Chapter 31. William #2
“The last thing I remember was living among London society, going to the opera, attending balls—I have no recollection of even going to sleep.”
She frowns as she studies him. “That is odd.” She takes another drink, then says, “I volunteered.”
“For death-sleep?” asks William, reaching over and refilling her glass. His is still mostly full. “Why?”
“Same reason everyone else did, I suppose.” She sips a little more, and he eagerly awaits the rest of her explanation.
“We were not going to defeat the Legion. They were everywhere. Death-sleep was floated as a safety measure to ensure our survival. The idea was for a fraction of us to hide and awaken in the future, once it was safe—or, should the worst happen and our kind be wiped out, we would be the seeds for a new vampiric society.”
William leans into the table, drinking in her words. “Do you know what happened to the rest of the vampires? Nate claims they are still alive and also in death-sleep somewhere beyond our reach.”
“There are those who believe that,” she says, and by her tone it is clear that she is not one of them. “Even if it’s true, it makes no difference to me. I’m waiting for someone else.”
Rather than telling him who that is, she brings the wine to her lips again and evaluates William across the glass.
He must look clueless, because after another sip, she says, “The operative word was seeds.”
He still does not understand.
“Seeds must be watered,” she says, setting down her glass, “and the only way for our population to grow is through…”
She seems to be giving him a chance to guess. When he does not, she completes her own thought: “a Stoker.”
William takes what is only his second sip of wine. He is surprised to find that Anne has drained another glass, and she picks up the bottle to top off both their glasses.
“There is a Stoker among us?” he asks, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice.
“I believe it stands to reason one was left behind,” she says, staring at him without the need to blink. “Given that they have not yet made themselves known, I suppose they are still asleep.”
William nods and frowns like he is considering her theory. “When did you awaken?” he asks.
“In 1919.” She leans back in her seat, her gaze relaxing. “Along with Lenny, I was one of the first seven of us to awaken. It took us a decade to find one another.”
“Who is Lenny?” he asks for what feels like the dozenth time.
“Lenny is someone who can only be experienced, not described,” she says mysteriously. “He is a living time capsule. A visionary. A scientist—”
“A scientist?”
“He was the one who figured out we can drink donated blood without making Familiars. He has run other experiments, too, but he’ll tell you about them when you meet.”
Just then, the server returns with the second bottle. Anne tastes and approves it, and she does not speak again until they are alone.
“This world has changed so much,” she says after a long drink. “You can probably feel that more than the rest of us, being so fresh here.”
“It is overwhelming,” he admits.
“Do you know why I prefer humans to vampires?” she asks, and it is only now that William realizes she has been subtly edging her chair closer. “Because they’re vibrant, while immortals are stale.”
She drains her entire glass in a single swallow.
“The only time I find vampires interesting,” she says, her eyes overly bright, “is when they first awaken. For a moment, it’s like you’re new to the world again.”
“Why are we meeting here instead of your office?” asks William as her intentions dawn on him.
“I thought it would be obvious,” she says with the hint of a smile.
The hunger that comes over her gaze has nothing to do with blood, because she is looking at William like he is the meal. He feels something like a flash of warmth, as if he has just gulped down half the wine bottle.
“I am flattered,” he says, “but I would rather not betray Nate’s trust after everything he has done for me.”
The way she looks at him makes William feel more like a teenager than he ever did while playing the part at Huntington. “You are so young,” she murmurs. “I believe I am envious of that.”
William refills her glass.
“So fresh, and yet already keeping secrets.” She ignores the drink, her full attention on his face. “We can tell you’re hiding something, you know. Whatever it is, it’s making the rest of us anxious.”
“You speak for Nate?”
“I speak for all of us.”
“And yet, to me,” says William, “it feels like the rest of you are the ones keeping secrets.”
Anne drains her glass in one gulp again. “Come on,” she says, rising to her feet.
They slip out through the slit in the crimson curtains. The hostess says nothing as they walk out, and William assumes Anne must have some sort of financial arrangement with them.
As soon as they are both in the elevator, she takes William’s hand and pulls him closer. “Spend the night with me,” she whispers invitingly into his mouth.
Then she leans in, and her cold lips part his.
His eyes close as she pins him against the elevator wall, their tongues crashing together. A rush of desire overwhelms him, and one of his hands grasps a fistful of her dress’s delicate fabric, while the other one reaches for her curls—
The fantasy cuts out when he realizes it is not Anne he is kissing.
“What is it?” she asks as the doors open. “My kisses are usually met with more enthusiasm.”
William finds he cannot hold her gaze or come up with anything to say. He has no idea what just happened, why that human interrupted his thoughts.
“Oh,” says Anne, as if something has just clicked for her. “I see.”
“See what?”
“What haunts you,” she murmurs, pressing an impeccably painted red nail to his chest and marking it with an invisible X.
“Your heart. It’s broken.”