Casa Dracula 3 - The Bride Of Casa Dracula (11 page)

Mr. Nixon was standing there. “I was just about to send out a search party for you, Miss De Los Santos. People have gone down into the tunnels never to be seen again.”

“I don’t doubt it. How’d you find me?”

He pointed upward and I saw a small camera in the corner of the room. “I should be asking you how you found this building.”

“I just sensed it,” I said, trying to sound sincere. “Sometimes I just sense things. How often do you keep prisoners down there?”

“The person you heard was not a prisoner. He’s one of our own, a schizophrenic and a danger to himself and society. We were in the process of transferring him to a secure mental health facility where he’ll receive the best care available.”

I couldn’t tell if he was lying or not. I hadn’t met mentally ill vampires, but I had met fanatical ones. “Maybe he’s just a danger to your society.”

“You of all people should understand that there are very real dangers to us. I’m not going to apologize for taking action to protect our safety.”

“Do your prisoners have any rights?”

“Of course they do, but we won’t sacrifice our own safety for kindhearted but misguided ideals.”

“And if you make mistakes? If you act precipitously and innocent people are hurt?”

“Safety has a price.”

“Benjamin Franklin said, ‘Those who would give up essential liberty to purchase a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety.’”

“That quaint notion would render us vulnerable to our enemies.” He sighed and shook his head. “I wish it were otherwise, and though I’d like to discuss this with you, I had to leave a meeting to come here, and they’re expecting me back. May I escort you out of the building?”

I nodded and we went back upstairs. As we passed the security officer, I winked at him.

Out on the sidewalk, Mr. Nixon said, “Until we meet again, Miss De Los Santos.” He turned and walked toward the Presidential Properties building.

As soon as I was a few blocks away and confident that no one was following me, I called Mercedes and told her what I’d found. She said, “You already knew they had their own criminal justice system.”

“Sure, but those cells really freaked me out. Maybe I’m paranoid, but I think one was meant for me.”

“Your friends wouldn’t let that happen.”

“What if they didn’t know?” I asked. “Oh, you’ll never believe who I saw last night! Juanita of Juanita and Her Rat-Dogs. She’s got this incredible restaurant and her house band is smokin’.”

“That’s the place I was going to recommend to you. Your friend Toto took you there?” Mercedes asked, puzzled.

“Not Toodles. I went with Ian. Juanita’s son, Frankie, tried to steal Ian’s wallet. I gave Frankie your number, and if he calls, you should know that besides his criminal tendencies, he makes this to-die-for, fork-tender roast pork.”

“Talking to you gives me a headache. I’m hanging up now.”

It was exhilarating to be above ground again. I walked all the way back to the Council’s house, enjoying the sky above me.

When I checked in at the airport, the clerk told me that my seat had been upgraded to first-class. Ian had thought about me, even though…I’d left the leather gloves with Ms. Smith and asked her to give them to Ian. I don’t know why I always felt as if I had unfinished business with him.

Once I was settled into my roomy seat and the flight attendant had served me a Bloody Mary and taken my meal order, I stared out the window. I had a vague continental-whorish feeling, but it wasn’t a bad feeling. I wanted to be back at the ranch. I wanted the wedding to be over and for Oswald and me to be living happily ever after already. I wanted not to feel guilty about Ian, although I couldn’t quite figure out why I did feel guilty.

My mood lightened as the miles passed, and soon I was taking advantage of first-class luxuries. I watched a movie, ordered every red drink on the menu, and stared out the window at the country, my country. The plane arrived in the early evening, and I was thrilled to see Oswald waiting for me. I threw myself into his arms and said, “Did you miss me?”

“A lot.”

The broken wheel had completely fallen off my green zebra-stripe suitcase, and Oswald took it from me and carried it by the handle. “I’ll get you good luggage,” he said.

“I only need the wheel fixed. This bag really makes a statement.”

“Uhmm.”

As we went to the car, I told him about the things I’d done the day before, but I didn’t mention that Ian and I had gone out alone. I would have told Oswald if he’d asked. I was describing the Council’s underground lair, which he’d never seen, when I noticed that we were taking an odd route. “Where are we going?”

“I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Generally, when men told me they had a surprise for me, it was a bad thing. But Oswald was so cheerful that I didn’t want to ruin his mood.

We drove into the City and he pulled into a garage in an area that had first become popular with artists and musicians, who lived there cheaply in violation of zoning laws. Speculators had quickly moved in to kick out the artists and create “live/work lofts,” which they sold for big money to professionals. Oswald parked in a space marked Visitors and slapped his Physician placard on his dash.

I said, “Is someone having a Botox emergency, or an implant implosion?”

“You’re a funny girl.”

“Who lives here?”

“You ask too many questions.” We got out of the car and he took my arm and led me to an elevator. He used a key to open it, and we went up to the fourth floor.

“Is it a surprise party?” I asked. “Because I want to freshen my makeup.”

“It’s not a surprise party.” Oswald used a key to open a door to an empty loft space. “Come on in,” he said.

Perhaps he had borrowed a swanky bachelor pad. But the loft was the exact opposite of a love nest. It was a hopeless nest.

Tall windows, which provided a view of other converted warehouses, were the best feature. The place had been renovated at a time when pink and gray checkerboard patterns were fashionable. Cement flooring showed under the torn, dirty, industrial carpet. A kitchen area with old black appliances was marked off by glass-block columns.

“What do you think?” Oswald asked.

“It’s very period, isn’t it? I can practically hear Blondie and see girls with big shoulder pads snorting cocaine.”

He opened the door to a gray and black tiled bathroom. “It hasn’t been touched since then, but there’s a lot of potential here.”

Potential for a New Wave retro party maybe. We’d invite a few hundred of our closest friends and fire up the Margaritanator 3000. “Uhm, yes, I’m sure there is.”

“I was going to save this for later, but…” He held out the key to me. “This is my wedding present to you.”

My fingers closed around the key. “What?”

“Once the Council gives you full rights, you can apply for a no-interest loan and remodel it,” he said happily. “You can sell it and reinvest the money if you want, but I think you should rent it out and let it appreciate.”

This was too much for me. “Oswald, I don’t know anything about renovations or construction.”

“That’s why this place is perfect. It’s a small enough project for you to learn.”

He looked so excited and expectant that all I could say was, “Thank you, Oz. It’s incredibly generous,” and give him a big kiss, even though I felt as if I’d just been handed the leash to a wolverine wearing a diamond collar, something valuable that was certain to bite me in the ass.

We spent another thirty minutes in the loft, Oswald making suggestions about remodeling and me saying, “Really? Hmm.” I finally said, “Oswald, this seems very time-consuming. What about my writing?”

“You can still write. But you won’t have to worry about it as…as a career,” he said.

“According to the Council, if I sign their Loyalty Oath, I won’t have to worry about money at all.”

“Let’s talk about that at dinner. Then we can head home.”

We went to one of our favorite restaurants, a tiny place where all they served was soufflés and the waiters were as capricious as cats. We shared a gruyere soufflé and a salad.

“It’s amazing to me that just this morning I was on the other coast. It was like being in a foreign country, where everyone was speaking my language,” I said. “Everything looked different in real life.”

“Three-dimensional?” He smiled crookedly, and my heart went out to him even though he’d given me unwanted real estate.

“Yes.” The candlelight brought out the beautiful angles of his pale face. When I touched his cheek, he took my hand and kissed it. “Oswald, I don’t like this new provision about loyalty. I’m an American.”

“Treat it like dual citizenship. But you already know that if the government finds out about us, our civil rights will mean nothing. We’ll be extradited as fast as they can get us on secret flights out of the country.” He was quiet for a minute and added, “It isn’t as if we don’t know where you stand. I’ll talk to Sam about it.”

“What is the real name of that guy who called himself Nixon?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never even been to the Council’s headquarters. It’s all very secret. The fact that they allowed you there was a big step for them.” He said, “Goddamn Ian Ducharme could have told you Nixon’s real name.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t ask.” I stared at the cornichon garnish on my plate. “His model-slash-international-finance-expert girlfriend, Ilena, called me a pickle. Supposedly it’s a compliment, but I don’t see how being called a pickle can be complimentary. You don’t think I look like a pickle, do you?”

He laughed. “No, but you do get yourself in them. Was she blond?”

“How did you know?”

“It’s one of your many hot button issues.”

“If it is, and I’m not admitting to anything, it’s only because this society has dictated that blond is the ideal of female beauty,” I said. I slid down a little in my chair and covered a yawn with my hand.

“You’re tired.”

“I am, but not that tired.” I put my hand over his and played with his long fingers. “About the celibacy, it’s a really stupid requirement. Don’t you think it’s really stupid?”

“It’s completely stupid. The only reason I agreed is to force the Council to come through on their side of the bargain. Full rights is insurance for you, babe. If anything happened to me, the Council would have to take care of you.”

“Don’t even talk like that, Oswald! Nothing’s going to happen to you. I’d never let anything happen to you.” Just the thought of it made me panic.

He smiled dryly. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be looking after you, Milagro.”

that’s what (crazy-ass) friends are for

T he ride home always seemed to take too long, and I was always happy when we finally got off the mountain and were back on the flat highway that stretched straight ahead. Home was only a little farther, and soon we were driving past the electronic gate and along the drive.

The dogs came bounding up to meet Oswald’s car. Except for Daisy. The pain in my chest had faded after Ian touched me but it hadn’t vanished, and I blinked back tears.

The dogs escorted us to the car park, and when we got out, they leapt happily. Oswald unloaded my suitcase, and I looked across the field to the cottage where his grandmother lived. Only the porch light was on.

“Where’s Edna?” I asked.

“She decided to go on Thomas’s film shoot with him.”

“Oh, I was hoping she’d be here to go over wedding ideas with Nancy and me tomorrow.”

“While you were gone she said something about not getting involved with the planning,” he said. “Her exact words were, ‘I’ll let the Young Lady battle it out with your mother and see who rises from the dust.’”

“She thinks she’s so funny,” I said as we went through the mudroom and into the kitchen. “You can just take my bag into my old room,” I said, referring to the comfortable maid’s room next to the kitchen.

“Why don’t you stay in our room and I’ll take one of the guest rooms upstairs?”

“If I can’t sleep with you, I’d rather be down here. I like the view of my garden.”

“Okay.” Oswald took my bag into the room behind the kitchen. I followed him and turned on the lights as he put the case down on the sunken but comfortable old bed. There was a beat-up wooden desk by the window, a big overstuffed chair, and a private bath with a wonderful clawfoot bathtub.

“It’s stuffy in here,” I said and went to open the window. The window was jammed, though, and opened only about six inches. I could have forced it, but I was afraid of breaking the sash.

“Must have warped,” Oswald said after failing to push it up more. “I’ll ask Ernesto to take care of it.”

“Don’t worry about it. I know he’s got more important things to do.” I hated making extra work for Ernesto. “If it gets too warm, I’ll use a fan.”

“Do you want a nightcap?” he asked.

“I’d love one,” I said as I followed him to the kitchen. “But I feel like I need to stretch my legs. I’m just going out to the pond.”

I changed into my sneakers and went outside. I liked the breeze, the bright stars in the indigo sky, and the sounds of night. I picked up my pace and ran the rest of the way to the pond.

Sitting on the rock that marked Daisy’s grave, I talked aloud to her. I told her how much I would always love her, how beautiful the evening was. And I suddenly realized that I felt different. The pain in my chest was gone. I wasn’t remembering how the light in her eyes had dimmed as the life went out of her. I was feeling happy at the memory of how she used to jump into the pond beside me.

Then I saw something that made me start: Daisy was coming toward me from around the pond. No, it was a dog, but not one of ours, who’d been put in the dog run for the night. Besides, this dog was much bigger, some kind of large shepherd-Lab mix.

It came toward me cautiously, with a lowered head.

“I hope you’re not rabid,” I said. “Not that it would matter if you bit me, but I’d resent it.”

The dog wagged its tail.

“Come,” I said, and it came to stand before me. It was a male with a thick coat of grayish, black-tipped fur. He had no collar and wasn’t neutered, neither of which was uncommon out in the country.