Bastien peered down at her. "I know," he announced. "This way."
He gestured the way they had come, and Terri fell into step beside him. Bastien led her to the escalator. They rode up a floor, then turned right and walked a little distance.
"Up that hall," he said, helpfully. "I'll be waiting right here when you come out."
Nodding, Terri followed his directions. The door to the ladies' room was open, and Terri stepped inside and almost groaned aloud at the sight of the long line of shoppers waiting their turn at the stalls. The size of the line was daunting, and really rather incomprehensible to Terri, until she spotted the signs and realized that half the bathroom had been closed off for cleaning.
Wasn't that just her luck? she thought. Her timing had always been bad. Well, there was nothing for it but to wait. She just hoped Bastien was a patient man.
Outside, Bastien leaned against the wall, crossed his arms over his chest, his feet at the ankles, and prepared to wait. Women always took forever in the washroom. He'd learned that a long time ago. Three-hundred-plus-years ago, actually. It was one thing that hadn't changed over the ages, and a fact that still bewildered him. What did they do in there for all that time? He'd asked his mother and Lissianna the question many times over the centuries, but they'd never given him a satisfactory answer.
Perhaps Terri would be the exception to the rule. Not that he minded waiting. While it was a relief to be out of the sun, a good deal of damage had already been done, and he felt horrid. A bag or two of blood would be a welcome relief. His head was pounding and his body cramping from the exposure.
Two women turned the corner and walked past him, chattering happily as they headed toward the ladies' room. And that was another thing. Women often visited the bathroom in pairs. What was that all about?
The tap-tap of shoes drew his gaze to the left as the customer who had been haranguing the poor sales-clerk downstairs came around the corner into view. She was grim-faced and mean-looking, a bitter old pill. She was the type of person Bastien had always preferred biting in the past—back when feeding off living humans was necessary. Bastien had always tended toward biting people he didn't like. It just caused less guilt than feasting on someone sweet and nice and unsuspecting. He'd often chosen people who were criminals, or the selfish, but the mean-spirited were always his favorite. Bastien had taken great delight in leaving the crusty old nasties feeling weak and confused.
He smiled pleasantly as this crusty old biddy came abreast of him, and received a sneer for his trouble. Oh, yes—she was the sort he would have delighted in taking down a peg. In the past, while taking their blood, he'd often taken the opportunity to put the thought in these nasty people's heads that they should be kinder to those around them, which had always left him with a sense of satisfaction. It had felt almost like he was doing the world a favor by feeding on them.
Bastien stilled as she moved past him and he caught a whiff of her. Blood—sweet and heady. He felt his cramps intensify, and tried to ignore them by pondering the woman's blood type. She was a diabetic, he recognized from her scent. And she was a diabetic who either didn't know she was, or who didn't take care of the problem. He was guessing the latter. He was also guessing that she had an open cut somewhere, or the scent wouldn't be so strong.
He watched her walk down the hall and disappear through the bathroom door. A moment later however, she came marching back out. And march was the only word for it; the woman was obviously on the warpath.
"If you're waiting for someone, you can expect a long wait," she informed him with almost gleeful anger. "They've got half the stalls closed for cleanup, leaving a ridiculous line. Idiot women! They should be complaining, like I plan on doing. Service used to be important."
Some people just weren't happy unless they had something to bitch about, Bastien thought with a sigh. He would definitely have done the world a favor by biting her, if he was still a biter.
A whiff of the sweet scent of blood hit him again as she passed. This time, it was stronger, which could only mean the open cut was on this side of her. The concentrated scent this time caused concentrated pain, and Bastien half doubled over with it. He really needed blood. He should have stayed out of the sun. He was an idiot, and one who he very much feared was about to ruin not just the trip around the flea market, but the entire day. He was going to have to return to the penthouse early just so he could feed. The task would take only a matter of minutes, but their outing would certainly be ruined.
"What's the matter with you?"
Bastien glanced up to see the biddy staring at him with disgust.
"What are you, one of those drug addicts?" she asked, and again there was a hint of glee in her words. She was enjoying the idea of his suffering.