Casa Dracula 3 - The Bride Of Casa Dracula (18 page)

The sheriff’s car followed closely and the dogs came forward in a pack, barking and jumping around me and the car. I ran around to the car park, but Oswald’s car was not there. As I opened the back door to the house, I saw Ernesto coming from the barn at a fast walk.

“Oswald!” I called as I rushed into the kitchen. “Oswald!” I went through the dining room and into the empty living room. I was calling as I went to the dark study and family room, growing more panicked with every second.

I dashed back to the staircase. Cornelia stood on the landing of the second floor, looking down at me, an expression of horror on her face.

“Young Lady?”

“You demon bitch!” I lunged toward the stairs, but arms grabbed me. The sheriff and Ernie pulled me away as I screamed, “Where is Oswald? What have you done with Oswald?” I may also have shrieked that I would kill her. I didn’t want to hurt Ernie, but I could knock him out and then proceed to killing Cornelia.

I heard a sharp, quite distinct click and felt my arm wrenched back. Ernie and the sheriff released me and I jerked forward, stumbling hard onto the staircase. The sheriff smirked and stepped back as I twisted my hand, trying to free it from the handcuff that was attached to the wrought iron railing.

“Now calm the hell down,” the sheriff said. He glanced up at Cornelia, who looked the very picture of country elegance in riding pants and a white blouse. He said to her, “This one’s gone bat shit.”

It was insult upon injury. I was screaming at him that she might have killed Oswald and clattering the handcuff on the banister, so we didn’t hear the car arrive or hear the footsteps approaching.

“What is going on here?” Oswald stood in the doorway, alive and whole and fabulous.

He stared at the scene: me covered in dirt and dried blood, wearing a bra and jeans, and trying to tear the rail off the banister; Cornelia standing composed at the top of the stairs; the sheriff leaning against the wall; Ernie with his hands on his hips.

“Oswald!” I cried in relief. “You’re alive!”

“Hey, Doc Oz,” the sheriff said politely. “We rescued this person from the side of the mountain. She claims that her car went off the road into the ravine.”

“Oswald, why didn’t you answer your phone?” I asked. I thought he should crush me in his arms now, murmuring words of comfort and love, but he stood back.

“I was on my way home. You must have called when I was on the mountain. Are you all right?” Oswald didn’t wait for my answer, but said to the sheriff. “Would you please release her?”

The sheriff looked disappointed and unlocked the handcuffs.

I glared up at Cornelia. “She loaned me her car and the engine totally went out. If it wasn’t for the air bags, I’d be dead.”

Cornelia faked a shocked expression. “Milagro! I had no idea…”

“Right,” I shouted. “You want Oswald for yourself and thought you’d get rid of me!”

Oswald said, “Sheriff, thank you for bringing Milagro home. She’s a little excited now. Let me see you out. Ernie, keep an eye on Milagro.”

The sheriff said to me, “We’ll be in touch.”

I glared at him, just daring him to say anything else.

Oswald left the front door open as they walked out. I could hear him talking quietly to the sheriff. I stared up at Cornelia and then lifted my forefinger and made a slashing gesture across my neck.

“You’re mad!” she hissed.

“Cálmate,” Ernie said. He looked concerned as he gazed earnestly at my blood-and-filth covered chichis.

I suddenly felt weak and I dropped down on the steps.

Oswald came back in the house, closed the front door, and said, “Thanks, Ernie. Would you bring some of the calf blood here?”

As Ernie left, Oswald said to Cornelia, “I’ll be up to talk soon.”

He took me by the elbow. “Let’s get you washed up and in clean clothes.”

I shot one last look at Cornelia before letting Oswald lead me back to the maid’s bathroom.

He asked, “Can you stand for a shower, or do you want a bath?”

“Shower.”

“How much blood did you lose?” The silver penknife fell out of the pocket of my jeans as he undressed me.

“I don’t know. I’m tired.”

He lifted my chin and looked in my eyes. “If you take some of mine, you’ll feel better.”

I stared at the knife on the white octagonal tile floor and thought about his smooth, lovely skin. I couldn’t bear the idea of cutting him. “Your knife saved me. But no, I don’t want to use it on you.”

I saw the disappointment on his face.

I stepped into the shower and let the steaming water rinse away my filth. I washed my hair and lathered myself with the last of the fragrant almond-honey bath gel from an expensive spa. When I looked down at my body, my skin was as unblemished as on the day I’d been born. Too bad I couldn’t wash my brain.

When I came out of the shower, Oswald dried me with a thick terry towel. He was looking at my body the way a doctor looks at it: dispassionately trying to assess its condition. Well, he was a doctor, but I wasn’t used to him treating me like that.

“I was pretty cut up. I had to get out through the car’s back window.”

He held an old, plaid flannel robe for me. He must have taken it out of the closet that held all the stray clothes guests had left. I slipped my arms into it and pulled the belt tight.

I walked barefoot with him to the living room. Even though the temperature was pleasant, Ernie had laid a fire and set out a carafe of blood, water, and glasses near the fireplace. I was hungry, but I’d start with a drink.

“Tell me what happened,” Oswald said.

I relayed my story and he listened calmly. When I finished he said, “Why did you assume that Cornelia was trying to kill you?”

“Don’t you think it’s suspicious that she got this wedding counselor job just as we announce our marriage? And then there’s your former relationship with her.”

“You’re saying that Cornelia took the wedding planner job in order to come here, kill you in a faked automobile accident, kill me out of jealous rage, and set you up as my murderer?”

It did sound a little complicated. “You have to admit that weirder things have happened since I met you, and I just let them go innocently by, la-la-la, too convinced of the benevolence of all mankind to suspect foul play.”

He looked down at his nice custom-made Swiss shoes. Finally he said, “There is a zone between paranoia and obliviousness. I’ve got to call Gabriel and Sam and tell them what happened. Because of your display with the sheriff, things will have to be smoothed out.” He took my hand and squeezed. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

He made me his favorite comfort food, a bowl of oatmeal with raisins dried from our own grapevines, and put me to bed. “Can’t I sleep with you tonight?” I asked.

“I’d rather keep you at a distance from Cornelia. You’re going to have to apologize to her tomorrow.”

“What if I’m right?”

“Good night, babe.” He pulled the blanket over me, then turned out the light, closed the door, and left.

In bed, I wondered if I should have taken Oswald’s blood, and I tried to fantasize about sex with a little bloodsucking. But I simply couldn’t bring myself to eroticize cutting Oswald. My instinct was to protect him, not cause him pain.

My mind turned to the night when I’d been attacked, when Ian had given me his intoxicating blood and licked my skin, sticky with my own blood.

How easy it would be to press the blade of a knife into the skin on Ian’s chest, putting my lips to the scarlet blood welling there and probing with my tongue until the skin closed. And to have Ian’s dangerous white teeth break my skin and suck at my flesh.

It was because I didn’t care about hurting Ian that I could even think this way. Because I associated him with things twisted and darkly carnal.

Why couldn’t I crave Oswald’s blood the same way I craved Ian’s? Oswald’s had been the gateway drug, the fruit-flavored wine of the vampire world, and I was like a junkie jonesing for the hard stuff. It was merely a chemical reaction, I told myself, a bride’s jitters.

I steered my errant thoughts back where they belonged: to Oswald, his smooth, unmarked skin, the delicious curve of his lean hips, his facile mouth, those remarkably talented fingers, and all his other amazing manly parts.

I slept late and when I awoke, Sam and Gabriel had already arrived to deal with the situation. I found them in the study with Oswald and Cornelia.

Gabriel was looking through the Womyn’s Sexual Health Collective catalog.

“Reading this is extremely educational,” he said as he stood and gave me a hug and a kiss. “How does a girl fall off a mountain and still look fabulous?” he asked.

“Hey, guys,” I said. The situation must have been serious to bring both the family counsel and the security dude here this early in the morning. I sat next to Gabriel and leaned against him. His redhead’s pallor looked washed out and there were pale blue shadows under his green eyes.

Cornelia was lounging on the tufted leather chair in tight jeans and a formfitting tee. “Are you feeling less stark raving, darling?”

“Cornelia, just give me an excuse…,” I said.

Oswald shot a look at Sam, who was sitting at the desk.

Sam looked all business in a brown suit with a boxy traditional cut. He got up and came to me, saying, “How are you? Winnie’s very concerned.”

I hugged him. “Sam, good to see you. I’m fine now.”

“Good, good. Let’s have a talk.”

The vampires always behaved as if they were oh so civilized. “Sure, why not? Let’s all pretend that we can talk about this attempted murder reasonably.”

My loyal fiancé said to his cousins, “You see what I mean?”

Sam looked at me and said, “Milagro, we are taking this incident seriously, but let’s not jump to conclusions. We have no reason to believe that Cornelia would do anything like this.”

Cornelia looked bored and said, “If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead, Young Lady. I wouldn’t use some rococo plot.”

“That’s a comfort,” I said. “I, too, would kill you more directly. I’d be happy to demonstrate.”

“Ladies!” Sam said. When we both sat back, he continued: “We’ve hired someone to investigate the crash scene. When he reports back, we’ll reconvene. Oswald, have you talked to the sheriff?”

“Yes. He’s suspicious about the blood that was on Milagro’s clothes,” Oswald said. “He thinks the accident was staged.”

Gabriel took my hand and said, “Unless a body is found, he can’t do a thing. We’ll monitor their communications to make sure they don’t get too interested in finding out why Milagro wasn’t hurt. Oz, the sheriff is the head of the widows’ and orphans’ fund. I’ve told him you’re making a contribution in gratitude for their good work rescuing Milagro.”

I wondered how much money Oswald would have to spend to calm things down. “I’ll reimburse you for that,” I said. “Not that we should have to pay because of his misapprehension.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Oswald said.

“I said I’d pay for it.”

He gave me an irritated look. “You can’t afford it.”

Cornelia could barely keep from smiling. “If we’re done, I must get ready for a lunch date. Oswald, may I borrow one of your cars?”

“Sure.” He said he’d drive his Jeep today and gave her the keys to the sedan.

She stood and left the room, blowing a kiss to Sam and Gabriel on her way out.

In the late afternoon, Sam came to tell me that the investigator had found the car and was coming to give a report to all of us. Oswald would be home in a few minutes to join us.

I washed my face and dabbed on a little clear lip gloss. I considered putting it on my cheeks because I’d heard that it helped deflect punches in a fight. Not that I’d be fighting Cornelia, I thought as I pulled my hair into a low ponytail that would be hard to grab. And even if I did, I could snap her like a tortilla chip.

When I went to the living room, Oswald and Gabriel were already there, standing at the far end with a bulky man in a striped polo shirt and wrinkled cotton pants. The man had a receding hairline and crooked nose.

I went across the room and said hello.

“Milagro, this is Frank.”

“Nice to meet you,” the man said, and when he shook my hand, I felt the strength camouflaged by the layer of fat. I’d want him at my back in a fight.

“Nice to meet you, Frank.”

“Nasty business you had.” He gave me a long up-and-down look, which managed to appraise me both as a woman and as a car crash survivor. “Not a scratch on you.”

“She’s a tough little thing,” Cornelia said as she walked into the room. “Cornelia Ducharme.”

“Frank,” he said.

“Is that your name, or your character?” she asked.

“Let’s hope it’s both,” I snapped.

Oswald took my hand and pulled me to a love seat. He looked at Sam, who steered Cornelia to a pair of chairs on the other side of the sofa, putting some distance between us.

Gabriel and Frank remained standing. “We found the car, but it’s totaled, not worth the cost of hauling up to the road,” Frank said. “I sent one of my mechanics to take a look. This is what he found.” Frank pulled my telephone and some wiring and a plastic baggie out of his pouchy pockets.

“What’s that?” Sam asked.

“The phone still works,” Frank said, tossing it to me. He showed the wires to Oswald. “Chewed up wiring.”

“So it was sabotage,” I said.

Frank said, “Not cut wires. Chewed wires with rodent hairs and droppings. The casing is stripped, too, which is typical. Some rat or squirrel got in under the hood and ate up the wiring. I could have them analyzed for you, but I don’t want to waste your money. Most likely, the wiring was just barely connected and then couldn’t hold any longer.”

“Rats?” I said. I had had issues with rats, but this explanation was absurd. “Rats did that? Why would rats eat wires?”

“Rats’ teeth never stop growing,” Oswald said. “They’ll chew on anything around and they crawl into cars because they’re attracted to the warmth of an engine.”

Gabriel said, “I’ve heard of that occuring in colder climates. What do you think, Oz?”

“It could have happened at the rental agency, but it’s more likely it happened here,” Oswald said. “The cats are always at the barn these days, not keeping up on things near the house.”