Contents [ show ] Description Magnus Bane watches his favorite s hotspot, the once-glamorous Hotel Dumort, become something else altogether in s New York City. The once-beautiful Hotel Dumort has fallen into a decayed thing, a ruin, as dead as a place can be. Plot July, Magnus Bane is on the plane back to New York after two years of travelling. Beside him sits a woman, who, as Magnus notices, is an addict.
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But you understand. I really am. But if it happens again, you need to leave it to us. Lincoln gave him a squeeze on the shoulder, then let himself out. For the next several days Magnus kept to himself. The weather was brutal, flicking between heat and storm. There were clients to call. There were spells to study and translations to do. Books to read. The apartment needed redecorating. There were new restaurants and new bars and new people.
The mess. The stink. The horror. The blank looks. When you lost someone to addiction--and he had lost many--you lost something very precious. You watched them fall. You waited for them to hit the bottom. It was a terrible wait. He would have nothing to do with it. What happened now was not his problem. He had no doubt that Lincoln and the werewolves would take care of things, and the less he knew the better. It kept him awake at night. That, and the thunder. Sleeping alone was Hell, so he decided not to sleep alone.
He still woke up. It was the night of July thirteenth--lucky thirteen. The thunderstorm outside was incredibly loud, louder than the air conditioner, louder than the radio. Magnus was just finishing up a translation and was about to go out to dinner, when the lights flickered.
The radio faded in and out. Then everything went very bright as power surged through the wires. Air conditioner, lights, radio, everything. Magnus flicked his hand absently and lit a candle on his desk. Power outages were not uncommon. It was a moment before he realized that things had grown very quiet and very dark indeed, and there were voices shouting outside.
He went to the window and opened it. Everything was dark. The streetlights. Every building. Everything except the headlights of the cars.
He took the candle and carefully walked down the two flights to the street and joined the excited masses of people. The rain had stopped--it was just thunder grumbling in the background. New York. Everything was off.
There was no skyline. There was no glow of the Empire State Building. It was utterly, utterly dark. And one word was being yelled from window to window, from street to car to doorway.
It was the ice cream shop on the corner that kicked it off, selling anything they had for a dime a cone, and then just giving away the ice cream to anyone who came by with a bowl or a cup. Then the bars started passing around cocktails in paper cups to passersby. Everyone poured out onto the streets. People propped battery-powered radios in the windows, so there was a mix of music and news reports.
The outage had been caused by a lightning strike. All of New York was down. It would be hours--days? Magnus returned to his apartment, got a bottle of champagne from his refrigerator, and returned to his front stoop to drink it, sharing it with a few people who walked past.
It was too hot to stay inside, and the outside was far too interesting to miss. People started dancing on the sidewalk, and he joined in for a while. He accepted a martini from a nice young man with a beautiful smile. Then there was a hissing. People gathered around one of the radios, one playing news.
Magnus and his new friend, who was named David, joined them. More than a hundred fires have been reported in the last hour. And we have multiple reports of lootings. Gunfire is being exchanged. Please--if you are out tonight, use extreme caution. Though all police have been called in to duty, there are not enough officers to. There are reports of total breakdowns in some areas. You are strongly advised to stay indoors. If you cannot get home, seek shelter in.
The Village was a tight community, so it celebrated. But clearly this was not the case all over the city. He pulled Magnus away from the crowd, into a quiet space between two parked cars. The blackout. The vampires are going crazy at this club. No cabs in this blackout. You have to run. Since there were no traffic lights, normal people were trying to guide traffic.
Cars were either frozen in place or moving far too fast. Some were parked and turned inward, their headlights being used to illuminate stores and restaurants. Everyone was out--the Village had poured out of every building, and there was no room anywhere.
Magnus and Greg had to weave through the people, through the cars, tripping in the dark. The crowds thinned somewhat the closer they got to the river.
The club was in one of the old meatpacking warehouses. Two werewolves stood by these, holding flashlights, and Lincoln waited off to the side.
He was deep in conversation with Consuela, who was his second-in-command. When they saw Magnus, Consuela stepped aside to a waiting van, and Lincoln came over. There was a strong smell of spilled, mixed liquor and something unpleasantly tangy and sharp.
Magnus raised his hands. The neon lights around the room buzzed and glowed. The overhead work lights--unflattering fluorescents--sputtered on. And the disco ball crept to life, slowly spinning, sending a thousand points of colored reflected light around the room. The dance floor, made of large squares of colored plastic, was also illuminated from below.
Which made the scene all the more terrible. There were four bodies, three women and one man. All looked like they had been running for various points of exit. Their skin was the color of ash, marked everywhere with greenish-purple bruises and dozens of marks, and garishly lit by the red, yellow, and blue lights below them.
There was very little blood. Just a few small puddles here and there.
TV Hotel Hotel Dumort in the film. Hotel Dumort is a derelict hotel inhabited by the New York vampire clan. Contents History Rise and Fall The hotel was once known as the Hotel Dumont, a glamorous hotel that was built in what was then known as the Italian Harlem; back then, it stood out from everything around it. However, following the events of the Stock Market Crash , the creation of a Portal to The Void at the hotel by Aldous Nix , the arrival of Camille Belcourt in , and its subsequent takeover by vampires, the place had since decayed and become ruined, becoming almost as dead as its new residents. Camille high at the hotel and Magnus coming to confront her.
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Magnus put out his hands, and with one great blast of blue light, all the vials burst at once. There was a great cough of dirt and glass powder. We need to make this right, Camille. You have to try. Do you understand? This time Magnus was in control of the Portal.