“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.

“I live to serve my mistress,” Grace said.

“You shall be amply rewarded for your devotion.”

The wand did not change color this time. It was expected, but given the political climate brought on by the war warranted caution. As an additional precaution she wound up the turntable and placed the pin along the outer edge.

Grace looked like she wanted to challenge Evelyn, but quickly adopted a smile and approached. The young vampire was no stranger to hiding her emotions, anyone with blue blood and familiar with European royal courts were practically born into it..

Grace walked directly to Evelyn and kissed each other on the cheeks. The motion was practiced and precise, which ironically did not involve any contact.

“I must thank you for finding this delectable specimen,” Evelyn said.

All the while Evelyn pulled out that strange cylinder. At first it did nothing, but when Evelyn took a sip from a silver flask on her workbench it began to glow.

“Mistress,” Grace said, those eyes furrowed and her face neutral.

Vampires rarely showed their true emotions, especially women. While Marc could get away with being a dour killing machine, women had to play the game better than queens. A single slip up can leave you with a second grave.

Grace knew the game well, so her choice to not play showed urgency. That did not mean Evelyn had to play along though.

“Ah, Ma chère Grâce,” Evelyn said. (Ah, my dear Grace.)  “Come and indulge in this wine.”

She normally did not indulge in blood wine, as Marc did not handle it well. However, The Grand offered it freely and it permitted her to work longer hours before getting hungry.

She took a sip and moaned, a clear sign that she was famished. Evelyn could control her hunger better than most, but even she could find herself in a state where all she thought about was feeding. Thankfully I’m nowhere near that point.

She greedily finished her glass and was filling another one when Grace walked inside. That particular vampire was one of the few people who could evade detection until nearly upon her. Marc taught her well.

“When I need her face, I’ll open the doors,” Evelyn said. “The workers can stare all they want.”

Evelyn always created in the nude, something she learned after destroying several expensive gowns and corsets. She learned to enjoy the freedom and as a vampire minor nicks and cuts were easier to deal with than dedicating much of her time towards cleaning or sewing together a new gown. Besides it would drive Marc crazy which was icing on the cake.

At the table she reached for a bottle of wine and poured some of it into a led-crystal glass. It was redder than a normal bottle of wine because it contained copious amounts of human blood.

She normally did not indulge in blood wine, as Marc did not handle it well. However, The Grand offered it freely and it permitted her to work longer hours before getting hungry.

Her model was no stranger to hard work, her arms and legs were toned, and her stomach visibly showed abs. She fits my image of a Grecko-Roman goddess perfectly.

This worked wonderfully for this room which would be dedicated to Artemis. The model was standing on one leg, pointing towards the ceiling with a bow. The pose was impossible for a model to hold for long. So, Evelyn had given her just enough blood to lend strength and maintain balance.

To deal with the toxic fumes from the lanterns, there was a wet cloth wrapped around her model’s face. Even now Evelyn could see how soot darkened the material.