Strictly Taboo(87)

“Hey buddy, you can't use this elevator, it's for maintenance only!” The stubble chinned man said. Francis waved his hand as if to dismiss him.

“No, no, is okay.” He said, hoping that his thick accent would offer him the protection from further questions. But the man shook his head,

“No, no, is not okay. This elevator is for maintenance, you aren't maintenance, therefore, you have to use the other elevator.” The man was getting testy and Francis was beginning to contemplate a second murder.

“Hotel lady say it is okay. I am…magician.” He said, gesturing down to the trunk. “But she say they don't want me to drag through lobby every time I go to do show.” He looked back at the man who now shrugged.

“Okay, whatever. But if you’re lyin’ to me and you get busted for bein’ in here it ain't my problem. And don't say I didn't warn ya.” The man pushed the door open button and waited for Francis to drag his trunk inside the elevator before releasing it. “You goin’ to the ground?” He asked. Francis nodded his head. He’d have to do his best to sneak out of the back exit of the hotel and hope he didn't run in to any more maintenance men in the process.

When the elevator came to a stop, Francis waited for the maintenance man to step out first but when he insisted on holding the door to be helpful, Francis was forced to drag his trunk in to the concrete floored hallway. The maintenance man paused and watched him for a moment and Francis leaned over to examine one of the locks on the trunk. He fiddled with it, hoping that the man would just walk away and after a brief pause, he did just that. Francis breathed a sigh of relief. He had never given much thought to trying to escape anywhere before, he'd never really had a need to, but now that he did, he found the process to be tiring. His innate desire to feed was beginning to burgeon as he contemplated ridding himself of the inconveniences of life in such close confines with human beings.

Francis managed to make it through the back exit of the hotel without anyone stopping him. A small mercy for which he was very thankful. All he wanted to do now was to get out of this God forsaken place and go home to the comfort of his cozy albeit drafty, castle.

At the back of the hotel one of the waiters from the restaurant was smoking a cigarette and remembering that he too was a smoker, Francis stopped to light one up. A waiter was no more likely to suspect him of anything than a stranger on the street, besides, the man looked haggard and uninterested in what Francis was doing.

“Hey, man, you have a light?” Francis asked as he slipped a cigarette out of his silver cigarette case and put it between his lips. The man looked at him briefly before pulling a cheap orange lighter from his pocket and lighting Francis’s cigarette.

“What's in the case, amigo?” The man said, his own thick Mexican accent disguising his words.

“I am…magician.” Francis said before taking an inhale off his cigarette. The waiter nodded his head.

“That’s cool.” He said. “I used to know a few tricks when I was a kid, but now all I could do is that pickup game where you throw all the cards on the floor.” The waiter laughed and Francis took that as his cue to laugh as well, so he did.

“Yeah, I have a show” Francis said, tapping the side of his trunk with his foot as he took another drag off his cigarette. The waiter nodded.

“You need a hand getting’ that thing out front for a cab?” The waiter asked, nodding towards the trunk. Francis smiled.

“That would be very…how you do say…nice.” Then he held up his half finished cigarette. “I just finish this, if it's okay?” He took another drag and the waiter nodded his head as he squashed the butt of his cigarette with his foot.

“Sure, take your time, I'm in no rush to get back in there.” The waiter laughed and following his lead, so too did Francis, but deep inside he had a nagging need to break his neck and feed. Just the taste of Anne’s tangy blood had been enough to awaken the beast within and now it was more important than ever that Francis make his escape before he left a trail of destruction in his wake.





Chapter 7

Just as it had been when he arrived, the airport was buzzing with the voices of hundreds of people. Their incessant chattering was deafening and the smell of their sweat was making Francis feel nauseas. As he fought to keep the contents of his stomach in place, he pushed his way through the masses of people and towards the first class lounge.

It was only when he pushed open the thick glass door and was greeted with a warm blast of air, that Francis began to feel any sense of relief. The large lounge sprawled out in front of him and the hundred of so seats were empty with the exception of a handful of people. Francis reached in to his blazer and pulled out his first class ticket, handing it to the woman at the front desk. She smiled, a broad fake smile and took it from him.