"A small formality," she said, gesturing toward the chair.
"Please have a seat and extend your finger."
Ethan sat down and rolled up his sleeve.
The needle touched his skin,a light prick, almost imperceptible. A drop of blood vanished into the transparent capsule, which was immediately drawn into the analyzer.
Ethan felt a chill settle inside him.
One hour ago, he reminded himself silently. The wisteria is already in my bloodstream. God, I hope they don't notice,it masks everything.
One second. Two. Three.
The analyzer screen flashed green.
The nurse's smile widened.
"Everything's in order, sir. You may proceed."
He nodded and stood.
Next came the heart-rate scanner. He stepped under the arch and felt a faint hum, as though invisible waves were passing through his body.
Pupil fixation: a flash of light in his eyes that made him blink. Thermal mapping: a camera overhead recording body heat.
The flash faded.
For a moment white spots lingered in Ethan's vision,sunburned silhouettes pulsing like echoes of light, as though he had stared too long at the sun with his eyes closed.
He forced himself not to rub his eyelids and to show no trace of discomfort.
He simply blinked once, slowly, letting his vision return.
The arch gave a soft beep.
The heart-rate scanner displayed numbers on a narrow vertical screen to the side: 92… 94… 91.
One of the technicians,a man in a plain gray suit without any visible insignia, with a face that could have belonged to anyone in this hall,glanced briefly at the readings.
"Pulse elevated," he noted without lifting his eyes from the tablet.
Ethan allowed the corners of his mouth to twitch,just enough to look like an awkward smile.
"First time at an event like this," he replied in an almost apologetic tone, letting his shoulders droop slightly, the posture of someone accustomed to making excuses.
The technician tilted his head a fraction,an almost imperceptible motion, yet it carried something predatory, as though he were listening not to the words but to the way they were spoken, to the pauses between them, to the breathing behind them.
His gaze lingered for a split second on Ethan's neck, right where the vein pulsed beneath the skin, betraying a rhythm that could not be completely faked.
The pause hung,short, but tangible, like a taut string.
Then the technician tapped the screen.
"Within normal range," he said evenly.
The arch gave a soft click.
The passage opened.
Ethan stepped forward.
The hall greeted him with the cool breath of air conditioning and the scent of expensive polished wood,warm, almost sweet, laced with the faint metallic tang of ozone from operating equipment.
The murmur of voices was absorbed by the high ceiling, dissolving into a muted hum like a distant tide that would never quite reach the shore. The chandelier light was soft, golden, too warm for those who had long ceased to feel warmth in any real sense.
It fell across the marble floor, shattering into thousands of tiny sparks, and every step Ethan took echoed with a clear, clean sound that seemed audible to no one but him.
He felt the gaze of every person in the place.
At the far end of the hall, beside the wide staircase leading to the upper level, stood three vampire security guards,impeccable, motionless, as though carved from the same marble as the floor.
Their eyes slid over Ethan; one of them narrowed his gaze ever so slightly. The movement was nearly invisible, but Ethan felt it on his skin like a faint, cold breeze.
He didn't look away too quickly.
But he didn't linger either.
He simply walked past, letting his shoulders relax a fraction, his breathing become even and shallow. The wisteria was already working,his thoughts came a half-tone quieter than usual, his body felt slightly lighter, more detached.
Perhaps that was for the best. Perhaps it was saving him right now.
"Status?"a barely audible voice whispered in his memory. He remembered the earpiece was gone.
No connection.
Now he was alone.
The realization came with sudden, razor-sharp clarity, like a flash in the dark.
Ethan walked toward the doors of the main hall.
They stood wide open. Inside stretched a vast room with a central stage encircled by a semicircle of seats. A huge screen behind the podium displayed the election logo and the slogan about "a new era of health" in white letters against a deep blue background.
Around the perimeter stood small tables with drinks: champagne in tall flutes, ice clinking softly. Waiters moved quietly and invisibly, like shadows.
Ethan spotted Flash.
Just for a second.
He was carrying a tray of glasses, eyes downcast, movements honed to perfect automation. Not a single unnecessary gesture,only flawless imitation of a man who worked here and knew nothing more.
Bruno stood against the far wall, talking to an elderly guest draped in pearls. He wore a polite smile, nodding in time with her words, but his eyes swept the room, noting every movement.
They were inside.
But they could not help him if something went wrong.
"Ethan."
The voice came from the right,soft, almost tender.
He turned.
Roy.
He stood in the half-shadow of a column, as though he had deliberately chosen a spot where the light fell to sharpen the angles of his face.
Dark gray suit,almost black,fitting like it had been poured over him.
"I'm glad you came," he said, stepping closer.
Ethan allowed a faint trace of relief to flicker in his eyes,just enough, but not too much.
"I wanted to thank you in person," he replied quietly.
Roy stopped at arm's length.