood cake doesn't sound very appetizing at all," she was saying now.
Drawn back to the conversation at hand, Rachel sliced off a piece. "No, it doesn't. I don't know how you manage to stomach ingesting blood. Etienne says it's an acquired taste, but I seem to be having trouble.
If it weren't for the pain and weakness when I don't get it, I'd give up."
She forked herself some cake and started to chew, then paused when Jeanne Louise and Marguerite exchanged a glance. Rachel didn't know if it was her improving instincts or not, but she was positive the women were conversing mentally. About her. Eyebrows raised in question, she asked, "What?"
"Nothing, dear." Marguerite patted her arm and smiled. "Enjoy your cake. And here, have some tea."
Rachel accepted the tea, and she ate and drank in silence for a moment, simply listening to the talk around her. Then she asked Marguerite, "How long did it take you to adjust to ingesting blood?"
This time she didn't mistake the glance Jeanne Louise and Marguerite exchanged. They were talking silently about her. Then Etienne's mother smiled and said, "I adjusted relatively quickly, dear. Right away, really. But it was different, then. There were no blood banks. We had to eat 'off the hoof,' as we used to say."
Rachel didn't even try to hide her horror. "Off the hoof?"
"Well..." Marguerite smiled and shrugged. "You call corpses crispy critters and such to help disassociate yourself from the unpleasantness of them being dead. We, much in the same way, had phrases and such to distance ourselves emotionally from having to feed off otherwise perfectly lovely people."
"Oh." Rachel nodded. She then ate in silence, her mind consumed with the thought that people like her family and friends were now her main food source. How icky was that? It was definitely one of the negatives to this deal. She was almost relieved that biting was not allowed any longer. Biting people might be easier and make for fewer dishes, but at least the packaging allowed her to pretend she wasn't eating people. She supposed it was like the difference between buying meat in the grocery store and slaughtering your own cow.
Lissianna opened her gifts after the food was done. She got some lovely things and seemed to really like the cream-colored negligee Rachel had chosen for her.
Beverages were then served--the beverages Rachel had expected all along. Long-stemmed wine goblets full of blood were produced. Rachel took hers but merely held it, not wanting to gag or otherwise embarrass herself in front of these people as she circulated. They were all lovely women, and all too kind to comment on the way her teeth kept popping in and out every time she caught a whiff of blood. The tinny scent didn't appeal to her, but her teeth certainly seemed to like it. Obviously she needed to work on that problem. Etienne had insisted it wasn't as important as learning to actually consume the blood, but Rachel found it rather embarrassing today and decided to talk to him when she returned home that night.
That thought caught her by surprise and made her pause. Home? She'd meant Etienne's home, which wasn't her home. She was becoming far too comfortable there. Perhaps even too comfortable with Etienne himself. The man had saved her life in return for her saving his but, as far as she could tell, that was the only relationship they had. He certainly hadn't shown her anything but friendship and kindness.