Total pages in book: 209
Estimated words: 196141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 981(@200wpm)___ 785(@250wpm)___ 654(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 196141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 981(@200wpm)___ 785(@250wpm)___ 654(@300wpm)
Then George’s eyes slowly drift down to the tray between their bodies, very slowly, as if tracking a single snowflake on its journey from the sky, his eyes land upon a martini glass.
He says to that glass: “Found something else in your room. Something rather out of place. A box.”
Tristan’s heart leaps. A … box …?
“Wrapped in a simple ribbon and bow. What did you keep it for, I wonder? A present Raya once gave you? It mystified me.”
Mance’s gift. The gift meant for Markadian. You … opened it?
George’s eyes remain on that martini glass. Every second his eyes remain glued to it, his breathing strengthens, like the tide rushing in, building. “Of course, I did.”
And … what was in it?
“Nothing.” His eyes pour into that martini glass, becoming one with the irresistible blood that glass holds. “Nothing at all. A waste of a box, sitting there in your room. So out of … of place.”
Tristan casts his gaze to the tray of glasses, stunned.
The box contained nothing?
It was empty? Truly empty? This whole time?
Are you … Are you quite sure nothing was in it at all …?
“I haven’t had a drop of blood in so long,” says George, his full attention returning to the glass, as if addressing a long-lost lover, someone he truly adores, with whom he once nursed a deep and unhealthy obsession. “Not since I was punished for taking the lives of that woman and her … her child … Patrick’s family … told I must contain my thirst in punishment. Markadian’s orders. I am … such a different person … when I … partake.”
Tristan flicks his eyes down to the martini glass, too. These are for our guests, he says, then flicks his eyes back to George.
“Do you know how few promises I have made to myself,” says George, hardly acknowledging Tristan’s words, eyes still glued to the martini glass, “over my long life? I learned the less you make, the less you need keep … and the less you feel the sting of your own betrayal. Ah, the worst … worst sting of all.”
Worst indeed, agrees Tristan coolly.
George takes one of the glasses, lifts it up as if in a toast, inspects it in the green light. “Nearly forgot how it tastes.”
It is top-shelf, drawn directly from the Bloods …
“I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t.”
Bottoms up.
George tips the glass back, gulping it all. Tristan watches his Adam’s apple bob with each of his mighty swallows. Then he nearly drops the glass back onto the tray. His eyes are closed as he appears to bask in the taste that now charges through his system, the feeling incomparable to anything else on earth, not even the thrill of collecting the rarest of prized hourglasses.
Tristan wonders suddenly if collecting hourglasses isn’t, in fact, exactly the reason George has stayed sober.
Was the box truly empty? Tristan asks. It held … nothing at all?
For a while, absolute silence.
Anticipation.
And then George’s eyes pop open. “I released Brock an hour ago.”
Tristan snaps his gaze to George.
This, he did not expect.
“Our Lord of Vegasyn was growing restless,” says George, tongue coated in red, stains between his teeth, eyes manic, “and planned a trip to the Scarlet Sands. Brock could no longer be held in a room there, not for one more second. Much too risky. I took care of it, took care of the problem. He’s gone.”
Tristan nearly drops the tray. Why would you … Tristan can’t believe his ears. Even you said he wouldn’t be ready in a long time. He believes he’s a teenager one moment, then a college student the next, living a parallel life with Kyle, then an adult with his wife and son … He’s mentally all over the place, fractured and alone … He doesn’t know who he is most of the time.
“Yes, he was scared of me,” says George, as if in answer to some unasked question, his lips curling upward, pleased by the fear. “I decided I am allowed to contradict myself. Perhaps I … was wrong. Brock is ready to go home, placate his God-fearing wife, allow his family to call off the dogs …” He staggers back. “I underestimated the blood. Oh, this is good … really good.” He giggles, for a terrifying moment making his face look predatory and psychotic. “I think I shall retire to my room for the night to enjoy the rest of my … of my last laugh.”
You will not laugh long. You have just executed us both.
“Have faith,” says George absently, licks his lips, still aloof, still somewhere else, adds, “Everything will be fine … totally, perfectly, bloody fine.”
23.
An Early Grave.
—∙—
Few words are exchanged as Kyle, Drake, and Mikey walk in the night. Perhaps all three are more rattled by the interception of the vampire than they wish to admit. Too many times, Kyle and Mikey peer back, as if expecting him to be in pursuit of them. But out here in the desert, there is nowhere to hide, both for the trio of them as well as a pursuing vampire.