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“Hey! You want a ride home?”
Madeleine had been walking away, her black heels clacking on the cobblestone, but she spun back around as soon as Claudia opened her mouth. It was a quick-footed thing, as if she were just waiting for Claudia to ask. Maybe she was, Claudia thought, but pushed the idea away as quickly as it came.
The dressmaker looked at her contemplatively, and Claudia found herself eager for her reply. Nervous for it, if she was honest with herself. This was the first genuine conversation she’d had in months, maybe years. A conversation without deceit or vitriol. Claudia couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt intellectually matched like this. She didn’t want it to end.
Madeleine raised her eyebrows, a twitch of lips betraying her attempt to conceal a smirk. “And how exactly are you planning to do that?” she asked. Her brown eyes crinkled in amusement, giving Claudia’s outfit another onceover. “Do you have a little tandem bicycle hidden somewhere within the skirts of that ridiculous dress?”
From Celeste or Estelle, such a barb would have sounded malicious. Yet Claudia found herself fighting a smirk of her own, pressing her lips together to avoid an all-out grin. She rolled her eyes performatively, the cheap blue Baby Lou eyeshadow catching in her lashes. “No, but I got a motorcycle right here if you want.” She glanced back at the row of vehicles by the stage door, and felt Madeleine’s eyes follow the tilt of her head there. It felt strange, to be watched so attentively, not unlike the draw of a moth to a swinging lamp. Back and forth, back and forth, she was followed without a hint of true derision. Claudia could not understand the feelings it evoked, or rather, did not dare acknowledge them, so she opened her mouth again. “Unless you’re scared?” she teased.
Madeleine’s smile twisted into a pinched, lopsided thing, comprehending Claudia’s proposition. “You can drive one of these contraptions?”
Claudia braced herself for it. The you look far too young for something like that, or the you are but a girl pretending the woman, perhaps you are not capable of anything more than your infant body allows. But Madeleine’s light skepticism hung in the air, lacking any belittlement. She held up the hand without the playbill tucked under it, expectant for her answer.
“Theater troupe taught me,” Claudia explained, walking over to the motorcycle. Trailing her fingers over the handlebars, she was once again weaving through the streets, clutching to her cap as the speed of the bike propelled them forward. She was feasting with the coven and celebrating their kills. Reveling in them, even. Finally with vampires who shared her passion for all things theatrical. She had thought the feeling would last forever—how warm and rich the blood had been that night.
Like eating syrup while riding in the wind, Lestat’s voice helpfully supplied. Claudia’s smile crumpled into a scowl.
She looked down at her Baby Lou costume, suddenly irritated. She wasn’t going to let any ghosts haunt her. She wasn’t Louis. She hopped onto the bike, swinging a leg over the contraption and straddling the driver’s seat. She cared little about the resounding rip as her petticoats snagged on one of the pedals. Served Maître right, anyways. Claudia just hoped that Madeleine hadn’t seen the second’s hesitation. “Well, I learned well enough from the sidecar, I suppose.” At Madeleine’s look of shock, Claudia grinned toothily. She turned on the machine, the fearsome roar of the engine echoing throughout the square. The audience members trickling out of the theater turned to stare, but Madeleine was unfazed by the passerby, eyes locked on Claudia. “I’m a quick learner, don’t worry.”
Madeleine stared at her, blinking rapidly, her eyelashes fluttering prettily against her cheeks. She had matured since their last meeting a few years prior, Claudia thought, the high angles of her face were more defined, the bags under her eyes deepened. Her auburn hair was styled differently, braided neatly behind her headpiece, save for a few stray curls across her forehead. She stood just as tall, though. Carried herself well. Had an attractive smile once you won it. And best of all, the playful, sharp-tongued back and forth seemed to flow between them just as easy.
But for the first time in their few interactions, there was no clever retort or thinly veiled compliment from either of the women. Madeleine’s eyes flit between Claudia and the motorized vehicle she sat astride, a flicker of something Claudia could not quite place. Trepidation? Nerves? Worse, had she decided it was too dangerous to risk? Was Claudia too dangerous? It went on too long. Claudia’s manicured hands became clammy on the handlebars, her heart sinking as she realized Madeleine’s rejection was imminent. Why was she so eager for her approval? She was tempted to read the woman’s mind, hear the innermost cognitions of this intriguing woman gaping at her like a fish, the ever-tantalizing sound of her heart rushing with blood—
“Je suis fou,” Madeleine muttered and ducked her head, smiling to herself. “Okay. Okay. Oui. I will ride your death contraption, on one condition.” She then looked up at her with such a fondness — her eyes crinkled with mischief, the slight flush on her cheeks, and it was as if Claudia was nineteen again, hanging on to Charlie’s every move. She looked like an angel, Claudia thought, with a little something devilish mixed in. Something human. Madeleine’s face split into a matching grin. “You let me fashion you a new dress. I can’t keep looking at you in that ghastly babydoll ensemble.” She smirked, but it turned into something softer along the way. “I will make you something more… you.”
Except this wasn’t like Charlie at all. This was different, different than how it felt with all the boys she had tried to turn in New Orleans; it was something she didn’t have to imitate or beg to be with her. It was also different than how it was with Louis or Lestat— Claudia didn’t have to fight for her attention or claw her back to her side. It was as if Madeleine saw Claudia, and still she wanted to be there. To keep her company. To be her friend. To be by her side. Claudia found herself on the precipice of something, something she could not find back in New Orleans, or Romania, or even with the coven of vampires who ought to have been her equals—
The light of the streetlamp chose then to flicker to life. Madeleine laughed, impervious to Claudia’s revelatory ruminations. Claudia blinked out of her stupor. “Well? Are you going to help me up or not?” She tsked. “Unless it is you who is scared?” She said, echoing Claudia’s previous taunt.
Now this was familiar territory. “No way,” Claudia shot back, offering out a hand to Madeleine. The hand placed in hers was warm and calloused, hardened from years of needlework. Madeleine settled nicely into the spot behind her, the insides of her thighs knocking against Claudia’s knees, but her arms remaining by her sides. Claudia fought the urge to inhale as the smell of the woman’s perfume and the blood coursing through her veins became overwhelmingly close. She gulped. She hadn’t considered this part. She had just eaten, but it was tempting, albeit in a different way.
“I have never been on one of these things,” Madeleine admitted, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. Her breath tickled the back of Claudia’s neck. “Keep me safe, will you?”
It seemed like the warmth of Madeleine’s hands had spread to Claudia’s insides. She nodded wordlessly. She knew at once she would do anything to keep that promise. The gravity of it scared her. “Well,” she said, ignoring the uncharacteristic tremble in her voice, and hoping Madeleine would do the same, “if you wanna be safe, you’re gonna have to hold on tight.” She revved the engine, and as if on instinct, Madeleine’s arms flew to Claudia’s waist. Madeleine let out a huff of laughter.
“If I really wanted safety, I would have chosen a different traveling companion,” Madeleine teased, but tucked her chin into the crease of Claudia’s shoulder. Her chest was pressed into Claudia’s back, something Claudia was surprised to find a comforting presence. There was no fear here. She knew that the embrace would not tighten beyond what she could bear. “Now, allons-y, would you? I have a dress to make for a most disagreeable clientess.” Madeleine rapped her fingers against Claudia’s ribcage, and Claudia could feel rather than see the amused smile she gave. Claudia grinned back. “I’m thinking… yellow?”
The motorcycle roared into movement, drowning out the sound of the blood that rushed to Claudia’s face. It was as if this woman had the Mind Gift instead of her. Her acumen in all things Claudia was unparalleled, even after a single night tailoring that lavender dress to her body. Her undead heart fluttered in her chest, casting an incredulous glance back at her riding companion as they took off down the street. Despite Claudia’s insistence that Madeleine had made no impression on her, the route to her shop was ingrained in her mind. “How did you know?”
It would be in the future, after Madeleine’s turning, that Claudia would fully receive an answer to her question. Flowers blooming in their countryside garden, the two of them fully satiated from dinner, legs entwined on the sofa. A quiet settled over Claudia’s mind. Her nails caressing Madeleine’s scalp, a patch of blood visible on the corner of her mouth from their meal. Claudia’s diaries would be abandoned, back in Paris with Louis, but a photo album would be in progress. It would be splayed open on the side table, each photograph dated meticulously in Claudia’s zealous scrawl. No longer were there bodies in the closet—instead it brimmed with dresses and shirts, each lovingly crafted with Claudia’s input and cognizant of her comfort. The dress from that night would catch her eye, and she would laugh to herself. “How did you know I wanted yellow?”
Madeleine would open an eye, glancing up at her from where her head lay on Claudia’s breast. She smiled, soft. “It was not so much of a knowing. It was more of a feeling I had.” Claudia would hum for her to keep explaining, the hand tangling in her hair. “Because you are like the sun,” Madeleine would say simply. “Maybe you were dangerous to look at, but I could not possibly bring myself to look away. Something all-consumingly bright in a lonely world ravaged by war. Because you are warm. Resplendent. Beautiful. Capable of danger, but never giving it.” She would take Claudia’s fingers and bring them to her mouth in a worshipful kiss. “Because you are you, Claudia. Every part of you. Je t’aime.”
“Moi et toi,” Claudia would whisper, in awe. “Pour toujours.”
But for now, the woman would keep her inspiration a secret. “Oh, I don’t know,” Madeleine hummed and relaxed into the embrace as the motorcycle accelerated to its natural pace. Her heart thrummed heavy and steady against Claudia’s back. If Claudia looked in the side mirror, she would have seen Madeleine, her eyes transfixed on the vampiress with a look so adoring that she would mistake it for the beams of a vehicle. If she read Madeleine’s mind, she would have encountered a burgeoning love so strong that Claudia would be thrown to the cobblestone street. She would have seen herself, in a golden ray of sun that illuminated her visage. An elegant, yellow dress to match. A calloused hand tentatively reaching for hers.
But Claudia kept her eyes on the street ahead, oblivious to Madeleine’s own revelations behind her. The arms clasped around her waist tightened, and Madeleine murmured so quietly that only Claudia could hear it.
“Call it divine inspiration.”