Page 180 of The Last Vampire
Yet Henry crosses over to stand behind William. Once everyone stops moving, William counts twenty-eight vampires with him.
That leaves only twenty-four with Lenny.
“Dividing into factions is not an option,” William declares to them all in disappointment. “Only one of our visions can prevail.”
“I am glad you see it that way,” says Leonardo the Bloody, throwing off his cloak and handing it to Nate. Underneath, he wears a black suit that must have been what he was buried in, complete with belt and ceremonial dagger.
The other vampires back away in a larger circle as they realize what is about to happen. Only Fabiana and Osorio do not immediately move.
“Second,” says Osorio to William.
“Second,” says Fabiana to Lenny. Then they back up, leaving William to face off with the notorious Leonardo the Bloody.
The day has dawned cloudy and heavy, the perfect covering for a fight between vampires deep in the woods. “If I win,” says Lenny, “you will fall in line and start turning more Stokers.”
“If I win,” says William, “we all return to death-sleep.”
He sticks out his hand and Lenny shakes it. Yet when William tries to pull his fingers away, Leonardo holds on to them and yanks him closer.
“I hope you bid your girlfriend farewell. When I win, she will be my celebratory drink.”
CHAPTER 52lorena
My roommates and I head to the dining hall early for Time Period Day, wearing the long black frocks that are our uniforms for today.
The light fixtures in our tower are off, and the only illumination comes from lanterns strategically placed on certain steps. In the common room, the fireplace has been lit, and as I look at the flames, my stomach muscles clench with guilt.
We meet the guys on the way, wearing black breeches and jackets. Trevor is the only one of us who carries anything with him—his bag with the flamethrower inside.
Something is different about Zach, and it takes me a moment to identify it’s the missing camera around his neck. Minaro must have nixed it in the spirit of the event.
None of us says a word in greeting. It feels like we’re attending our own funeral. I wonder if William has encountered the vampires yet, and whether any of them are listening to him.
Even though it’s morning, the sky is dark and gloomy, so it still looks like night outside. When we enter the dining hall, the chandeliers are off, and candles cluster together at the center of every table. There are also tall stands with lit candles along the walls.
“Congratulations on all your hard work!” Director Minaro greets us. She’swearing a blouse with a floor-length, high-waisted skirt, her hair pulled back in a tight bun. “I look forward to everything you have planned for us today.”
We remain silent, and I wonder if my friends feel the same way I do—like my body is desiccated, all my organs shriveled up, and I couldn’t produce a sound if I tried.
“We should get the newsletters,” Zach manages to say.
“Good idea,” says the director, and as he and Tiffany take off, I look at Trevor. But he’s busy scanning the room and gripping his bag tightly, like a soldier on a battlefield.
As our classmates pour in, the place starts to look and feel more and more like some weird death cult. Salma, Trevor, and I stand in front of the buffet table, waiting for everyone to take their seats.
My stomach feels like it’s trying to digest an anvil as I wait for Tiffany and Zach to discover what we’ve done.
“You can begin your presentation,” says Minaro, and I realize the place has filled up.
Salma nudges me. I’m supposed to talk about the breakfast customs of the mid-1700s, and what these dishes represent, but my vocal cords are in knots.
“Breakfast,” I begin, my voice crackly from the drought in my mouth, “will be bread, milk, porridge…”
Tiffany and Zach run into the hall, looking out of breath.
“Scones, butter, jam…”
Tiffany’s searing gaze finds me, and she looks almost deranged with rage as she and Zach approach us.
