Page 3 of Thirst

Three

At the top of the Black Coins Casino is a penthouse. I've lived in it for years now. It’s my sanctuary—where I go to get away from all the people wandering around the rest of the building. Black Coins is a hotel as well, so there's never a moment of peace in this place except for when I take the private elevator to the top floor. I have another place I could stay in a small town in Delaware, but the penthouse is home.

As soon as I step off the elevator I'm greeted by a gray hallway lined with black and white photos of Philadelphia, taken over time as the city grew. On one end of the hall is the living room, and the other end houses the bar that’s fully stocked and a pool table, amongst other leisurely things. My bedroom is off the hall to my right, but I'm not quite ready for bed yet. I've fed, and it’s going to take some time for the high of it to wear off. So, I turn to my right, bypass my bedroom, and head for the bar.

When I reach the end of the hall, I step into a wide open space with floor to ceiling windows on two of the four walls. The beautiful city of Philly shines into the room, greeting me with its bright night lights as I walk past the couches pushed against the perimeter walls and sidestep the pool table with red felt instead of green. A beautiful gold chandelier hangs over the pool table, lighting it up like a spotlight, and automatic lights come on when I get close to the bar, illuminating its black marble bartop and red stools. The space behind the bar is wide open, with the back wall covered in alcohol of all types from all sorts of places.

I grab a chilled wine glass from the fridge and fill it to the brim with red wine. My internal workings aren't like a human’s, so it takes a bit more alcohol for me to feel it. I sip the liquid down a bit so it doesn't spill when I walk back over to the biggest couch in the room and sit down, turning my head to look at the city. I see the stadium where the Eagles play, lit up right next to where the Phillies and 76ers get down, and I smile at how beautiful my city is. The fresh blood coursing through my veins makes me feel good. Combine that with the love I have for Philly, and I have to admit that tonight was a good night.

After I take the time to knock back all of my wine and refill it, a loud chime rings in the hallway, letting me know that the elevator is in use. There's only one other person who can access it, so I know I’ll soon be greeted by my assistant and only friend, Shawn Martin. He and I had the elevator scanner set to our eyes only, so I never have to worry about surprise guests. I hear the elevator doors open and the sound of footsteps go to one end of the hall before turning around and approaching my end. Shawn steps into the opening wearing the black-on-black suit I saw him in earlier, and smiles as he nods to me on his way to the bar to get his own drink.

“I see you fed,” he says with his back turned to me, his broad shoulders and wide back stretching out his suit. I watch him fill a short glass with Hennessy as the lights behind the bar illuminate his gingerbread-colored skin, then he walks over to the other side of the counter and sits on one of the stools.

“Indeed,” I reply.

He nods, the waves in his black hair on point as usual. “How long had it been?”

“Couple days,” I reply.

“I'm surprised you waited that long. At least you did it in an elevator this time instead of the back of the casino. You almost got us caught up.”

I nod as I finish swallowing a gulp of wine. “Almost. And even if I did, it still would've been fine. Influence is a very powerful tool. I've been what I am for a hundred and twenty-six years, Shawn. The last thing I'm worried about is humans catching me doing anything. I am, however, starting to get bored. Black Coins practically runs itself at this point, I rarely have to step in to get my hands dirty with the vendors. Now it’s all starting to feel like the same stuff over and over again.”

“The curse of being a hundred and fifty-six years old,” Shawn says, reminding me of the ridiculous amount of time I've been on this earth. “You've seen everything, and now you're waiting for something big to happen. It reminds of why you worked so hard to talk me out of wanting to be turned.”

I nod, remembering when I first met Shawn after saving his life fifteen years ago. He had been beaten so badly that I had to give him my blood to keep him alive, but a vampire’s blood is a drug. Humans become addicted with one taste, but the addiction isn't a need for more, it’s an insatiable desire to be turned.

“Exactly,” I say with a grin. “A hundred and fifty-six years old, a hundred and twenty-six as a vampire. It’s too long for anybody to be alive. If it wasn't so hard to kill us, I would've died from boredom already.”

“Well, I've been telling you to pack it up and go on vacation. I can manage Black Coins.”

“I know, and I've done that. How many times can I go to Mexico and feed on tourists? Do I need to see Tokyo fifteen times before happiness becomes permanent? I mean, damn, I've seen the world but that stupid void in my chest won't close up. I hate it.”

Shawn sips his Henn before nodding in that way he does that lets me know he’s about to say something annoying.

“Ah, that good ole’ hole in your heart that can't be filled.”

“Don't,” I say, shaking my head. “I already know what you're gonna say, and I'm not even in the mood. You're gonna blow my high. We've been over that a million times, and even with traveling all over the world, it hasn't happened.”

“Maybe you're not looking hard enough.”

“Or maybe I’ll never find mine, just like so many others. It’s not a guarantee that we ever find our Companion. You know that.”

“I know.”

“Alright then. Why you worried about me anyway? You're thirty-five and unmarried.”

“I sure am, and that’s exactly how I like it,” Shawn says, giggling and making his perfectly manicured beard shake. “I still got time to settle down, so if I meet someone, I’ll go for it. If not, I’m good doing exactly what I've been doing. Being best friends with an immortal and making plenty of money. To me, this is what freedom looks like, but I'm easier to please than you, big dog.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, I guess so. You're also not ravaged by a need to consume blood.”

“Thankfully,” he says before gulping down the rest of his drink and getting to his feet. “Alright, Mr. Goddard, I'm off to bed. You need anything from me before I go?”

“Nah,” I say, before following his lead and finishing my wine. I glance out the window and see the sun on the horizon. “My night is over, too. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Shawn and I dap each other up, finished off by a one-armed hug before he spins around and walks down the hall.

As he gets on the elevator, I turn into my bedroom and shut the heavy metal door behind me. I can see the sun coming up through the massive window on the far wall, so I hurry to my nightstand and grab a remote resting on top. With the press of a button, the windows go from translucent to pitch black—a nice little feature I had installed. Another button sends blackout curtains sliding in place—the same kind people use in Alaska to block out the light in the summer when the sun doesn't go down for very long. Once the window is secure, I press a final button, and there's a loud hiss and snap as metal slats pop into place in all of the openings of the door, both locking it and blocking out sunlight from every crevice.