11
INTERCONTINENTAL
I had been sitting in a hotel room for three painful months. Though I felt better about my future after Mark had comforted me that night in Bigfork, I was not satisfied. I missed Everett with every fiber of my being. The more time we spent apart, the more every molecule of my body desperately tried to reach out to him.
After Mark left, I gave myself a day to get my head together before retrieving my car from the end of the mountain road near my family's land. I packed everything in it and got on the road, heading west. I drove through the night to Seattle.
I booked a suite at the Four Seasons in downtown Seattle-if I was going to sit and wait in a hotel room, it might as well be a nice one. It overlooked Elliot Bay and had a view all the way to Puget Sound. I was happy to look at water again. I could sit on my couch and waste hours just staring at it, which was good. Because in three sleepless months, I'd had over two thousand hours to waste.
I explored the city by day and delved into my research by night. When I walked the busy streets, I was enthralled with what I could hear. My powers were getting stronger, my senses even sharper. I was able to hear clearly and even see into people's minds. I gained insights into humans by hearing what people were thinking, especially the way they phrased things to themselves before they said them out loud. People were so interesting! They were more like the characters I had read about in books than I gave them credit for.
But my initial thrill with the city and with my developing powers wore off. After two weeks, I was useless. I couldn't focus on anything. By mid-August, I was a wreck-my nerves stripped, my soul aching. Some days I'd find myself combing iTunes and loading up my iPod to drive aimlessly around Washington, even into Canada. Most days I would waste time and money shopping or telling Corrina about my non-adventures on Twitter. Twitter was becoming very useful for feeling less alone. I began to update it incessantly. I didn't know if Corrina cared about everything I said, but I could pretend. It also helped that I had a forum on which I could share my thoughts and, if nothing else, pretend Corrina was listening because every forty-eight hours my cell phone rang and it was Cole Hardwick and it was getting harder to ignore him. I did ignore the calls ninety percent of the time, though. I was afraid of talking to him, afraid of liking it too much. Afraid of liking him too much.
And I tried to sense Everett. But I couldn't find him. I couldn't find any of them. I questioned my ability to track at all.
My research consumed me. I spent the majority of my time studying eastern European folklore concerning vampires, which I had stumbled upon in California. It was far more extensive than any other lore I'd ever researched. I focused on specific legends in which vampirelike creatures were born into their condition like I was. Many creatures in folklore were changed into their supernatural form in one way or another after having first been human and maturing or even dying. My family and the Winters had all been born the way we were. It seemed to set us apart.
I had realized that in my quest to find an avenue for the destruction of my kind, I had inadvertently been studying different origins, too. Many in my family believed that we were created by God, that we had started as humans and then were each chosen to be Survivors. But I couldn't imagine it. I knew there was some sort of lineage, that there was a line that could answer at least some of the questions I had. My search, then, had shifted to a strange place in which I was studying destruction and creation, side by side.
Some of the more obscure vampire lore out of Russia and Romania spoke of vampires who were born, not made, and it sounded promising. But the information was scant, and I kept hitting walls. I knew what this meant: I had reached this point in my research a number of times, and that's when it was time to get on a plane and go to the source. But this time, I couldn't.
I was waiting for the Winters.
Mark had assured me that they would find me when the time was right. Still, I was afraid of going anywhere too crazy. That fear had led me to stay in Seattle, pacing a hotel room for three months.
Finally, I decided to trust Mark. He had never led me astray yet. I determined where I might go, if I decided to go. I chewed on that idea for a while before acting. I lazily browsed flights to Moscow and Bucharest in coffee shops. I researched the areas I thought might be most pertinent to my quest. I made rough plans, looked up hotels, the weather, the terrain.
Then, on the first day of October, as I watched a cloudy and cold Seattle afternoon settle in around Puget Sound, I decided to go. I booked a plane ticket to Moscow, pulled everything out of the hotel closet, and dug deep for clothes that would be appropriate. The weather would be in the 30s and 40s, cold but mild temperatures compared to the winters at home, where it was already snowing and in single-digit temperatures at night.
Although I carried everything I had with me around the States, when I traveled for research, usually in obscure places, I went with the clothes on my back and not much more. I'd often run through the night across vast stretches of land, finding my own sources of information in the moonlight, straying from the cities for days, even weeks at a time. Even though I had grown accustomed to a high-maintenance lifestyle, I was still adaptable.
I left myself only three days to prepare for Moscow. I spent my time packing, making reservations, and preparing financially for time abroad. These trips got expensive quickly. My first class ticket from Seattle to Moscow (via London) cost $11,000 one way. I booked a month at the Hotel National in Moscow. Unfortunately, only one of the larger suites was available at such late notice, so it would be over $1,500 a night for a hotel room I might never spend a night in. That was more than $50,000 just to get to Russia and have a place to leave my things (albeit a nice place). I'd keep my room in the Four Seasons, too, so my things could stay here.
As I boarded my flight from Seattle to London on Sunday evening, I found myself in familiar surroundings. Before I had gone to the wedding in June, before I had seen Mark Winter for the first time, this was the life I had led. I lived entirely by myself, existing without a schedule or responsibilities, real companions, or even a support system. But three months had passed since then, and I was back to where I started.
My mind began to wander. I wondered if I was right to trust Mark. What if they were never coming back?
I spent the next nine hours growing more paranoid. What were they doing that had taken months to accomplish? What had been happening that kept Mark from visiting to reassure me? Why couldn't I sense them? I could read every mind on the plane. I could vividly see the dreams my fellow passengers were having as they slept peacefully or restlessly on the intercontinental flight. I could even sense Corrina's mind though I didn't know where she was. I could feel Lizzie. I could tune into Cole. I was so aware of everything around me. But I couldn't sense the Winters. They had blocked me out entirely. They were hiding.
What if they were never coming for me?
That's it. All along, that had been it. They were never coming back. And how stupid was I for waiting all that time in a hotel room in Seattle, thinking any day they return and I would get my life back?
My chest tightened. I clenched my fists, and I crushed a piece of the armrest by accident. Had that night in front of the bonfire been the last time I was going to see Everett? I twisted inside. This is what it had felt like on the bottom of Swan Lake. I wished I were there. Anywhere was better than being in an enclosed airplane with two hundred people and nowhere to hide-and, worse, nowhere to run.
I felt no release when I got off the plane in London. I found my way to an airport bathroom and closed myself in the tiny stall as I had seen others do. I pressed my fists against the flimsy walls and laid my head against them. I tried in vain to slow my breathing. I was terrified as I realized that Everett had left me.
I couldn't breathe. I felt my throat close up and my chest tighten further. My eyes stung. The bridge of my nose tingled. I was crying. There were no tears, of course. But it was crying just the same. I could barely stand the sensation.
A few long minutes passed before I calmed down a little. I composed myself before I emerged from the stall. I attracted enough attention as I hurried through an airport. I didn't need to look like a sobbing mess to complete my freak show ensemble.
Only when I walked back into the bustling corridor of the terminal to find my connecting flight did reality sink back in. I had a very tight connection, less than forty minutes to cross Heathrow before my next plane began boarding. Having stood in the bathroom stall for longer than I realized, I had missed it. I stumbled to the British Airways counter. Of course, they only flew to Moscow twice a day, and mine had been the second. I was so frustrated. I had had a stupid human moment, and now I was stuck in London for a night. I booked myself on the next morning's flight and staggered out of the airport with only my Longchamp tote-my luggage had gone onto Moscow without me-to find a hotel. I couldn't bear to spend eighteen hours in the terminal.
As I shuffled toward the taxi line, I heard a familiar humming and then an even more familiar voice, before he had even said my name.
"Sadie?" he first said to himself, and then, sure it was me, he exclaimed. "Sadie!" I turned around.
It was Cole.
It would be life's cruel joke to dangle Cole Hardwick in front of me at the exact moment I believed I had lost Everett forever. But here he was, the same piercing blue eyes, two behind me in line, sandy hair sweeping toward his brow, in a classic Brooks Brothers suit. The picture of perfection. I had done an excellent job of forgetting how gorgeous he was.
I thought he might be a mirage. This seemed like a legitimate concern in my current state, so I looked at the two people standing between us and tried to get a read on them. They were both young women about my age. They definitely saw him, too.
Of course! The gorgeous American from my flight has his eye on this supermodel. Leave some for the rest of us, sweetheart, one of them thought, looking me up and down. I closed my eyes, shaking off their cross thoughts.
I figured it was safe to speak now. "Cole," I said. The smile in my voice as I said his name surprised me.
Look at that smile, champ. She's missed you, too, he said in his mind. I saw myself in his mind as he looked me up and down-skimming his eyes over the thick red DVF coat to the silky, multi-print Tracy Reese dress with cinched waist and glancing just too long at the deep V-neck; fixating on the knee-high, laced-up English riding boots. Though subtly, he was checking me out.
I squeezed by the two girls behind me until I was standing next to him. He threw an arm around me, and I stood on my tip-toes, hugging his neck.
"What are you doing in London?" he asked excitedly.
I laughed. "Cole, I told you—all I do is travel. The better question is, What are you doing in London? You're the one with a normal job and all," I said.
"I'm here for work," he said. "I've got a major meeting in the morning," he said. In his mind, he said, Please don't be busy tonight. Please don't be busy tonight! I've waited months for this! We had stepped up a few spaces in the line.
"Actually, it was an accident. I've missed my connection, and there's not another flight until tomorrow," I said.
"So you're stranded." Please need a place to stay. I was a little uneasy with that thought. "What are you going to do?" he asked.
"Kill time," I said. "It's only just after noon, so I'll probably hit Harrod's or Harvey Nicks."
"You girls and your shopping," he laughed. "You're just like Corrina. Where are you going to stay?"
"I'll find some place," I said casually. Though it was nice to see a familiar face, I didn't want to give him the wrong idea.
"You should stay with me so you don't have to pay for a hotel," he said.
"I don't know," I said, letting the heavy concern weigh down my voice.
"Well, at least come with me while I get checked in. You can pull out your laptop there and find a place," he said. Nice save.
"That's sweet of you," I said. "That would be helpful."
Cole beamed inside and out. We had made it to the front of the taxi line. "Shall we?" he said. He opened the door of the taxi for me. Still a perfect gentleman.