“Yes, Mr. Holmes. That was just room service with your complimentary champagne and strawberries.” Her voice trembled but she tried hard to keep a brave face. Francis walked over to the desk, his hand holding the knot of the towel around his waist. He slapped the palm of his other hand down on the desk and leaned in as close as he could.
“No one is to enter my room. Do you understand?” He hissed. The girl nodded. Francis could see the tears in her eyes, ready to betray her at any second and slide down her cheeks.
“Y…yes, Mr. Holmes. I’m terribly sorry about that, I will make sure that nothing like it ever happens again.” She blinked and then it happened, tears began to stream down her cheeks. Francis leaned back up and realizing that he was likely drawing a little too much attention to himself he nodded sharply.
“Thank you. I take my privacy very seriously.” The girl sniffed and nodded before wiping her cheeks with the sleeve of her cotton-polyester blend shirt.
“Y…yes, Mr. Holmes.” She muttered, afraid now to even look at him.
“I apologize if I was perhaps a little too…” He searched for a better word but his English failed him. “Angry.” He lingered for a moment as the first of the girls peeked up from behind the desk, then with a second nod, he turned and walked back to his room.
He found human beings to be quite tiresome creatures.
Chapter 3
Francis awoke to the sound of car horns outside. He wasn’t used to such persistent background noise, in fact, he wasn’t used to background noise at all. He sat up groggily and stretched his arms above his head. The room was already dark, lightened only by the constant stream of city lights outside the window. Slipping off the edge of the bed, he stood up and headed to the bathroom to relieve himself. It was almost time to set out on the town. The thought of it sent blood thundering through his veins, the excitement clinging to his body like static electricity. His mission might have been to secure a mother for his child, but the thought of the companionship of a woman was secondary on his mind. He knew exactly who he was looking for, a tall dark haired woman with pale porcelain skin and plump puckered lips.
He knew exactly where he was going to begin the hunt. Before even traveling to New York he had plotted out the ‘goth’ hotspots in the city and he was beginning the night at The Delancey. While he much preferred what he had read about another hotspot for vampire wannabes, Francis was not about to kowtow to their ‘strictly goth’ dress code. There was nothing gothic about what they called ‘goth,’ in fact the clothes that they wore could barely be referred to as clothes at all. The long trench coats, the women with their waists cinched in so tightly by glittering corsets, tied with satin ribbons. This was not the gothic culture that Francis recalled from the twelfth century. No, the true gothic culture was one of architecture and while the artists and philosophers admired the masonry, the peasants fought off smallpox and the plague. There was very little romance in that.
Still, The Delancey offered fresh ‘meat’ as it were and that was precisely what Francis had traveled all this way to find. Despite how he might feel about the self proclaimed ‘gothic’s’ they were more than likely his best bet if he had any chance of finding a woman to bear his child.
Francis selected his black tailored suit and a deep red shirt that coordinated perfectly with the violet glint in his eyes. His short near black hair was spiked in one of the seemingly ‘trendy’ hairstyles of the age and he had splashed on a dab of the aftershave that had been provided in his bathroom suite. He stood in front of the bathroom mirror. He certainly looked much different to his twelfth century self, but then again, he supposed, any one would. Glancing at himself one last time, he flicked off the bathroom light and took a look around the room to ensure he had left no telltale signs. After all, should he return with company, he wouldn't want to give himself away. That always led to such a messy outcome. With the certainty that all was clear, Francis took a deep breath and headed out in to the night. He was relieved to find the concierge desk empty as he made his way down the corridor. He made a mental note to stay somewhere without such invasive service in the next city on his list. Although, of he was being honest, Francis rather hoped that he wouldn't have to go to any other cities. Traveling was tiring and it always involved much more planning than he had the patience for.
The night was cool and much more reminiscent of home for Francis. He couldn't help but smile to himself as the wind bit at his cheeks sharply. He pulled his blazer around him and cursed himself for not bringing his woolen coat with him. As he stood on the sidewalk in front of the hotel, he watched the throngs of people passing by. Where, he wondered, could so many people be going at such a late hour? They weren't kidding when they called it the city that never sleeps. Francis turned to his right and glanced down the sidewalk.