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Claudia had started spending her time in Madeleine’s shop.
Not during the day – Madeleine understood that there was some business about coffins that she did not bother to ask questions about, but at night, Claudia would squeeze through the closing shop door and flash her fangs at Madeleine.
“I am locking up for the night.” Madeleine would say. “Leave me be.”
“Can’t you just stay open one more hour?” Claudia would beg, fluttering her eyelashes, and Madeleine would sigh, and make a big show of being forced to stay late.
She was sure that in the stories, vampires had to be invited in. Her grandmother had talked about vampires and their peculiar ways, being forced to count, scared of crosses, an aversion to garlic. Claudia was none of those things – she could not count stitches when Madeleine tried to teach her how to sew, she wore jewellery with crosses on that she had stolen from her victims, and she did not mind kissing Madeleine after she had eaten snails for lunch.
Claudia had crawled her way into Madeleine’s shop, her life, her heart, until she was firmly fixed there. She was funny and wicked-tongued and beautiful, and Madeleine adored her, even though she could not put it into words.
The sex was also good.
***
It had been a long day. Madeleine’s hands ached as she counted the final takings in the till, barely enough to cover the week's rent. The swastikas on the windows were not improving business, and there had been an uptick in nationalism with the Americans swarming into Paris. People wanted to make a stand against the past, and Madeleine was caught up in it.
The bell on the door rang, and Madeleine didn’t even need to look up to tell that it was Claudia. “I’m closed.”
“I’m sick of being a damn doll,” Claudia said in response, slamming the door behind her so hard that the glass rattled. “Do I look like a fucking doll?”
“Language,” Madeleine said, simply because it annoyed Claudia.
“Ugh!” Claudia flipped the open sign to closed and yanked down the shutters. “I hate Armand, I hate Louis, I hate Celeste, I hate Sam-“
“Ah, you cannot hate Sam.” Madeleine knelt to lock the money in the safe. “He makes me laugh.”
“You cannot take his side,” Claudia whined. “You’re meant to be my ally.”
Madeleine straightened up, knees clicking, and finally looked at Claudia. She was draped in a fur coat that she had no business wearing, the material rough around the edges like it had been stripped directly from the bear. Madeleine raised her eyebrows, and Claudia folded her arms across her chest.
“I want a whole new outfit.” She said. “Head to toe, I want you to make me an entire ensemble.”
“She knows the word ensemble.” Madeline said to nobody in particular, “Hark at her French.”
Claudia scoffed and headed towards the bedroom. Madeleine tried to hide a smile and followed after her, kicking off her heels as she went.
“I lived here four years, you think I don’t know French?” Claudia said. “Merde, putain, connard-“
“Very impressive,” Madeleine said. “You sound like a street whore.”
“I could be a French street whore.” Claudia said and dropped the coat to the ground. Underneath, she was completely naked, the merest buds of breasts and unblemished skin. She looked like a little girl doll before you dressed it up, itching to be covered with ruffles and smothered with a hat.
“If you were really a French street whore you would have pubic hair,” Madeleine said. “Perhaps we should buy you a merkin.”
“You are the worst,” Claudia whined, and Madeleine laughed, stepping close to finally kiss her. Claudia tasted like blood, and Madeliene didn’t want to know whose blood it was. Her mouth was hot, and she moaned into the kiss like Madeleine was fucking her.
“My little bald coot,” Madeleine said, and gave Claudia’s bare cunt a pat to make her jump. “What kind of outfit do you want, huh? What can I make you?”
“I want everything,” Claudia said, looking up at her. “Socks, drawers, some long trousers with a poodle on. I want it tailored just for me.”
“What colours do you want?”
“Red,” Claudia said, “Green. Purple. God, I don’t give a damn as long as it’s not baby fucking blue.”
“You’d look good in a navy suit.” Madeline could picture it, the neat folds, the crisp lines. “Very butch.”
“You like me butch?” Claudia asked, cocking her head to one side.
“I like you anything.” Madeline kissed her cheek. “You can be anything to me.”
Claudia rolled her eyes, but squirmed when Madeline pressed quick kisses to her neck. “Now you’re just trying to eat me.”
“Perhaps.” Madeline nipped her skin. “We are very hungry in Paris, we have to eat pretty girls just to survive.”
“You think I’m pretty?” Claudia asked, batting her eyelashes. Madeline snorted and flicked her on the chest.
“Now you’re just fishing for compliments.” She said. “That is not a pretty attribute.”
She pulled away to strip out of her work clothes, feeling itchy from being near the general public for too long. Madeleine could feel Claudia watching her as she unbuttoned her blouse and hung it up in the wardrobe, her bra leaving red indents in her skin.
“I want a cigarette,” Claudia said.
“It will stunt your growth,” Madeleine said, and stuck her tongue out when Claudia glowered at her. “In my purse. Armand is still not giving you an allowance?”
“He says I don’t deserve one.” Claudia fumbled in Madeleine’s bag for the pack, and Madeleine watched her try to light a spark by snapping her fingers. She knew Armand had fire powers, like some sort of witch, and Claudia was desperate for them too. “He says I’m trouble.”
“I agree with Armand.” Madeline shimmied out of her skirt and hung it up too. She had seen what Claudia did with her clothes once she had finished wearing them and despaired of it, beautiful fabric left crumpled on the floor of her bedroom. Clothes deserved to be treated nicely.
“Never say that again.” Claudia threatened, and lit the cigarette with Madeleine’s lighter. “I hate him.”
“Hate is a strong word.”
“Yeah, and I fucking hate him.” Claudia sat down on the bed and openly stared at Madeline in just her underthings. “When do you start your period?”
“Ah, she has such a way with words.” Madeleine sighed lovingly. “In two weeks. Why, can you smell me?”
“I can’t wait two weeks,” Claudia whined. “I want you now.”
“Oh, you poor, poor little vampire.” Madeleine crooned. “I am such an awful victim-“
“Making fun of me-“
“I am so cruel to not time my cycle around your whims-“
“Being mean-“ Claudia’s voice was fussy. “Is it so bad? To want you?”
“You are such a pathetic creature,” Madeleine said fondly, and pulled on one of her old dresses. “You act like I am torturing you.”
“It feels like torture,” Claudia grumbled. “I can smell the blood inside your veins, and I want it, and I can’t eat you because then-“
“Because then who would make you beautiful clothes?” Madeleine finished. “Who would put up with your nonsense? Who would fuck your cunt until you were begging for it?”
Claudia at least had the audacity to squirm. “That too.”
Madeleine sat down on the bed beside her, bones aching. Claudia pressed her bare foot against Madeleine’s own, and Madeleine swiped the cigarette from Claudia’s fingers to take a long drag. It had been a long, tiring day.
“Has anyone else been giving you trouble?” Claudia asked.
“Non,” Madeleine replied. “I am just running out of customers.”
“I don’t eat that many,” Claudia said, sounding genuinely upset, and Madeleine laughed.
“It’s not you, my little butcher. Everyone is just leaving Paris.” She rotated her wrists until they clicked. “Even that handsome Professor I made suits for is leaving. Heading to America.”
“You say America like it’s a dirty word,” Claudia said.
“Fuck America,” Madeleine said easily, and Claudia snorted.
“I wanted to be a professor once,” She said. “A scholar, or whatever the fuck that is.”
“You could still be a scholar,” Madeleine blew smoke away from her. Her grandfather had been able to blow smoke rings from his pipe, and Madeleine had tried to copy him ever since. “You are smart, no? You have money.”
“Whose gonna take a vampire scholar seriously?”
“I would,” Madeline said.
“You have to say that, you’re my companion.” Claudia huffed, and Madeleine kicked her foot.
“Do you see a ring on my finger, or your blood in me?” She said. “I am saying this because I mean it.”
Claudia rolled her eyes, but Madeline could tell that her interest was piqued. “You would come with me? If I ran away to university, went across the ocean for knowledge?”
“Of course,” Madeline said. “You would try for Oxford?”
“You hate the English.”
“I would suffer them for you.” Madeline shrugged, and Claudia snorted and stole back the cigarette.
“Oxford,” She said, with wonder in her voice. “Or Cambridge. Or even back into Romania, try and figure out the old world, write a book on it. I’d like to be published, I think, then everyone could read my words. Then I’d last forever.”
Madeline watched her think. She liked watching her, eyes tracing the snub of her nose, her long eyelashes. She loved her, she realised, and took back her cigarette, tapping off the ash.
“I am a good copy editor,” Madeline said. “I know how to make the words flow.”
“We’ll set up a printing press,” Claudia said. “Take the world by storm.”
She turned to Madeline to grin and spotted the love-sick expression on Madeline’s face. Madeline tried to school herself into something more neutral, but Claudia just grinned harder. It was so embarrassing to be in love.
“Don’t,” Madeleine said, because saying it out loud would make it real.
“I didn’t say anything.” Claudia protested, still smiling. She kissed Madeleine, practically licking the inside of her mouth. Madeleine needed to teach this girl how to kiss. “Anyway, we can plan tomorrow. After you’ve finished my measurements.”
“Am I your personal tailor?” Madeleine asked, stubbing out the cigarette and reaching out for Claudia.
“’Course,” Claudia said, and fell back against the bed, naked and waiting. “You’re all mine.”
Madeline rolled her eyes, and climbed on top of her.