Chapter Text
To most, a bakery opening right next door to their Paris apartment would be nothing short of a blessing. The convenient distance, the generous free samples, the smell of fresh baked goods wafting through the surrounding area-- all undeniable perks of the new establishment.
That is, if you aren't a vampire.
To Claudia's taste buds, anything other than blood tasted unpleasant at best. Sweet, sugary things in particular turned rather bitter, in the way she remembered black licorice would taste. Even the smells radiating from the bakery were null when they reached Claudia's senses, no more appealing than the regular city air.
It just wasn't worth it to eat human food and nor was it filling enough, anyway. So, of course, Claudia wouldn't be ordering from the bakery any time soon.
Or so she thought.
The first time Claudia passed by the bakery, it was closed, marked as such on the little cursive sign hung from the door. That made sense; it was well past midnight now.
Yet the shop owner, a slender young woman with vibrant auburn hair, was visible through the glass, perched on a chair while she worked on some sort of embroidery or cross stitch. Claudia watched her for a moment, finding herself strangely captivated. She was hardly in control of her body as she pulled open the bakery door, the jingle of the bell announcing her presence.
The shop owner looked up and scoffed.
"Nous sommes fermés." Her voice was breathy and thickly french. Claudia ignored her, strolling to the register counter to admire the many desserts within the glass cases. Everything from cupcake to banana bread was full and fluffy and decorated with doubtless precision.
The woman stood up from her chair. "Madame," she spoke sharply, demanding Claudia's attention.
"Tu les as faites?" Claudia asked.
"American," the auburn woman noted with condescension, switching to english at the recognition. "Your french is ugly."
Claudia narrowed her eyes at that, irritated. She had been working quite hard to mask her New Orleans accent, and it stung a little knowing she was failing. She reached into her pocket and slapped a crisp €20 bill down on the counter.
"How much for a scone?" she asked, knowing the money was more than enough. "Does that cover it?"
The shop owner widened her eyes and shook her head at the audacity, oddly offended by the large tip. When Claudia continued to stare her down unmovingly, she finally resigned herself to the task and reached under the counter for a to-go bag and a scone.
"Take it and go," she ordered.
Claudia obeyed, looking over her shoulder to see the woman shaking her head in exasperation as she closed the door behind her.
A few days later, Claudia heard Louis's voice call her from their apartment kitchen.
"Claudia," he asked once she was in the room. He was holding up the to-go bag with the bakery's logo printed on the front. "Why is there human food in our fridge?"
The fridge had come with the apartment, but they didn't use it much since they of course acquired all their meals fresh from the source. The bag was likely a very glaring sight among the empty space and sparse wine bottles.
Claudia bit her lip. She herself wasn't all that sure why she kept it. "It's from the bakery next door. I needed to buy something to talk to the shopkeeper."
Louis nodded slowly, still looking a little confused. "You gonna eat her?"
"Do not prey upon our next door neighbor please, ma petite." Lestat interrupted from where he leaned against the dining room table. "You know that would be unwise."
Claudia huffed quietly. She had been thinking about the shop owner quite often in the past few days, and although she had not been outright planning to suck her blood, hunger was the only explanation for Claudia's insistent thoughts.
"He's right, little waif," Louis said, agreeing with Lestat despite his usual reluctance to do so. Lestat strolled over to stand beside his husband and place a hand on Louis's back, evidently appreciating the rare harmony.
Claudia frowned at her dads. She was 22 and still being told what to do. But she knew they were probably right on this matter, so she didn't refute.
"I know, daddy Lou. Daddy Les."
The second time she found herself outside the establishment, it was mere minutes after sunset and thus the sign on the bakery door was still labeled as open. The last customers were clearing out, leaving the bakery empty aside from the one person actively ordering at the register.
Claudia watched from outside as the customer, a young boy who couldn't have been over 17, addressed the auburn woman. Whatever he said must not have been very pleasant, because the woman's features shifted into a scowl and she said something and then pointed sharply at the door, her message clear: get out. The boy continued to linger.
Claudia, who was never all too successful in quelling her curiosity, was unable to stop herself from entering the bakery yet again.
"Do not waste my time," the shop owner was saying in french, only taking a split second to glance at Claudia before focusing her glare back on the boy. "Order or leave."
The boy rolled his eyes and finally turned away, but as he passed by Claudia at the threshold, she swore she heard him mutter the french word for whore. She wondered what that was about.
The woman focused on Claudia. "You again."
Her tone was quite harsh, which Claudia thought was unfair since she had very kindly come in when the store was open this time.
"Are you here to pester me as well?" She demanded, gesturing to the door through which the boy had left.
It occurred to Claudia that she may look like one of the teenagers that was apparently bothering this woman. There was only so much she could do with makeup and platform shoes and breast padding with her 14 year old body. She felt her face heat up angrily at the idea that she was once again being looked down upon.
"I'm here to order, actually," Claudia said indignantly.
The woman eyed her suspiciously. "I see. And how did you like the scone you so rudely procured the other day?"
"It was exquisite," Claudia lied. Truthfully, she had only taken one experimental bite before spitting it out and chugging water to get the bitter taste out of her mouth. Then she stuffed it in the fridge for Louis to find.
The shop owner must have heard something in her tone because she frowned disbelievingly, arms crossed over her chest.
"Ah, see?" she sighed. "You are here to ridicule me."
Claudia furrowed her brows, not sure where the woman had gotten that idea from.
"You heard the rumors, I assume?" the woman continued. "Well, I've heard it all already. Go and punish someone else with your remarks."
She didn't give Claudia the chance to respond. Instead, she turned away from her, grabbing a rag from behind her and putting distance between them as she went off to clean the tables.
God, this woman was aggravating. "You're not doing yourself any good denying your only potential customer!" Claudia called after her.
"Go away, little girl," the woman responded, and Claudia felt herself stiffen, blood beginning to boil.
She was across the bakery in seconds, inches away from the auburn woman's now frightened face.
"Claudia," she said fiercely, glaring into her with her bright red irises. "I am not a little girl."
The woman was silent for a moment, mouth agape, before quickly nodding, swallowing back her alarm.
"M-Madeleine," the woman spoke quietly.
Suddenly feeling a little shameful of her outburst, Claudia took a step back.
"Good. Nice to meet you," she muttered, shuffling her feet. "Well... I'll be on my way."
Claudia swiveled around and marched assuredly out the door, her main thought being that Lestat's theoretical genes must be showing themselves.
You would think that after such an incident, Claudia would be content to avoid that bakery and its shop owner-- Madeleine-- from there forward. You would be wrong.
Claudia returned at sundown two days later.
The shop was empty this time and Madeleine was sweeping the floors when the bell made her look up.
"Claudia," she greeted, merely raising her eyebrows, face betraying no emotion. Her auburn curls were pinned up loosely today, a few strands dangling on her collarbone. Claudia's eyes lingered there, drawn to the blood pulsing beneath the skin of her neck. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"
There was a slight snark in her tone, and Claudia shook away her distracted thoughts, taken aback by this woman's lack of hesitation. Perhaps Claudia did not make the frightening impression she thought she did during the last visit.
She tilted her chin up, attempting to appear prideful. "Don't flatter yourself. I'm here to buy a loaf." She had settled on bread beforehand, predicting that the taste would be bland enough to be bearable.
Madeleine's lips curled up at the edges, amusement shining in her eyes as if she knew something covert. "Are you, now?"
Claudia felt a peculiar nervousness flutter in her gut. She cleared her throat. "Do you have Brioche?"
"One loaf left, as luck would have it." Madeleine leaned to grab a loaf from the display case. Instead of reaching for a to-go bag, though, she placed the loaf on a napkin beside her and met Claudia's eyes testingly. "I'll cut you a slice, oui? So you can decide if it's up to your standards before you purchase it this time." Again, there was something snide in her tone, even as she tilted her head in innocence.
Claudia gritted her teeth. "I'm not hungry." She wasn't sure how capable she was of hiding her distaste in front of the other woman if she had to eat in her presence.
Madeleine raised an eyebrow. "You're sure?"
"Quite sure," Claudia affirmed, taking the unbagged loaf from her hands. This woman seemed to possess a unique ability to push her buttons. "But thanks."
A moment of silence passed, Madeleine watching her customer with narrowed eyes. Finally, she turned to the cash register, breaking eye contact. "€2.60."
Claudia left the bakery with the vague feeling that something was starting to slip from of her gasp.
A few days passed before she stopped at Madeleine's shop again, coming home from a hunt with a few hours remaining until sunrise. A longing to see the shop owner had been nagging at her all night, as if the average person's blood was no longer as satisfying to her as this potential young woman's.
Claudia pulled on the door, pleased to find it unlocked as usual. It took a moment before she spotted Madeleine, moving swiftly through the partially obscured room behind the counter that must have been the kitchen, too distracted to have heard the bell.
"Good morning!" Claudia called to her, and Madeleine's head appeared at the entrance, irritated.
"The closed sign is not a suggestion, you know," Madeleine snarked. "I'm busy."
"You could lock the door, then," Claudia pointed out.
"Lock's broken." She began moving away, already reaching for three things at once.
"Can I help?"
She wasn't sure what made her offer such a thing. Madeleine looked back over her shoulder and Claudia was oddly pleased to see surprise in her expression.
She hesitated awhile, eyes darting from Claudia to the kitchen.
"I... I suppose so."
There wasn't much Claudia could do to help in the kitchen given her lack of baking expertise, so most of her assistance consisted of cleaning up the flour spilled on the floor and watching Madeleine's process with begrudging admiration. Madeleine had a habit, she noticed, of licking the frosting off discarded spoons and taking small bites of her failed pastries before dumping them in the trash.
"All that sugar can't be good for you," Claudia remarked.
"I've made it this far, haven't I?" the woman responded, looking up with a devious smile.
Claudia found herself wondering if all those pastries made Madeleine's blood any sweeter, or if it'd taste extra bitter to a vampire's taste buds. Not that she would test it out, after Lestat and Louis's warning. Even so, being this close to her, it was hard not to imagine the taste of it on her tongue.
"Your father came to speak to me."
Claudia froze at the other woman's words, feeling a bit like she had been struck in the face.
"Which one?"
Madeleine eyed her curiously, sprinkling flour over a large lump of dough. "You have two, yes? I have seen them together around the city. The American one, then."
Claudia swallowed away the dryness in her mouth. At the very least, Louis was the lesser of two evils when it came to parenting, and although such a visit made sense as he was the more protective one, he was much less likely to kill Madeleine for, say, setting the temperature of the bakery a degree too high.
"When? What for?"
"After you visited the second time, and I was convinced you were sent to mock me," Madeleine responded, kneading the dough with a faint half-smile. She was clearly much less disturbed about this than Claudia was. "He just asked me a few questions-- my age, my business practices, what you and I have talked about... Well, I told him that I knew nothing but your name and that you made a habit of being a perpetual annoyance. Then I offered him a pastry and he said, I quote, 'My daughter don't want your pastries.' I can only assume that was true, because you refused to eat in front of me when we last saw each other."
Madeleine's behavior when Claudia bought the Brioche loaf suddenly made more sense. She also noticed that Madeleine had left out the detail of Claudia's outburst at being called 'little girl.'
Madeleine continued on, "He had these striking green eyes, you know. Not striking like yours, that are beautiful and scarlet. Just jarring, unnatural."
The compliment did not go unnoticed by Claudia, who made herself turn away to hide the burning in her cheeks.
She was going to need to have a talk with Louis.