Evelyn learned that lesson well as a courtesan in France. The madame certainly wore clothing and perfume that were well above her station. Whereas I was lucky to have a hand-me-down dress to my name.

Evelyn had no wish to subjugate other women, or men to her fate. Sex was only part of the equation because a moment of weakness for the powerful could become a lifetime’s worth of leverage.

Whereas Drusilla and her ilk wanted to dominate and enslave through power and fear. Evelyn sought out the ability to gain power, for financial gain or intelligence.

“I figure in a week or so the hotel’s gate will be active.”

Grace was implying the model should be shipped off when give her an opportunity. I’m not sure that dropping her off in a big city after nearly being served as the main course would be setting her up for success.

“I’m not following,” Evelyn said.

Grace smiled, a mischievous little smile that hinted at her true vampire nature. She’s been buttering me up for this.

“They offered her to you as a bonus,” Grace said. “Something about the quality of your work.”

Evelyn’s eyes opened wide and she lunged at the younger vampire. Grace’s eyes practically popped out from her head because of the strength of that hug.

“Ouff,” Grace said.

“Oh,” Evelyn said. “I forget my own strength.”

“I figure in a week or so the hotel’s gate will be active.”

“You can still give her a better life,” Grace said.

Evelyn cocked her head to the side and placed her index finger across her lips.

“She was meant for another guest who had to leave on short notice.”

It was clear there was more to this story. Instead of interrupting Evelyn further tilted her head to the side.

“They offered her to you as a bonus,” Grace said. “Something about the quality of your work.”

Evelyn would gladly drain a murderer dry or make an example out of a rapist. She loved to create elaborate murder scenes that left investigators scarred for life. Given the strength and brutality needed to create such scenes they always attributed these heinous crimes to a man.

That was one of her few indulgences, one that Marc rarely permitted. Still, even he had to admit that the streets were safer when the newspapers were filled with headlines of a new massacre.

“You can still give her a better life,” Grace said.

“I suddenly lost my appetite,” Evelyn said before letting out a nervous burp.

“Mistress?” Grace asked.

“She’s not exactly my normal fare,” Evelyn said. “Judging by her calloused hands, I’d guess she’s a runaway farm girl, looking for a better life.”

It was almost ingenious really building this hotel where it was. Far enough from the city to round up drifters and non-desireables without raising suspicions. I guess I was expecting them to empty out the prisons…

When Evelyn agreed to come here at The Grand she knew it advertised itself as being a haven for their kind. She also knew that humans were to be guests, as a way of hiding the true nature of their most cherished clientele. Hiding amongst the sheep.

What she did not count on was the fact that they would treat people like cattle. Evelyn fully expected the model to be one of the many staff needed to maintain a hotel of this size. I was not counting on her being a late night snack.

Of course that explained why they were building the world’s largest hedge labyrinth on the valley floor below. It also shed light on their reason for maintaining the wild woods surrounding the manicured gardens. Drugged prey for the lazy hunter…

“Quoi?” Evelyn said without realizing that she was speaking like the Nouvelle France colonists. (What?)

Grace giggled and Evelyn followed suit once she realized her slip up. I think I’ll need to take a long break after this piece.

She looked at her statue before those eyes moved to the model and found her second wind. I’d hate to leave this project unfinished for too long.

“The kitchen,” Grace repeated to give her a moment to formulate a reply. “They keep live humans…”

Evelyn returned to the table and let her mask drop. In spite of the blood the long sessions and physical exertion were starting to take their toll. Evelyn’s eyes were half closed as was her smile, as though yearning for a good night’s rest.

“The kitchen,” Grace answered.

That was not what Grace had to say earlier, but her mistress did ask the question. One that was enough for the weary Evelyn to fully open her eyes.

Soon the room was filled with the sound of Emma Calvé’s fiery Carmen aria. That voice never failed to bring a flood of memories of the private show that Marc arranged for her. Emma had a passion and authenticity to her voice that was impossible for a fellow artist to ignore. After the third song Marc excused himself, and before she finished her fourth, Evelyn was testing Emma’s vocal range through passionate lovemaking.

That was a night she would never forget. Emma likely would not either as she cancelled all her performances for the week to do fatigue. I should meet up with her again and see if she remembers me after thirty years.