Tea, Lycanthropy and Other Virtues

Chapter Twenty-Four

Emile carried Constance below deck, ducking into a room completely at odds with the rest of the ship. It smelled like cinnamon, cardamon, and anise. Exotic spices, from exotic places. She sat Constance down on a bed built into the wall, covered in deep red and blue silks. Gorgeous oil paintings hung on every inch of wall space, illuminated by light filtering through portholes and from paper lanterns swinging from the ceiling.

There was a walnut desk in one corner, a couple of chairs flanking a small table filled with crystal decanters and cut glass goblets. A wardrobe overflowed with saris, kimonos and lovely silk gowns. There was so much to see it hurt Constance's eyes. She squeezed them closed and then felt the ship shutter under them as it moved through the water.

"The man that was killed, who was he?" Constance asked, her voice hoarse as if she'd been screaming.

"That was the Prime Minister," Emile said, as she opened a decanter and began pouring something into a glass.

Constance's head spun.

"May I?" Hannah asked, with a nod at the water bowl and pitcher on the desk.

Emile nodded and then handed a glass filled with something red to Constance. Constance took a sip. Warmth spread through her body.

"Are you a pirate?" Simon asked.

Hannah stopped ringing out her cloth and looked at Emile

"Some would say I am," she answered matter-of-factly. "I prefer to think of myself as an entrepreneur. I move goods from France to England and vice versa. Just because this war will not end doesn't mean places like the Bookshop shall go without Paris tea blends, non? I do not steal, but I will fight for mine if I need to." She flashed her sharp teeth at Simon and then winked.

Hannah sat down beside Constance and began to clean the blood off her face as gently as possible. Emile moved back to the table and poured something thick and dark from another decanter into a goblet.

She drank it down and then sighed. Constance felt the woman relax. "The sun is too much for me, even with ze hat and gloves."

"You're a vampire," Constance said.

"What gave it away?" She asked her French accent like a tinkling melody.

There had been plenty of clues, but that's not how Constance had known. "I don't know." Her hands shook.

Hannah's brow furrowed. "Did you follow us?"

Emile laughed. "Non. There was supposed to be a debate on the trade embargo with France. As you might guess, that is something I find most interesting. Why were you there?" She looked at Constance pointedly.

Constance's pulse thumped hard. "There was something—I saw colors? And I could feel—I could feel the man with the gun, he was full of dread." She gulped down the rest of her drink and then looked at Emile. "Am I going mad?"

"I don't think so. You had a feeling something was going to go wrong and something did. This does not seem like madness to me."

"But my mother, she isn't... I don't understand." Constance's head felt fuzzy and sluggish.

Emile poured from the first decanter and then handed the goblet to Hannah. "Your father he is from a very old family, yes. Very prestigious and wealthy?"

"Our father's father came from the colonies," Simon answered, holding his hand out for his own glass. "We definitely don't have money."

Emile raised an eyebrow at Simon. He lowered his hand, disappointed.