Chapter 1: Checking In

A little girl with her dark blonde curls tied up in velvet ribbons giggled and laughed while a man with dark hair and dark eyes picked her up and spun her around, not caring at all that his impeccably starched suit would be wrinkled.

"Daisy, Daisy, Give me your answer, do! I'm half crazy, all for the love of you!" he sang with glee, lowering her to let her stand on the toes of his shoes while they danced.

Peggy smiled in her sleep at the sweet memories that visited her in her dreams. Her father would often take time out from his work to play with her. 'Hide and Seek' and 'Tag' were her favorites, because he would let her run around and explore the hotel as much as she wanted. He would pretend to have trouble keeping up with her, but he would always find her and catch her in the end. She was older now, a young woman frozen in her early twenties, and her hair was a couple of shades lighter; a beautiful honey blonde.

"It won't be the finest marriage. I can't afford a carriage—"

Swish. Peggy winced against the bright light that burned through her eyelids and buried her head in her pillow in an attempt to shut it out. At the moment all she wanted was to stay in bed and keep reliving the happy, simpler times of her childhood.

"Come, now! Rise and shine, Miss Peggy!" Miss Evers sang cheerfully while she finished drawing the curtains. "I know it's earlier than you'd prefer, but your father has a surprise for you." The girl had a late night the previous evening after starting out with a bang in room 51.

Peggy carefully turned her head and peeked out from the pillow, opening her eyes slowly to allow them to adjust to the light. The sun was setting, and one of its last rays happened to pick her window to beam through. "A surprise?" Even after all of these years, her father still liked to spoil her.

"Yes. Hurry now, he's waiting for you," Miss Evers said, handing the drowsy young woman a flowing dressing gown that matched her white satin chemise before rushing her out of her room.

Peggy used the short elevator ride up to the 6th floor to collect herself and made sure to button her robe properly before meeting her father. He didn't like it when she wandered around in just a slip. He said it was unbecoming of a young lady. And she didn't feel like starting her day off with a scolding.

Ding. The elevator doors opened, and she stepped out to follow Miss Evers down the hall. She heard a scream from one of the rooms ahead, along with a baby crying, and passionate moans. They passed a young man with bleached hair and sunglasses, just as her father stepped out of the room he was waiting in to meet them. She knew what the surprise was the second she saw him in his killing gear and smelled the tantalizing aroma of blood wafting through the open door. He removed the mask and gave her a wide smile. She had always though he was incredibly handsome with silky, brown hair and alluring, secretive eyes that gave the most intense stares—the same dark eyes that she had inherited. His creamy skin was beautiful and glowed like alabaster. Her father was a refined, classy man but a complete psychopath.

"Good morning, sweetheart! I have a surprise for you," James Patrick March greeted his daughter exuberantly as he ushered her into the room.

The man he had been torturing squirmed in his chair and strained against the ropes that tied him to it. His abused body had been sliced and carved to within an inch of his life. "H-h-help! P-please h-help me!" he cried pathetically, hoping in vain that the new addition to their party might save him.

"This man told me his blood type is AB-negative—your favorite! I know it tastes best fresh, so I saved him for you. Would you like to deliver the final blow?" James asked his little princess.

"Can I?" Peggy asked. She knew that was his favorite part, so she was always very touched the few times he offered.

James gently placed the knife in her hand and closed her fingers around it. "Of course, my darling."

Peggy smiled and turned to face the man. She could see the small ray of hope in his eyes die. But he needn't worry. Either way, his misery would end soon. Without further ado, she stabbed him in the largest artery near his neck and quickly grabbed hold of him as she lowered herself onto his lap and clamped her mouth down over the wound, drinking her fill of the warm blood that gushed from it. His fear and pain tasted like a full and heady red wine. It was intoxicating.

James smiled proudly. He loved watching his daughter feed. But she could be a very messy eater. By the time she finished her meal, their victim's blood covered her mouth and had flowed down to stain her once pristine night clothes a dark crimson. It was beautiful. While she caught her breath, he brushed her disheveled hair away from her face with his fingers and kissed her on the top of her head. "I'll take care of the rest, dear. Why don't you get yourself cleaned up? If I remember correctly, you mentioned you had plans for this evening?"

"Yes." Peggy straightened up and gave her father a kiss on the cheek, leaving behind a bloody lip print. "Thank you, Daddy."

It was completely dark by the time Peggy finished enjoying a good soak in the bath. She removed herself from the tub, dried herself off, and set her record of Glenn Miller's In the Mood to play while she got ready.

Meanwhile, something more modern filled her mother's penthouse. The Countess enjoyed applying her lipstick to Tear You Apart by She Wants Revenge, while her lover for the past twenty years finished his own bath. It was a routine that had become so familiar, it felt more like a choreographed dance.

Peggy swayed and danced a little along to her music while she selected her outfit for the evening.

Donovan finished dressing himself and helped Elizabeth lace up her corset. She cut herself a few lines of coke and inhaled.

They met up in the elevator. Donovan was wearing his usual black. Elizabeth had her hair styled up, and Peggy wore hers down in classic curls, but Mother and daughter were both channeling the color red that evening. Elizabeth was in one of her Yohji Yamamoto dresses from the 90s over a black corset and sparkling bejeweled body chain, and Peggy had chosen to wear the shimmering white and yellow diamond daisy necklace with matching earrings and bracelet similar to the parure set owned by Elizabeth Taylor—the actress, not their beloved resident/employee—that her mother had given to her as a gift decades ago and her red Alexander McQueen dress with a full skirt and puffy, pleated sleeves from the 2013 spring collection under a 50s vintage black silk Balenciaga evening coat with large sleeves.

Elizabeth smiled at her daughter's choice of clothing. She knew James would flip his lid if he saw how low that sweetheart neckline curved down and parted to reveal her daughter's lovely breastbone. He was extremely possessive when it came to Peggy. The homicidal psychopath who called himself her husband had been wrapped around her girl's little finger ever since the day she was born. "Are you still joining us this evening?" she asked her.

"I'm still going to the screening, but I've already eaten. So you don't have to worry about me," Peggy replied with a smile.

"Why bother if you aren't going to hunt?" Donovan asked. He and Peggy didn't get along too well, because she would often cramp his style on purpose. He wasn't sure why she didn't like him. He hadn't done anything to piss her off when they first met, but he had no problem giving her shit back now.

"To watch the movie, of course," she answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, giving him a look that clearly stated her ill opinion of his intelligence.

Donovan rolled his eyes at her. Brat.

"Settle down, children," Elizabeth said calmly, suppressing a small smile. She was a little disappointed their quality time together would be cut short—Peggy would undoubtedly leave them once they reached the park rather than stick around to be a third wheel. She knew James was probably to blame. Ever since she turned Peggy, he had taken up the habit of saving the blood from his cleaner victims for her, and Peggy would accept anything he put in front of her to make him happy.

As the Countess predicted, Peggy separated from her and Donovan when they arrived at the park. While she enjoyed messing with Donovan, Peggy didn't want to get in her mother's way when she was hunting. She noticed a boy watching her out the corner of her eye and gave him a smile. She could smell his attraction to her in his blood. Beneath that she could taste a note of almonds. He had a gothic look about him and the heavy, dark eyeliner made his blue eyes pop. He wasn't the type she would usually go for, but she could see from the flash of false fangs when he returned her smile that he probably belonged to a subculture that was fascinated with vampires. Boys like him were always extremely turned on by the idea of meeting a real vampire, which meant they actually wanted her to feed from them most of the time. She'd had friends like him before who would gradually collect their own blood for her, providing her with nice source of emergency rations. So when he offered her a space next to him on his blanket, she accepted.

They ended up in his tiny, dark apartment after the movie. The boy, Dylan, couldn't get her clothes off fast enough. She always felt guilty when she did this. Despite the terrible, twisted things he did and the sadistic joy they brought him, she loved her father. She loved him more deeply than he could ever imagine, but not just as a father. As her body matured, her childish adoration had grown into something much darker, something forbidden. She had come to desire him as a man. She felt things about the man named James Patrick March that no daughter should ever feel for their father. It was an unnatural love—one that he could never know about.

Peggy loved her father more than anything, and he was the one she yearned for, to the point where it often became unbearable—but she still had needs, just like any other girl. And every time she acted on them, part of her hoped that it would somehow change her feelings and maybe help end her unhealthy obsession with him. But a larger part already knew there was no going back. From the bottom of her heart, she knew. No one else would ever be able to replace him.

It was early morning, about an hour before sunrise, when Peggy made her walk of shame back to the Cortez. But she wasn't the only one awake. When she stepped through the front door, she was greeted by the sight of her mother's back and an almost completely naked girl with blood gushing out of her slit neck. Behind the girl stood a shocked Iris. Peggy knew straight away that something wasn't right if they were making a scene like this right in front of the main entrance. "What happened?" she asked.

Her mother wiped a speck of blood from her cheek and licked it off the tip of her gloved finger. "Excellent question." Her voice was calm, but her gaze was so cold that it chilled the blood in Iris's veins.

"I don't know what happened," the manager stammered. "She got loose somehow."

"This can never happen again," Elizabeth ordered.

Iris gulped and nodded. She could tell from the tone of finality in the Countess's voice that any repeats of this incident would result in her termination—permanently, and in every sense of the word.

Elizabeth turned and looked at her daughter. She smiled and hooked arms with her to walk to the elevator. They were both careful not to get blood on their shoes while sidestepping the corpse. "Seems like you had a good night." She could smell the sex on her. She was glad. She was one of the extremely few people aware of her daughter's feelings and felt it was unhealthy for her to spend too much time with James.

"It was okay," Peggy shrugged. She didn't always find sex without an emotional attachment enjoyable. But this evening's experience was more satisfying than most. At least she was able to work off some of the tension she had built up.

"I'm assuming whoever it was is still alive, since you didn't bring them back to the hotel." Elizabeth knew her daughter sometimes spared potential meals, but she wasn't worried. Peggy knew how to pick her targets. And family always came first for her.

Peggy readjusted her coat. "Yes. I thought I might see him again." She had tested her theory about his willingness to comply with her unique feeding habits by sampling a small taste from him while they were together. He was in ecstasy.

She kissed her mother goodnight when the elevator reached her floor and retreated to her room to get some rest. Ordinarily she would have wished her father goodnight, too, but she always had trouble facing him after being intimate with another man. She knew it was ridiculous. She wasn't in a romantic relationship with him and never would be. It didn't seem to bother him at all when she had brought lovers back to the hotel. In fact, he encouraged it. She sighed and flopped face down onto the bed, mentally kicking herself for being stupid enough to fall into this emotional pit hole.

James knocked on his daughter's door that morning at what he deemed a reasonable hour, but received no answer. So he decided to let himself in. What he saw inside the familiar room startled him. There, sprawled out gracefully on her bed, was his little sleeping beauty, as he had expected to find her. What he did not expect was to find her in a dress made of sheer material, with what appeared to be only a black leotard covering her lower body, and the majority of her chest left exposed for the entire world to see. "Marguerite Frances March!!"

Peggy nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard her father's shout. She quickly sat up and turned to look at him with wide eyes, startled to find him glaring at her. For a moment, she was confused—he only called her by her full name when he was angry with her—and then she realized that she had fallen asleep without changing and was still wearing her outfit from the night before.

James was livid that she had disobeyed him. He could be flexible on some matters, but not this. "You know the rules, Peggy!" he scolded her sternly.

"You never yell at Mom for dressing like this," she countered, scooting back off of the bed when he took a step closer, immediately on the defensive.

"That's different! She isn't you!" he countered angrily, irritated that she kept trying to dodge him every time he moved closer. Did she think he was going to hit her? No, she should know better than that. Unlike his own father, he had never raised a hand against his children. But he was beginning to think maybe he should have given her a few decent spankings when she was younger. She was severely lacking in discipline. This wasn't the first time he had caught her wearing something inappropriate, and it made him wonder how often she had gotten away with it behind his back. Though, if anyone was to blame, it was probably her. He knew he couldn't count on Elizabeth to correct Peggy in events like this. If anything, she was probably the one who had encouraged her. His wife loved to undermine his authority over their daughter. But Peggy usually chose to listen to him over Elizabeth anyway, so it was particularly frustrating to have her disobey him so stubbornly now. "Change out of that scandalous outfit, right now!"

Peggy clenched her fists. "Fine!" Since she was equally frustrated with him for continuing to treat her like child, despite being eighty-eight years old, she decided to do something a little wicked. She started undressing right in front of him.

James crossed his arms and stood his ground. At first, he was determined to let her make a fool of herself to teach her lesson, but she had her back turned to him, and as she lowered her dress, he could see that she wasn't wearing a single stitch beneath it. That doused the fire behind his temper faster than a bucket of ice water. "I didn't mean it so literally, dear!" he said quickly, rushing over to pull it back up. "At least wait until I've left the room."

Peggy held her dress in place while he practically flew from her room. With the door shut securely behind him, she let the dress drop to the floor and stepped out of it to take a shower.

James stood outside in in the hall and waited impatiently for his impetuous daughter to finish changing. He reminded himself that she was at a difficult age. In fact, she had been at a difficult age ever since she hit puberty. Peggy was normally the most reasonable person in their family, but she could become frighteningly impulsive and stubborn when upset. It took a lot to make her act unbalanced. Considering this, it worried him when he wondered what the cause behind this particular fit could be.

The shower helped her to calm down some, so she was in a slightly better mood when she opened the armoire to pick her outfit for the day. She settled on an Alexander McQueen dress designed for Givenchy in the 90s. It was one of her favorites. She admired the detail put into its design—the brown bodice with Lesage embroidery of blossom and foliage, tiny glass buttons from neck to waist front and back encasing dried flower sprigs, the skirt of fine brown and ivory houndstooth check with curved satin edges embroidered with ikat-like motifs, and gigot sleeves of brown taffeta. Then she pulled out a pair of nude T-strap Valentino Rockstud pumps, and she pulled her hair up in a French twist, leaving out some curled sections in the front to frame her face. She kept her makeup light and natural for the day. For jewelry, she wore a pair of Gucci daisy earrings with turquoise petals, green crystal leaves, and white pearls dangling from the bottom of their stems; and her usual daytime staple—the silver and gold locket with an elaborate Art Deco daisy motif that her father gave her when she turned sweet sixteen. He had her mother arrange for it to be created specially for her by Tiffany & Co. decades ago, but someone must have found its design in the archives, because they released an all silver version of it for the Ziegfeld collection. To say that her father had been upset when he found out would be an understatement, and she was fairly certain he was still steamed about it.

When she finally stepped out of the room, James was very gratified to see that she had selected an appropriately modest outfit this time. His anger melted when she looked at him with those warm, brown eyes. He could never stay mad at her. "It was a lovely dress," he said, taking her hands in his. "But wear something under it next time."

Peggy nodded and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "I'm sorry I yelled at you, Daddy."

James smiled and withdrew one of his hands so he could put an arm around her. "Let's get you some breakfast, darling."

Elizabeth was in her suite, pouring herself a glass of the hair of the dog that bit her the previous evening, when Donovan burst into the room rather dramatically wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs and a robe.

"We've been invaded—shanghaied!" he exclaimed hotly, stalking over to her side. "Some goddamn New Yorker is sizing up my suite," he added, pointing in the direction of the doors he had swanned through only a second ago.

"A little early for you, isn't it?" she asked him calmly, completely unfazed by his drama.

Elizabeth paused when she heard an unfamiliar voice in the next room and suddenly smelled the blood of three new people. "I know you'll prefer the view from the space we just saw, but here's the other half of the floor plan." It seemed they had finished sizing up Donovan's suite and moved across the hall to hers.

"The lighting is, of course, a challenge," the realtor continued as she lead the prospective buyer and his child into her sanctuary without bothering to ask permission, "and I don't know if all this neon is the answer."

Elizabeth turned to face the invaders with her drink in hand and immediately recognized the man's face. "Will Drake. I'm so pleased to meet you." She could see from the way the corner of his mouth turned up in a half smirk that he was pleased she had recognized him.

Donovan glanced between the Countess and the fashion designer. He recognized the name and wondered what she was up to.

"I was completely impressed with the gown you made for Mrs. Obama," Elizabeth complimented the man as she approached him, deciding to play to his ego. "It was the state dinner for... the Spaniards..."

"The Spaniards," Will said simultaneously, "yes." He smiled. He was used to admiration, but he felt especially flattered to receive it from such an elegantly exotic woman. He could tell by her classically understated jewelry, perfectly coiffed platinum blonde hair, sophisticated makeup, and the dark and eccentric hand-painted dress from Valerj Pobega that she had excellent taste. "Kind of you to mention."

Elizabeth offered him the drink in her hand.

"I'm on a cleanse," he declined with regret.

"Not anymore," she insisted, twisting his arm in a very charming manner.

Will laughed and accepted the drink. It was an exquisitely smooth scotch, warm enough to give the drinker a feeling of pleasant satisfaction without burning their throat like paint stripper. And then he noticed his son enacting some mischief. He was touching a large, reflective sculpture with his bare hands. "Lachlan!" he said, snapping his fingers to make sure he had his attention. "Honestly. Fingerprints are really hard to get off."

"Messes are always forgiven," Elizabeth said kindly, making the embarrassed father smile. She turned her attention to the naughty child. "The first time."

Will's jaw dropped when he noticed another shiny sculpture displayed on a pedestal across the room. He was instantly drawn toward it. "Is..."

"Yes," Elizabeth answered proudly. "It's an Arik Levy, and it doesn't come with the building. Of course, I'm hopeful you're as interested in the character of The Cortez as we are."

Will tore his gaze away from the beautiful sculpture to glance at her for a moment before nodding and turning back to face the art. "There's energy here. I walk through New York streets, and I don't hear the music anymore. No more echoes of what was there. Blocks are toppled, history erased, weirdoes banished. This place is far enough away that it speaks to me... sings, even."

"Well, I cannot wait to see what you make of it," Elizabeth told him, holding his gaze when he turned around to face her again.

Will smiled and raised his glass to her, taking another sip.

"Wow, that's... that's really beautiful," Donovan said sardonically, slightly jealous of the attention he was receiving from the Countess and pissed at the rude awakening he had received. "So where are weirdos like us supposed to live, huh? Got any songs telling you anything about that?"

"Perhaps you could show our neighbor the James Turrell light sculpture?" Elizabeth suggested. Her tone was deceptively light, but anyone who knew her well knew that was an order, and she was hinting that Donovan would do well to be nice to the man who now owned their home. There was no point in making an enemy of him this early in the game.

Donovan sighed and headed for the door, moving to lead the way.

"Dad, can I stay and look at the records?" Lachlan asked, already seated on the floor in front of them.

"Of course you can," Elizabeth said before his father could reject the idea out of politeness.

Will Drake gave her a grateful smile and followed Donovan and he realtor out of the room to view the light sculpture.

Elizabeth approached the boy sitting on her floor.

"People aren't supposed to live in hotels," he said, looking up at her.

She held her hands behind her back, nonplused. She had a secret weapon for boys like him. "Well, maybe this place is special." She lowered herself to his level and gently took one of his hands in hers. "I want to show you something you'll enjoy." The boy hesitated. "We'll only be gone a moment."

"I lived in New York, many years ago," Elizabeth said when they reached their designated floor and stepped out of the elevator to walk down the hall. "I loved roaming the streets, devouring the pulse of the city. Electrifying." She felt a wave of nostalgia and thought she might take Peggy there again. She had enjoyed their last trip to the Big Apple together, back when she was still a normal human. Elizabeth had even shown her the neighborhood she used to live in with her own parents. "I miss it very much." She missed the people she left behind. "Did your father give you a choice when it came time to leave?"

"My dad says I'm not supposed to talk to strangers," the boy replied.

"We're not strangers, Lachlan," she reassured him. "We're going to be great friends. Here we are." Elizabeth approached the secret door, which was camouflaged to resemble an ordinary wall.

"What's so special about a hallway?" Lachlan asked.

Elizabeth smiled and knocked three times on the door. Then she pushed it open.

Lachlan's eyes widened in surprise when light streamed out into the hallway, and he peered into the room to see it filled with other children sitting on black leather couches, playing retro video games on the and huge screens mounted in the white walls. He stepped inside and saw that there was a colorful candy station, too. Elizabeth put her arm around the boy and led him further into the room. She knew he would like it.

James had originally designed the area to be a playroom for Peggy, but she had long outgrown it, so it belonged to her younger, adopted siblings now. They had it repainted and completely modernized in the eighties.

Elizabeth stopped the tour when they reached the child she thought Lachlan would get along with best. "Holden, we have a guest," she informed the most recent addition to her family. "Where are your manners, angel?"

Holden looked up from his game to greet the other boy. "Hello. Wanna play?"

Lachlan smiled. He decided he was going to like it there.