The Meridian Gamble (64 page)

The interior of the structure
continues the palace motif. The lobby has high ceilings covered in a deep
yellow or mustard paint, with ornate molding that runs at the edges of the top
of the walls. There are puffy velvet sofas and antique glass cabinets that
contain pieces of china and crystal, books that are probably first editions.
There are huge urns that are almost as tall as I am, and flower arrangements
with white roses rest on several of the tables.

Roland goes to the front desk. The
service is excellent, and within minutes, we’re quickly led to our quarters.

The suite upstairs is as elegant as
the rest of the hotel. It’s brighter than the lobby, with white walls and cream
sofas. There’s an oil painting of Parisian courtesans hanging nearby, and it
reminds me of the one in Marion’s private chamber. And I’m horrified for a moment,
because one of the women in the picture looks exactly like her.

A gasp must escape from me without
my realizing it, because Roland turns my way.

“Is that …?”

“It’s Marion’s favorite suite. She
designed her private chambers after it. I should have asked them to find us
another. I’d forgotten about the painting.”

“No … it’s okay. Maybe it’s a sign,
of some sort. I’m just surprised she would allow her precious image to hang in
a commoner’s hotel.”

“This isn’t a commoner’s hotel.
It’s owned by the Paris vampires. The hotel is even known that way in some
circles of the human world. People come here from all over to offer themselves.
And trust me, Paris is the last place where you should try to become a
vampire.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because, it’s not like the world
Marion and I have tried to build in the States, a more refined one. They live
for torture and cruel games. God help some rich man they choose to have join
them, because they’ll make him sign his fortune away, and force him to feed on
his family when he makes the transition. Then he’ll spend an eternity scrubbing
the floors, unless he or she finds a way to prove themselves. They are sadists,
intent on creating creatures who are just as vicious as they are.”

“And this is where you’ve brought
me?”

“The vampire world has it’s dark
corners that need to be transformed,” he says. “But don’t worry, this place has
it’s pleasant sides, too. Why don’t you freshen up, and I’ll have Room Service
bring up some food?”

“That sounds like a good idea.”

Roland points me toward a room with
beautiful double doors. They have big panes of glass built into them, with
light curtains on the other sides, covering the view. I’m disappointed at
first, because my small satchel has no more clothes to change into, but that
feeling quickly subsides, as I realize that the room has been prepared just for
me.

On the floor of my chamber there
are boxes and boxes of shoes, all in the right size, and they’re hardly cheap
brands. I see the names Manolo Blahnik and Prada, and even Betsey Johnson. I go
to the closet, which is filled with dresses and pant suits, jeans and coats to
wear them with. And the dresser drawers are brimming with underwear, bras,
stockings and socks, everything I could need. And it’s amazing to me that they
could have put all this together so fast.

I immediately go to the bathroom
and take a quick bath, and even though there is a luscious selection of salts
and concoctions to make bubbles, I don’t use any of it for fear that I’ll never
want to leave.

As I’m wallowing in the water, I
try to calm myself, to reach a place where I can see little bits of energy
sparkling in the room. And my mind quickly drifts to Adam. I can’t take it
anymore, and my curiosity and need to see him are too great. And it occurs to
me that I can try to reach our cottage on the hill, that perhaps I can contact
him in that way.

I hope that Roland won’t be able to
detect what I’m doing with his highly developed mind, that I won’t anger him,
but perhaps my own mental defenses will protect me.

I sit still in the water and clear
my mind, but the second I try to find the tunnel of light, a darker energy
grips my psyche, and I’m confronted with an image of the little gargoyle
vampire, the Elder who whispered to Roland in the desert. And it’s terrifying,
the way he invades my brain. I can see the gleaming baldness of his head and
his little pointed ears, vividly.

And it’s not just my imagination.
He seems to recognize my presence as well, and greets me with a smile that
reveals sharp little fangs. The Elder whispers one word.

“Saga.”

It fills my mind so loudly it
almost sounds like he’s in the room, and I gasp and leap out of the tub,
looking around in a panic. I practically slip on the tiles of the bathroom, and
start drying myself off for dinner.

I can hear Roland’s voice calling
out to me with concern from somewhere inside the suite.

“Meridian, are you all right?”

I wrap a towel around myself, and
run out a few steps, to the door. And I can just get a glimpse of the living
room area, as one of the curtains covering the glass panes is slightly pushed
aside. Roland stands on the other side, also with a towel wrapped around his
waist, and it exposes his chest and chiseled abs, which make him look like a
statue of a god that’s dripping wet.

“Oh, my,” I whisper to myself.

And he smiles.

“Meridian? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, thanks. Be out in a
minute.”

This place has everything.  There
is even a travel bag in the bathroom, with make-up. So I put on a little blush
and some gloss on my lips, to make myself presentable for dinner.

I hear a soft knock at the front
door, and the noise of Roland opening it, followed by the sounds of a cart
rolling in. The delicious scent of roasted chicken reaches my nose, and I hurry
to get dressed. I put on something a bit different from what I would normally
wear, a black dress with skinny spaghetti straps over the shoulders, and slip
on a pair of Manolo pumps, the kind I’ve always dreamt of having. And I go
outside.

When I step into the suite, I see
that Roland also wears black, a suit matched with a white shirt that’s
unbuttoned a bit. And he almost looks better than he did in the towel.

He stares at me with a strange
expression that concerns me for a moment, until I realize that he’s pleased
with what he sees.

“Is it too much to hope that all
this is for me?” he asks.

“Well, it’s all so fancy here. It
just seemed appropriate somehow,” I say. “Plus, I didn’t want to let all those
good clothes go to waste.”

“Well, why don’t we eat?”

I open the silver trays before me,
and put some roasted chicken on my plate, along with potatoes and vegetables.
It’s a simple meal, and I’m grateful. I haven’t eaten in so long, and I don’t
need anything complicated. All I want to do is fill my stomach with a hearty
meal.

Roland drinks more of the familiar
red beverage that isn’t wine, and it’s strange to me, how I’ve grown so
accustomed to seeing people drink blood.

“Do you like the food?”

“It’s delicious,” I say. “Thank
you.”

And I begin to devour what’s on my
plate.

“So what’s going to happen to me?
If this Elder lets you change me?”

“We’ll have to act right away. Of
course, we can give you some time to enjoy Paris, do whatever it is you feel
the need to do while still human. But I’ll need to return to the States as soon
as possible to reclaim the throne, before Marion can marshal her forces against
me.”

“And I’ll be the queen of the
vampires?”

“One can hope,” he says.

And I look away, unsure of what to
think.

“Tell me something,” I say. “It
seems stupid to ask, but I still haven’t figured it out, completely. And I
can’t quite recall this part from my memories of Saga. But what exactly are the
vampire powers?”

“We’re a bit stronger than normal,
and faster. And our abilities increase over time. You saw the needle break
against my arm, yet it eventually went in. Which should give you an idea that
we’re difficult to harm, though not completely.”

“Can you fly?”

“No. Only with telekinesis, for
short distances.”

“What about changing into a bat?”

“No,” he says, with a laugh. “Most
of our powers relate to the mind, the ability to read thoughts, and such. And
some of us develop a more specific gift, like the Twins. Or Adam, who seems to
have a particular ability to hunt down his prey, to connect himself to wherever
they are.”

And I nod my head, wondering if
he’s focusing his mind on trying to track me down, or if my Luminos defenses
are blocking him.

“You will probably have a gift of
your own, given how strong your mental defenses are. But we never had the
chance to see what it would have developed into when you were Saga. You weren’t
with us long enough.”

I wonder if that was a good or bad
thing. What would have happened to me if I had stayed a vampire? Would it have
corrupted me, beyond the hope of redemption? Would I have become lost forever,
as my mother from the strange dream realm had said?

But I might find out soon enough.
Perhaps Roland is right, and I’ll need the transformation to survive against
Marion, along with whatever special powers I might develop. Because even though
she claims to be my friend, she seems just as intent to block me from whatever
this strange fate is that the Elders intend for me.

Perhaps it really is my destiny to
become the vampire queen, and lead them into a reality that’s better than being
monsters who torture people.

“And what are your special powers?”
I ask him.

“I have none, per se. But my skills
of telepathy and telekinesis are stronger than normal, so that is a gift in and
of itself.”

And I nod my head, trying to take
it all in.

There’s a tray of desserts, and as
the meal ends, I nibble at a small creme brulee and some custard. Roland drains
another glass of the blood, and turns to me.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

“Ready for what?” I say, smiling.

And I’m convinced that this is the
part where I get to enjoy Paris with a handsome man, while I still have my
human life. I have some naive idea that he’s planning to take me for a night
out on the town, or perhaps a bit of midnight sightseeing.

But I’m dead wrong.

“We’re going down below. To meet
the Elders.”

“Down below? Down below, what?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you think the
Paris vampires had a tower of their own? No, as I said, they do things
differently here. The Paris vampires live in the catacombs.”

The catacombs. I’ve heard about
them; they’re scary caves that stretch beneath Paris, or so I’ve been told. And
he’s right; these vampires are different. Already, they seem more like the
terrifying ones from movies and television that I had imagined. Just thinking
about them living underground gives me the creeps.

“Roland, I don’t know if I’m ready
for this,” I say.

“You’ll be fine,” he says. “And
besides, we don’t have a choice. Though Marion will not hurt us here, who knows
what spies she has who may already be watching us. Better to act, quickly.”

He stands and comes around the
table for me, offering his hand, which I normally would find reassuring. But
now, I can’t even stop myself from shaking nervously. And I’m suddenly
questioning the logic of ever coming to this place.

But, he’s right, I don’t really
have a choice. I realize I have to face this once and for all, and I stand.

Before we go, there’s a flashlight
sitting on a table near the door, which I find a bit odd. Roland slips it into
his jacket pocket, and any doubt I may have had over the fact that we’re
actually going underground disappears from my mind.

Roland leads me out to the hallway,
where we pass a couple who are clearly visitors at the hotel. The man is
wearing a polo shirt and jeans, and the woman wears khaki pants and a simple
top. They look like American tourists returning from an evening stroll.

“Good evening,” Roland says, with a
pleasant smile.

“Good evening,” the woman says, and
they both give him friendly grins, seemingly in the midst of enjoying their
trip to Paris in a way I can only dream of. And it’s all I can do to plaster an
awkward smile on my face, knowing where I’m going.

We enter a stairwell that seems
innocuous enough, and I’m surprised we’re not taking an elevator into the
bowels of the vampires’ lair. It is different here, and I doubt the stairs even
gets used much. What guest at a luxury hotel would bother using them when
there’s an elevator available?

When we get to the bottom, we find
a door marked for the maintenance staff, which is where I think we’re going at
first. But instead, Roland takes me around to another door, underneath the last
steps of the stairwell. It’s plain, and there’s a simple numerical keypad
protecting it.

He punches in a few numbers, and
the door opens, revealing a long corridor that stretches out into darkness.
Huge metal pipes run along it, and dim light bulbs brighten the way, though
even from where we are, I can see that intermittent ones are burnt out, leaving
patches of darkness. And the tunnel seems to go on forever.

We step inside, and Roland lets the
door slam behind us. He walks on, and there’s nothing I can do but to follow.

The tunnel is dark and dusty, far
more frightening than the dungeon of the Omnicom building. At least that place
is clean. The big pipes give off a low rushing noise that makes me think
they’re water mains, or maybe natural gas pipes that fuel the city. I become
irrationally afraid that one might explode, engulfing us in flame in the tight
space, though Roland doesn’t seem to share in my fears in the least. He could
probably survive an explosion, or maybe outrun the flames, though I won’t be so
lucky.