Dust

XVII

         

As soon as we've entered the city hall, Sloane sweeps Gael away, telling Damien and I that his initiation will be in the main venue in half an hour. That leaves Damien enough time to swing me over to the bar, where—even though I remind him he drank a little before we left his apartment—he orders the bartender to give him the best glass of blood they own. For me, he gets a margarita, which sits untouched in front of me.

    Sloane was not lying when she said it would be a big turnout; people from all over Maris have gathered underneath the hall's spacious rotunda, which opens at the top to reveal the gleaming stars. Women and men of all species are dressed in their best party attire as they socialize and drink, awaiting Gael to appear on the stage where the band now performs. The whole place seems warm and lavish, the golden lights on the golden marble making all the difference.

    As a slow, atmospheric ballad begins to rise in the venue, twinkling chandelier light reflects in the alcoholic drink in front of me. I watch as a few couples begin to waltz, feeling myself smile a little.

    "Deer."

    My euphoria is torn from me with just a muttered word from Damien, and, startled, I turn away from the dancing guests and look at him. He adjusts his position on his barstool, leaning over the mahogany that separates him from the bar's selection of refreshments. I sputter, "What?"

    Damien sips the blood in his glass, swallows with a cough, and sets the wine glass back down. "I said it's deer. I despise deer blood."

    This makes my eyes narrow. "You should have told her to give you...I don't know. What do you like? Isn't all blood the same—"

    "Uh, no," Damien corrects, practically snapping. He shakes his head, as if I've made a horrible mistake. He taps at his glass with obvious disdain, pushing it lightly aside. "Blood from different animals tastes different. For instance, deer blood's bitter and reminds me of stomach acid. Cow blood has an exceptional balance of sweetness and sharpness. Pleasing but with a kick."

    Done with Damien's lessons on blood tasting, I just shrug and stir my margarita. The ballad ends, followed by a round of applause. "Tell the bartender to give you cow blood, then."

    Damien snorts, looking mournful. "That's okay. The bartender's a vampire, like me, and if deer blood is the best they've got here, I doubt they have any—but what about your margarita?" Damien's eyes have flicked from watching the dancers to looking at me with mild concern. "It's not good?"

    I stir it once more as a more upbeat song begins to play, and with a few hoots, the dancing speeds up. As for the Commission, I haven't seen them yet, but I know if they will be here, they'll certainly make an entrance. Between watching for them and watching people dance, I'm not worried so much about my margarita. "I don't drink, Dame."

    "Of course you don't. Miss Gemma goody-two-shoes, that's who you are," Damien says, and when I shoot him a warning look, he just smiles and hits himself on the forehead. "Duh. Who am I kidding?"

    At this, I fold my arms. "I am not a goody-two-shoes."

    "Oh, you're not? Someone who helps hopeless people in forests, regardless of their species or what they've been told about them, adopts them into their home, and trains them to be a hunter—so well, apparently, that they actually become one—is not a goody-two-shoes? Please, correct me if I'm wrong." 

    "Just because I'm better at doing the right thing than you are doesn't mean I'm a goody-two-shoes," I fight back.   

    "Oh, we're going to go there now? Better than me? Well, we'll see about that!" Damien downs his deer blood, spluttering, then grabs me by the wrist and pulls me to the dance floor without my consent. I barely have time to ask what he's doing before he's grabbed my hands and is pulling me along with him as we dance to the pounding beat of the music. Damien spins me, my dress flaring out like rays of the sun that is toxic to him. Before I know it, I'm euphoric again from the experience, giggling and dancing until every part of my body aches.