by Christina [EMAIL PROTECTED] (mailto:[EMAIL PROTECTED]) Large cities always fascinate me. Day and night hold no dominion in a metropolis. People decorate the streets at any time. Rain or shine there is always a plethora of mortals running about much in the same way as ants swarming around on a stick. No order, just a mass of beings all worrying and attending to their own agendas. Easy to disappear in a large city. I had come to do the same thing in reality. Loose myself in a mass of humanity and escape from my own life for just a little while. With ease I crossed my right leg over my left and folded my hands placidly over my knee. My bench here in Hyde Park afforded me a view of all the mortals dashing around on the street, but allowed me to sit away from the hustle and bustle. London. I had taken great care to choose London, for London had never been one of my favorite places to reside. Maybe now I could gather and order my thoughts. My eye caught a couple sitting beneath a tree sharing a discrete embrace. The intimacy of their gestures as the young man intertwined his fingers through his lover's. The movements of their lips as they whispered to each other. Eyes sparkling as their eyes met. My heart ached. Such a heated argument my lovely Daniel and I had had. His cold and vicious words burned in my head and heart. Yes, I know he did not mean them-- and yes I know I did not mean the things I had said to him. Another silly fight is all this was. Just this time, Daniel, my reporter boy, and I had decided we needed to part for a little bit. The part which sent tremors through my body was how long is a little bit in eternity? Once my mind had returned to our parting, the city lost all of her luster. Weary now, I rose from my bench and started to walk across the park heading back towards the hotel. The air was a little chilly and had the dewy smell of rain. The night was still young and I was heading back to my hotel as if sunrise was just around the corner. How pathetic that one thought that slipped across my mind had caused me to want to head back to the rooms at which I was staying. I was not even aware I had reached the hotel until a doorman gave me an artificial smile as he opened the door. He thought I was much too young to be entering such a place at this hour alone. A hallporter nodded his head to me as I passed wishing me a good evening. I loved this hotel. Sumptuous and decadent, I am sure Lestat would agree. Red leather chairs scattered throughout the rotunda which was the entrance. Thick and soft hand woven carpets were casually but impeccably strewn across the marble floor. To the left and right of the large mahogany crescent-shaped desk were swirling staircases. A young woman looked up as I approached the desk and handed me various notes and messages from my mortal agents. I nodded a quick thank you before walking towards the gallery in order to catch the elevator to my rooms. Just as I neared the elevator, a familiar voice spoke from the shadows, "How exhausting for you to continuously walk and exist with your thoughts constantly guarded." My jaw tightened as I turned to where the voice came. Leaning against the wall beside a vase atop a marble stand stood Santino. Cropped close to his head, his black hair shone in the dim lights of the gallery. His eyes dark without a hint of any emotion he felt. His smile indecipherable between a smirk and a pleasant grin. Long white hands folded casually across his chest. The clothing he wore immaculate. Dark, but noticeably expensive. I took in his whole figure all at once trying to decide if he just so happened to be here in London, in the same hotel as me; or, if he had come here for a purpose. He looked back at me in silence. I knew he was trying to read what I was thinking and I knew my face was just as expressionless as his own. I could not read any of his thoughts; they were veiled tightly in his head. "Then you, Santino, must be just as exhausted," I said dryly. I saw him turn his head slightly as if he was debating what I had said before I turned to walk back towards the elevator. I pressed the call button and stared at the closed gold doors. Better to take the stairs then I would not have to feel his eyes on my back. As the doors opened, a porter smiled as I stepped in to the lift. I did not have to even turn around to know that Santino had entered with me.Once inside the elevator, I fixed my eyes onto the gold doors as they slid together. Through the reflection on the doors, I watched Santino lean against the far end of the elevator. My eyes met his on the reflection. He smiled once more as his gaze held my own. "Which floor, sir?" the voice of the porter broke our stare. "Seven," I replied without emotion. My eyes settled back towards the doors and up to just above them to the illuminated numbers. 1----2----3---- the elevator came to a stop. In a voice too low and soft for a mortal to hear Santino whispered, "Of course, floor seven. Common knowledge that all the executive suites are located on floor seven. Only the finest for the vampire Armand." His words, slow and deliberate, brought forth a smug grin across his lips. As the doors slid open once more, an older woman holding a child's hand stepped into the lift. Her saffron hair pulled far too tight at the nape of her neck. Her heart raced inside her chest; an older caretaker doomed to take care of the boy at her side. Too tired to chase after the boy once more, she was taking him upstairs to be put to bed. With a not too pleasant jolt, the elevator began its ascent once more. 4----5----. Santino's hand reached forward to smooth the faintly wet hair away from the child's heated brow. 6---- the doors slid open and the child escaped from his nanny's grip and ran down towards the hall-- exhausted woman in tow. Doors slid together again and one floor up and then another stop. The porter chirped a good evening as I slid quickly out of the elevator cabin. A mild irritation swept over me as I heard Santino's unmistakable footsteps behind me. Unlocking the door to my rooms with a mental thought, I stepped in leaving the door ajar. The vampire trailing behind me had not moved. I turned slowly on my heel, "Are you coming in or are you going to stand vigil outside?" "An invitation, Amadeo?" my body winced inside as he spoke my name. Not a crease in his face nor one wrinkle as his dark eyes stared back into my own. My brow had creased when he said Amadeo. Unforgivable on my part to let any emotion show when he had spoken. "You came for a reason, Santino," my voice once more had taken on its previous control. My face smooth and stoic once more. "I merely wish to hurry and be done with what ever you have to say...." Before I had even finished my statement, the vampire waltzed into the room closing the door behind. " A suite fit for a king! My room is hardly as nice," he smoothed his fingers over a marble stand holding a mixture of fresh flowers. I watched as he stepped a little onto his tiptoes while he closed his eyes to breath in the fragrance from a pink rose. His eyebrows raised slightly as he turned his smug face back towards me, "So Amadeo," my jaw tightened, my left hand clutched the side of a credenza, he spoke my name slowly making sure I heard each syllable, "did you order them to be placed here each morning, or are they complementary." "No. I did not order them." "Ah," he plucked the rose from the arrangement pointing the flower towards me before slipping it into his breast pocket, "so I gather us poor, unfortunate tenants down below must order flowers expressively in order to have such an arrangement grace our rooms. Who would have thought, even the Ritz is divided into castes." His fingers brushed the petals lightly. "And who would have thought that this time I would be lower." A grin spread across his mouth. I remained unchanged, growing inpatient with his gloating. "Why are you here?" I asked simply. " Not for the reasons you think. And no, Amadeo," he paused. "You hate it when I say Amadeo," another slight grin. "I did not follow you here. I had no idea that the great vampire Armand was bidding his time away in London. Eric is coming from Rangoon. I am to meet him here. Then out of nowhere, I see the image of an auburn-haired imp," his smile grated on my nerves. Weary and tired, I could not even bring myself to try and see if I could sneak into this thoughts to divulge his real purpose in being here. Still hours off from dawn, and I already felt the death sleep tugging at my body. "My question is why are you hiding?" The staid air choked me. His presence drained every bit of life from my body. I moved towards the French windows across the room. Magnificent. They reached from the ceiling all the way down to the floor. The glass made surely was hand blown with leaded designs scattered throughout each pane. I slid my hands over the gilded golden handles then pulled the windows open. My eyes closed as the air brushed over my face like silk fingers. "I am sure your fledgling wonders the same. Ah, but he believes his maker to be with Marius. But Marius thinks you left him to return to your fledgling." He was annoying me; he was trying to ignite some emotion in me. I did not move; instead, I let my eyes pierce the darkness and watch as the mortals below entered and exited the hotel. Many of the women dressed in velvets, satins, and other sumptuous materials for their outing while their men wore elegant tuxedos with bowties knotted tightly at their fragile throats. I could hear his movements behind me. "My, my, my... have you tried the bed yet, Amadeo?" In spite of myself I turned. His jacket lay across a cream brocade desk chair. My brow wrinkled before I could stop myself. He had reclined back against the downy pillows. His hands lay languidly on his stomach. His legs crossed at the ankle allowing a foot to wave slowly back and forth. A satisfied grin developed on his mouth as if my temporary loss of control had been the reactio n he had hoped to entice out of me. Once more the air literally stood still in the room. With the grace of a cat, Santino slid onto his side propping his head with one arm. Impossible to tell in his eyes if he were mocking me or just merely watching my reactions to his movements. One hand slid down the golden damask coverlet towards the side of the bed. Through the silence of the room, I could catch the silken rustle of his fingertips brushing the fabric. Inside, my heart increased its tempo as the hair on the back of my neck began to stand. His dark eyes held my own in the same manner he had done so long ago. In one swift motion, his fist balled and grasped tightly to one side of the bedcover and brought it up towards his chest. I cursed myself as my heart seemed to cease its relentless pounding. "Handmade," a broad smile spread across the entirety of his face. "Hand stuffed by some aged artisan. Hours spent stuffing wool, fingers growing raw and arthritic pulling heavy brocaded fabric over such a mound of wool," his fingers brushed the side of the mattress as if he were caressing a thigh of a lover, "for one mattress. Rare to see such remnants of the past, don't you agree?" Reaching behind my back I slammed the glass doors shut. Between the cacophony of the mortals outside and Santino's smug attempts at "conversation," I had had enough. "Neither Daniel nor Marius believes me to be with the other. I left to travel in solitude." The composure in his face never faltered or changed; instead, his stark features remained blank. "Eric is not coming," my voice intoned dryly. As soon as I had uttered the words, a flash of vulnerability colored Santino's face but disappeared as soon as it had appeared. The great leader had faltered. Slowly watching his face, I let my head tilt to one side. My eyes closed briefly acknowledging his brief lapse of discipline. "If he were coming," I made each word flow from my lips in the same deliberate manner as a musician pulls forth melodies from his instrument, "you would not be taunting me." I eased my body into a chair which faced the bed, crossed my legs, and folded my hands across my knee. "After all, it is only when you are dissatisfied or rejected that you taunt your cruelty to others." My eyes remained locked onto his dark ones. Neither he nor I moved. Now there would be a stifling amount of time before either one of us would make the next slightest movement. The next motion that would bring life back into our bodies, but this was just yet another challenge. The slightest movement breaking the stillness would be construed as a relinquish to the other. This game was all too familiar, I thought miserably. All too familiar since the few meetings after the destruction of Akasha. How much time would pass before one of us would break? A cool stare emanated from him. He looked as if he were thinking instead of staring down an adversary. Effortless as always on his part--- did he suffer any of the turmoil that ran throughout my mind and body? My mind constantly reminding my body to remain in check until it could do so for no longer. A constant exercise which pushed m me to my very limits. However the calm almost serene expression of Santino only sent out inklings of complete ease on his part in this game. Such mastery which could still even marvel me regardless of the past between him and I. "Was I ever that dissatisfied?" the room had disappeared behind his face and came crashing back into view blindingly as he spoke. My eyes blinked forcing all images back into focus. I said nothing in return. A frown appeared briefly on his face, "You are right--- Eric is not coming." In one fluid movement and quick as mercury, he slid from his side to a sitting position resting his legs over the side of the bed. In one fluid movement and quick as mercury, he slid from his side to a sitting position resting his legs over the side of the bed. So I had been right about Eric in spite of my initial purpose in finding a means of provoking the slightest response in Santino. Not to be counted as a victory. "You were never exposed to any unusual cruelty, Armand," a grin flickered across his face which unsettled my composure. "However, cruelty is perhaps subjective. With you, I have shown only complete mercy." A lethal panther he was as he rose from the bed. His eyes gleamed with a look that seemed to only regard me as young or weak prey. Only Santino could transform perfectly innocuous words such as mercy into a more sinister language. Even if he were to say "holy, the word would twist into a sacrilegious mockery of its former self. "Cruelty to have spared an ignorant, unaware, unworldly vampire from the hungry flames?" He raised a pale hand eloquently taking on the posture of a classical orator. His gaze forced himself upon my own, lazily I shifted my eyes and swept my hand across the cuff of my sleeve as if I were brushing away lint. When I brought my eyes back up, he had disappeared behind my back. I did not bother to turn. Before he even touched my hair, I had felt his hand close the distance between him and myself. A shiver coursed through my body as he swept the tresses of my hair to the side. Each strands movement sent tingling caresses against my head. A side of my neck lay bare to his view and touch. Vague mixtures of revulsion and titillation flooded my thoughts as he slid a satiny finger from my jaw down towards my collarbone as he traced the vein beneath my skin. "Never a reason," his voice had become low and seductive barely above a whisper in mm ear as he knelt close to me, "to impose savagery and cruelty on you--- you always obeyed so well." He patted the top of my head as if I were a malnourished whelp. 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