you. Come along into the study.” He paused. “Oh,
dear, where are my manners? Would you care for a glass of wine?” He held up his
own glass. “This is a rather cheeky Bordeaux, but my cellar is extensive, if
you’d like something else.”
Oliver
was unable to take his eyes off of Maria, who looked back at him with barely
concealed amusement. “Mr. Jones, it is rather rude to stare,” Blackwell chided
him. “Come now, this can’t be the first time you have seen a vampire.”
“It is,
actually,” Oliver admitted.
“Oh my,
really?” Blackwell frowned. “How dreadful. What a dull life you must lead.”
“I used
to think so,” said Oliver. Up until yesterday, it had been true. He was
beginning to miss that dull life.
Another
woman approached them, a busty redhead in a dark gothic dress which seemed to
be made almost entirely out of gossamer lace. She carried a silver tray which
held two glasses of red wine. Oliver couldn’t help but notice the woman’s
unusually pale skin.
“Ah,
yes,” Blackwell said. “Thank you, Chantal.” Blackwell drained the glass he’d
been drinking from and placed it on the tray. He removed both of the new
glasses and offered one to Oliver. “Please, Mr. Jones.”
Oliver
took the glass out of politeness. He was about to take a sip when a sudden
thought occurred to him and he stopped, looking at the red liquid suspiciously.
Blackwell laughed pleasantly and Oliver saw a small, evil smile on Maria’s
lips. “I assure you, Mr. Jones, it is merely wine,” Blackwell said. “Well, I
shouldn’t say merely . It is very good wine. But it is only wine.”
Oliver
raised the glass again, sniffed at it, and then took a small, tentative sip.
Wine. And an excellent wine, at that. Oliver was not a connoisseur. He’d always
thought that people who described wine as “having a good nose” or “tasting of
cherries and pine trees” were just bluffing in an attempt to impress others.
But in this glass he could taste far more than simple fermented grape juice. He
thought about the flavors as he swirled the wine around in his glass. Honey?
Blackberries and…was that chocolate ? Where could he get wine like this?
And could he possibly afford it if he did find it?
“Excellent,”
Blackwell smiled. “Cheeky, wouldn’t you say?”
“I don’t
know,” Oliver admitted. “But it is very good.”
“Prepare
a room for our guest,” Blackwell instructed Chantal, who turned and disappeared
down the hall. Oliver watched as the pale woman left them.
“Is she
a…” he began to ask.
“Oh,
indeed,” Blackwell said.
Oliver
frowned. “So is that her uniform or something?”
“I do
like the classics,” Blackwell smiled, seeming just slightly embarrassed. “Not
that I’m ever going to wear a cape, of course. That is an unfortunate
stereotype.”
Oliver
nodded before he realized the implications of what the other man had just said.
He looked at Blackwell in surprise. “You?”
“Of
course,” Blackwell said. He smiled widely and Oliver could see that he had
fangs as well.
“Of
course,” Oliver sighed. Legendary hedge fund manager John Blackwell was a
vampire. He lived in a big house with his vampire bodyguard and his vampire
maid and…Oliver’s eyes widened. “Is everyone here…” he began.
“I’m
afraid so,” Blackwell said, nodding. He noted Oliver’s startled expression.
“Never fear, my dear boy. Nobody will harm you. To do so would invite my
punishment, and I’m afraid I am rather strict about that sort of thing. Come
along. The study is this way.”
Blackwell
led Oliver into a magnificently appointed study that was nearly as big as
Oliver’s entire house. The furniture was early 20 th century in
style. If Oliver had seen it yesterday he’d have assumed it was all replica,
but now he had to wonder if these were originals that Blackwell had collected
over the years.
“Cigar?”
Blackwell offered, sitting down.
“No,
thank you,” Oliver
dear, where are my manners? Would you care for a glass of wine?” He held up his
own glass. “This is a rather cheeky Bordeaux, but my cellar is extensive, if
you’d like something else.”
Oliver
was unable to take his eyes off of Maria, who looked back at him with barely
concealed amusement. “Mr. Jones, it is rather rude to stare,” Blackwell chided
him. “Come now, this can’t be the first time you have seen a vampire.”
“It is,
actually,” Oliver admitted.
“Oh my,
really?” Blackwell frowned. “How dreadful. What a dull life you must lead.”
“I used
to think so,” said Oliver. Up until yesterday, it had been true. He was
beginning to miss that dull life.
Another
woman approached them, a busty redhead in a dark gothic dress which seemed to
be made almost entirely out of gossamer lace. She carried a silver tray which
held two glasses of red wine. Oliver couldn’t help but notice the woman’s
unusually pale skin.
“Ah,
yes,” Blackwell said. “Thank you, Chantal.” Blackwell drained the glass he’d
been drinking from and placed it on the tray. He removed both of the new
glasses and offered one to Oliver. “Please, Mr. Jones.”
Oliver
took the glass out of politeness. He was about to take a sip when a sudden
thought occurred to him and he stopped, looking at the red liquid suspiciously.
Blackwell laughed pleasantly and Oliver saw a small, evil smile on Maria’s
lips. “I assure you, Mr. Jones, it is merely wine,” Blackwell said. “Well, I
shouldn’t say merely . It is very good wine. But it is only wine.”
Oliver
raised the glass again, sniffed at it, and then took a small, tentative sip.
Wine. And an excellent wine, at that. Oliver was not a connoisseur. He’d always
thought that people who described wine as “having a good nose” or “tasting of
cherries and pine trees” were just bluffing in an attempt to impress others.
But in this glass he could taste far more than simple fermented grape juice. He
thought about the flavors as he swirled the wine around in his glass. Honey?
Blackberries and…was that chocolate ? Where could he get wine like this?
And could he possibly afford it if he did find it?
“Excellent,”
Blackwell smiled. “Cheeky, wouldn’t you say?”
“I don’t
know,” Oliver admitted. “But it is very good.”
“Prepare
a room for our guest,” Blackwell instructed Chantal, who turned and disappeared
down the hall. Oliver watched as the pale woman left them.
“Is she
a…” he began to ask.
“Oh,
indeed,” Blackwell said.
Oliver
frowned. “So is that her uniform or something?”
“I do
like the classics,” Blackwell smiled, seeming just slightly embarrassed. “Not
that I’m ever going to wear a cape, of course. That is an unfortunate
stereotype.”
Oliver
nodded before he realized the implications of what the other man had just said.
He looked at Blackwell in surprise. “You?”
“Of
course,” Blackwell said. He smiled widely and Oliver could see that he had
fangs as well.
“Of
course,” Oliver sighed. Legendary hedge fund manager John Blackwell was a
vampire. He lived in a big house with his vampire bodyguard and his vampire
maid and…Oliver’s eyes widened. “Is everyone here…” he began.
“I’m
afraid so,” Blackwell said, nodding. He noted Oliver’s startled expression.
“Never fear, my dear boy. Nobody will harm you. To do so would invite my
punishment, and I’m afraid I am rather strict about that sort of thing. Come
along. The study is this way.”
Blackwell
led Oliver into a magnificently appointed study that was nearly as big as
Oliver’s entire house. The furniture was early 20 th century in
style. If Oliver had seen it yesterday he’d have assumed it was all replica,
but now he had to wonder if these were originals that Blackwell had collected
over the years.
“Cigar?”
Blackwell offered, sitting down.
“No,
thank you,” Oliver
Similar Books
