realized suddenly that the awful, nauseating smell that was filling my nostrils was the smell of burnt cheese.
I would not have liked this smell as a vampire, no, not in the least; but it wouldn't have sickened me quite this much. It would have been outside of me. But now it seemed connected to the hunger in me; it seemed to tug on the muscles inside my throat. In fact, the smell seemed suddenly to be inside my guts and to be nauseating me with a pressure, rather than a mere smell.
Curious. Yes, have to note all these things. This is being alive.
The pretty young woman had come back. I saw her pale profile as she looked down at the paper on her little wooden desk, and lifted her pen to make a mark. She had long wavy dark hair, and very pale skin. I wished I could see her better. I struggled to pick up her scent, but I couldn't. I only caught the scent of the burnt cheese.
I opened the door, ignoring the heavy stench that hit me, and moved through it, until I was standing in front of the young woman, and the blessed warmth of the place was wrapping itself around me, smells and all. She was painfully young, with rather small sharp features, and long narrow black eyes. Her mouth was large, exquisitely rouged, and she had a long beautifully shaped neck. The body was twentieth century-all bones beneath her black dress.
Mademoiselle, I said, deliberately thickening my French accent, I am very hungry, and it's very cold outside. Is there anything I can do to earn a plate of food I shall wash the floors if you wish, scrub the pots and pans, do whatever I must.
She stared at me blankly for a moment. Then she stood back, tossed her long wavy hair, and rolled her eyes, and looked at me again coldly, and said: Get out. Her voice sounded tinny and flat. It wasn't, of course, it was merely my mortal hearing. The resonance detected by a vampire could not be detected by me.
May I have a piece of bread? I asked. A single piece of bread. The smells of food, bad as they were, tormented me. I couldn't actually remember what food tasted like. I couldn't remember texture and nourishment together, but something purely human was taking over. I was desperate for food.
I'm going to call the police, she said, her voice quavering slightly, if you don't get out.
I tried to scan her. Nothing. I looked around, squinting in the dark. Tried to scan the other humans. Nothing. Didn't have the power in this body. Oh, but that's not possible. I looked at her again. Nothing. Not even a glimmer of her thoughts. Not even an instinct really as to what sort of human she was.
Ah, very well, I said, giving her the gentlest smile I could manage, with no idea of how it appeared or what its effect might be. I hope you burn in hell for your lack of charity. But God knows, I don't deserve any more than this. I turned and was about to leave when she touched my sleeve.
Look, she said, trembling slightly in her anger and discomfort, you can't come here and expect people to give you food! The blood was pulsing in her white cheeks. I couldn't smell it. But I could smell a sort of musky perfume rising from her, part human, part commercial scent. And suddenly I saw two tiny nipples sticking against the fabric of the dress. How amazing. Again, I tried to read her thoughts. I told myself I must be able to do this, it was an innate power. But it was no good.
I told you I'd work for the food, I said, trying not to look at her breasts. I'd do anything you asked. Look, I'm sorry. I don't want you to burn in hell. What a dreadful thing to say. It's only that I'm down on my luck now. Bad things have happened to me. Look, that's my dog there. How am I to feed him?
That dog! She looked through the glass at Mojo, who sat majestically in the snow. You must be joking, she said. What a shrill voice she had. Utterly without character. So many sounds coming at me had that very quality. Metallic and thin.
No, he is my dog, I said with faint indignation. I love him very much.
She laughed. That dog eats here every night