“Oh, I’m not human,” I said. I grinned, showing off my fangs, and the daimon girls drew back with a gasp.
“A Bludman?”
“It can’t be.”
“She’ll eat all the customers!”
“Will she eat us?”
“I don’t think so. We don’t taste so good, on the inside.”
Mel let out a piercing whistle, and the other daimons stopped sidling backward and chattering and instead stared at me as if I was a bludbear walking on two legs in galoshes.
“Silly things. Do you think Madame Sylvie would let her into the cabaret if she was dangerous?” She turned to me and put a hand on my shoulder as if to help me prove my point. “Demi, darling. Have you ever killed anyone?”
“Never. I’ve never even drunk from a live body. And Bludmen don’t care for daimon blood.”
The girls began whispering again, and Blaise stepped out of their throng.
“It’s true. Madame Sylvie tested her against Monsieur Philippe. She kissed him on the cheek.”
The purple daimon let out a glittering laugh. “If you can get close to that buffet of flesh without drawing blood, you can withstand anything.”
“I almost killed him just last week, and I can’t even eat him,” added a pink daimon.
They all laughed and crept forward, and I closed my lips over my fangs to smile.
Limone pushed her way past the girls and stood to face me. Her cheekbones were hard-cut, her face pointed and austere. Hers was a cruel beauty, and in a way, I envied her. Even after being bludded, I still felt too soft, too curved, too pink-cheeked. No one would mess with Limone.
“Just because a dog licks your hand does not mean it won’t turn on you.”
I showed my fangs, my posture as straight and aggressive as hers. “I don’t plan on licking you or turning on you,” I said. “I’d rather be friends.”
Her nostrils flared, her eyes narrowing to glittery green slits like cracked glass. “I don’t have friends. And I don’t keep dogs. And if you ever try to lick me, I’ll cut off your tongue.” Her long fingers waggled in the air, their wicked points even more dangerous-looking than my actual talons. “You don’t belong here, Demi. Go back to Darkside where you belong.”
My human instincts told me to cower. My Bludman instincts told me to murder. I fought them both and took a step toward her with a steely smile. “Oh, I belong here.”
She snorted and shoved past me, knocking into my shoulder in a way that made me bite back a hiss. “Not for long.”
After her door slammed behind her, Mel pulled me close again by my shoulder. “Here, Demi. I think I have a spare blanket. And Leola, didn’t you keep one of Mireille’s night shifts?”
With nods and murmurs, the other daimon girls disappeared into their rooms, returning swiftly with small gifts that I didn’t know how to repay, considering I had nothing but what was on my back. The talents that would earn my keep in Paris were no good to them.
Tears filled my eyes, and I clutched the worn old nightgown to my chest as Mel fluttered her hands at two girls carrying pillows and blankets. A blue daimon with a cheerful smile made the bed carefully, tucking the ripped quilt as if it were made of finest silk and fluffing the old pillow.
“I can’t thank y’all enough,” I stammered. “Your kindness is too much. I can’t repay—”
Mel held my face in her hands and closed her eyes, breathing in deeply. “You already are, chérie. We can taste your thanks on the air. Your heart is sweet, like flowers in the spring.”
I noticed that the other girls had set my bed to rights and were also smiling dreamily, their mouths open as they breathed.
“It will be good to have you around. Like a midnight snack, yes?” Mel said.
The violet daimon nodded eagerly. “Lads below bring only lust and the smallest bit of amazement. But you’re still fresh, you see.” Her short, curly hair reminded me of Emerlie, and I gave her a wobbly smile.
“I’m Lexie,” she said with a curtsey. “Even if the door says Alexandra.”
“And this is Beatrice, though we call her Bea.” The blue girl who had made my bed nodded and gave a little wave with long, elegant fingers. Mel slung an arm around Bea’s waist, and Bea put her head against Mel’s shoulder. “She can’t talk, but you’ll pick up some signs pretty quickly.”
Remembering a few simple bits of sign language I’d learned in elementary school, I signed Thank you, hoping that the gestures carried the same meaning. Bea’s face lit up, a shiver of sky blue rippling over her skin. Her fingers flew excitedly with a flurry of signs, but I didn’t recognize anything else, except something that looked like crabapple, which wasn’t helpful.