Bloody Fabulous by Ekaterina Sedia Read Free Book Online

done.
    The photographer and the art director were afraid to face the Seamstress Extraordinary, so Lilia was sent again. When she appeared and stuttered through her request, Marguerite had glared at her while fingering the scissors. She pointed at the slacks legs on the floor. Lilia stooped and handed them to her.
    Marguerite slugged the last contents of the glass down, picked up a threaded needle. Again without looking the ageless woman stitched a leg together once, twice, perhaps six times.
    The juncture was almost invisible to the eye and certainly could be to the camera. She handed the slacks back to Lilia. “But the other leg,” said the girl.
    “En silhouette,” said the woman, sank back on a stool and closed her eyes, “one side only,” she added.
    “I can’t take it back like this!”
    In a move like a snake, the woman grabbed Lilia’s left hand. With scissors she cut the girl’s index finger; squeezed out bubbles of blood and avidly lapped them all off. She repeated this a few times then picked up the slacks and again with no more than six stitches created a seamless whole. Lilia, in tears, picked up the garment with her unbloodied hand and fled.
    For the rest of that day she floated in a world where light blurred her vision into color patterns, where hysterical photographers and art directors existed in a distant place and nothing touched her.
    Only later when she and Larry entered the world of the Nightwalkers did Lilia understand that what she’d felt had been just a small corner of the wonder of the Bite. At that point she also had not faced the horrid downside of withdrawal.
    At Reliquary the night of the Vogue shoot Lilia didn’t notice Marguerite beside her until the old woman grabbed her hair and pulled her head down. With a tiny shears she snipped the leather choker on Lilia’s neck and bit her long and deep.
    “This is not a game for tourists and amateurs,” she hissed as Lilia floated in a blood high. “You will not stand apart and be amused at the workings of my world.”
    Late that February all was celebratory in the Savage Design conference room. Maison Herrault had triumphed in New York and Paris. The Vogue layout, all dark elegance and pale skin, was displayed on the walls.
    Marguerite and the Kindly Ones were very pleased with their shares of the proceeds. Lilia sat as far away from everyone as possible. She floated on the remnants of the prior night’s blood buzz and gazed at the artwork through sunglasses.
    Under the photos were blocks of Felice’s copy. One was: Fashion is a cyclical phenomenon—the newest sensation withers but never dies.
    Another was: An amazing top found in a vintage thrift store, a haircut seen in the old photo: we are fascinated and want more. A look, a style starts again.
    Paulo had a yo-yo in each hand. His left was slack, his right performed Shoot the Moon. “We found the boomlet and played it perfectly,” he said. “By spring it will be nasty and we’ll be nowhere nearby.”
    He turned to Marguerite. “It’s always an inspiration to work with Maison Herrault.”
    Marguerite said, “An old vice gives comfort like any old habit.” She got up slowly and went to the door. “Until next time.”
    The Kindly Ones rose, made little waves with their fingers but kept their distance as the ancient woman exited.
    “Remember us to M. Herrault,” Felice said.
    “In whatever corner of hell he occupies,” Paulo added when Marguerite was gone. “Undying but at what cost?” The ancient voice wondered.
    “Something to consider as old age closes in,” said Katya.
    They all looked relieved to turn and see Lilia also on her feet and clearly leaving. “Nice working with you,” Paulo said in parting. “Maybe again someday.”
    Lilia glanced back to see Katya put her feet in glistening new ankle boots up on the table. They all picked up copies of a proposal.
    Paulo’s right hand kept on with Shoot the Moon, while his left began doing Skyrocket to Mars. The