by Lucas Thorn
“A lot of hotels are white,” Vasilja said. “I think it’s because they’re obsessed with marble. Even when they don’t have any marble, they like to emulate it. Marble’s very popular now. It must be a Greek thing. Or Roman. Although, I think Hailwic would tell me it’s Italian.”
“Whatever it is, it’s horrible.” She looked unimpressed as a man in an immaculate suit came to greet them. “I preferred our castle.”
“I suppose there are worse places,” Vasilja admitted. Then beamed at the young man moving out from behind the counter, throwing her power ahead of herself in a wave.
He stumbled midstep.
Caught himself with a mild shake of head.
Smiled.
“Ladies,” he said. Bowed. “Welcome to Le Grand.”
“My Name is Countess Vasilja Dracula.” Her purr made him smile and his eyes half-closed. “This is my sister, Countess Senka Dracula. We apologise for the late arrival, but require three rooms. One simply must be facing the Palais Garnier. I don’t imagine it’s important where the others face, but it would be appreciated if one was on one of the upper levels and the other closer to the ground as our companion is of an age where stairs might prove a distraction.”
“We have an elevator, Lady.”
“He doesn’t trust the things.” She smiled, a winsome smile which caught his breath. “He’s not as worldly as you or I. What did you say your name was?”
“Gilles, Lady. Gilles Foucheux.”
“Mister Foucheux. If you could arrange our rooms, we would be most appreciative.” She looked around. “I would also like you to acquire two tickets to tomorrow’s Opera. I don’t mind what it is.”
“Of course.”
“We would also like to be sure our rooms will not be disturbed during the day. We’ve had a tiresome journey and would like to rest.”
“This, too, Lady, can be arranged.”
“Excellent.” She turned as Dimiti made his way inside. The old man blinked at the finery. Shook his head. Whistled under his breath, and then approached as she waved him closer. “Dimiti? What are you doing there? Please meet Mister Gilles Foucheux, Dimiti. If you require anything further from us, Mister Foucheux, we would appreciate you approaching Dimiti first.”
“Dimiti.” Gilles tried the word.
“Very good, Mister Foucheux. Now we’re acquainted, which room is ours?”
“Oh. Yes, Countess Dracula. I will sort it out right away.”
She watched him skip to the counter and begin preparations.
“I want to bite him.”
“Of course you do, Senka. You want to bite everyone we meet.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” She frowned. “Why three rooms, Vasilja?”
“Hush. It will become clear later.” She looked to Dimiti. “Are our bags prepared?”
“Aye, Lady.”
“Bring them with us. I don’t want any locals handling them.”
“Of course.”
“I want you to keep close to Mister Foucheux, Dimiti. Should anything occur, I’ll need you to take care of things.”
“I’ll be like his shadow.”
“Not that close. We don’t want him to fuss.”
“I’ll be discreet.”
“Of course you will.”
Gilles looked up. “Countess, would you sign, please? We must all sign the book, I’m afraid.”
“Naturally.” She drifted over to him.
Smiled again, the smile broadening as he blushed in response.
Took the pen and dipped it slowly into the ink before racing her signature across the paper.
“Thank you, Countess,” he said. A small cough to bring oxygen back to his lungs.
“I do not wish for any attention, Mister Foucheux. Do you understand?”
“No one will know you’re here, Countess. I swear it.”
“And you will have my tickets for me by tomorrow evening?”
“I’ll keep them with me to be safe.”
She reached with a cold hand and ran a finger down the length of his jaw. “You’re a good boy, Mister Foucheux. There’s no need for anyone to show us to our rooms. Do me one last favour, would you? Try not to eat any more garlic tomorrow.”
He ducked his head. Face bright red. “I will do as you require, Countess.”
“Or onion.”
Struggling to think, the young man nodded again. “As you wish.”
“I do so wish.” She spun away. Pointed at Dimiti. “Please take the keys, Dimiti. Senka? What are you waiting for?”
“Can we try the elevator?”
“If you must.”
“I must, Vasilja. Don’t you think it sounds wonderful?”
“Not particularly. It’s a box being lifted on a rope. Or a chain. Or whatever. It doesn’t sound very safe to me.”
“Are you frightened?” The younger vampire smirked.
“Not for myself. But I’d rather not lose Dimiti.” She brushed the old man’s shoulder with genuine affection. “I like him.”
“Thank you, Lady.”
“You’re very welcome.”
The elevator’s door was open and a wiry old man stood, suit immaculate, just within.
He bowed as they entered. Began closing the doors.
Latched them.
Smiled as he bowed. “Which floor, Lady?”
“What floor is Senka’s room, Dimiti?”
“The third, Lady.”
“What’s your name?”
“My name?” Chuckled nervously. “Juste, Lady.”
“Juste. Take us to the third floor, please, Juste.”
The elevator rose slowly, but with a smoothness which left Senka giggling by the time they made the top.
Thanking the old man, they slid into the hall and stood waiting for the elevator to go back down.
“Remarkable,” Vasilja said at last. “Not quite as bad as I thought.”
“I want one for the castle.”
“You don’t need one. You can just fly up the stairwell.”
“So?”
“That is not a sentence, and does not deserve any further response.” She leaned toward Dimiti. “Which one is her room?”
“Here.”
“Excellent. Could you make sure the bags are left in mine downstairs. But make sure you keep Hailwic with you. Don’t let her out of your sight. She’d be dreadfully upset if we lost her.”
“I’ll keep her with me all the time, Lady. I promise.”
The room’s furniture was blue velvet and gold trim. The bed looked soft and inviting.
Senka made to jump on it, but Vasilja took her arm and dragged her to the window instead. Pulled the curtain aside and pushed her against the glass. “Keep an eye on the street below,” she said. “I want to know if there’s anyone watching. Can you do that, Senka? Can you keep your attention on something for just a few minutes instead of getting bored and not doing it properly?”
“I’ll try.” Dry. “Just for you.”
“Dimiti? Lock the door behind you and take the key. We shan’t be needing it.”
“Aye, Lady. Is there anything else you’ll be wanting?”
“No, I don’t think so. We’ll meet you in the lobby tomorrow after sunset. No, wait. Could you also make sure you’ve arranged an appointment with the current Governor of the Banque de France?”
“I’ll do so first thing.”
“Let him know it’s a matter of some urgency, and if that doesn’t get him excited you may tell him we’re thinking of taking our money to another bank.”
“I’ll tell him.”
The old man shuffled out of the room, leaving the two vampires close to the window.
“Does anybody look interested?”
“I can’t see anyone.”
“And I can’t feel anyone in the shadows.”
“Are you sure?”
“One can never be too sure. This is where Hailwic was always more reliable. She could talk to the rats, or something.”
“What are we doing, Vasilja?”
“We’re booking into Le Grand, Senka. It’s just that I thought it imprudent to use the rooms we’ve been allocated.” She smiled wickedly. “There are eight hundred in this hotel. How long would it take a vampire hunter to search them all, do you think?”
“That’s brilliant.”
“Thankyou.”
“Which will we use?”
“Now, that all depends.”
“On?”
Vasilja took Senka’s arm and her expression was mischievous. “Tell me, sister. Don’t you feel like biting?”
“Didn’t you say I always feel like biting?”
“Is that an answer?”
“I think it is.”
“Then, let’s go find something delicious.”
“Something young? Something which wriggles?”
“If we can.”
“It’s been too long.” Sigh. “I miss Hailwic.”
“Me, too. I’m getting a headache from making all the decisions. It’s very frustrating.”
The two vampires slid into the night air, floating weightless and silent. Their bags in hand, they drifted from room to room, Vasilja pausing near each window. Stretching inside with her power.
Grunting unhappily.
Then moving on.
“We need to find somewhere,” Senka said. “The sun will be up soon.”
“I know when the sun will be up, Senka. I probably know better than you how long we’ve got. But we don’t want just any old room, do we?”
The younger vampire looked down at the street below. Bright lights shivered cold.
Only a few figures walked the street this late and most of them didn’t so much walk as weave. One crashed into some bins and remained where he was, singing at the top of his lungs about the joys of absinthe.
A cat skipped away from him, crossing the street at a scamper. Tail flicking.
It didn’t look up.
She slid onto a ledge and crouched, coat tails hung loose down her sides. Tickled by the wind, they slithered against the hotel wall. Two dark snakes. Her top hat tucked under her arm to stop it from flying away.
She touched the back of her hand. Tracing the veins.
They looked dark.
In her dreams, they’d glowed the most brilliant green she’d ever seen. The same colour as the Felstone. She couldn’t stop thinking about it. The closer they’d come to Paris, the more she thought about her dreams.
And the more she began to doubt them.
Vasilja hovered just below, pressing her cheek against the window.
Listening.
Her power stretching into the room like an invisible tentacle.
Teasing the dreams of sleepers.
Peeling back their desires.
Feeling.
A magnificent power, Senka thought.
And Hailwic’s had been incredible, too. Hailwic could control bats. Rats. Owls. Cats. Even wolves.
Creatures of the night, Dracula called them.
It had sounded poetic when he called them that.
She remembered when he took her along the ramparts and showed her the view from the mountains. She’d heard the wolves howling in the distance.
“They hunt,” he’d said. “As will we. We are all children of the night.”
His powers were even more potent. Along with the same powers as Hailwic and Vasilja, Satan had gifted him with control of his own form. He could become smoke. Become a wolf.
A bat.
He was, she’d thought when she first met him, the closest to a god she could imagine.
They all had powers.
Except for her.
“It takes time to manifest,” Hailwic had said. “It took me two hundred years.”
“It only took me two months,” Vasilja said. “Maybe you are both just slow?”
Looking down at Vasilja probing the room, Senka wondered if the other vampire was right.
Was she slow?
And were her dreams only naïve fantasy? Fanciful desires of a fledgling vampire whose powers had yet to manifest?
Would Vasilja resent her more if she couldn’t bring back Hailwic?
If her heart could still beat, it’d be racing, she thought.
“Senka!” Vasilja was looking up at her. “What are you doing?”
“Thinking.”
“Well, stop it. It doesn’t suit you. Come down here. This one is perfect.”
“How can you tell?”
“Because there’s two of them.”
“Men?”
“No, Senka. Little ones. There’s two of them. I told you I’d find somewhere perfect.”
Senka drifted down to her sister and took her hand. “I never doubted you.”
“Really?”
“No. Hailwic said you always find the best things to bite. I think she was right.” The young vampire smiled, showing her fangs. “You’re just not very good at finding music.”
“That’s not a nice thing to say.”
“Please open the window, Vasilja. I can’t bear to think any more tonight. I really need to bite…”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
It took three more days to arrange an appointment with the Governor. A stocky man with an overgrown set of muttonchops clinging to pallid face. Eyes which studied the two vampires with a look of reptilian detachment even after Vasilja prodded him with her power.
His upper lids never quite opened, and the bags under his eyes seemed to droop so far as to almost envelope his cheeks.
“This is most irregular, Countess,” he said. “Most irregular indeed. Count Dracula’s holdings have always been meticulously maintained.”
“I’m sure they have,” Vasilja said. Waved a hand dismissively. “But we wish to see some investments in, let’s say, alternate pockets of possibility?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Well, we’ve noticed there’s been quite the interest in electricity. It looks promising.”
“A fad, I’m sure.” His expression was one of distaste. “I have it on good authority that it’s dangerous. It has been shown that it can kill horses. Imagine the dangers it would pose to people.”
“Oh, I am, Mister Magnin. I truly am.” She almost scowled. “But we believe it to be more profitable in the longterm than gas.”
“That’s not what I’m, hearing, Countess. And my information comes from very scientific and reputable sources, I assure you. Everyone’s hearing the same.”
“Well, we’ve heard the opposite. Haven’t we, Senka?”
Senka tried to sit up straighter in her chair.
Failed.
Nodded. “Oh, yes, Vasilja. Very profitable business.”
“You see?” Vasilja leaned forward. Rapped a hand on the old man’s desk. “Even my uneducated sister knows it’s very profitable, Mister Magnin. So, we’d like to see some investments made in that area.”
“I would need Count Dracula’s signature, of course.” Sourly, he pushed himself back in his chair, as if to end the meeting.
“You’re not listening, Mister Magnin,” she said. “I do so dislike when people don’t listen to me. Especially if I feel it’s because they’re not taking me seriously.”
“I cannot change the terms of our agreement, Countess, and our terms were quite clear. I can make no business arrangements without his signature.”
“Yet, you may accept mine when the need to withdraw funds is presented?”
“Of course. That is agreeable.”
“I’m glad you find that agreeable, Mister Magnin, because in the morning, I shall be withdrawing the entirety of the Dracula funds and transferring it to another bank. I am currently investigating one run called the Rothschilds. It sounds as though they have a more civilized understanding of the concept of profit-building.”
The old man almost choked. “But, Countess…”
“I will not hear it. Either you will divert our interests as I’ve told you to, or I will div
ert the capital. It’s your choice, Mister Magnin.”
“It seems you have me in a corner, Countess.”
“You’ll find the Count left money matters to me, Mister Magnin. A sensible decision, really. He’s actually quite useless with financial decisions. If he was any good at them, he wouldn’t have had so many tax problems and be in the position he was when we met.”
“Well,” he said. Reptile eyes trying to judge her determination. “Then, perhaps we could come to some form of arrangement after all.”
“That would be pleasant.”
“We could, say, withdraw funds from the Dracula account and, perhaps, deposit them in one of your own, Countess? Those funds could be used for the investments you request.”
“This sounds much more reasonable.” She looked at Senka, who shrugged. Bored. “I will, of course, require another account for my sister. She has been authorised, I take it?”
“Of course.”
“Excellent.” Vasilja slapped Senka’s forearm. “Oh, do wake up, Senka. Protecting your financial future is of some importance, you know. You can’t maintain a castle without income, you know.”
“Very wise words,” Magnin rumbled. “You should listen to your sister, Countess.”
“I do,” Senka said. “I don’t really get a choice.”
“Don’t be loathsome.” Vasilja looked smug. “Now, Mister Magnin. I trust the necessary papers will be sent to my hotel tomorrow?”
“Of course.”
“Have them left at the front desk for me.”
“As you wish.” He didn’t look happy, but the vampire was content he’d follow instructions.
“Then, I have another matter to discuss. One which requires discretion.”
“Oh?” He rubbed his muttonchops and settled more comfortably in his chair. Banking wasn’t his favourite subject, and he’d no doubt be passing off the paperwork to one of his junior assistants. Who, Vasilja hoped, would be more open to her powers.
Gossip, however, was something he relished. And the tone of her voice was a lure.
“We’re new to Paris. I haven’t yet had a chance to introduce myself. But the Count, as you know, has always maintained strong ties within the Mason community. He is also active within several philosophical societies.”
He looked away with a slight cough. “I wouldn’t know, Countess. Entirely not my business.”
“Of course not.” She tried again, pushing with her power. Leaning closer. Purring softly. “Pierre. It wouldn’t do any harm to share a name with me of someone, shall we say, high within the Lodge? I wish only to further extend my husband’s greetings and enter into Parisian society with the right kind of people. You do know what I’m talking about, don’t you?”
