After all the build up, the vampire who opened the door was almost anticlimactic, like expecting to hear Pavarotti sing Wagner and getting Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd instead.
The new vampire was clean shaven and his hair was combed and pulled back into a tidy, short, ponytail. His clothes were neat and clean, though a bit wrinkled as if they'd been in a suitcase-but somehow the overall impression I got was disheveled and filthy. He was significantly shorter than Stefan and much less intimidating. First point to Stefan, which was good since he'd put so much effort into his Prince of Darkness garb.
The stranger's long-sleeved, knit shirt hung on him, as if it rested on skeleton rather than flesh. When he moved, one of his sleeves slid up, revealing an arm so emaciated that the hollow between the bones of his forearm was visible. He stood slightly hunched, as if he didn't quite have the energy to straighten up.
I'd met vampires other than Stefan before: scary vampires with glowing eyes and fangs. This one looked like an addict so far gone there was nothing left of the person he had once been, as if he might fade away at any moment, leaving only his body behind.
Stefan, though, wasn't reassured by the other's apparent frailty-if anything, his tension had increased. Not being able to smell much around that unpleasant, pervasive bitterness was bothering me more than the vampire who didn't look like much of an opponent at all.
"Word of your coming has reached my mistress," Stefan said, his voice steady, if a little more clipped than usual. "She is very disappointed that you did not see fit to tell her you would be visiting her territory."
"Come in, come in," said the other vampire, stepping back from the door to invite Stefan through. "No need to stand out in the hallway waking up people who are trying to sleep."
I couldn't tell if he knew Stefan was afraid or not. I've never been quite sure how well vampires can scent things-though they clearly have better noses than humans do. He didn't seem intimidated by Stefan and his black clothes, though; instead he sounded almost distracted, as if we'd interrupted something important.
The bathroom door was shut as we walked past it. I pricked my ears, but I couldn't hear anything behind the shut door. My nose was useless. Stefan took us all the way to the far side of the room, near the sliding glass doors that were all but hidden by heavy, floor-to-ceiling, curtains. The room was bare and impersonal except for the suitcase, which lay closed on top of the chest of drawers.
Stefan waited until the other vampire had shut the door before he said in a cold voice, "There is no one trying to sleep tonight in this hotel."
It seemed an odd remark, but the stranger seemed to know what Stefan meant because he giggled, cupping a hand coyly over his mouth in a manner that seemed more in keeping with a twelve-year-old girl than a man of any age. It was odd enough that it took me a while to assess Stefan's remark.
Surely he hadn't meant it the way it sounded. No sane vampire would have killed everyone in the hotel. Vampires were as ruthless as the werewolves in enforcing their rules about not drawing unwanted attention to themselves-and wholesale slaughter of humans would draw attention. Even if there weren't many guests, there would be employees of the hotel.
The vampire dropped his hand from his face leaving behind a face empty of amusement. It didn't make me feel any better. It was like watching Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, the change was so great.
"No one to wake up?" he asked, as if he hadn't reacted in any other way to Stefan's comment. "You might be right. It is still poor manners to keep someone waiting at the door, isn't it? Which one of her minions are you?" He held up a hand. "No, wait, don't tell me. Let me guess."
While Stefan waited, all of his usual animation completely shut down, the stranger walked all the way around him, pausing just behind us. Unconstrained by anything but the leash, I turned to watch.
When he was directly behind Stefan, the other vampire bent down and scratched me behind my ears.
I usually don't mind being touched, but as soon as his fingers brushed against my fur I knew I didn't want him touching me. Involuntarily, I hunched away from his hand and into Stefan's leg. My fur kept his skin away from mine, but that didn't keep his touch from feeling filthy, unclean.
The scent of him lingered on my fur and I realized the unpleasant odor that had been clogging my nose was coming from him.
"Careful," Stefan told him without looking around. "She bites."
"Animals love me." The remark made my flesh crawl it was so inappropriate coming from this... creeping monster. He crouched on his heels and rubbed my ears again. I couldn't tell if Stefan wanted me to bite him or not. I chose not, because I didn't want the taste of him on my tongue. I could always bite him later if I wanted to.
Stefan didn't comment, nor did he look anywhere except straight in front of him. I wondered if he would have lost status points if he'd turned. Werewolves play power games, too, but I know the rules for them. A werewolf would never have allowed a strange wolf to walk behind him.
He left off petting me, stood up, and walked around until he faced Stefan again. "So you are Stefan, Marsilia's little soldier boy. I have heard of you-though your reputation is not what it once was, is it? Running away from Italy like that would soil any man's honor. Somehow, still, I expected more. All those stories... I expected to find a monster among monsters, a creature of nightmares who frightens even other vampires-and all I see is a dried-up has-been. I suppose that's what happens when you hide yourself in a little backwater town for a few centuries."