Page 107 of The Last Vampire
“I’ll reschedule it,” says Nate, speaking just as softly from the far end of the street. William can see Cisco’s head swiveling between them like he is at a tennis match.
It occurs to William that they may be under orders to guard him at all times, which would make him their prisoner. Now is his chance to find out.
“Come on,” says Nate, waving him over. “Trust me.”
William almost laughs. “You ask for that which you refuse to give.”
Then he darts inside the building and waits to see if they follow. He inhales deeply to gauge their location, yet their ancient scents have vanished.
They are gone.
WILLIAM FOLLOWSthe receptionist’s instructions and walks down to the third set of elevators. When the doors close, thePENTHOUSEbutton lights up on its own.
At the top of the tower, he finds himself in the entryway of a very private and upscale restaurant. He cannot see any food or tables from here, yet he can smell a medley of dishes. A series of artfully draped curtains conceals diners from view.
After removing his long coat and folding it over his arm, he approaches a hostess. “I am meeting Anne McIntyre.”
She looks him up and down before declaring, “We have a dress code. A dinner jacket is required. Follow me, please.”
He does as she says, and they slip past a set of silky silver curtains and enter a spacious dressing area lined with dark blazers with golden crests that make him think of his Huntington uniform. The woman hands him a gray jacket, and he pulls it over his black cotton sweater. It is only as William follows her back out that he realizes he could have simply compelled the hostess to let him through.
Strange, how the thought did not even occur to him.
“You’re a little early, but you can wait at the bar,” says the hostess, taking him through sapphire curtains that glimmer like the sea. She leads him to a stool at a wide marble counter, and when the bartender asks for his drink, he orders an old-fashioned just because he hears another customer say it, and the name suits him.
Vampires can get drunk, but rather than a couple of glasses, it takes a few bottles. The drink set before him has the look of a corrosive agent, and when William takes a gulp, it tastes like one, too.
He has just finished draining the glass when he inhales an ancient scent. He gets to his feet and faces the blue curtains as they part, and in his peripheral vision, he sees everyone else at the bar turning in the same direction.
Anne wears a slinky purple dress that works quite well with the place’s aesthetic. Her long blond hair cascades down her hourglass figure in waves, and a diamond the size of a baby’s fist hangs from her neck. She carries no coat or purse, but a cell phone is clasped in her fingers.
“Hello, William,” she says. “I’m Anne. This way.”
He trails her and the hostess down a few passages, until they reach a set of bloodred curtains at the end of the hall.
The hostess holds one side open for them, and William follows Anne into a private dining area with a table set for two, overlooking Central Park and the city’s illuminated skyline.
“We will not be eating, just drinking,” Anne informs the hostess. “We will start with the 2019 Domaine de la Romanée-Conti Grand Cru, and in thirty minutes, follow it up with the 2012 Screaming Eagle Cabernet Sauvignon. We will serve ourselves and require no further interruptions.”
Just the way Anne moves and speaks and commands what she wants makes William feel clumsy and unrefined and centuries younger.
“Yes, ma’am,” says the hostess, and a second woman enters so quickly with the first bottle that it feels like they were anticipating Anne’s exact order.
She serves Anne first, and after smelling and tasting the drink, the vampire nods. Then the woman fills both glasses.
Once they are alone, Anne takes a long sip of her wine, and William does the same. This drink is more pleasant than the old-fashioned, its fruity headiness almost warming him. When she sets down her glass, she nudges the phone across the tabletop toward him.
“I have registered an email address for you and opened your bank account. I set you up as the recipient of a family trust, and a hundred thousand dollars will be deposited into your account every month. If you need more, ask, but don’t flash your money around because it’s better to avoid attention. I will handle your taxes and all your financial dealings, so you don’t have to worry about that.”
She touches the phone’s screen, and it lights up with an image of a sunset. “It’s unlocked, but you can set a passcode. This button is your wallet, which you can use to pay for things. I also saved my phone number. Any questions?”
She picks up her wineglass again and sits back as she sips, like the business portion of the evening is over.
“A few, actually,” says William, sitting up and setting his glass aside. “Why are you doing this for me?”
“Foryou?” She shakes her head. “I do this for everyone. I finance our entire species.”
“But—how?” he asks in awe.
