Sully had finally acquired a new apartment in one of the better parts of Brooklyn. The penthouse—all big windows and minimalist design—had been abandoned by a British loyalist who had fled for Britannia with his tail between his legs. While on one level, Sully loathed middle-class trappings—she’d always been the one in the basement apartment judging the one in the penthouse, not the other way around—even she had to admit that it gave her a good view of the city. Her city.
With Marie now a permanent house guest, Sully had paid a jaw-dropping amount from her new salary to get a special treatment put on the windows to keep out the ultraviolet radiation. Technically she supposed it was on the taxpayers’ bill, but by this point, Sully was starting to think that maybe they owed her some hazard pay. With all of the other vampires exiled to whichever backwater Empire would take them, Marie had to keep a low profile. She bitched and moaned constantly about being held captive in the lap of luxury. There were places she wanted to go, things she wanted to do, but they were all in the public eye.
The theaters of New Amsterdam were overflowing with new plays about Manhattan, the Year of the Knife, the War of Independence. The cinemas would be right behind them—churning out propaganda about the birth of a new nation would keep them busy for years to come. Sully understood that the provisional government had even sold off the rights to her life story, provided they got to vet the film’s contents first.
She smiled bitterly at that last part; Leonard had learned that from the Khanate—you can let anyone say and do whatever they like under your rule as long as the history books get your approval.
The first time Sully stopped Marie’s complaining with a kiss, Marie had gone right back to it a moment later. By the fiftieth time, she’d just sighed and melted in Sully’s arms. It turned into a game for them; every time Marie complained about anything at all Sully would give her an absent peck on the cheek.
They settled into their new life comfortably, falling back into patterns from the days before Marie had left—days that seemed like such a long time ago they weren’t worth discussing. Songs from the old musicals that Marie loved so much filled the space, with Sully still singing to them off key in the shower.
Sully brought in a steady stream of adventurous takeaway meals from all over the city. She dreaded but ate them because it made Marie happy to experience the smells and to have the flavors described to her. At some point, Sully didn’t notice exactly when, Marie started wearing a ring that she claimed she’d found among her old things. A ring that Sully recognized as the one she’d given Marie all those many years ago. They never spoke about it.
That night after sharing a bottle of wine, Marie drinking it vicariously through Sully’s intoxicated blood, they fell into bed together a little earlier than usual. Before the clocks struck midnight, Sully found herself up again, cold and shivering after having her warmth sapped away by Marie’s chill touch.
She picked up an abandoned Hawaiian shirt from the floor, wrapped it around herself for warmth, and walked out onto the balcony. She looked out over New Amsterdam, deafeningly loud and impossibly busy, even now, after all that had happened. It stretched off as far as the eye could see in every direction and, for tonight at least, it was safe.