Haunted Honeymoon (27 page)

“I guess you’re right.”

He smiled and said, “Come to the study in an hour. You can meet my cousin Sam again, and then you’ll be interviewed by the Council director. He’s brought his longtime girlfriend, who’ll visit with my grandmother. They’ll stay for dinner and once they leave, we can relax.”

“I’m looking forward to that, the relaxing part,” I said. “Maybe we can have some serious and sincere naked relaxation time.”

“We will when you’re well.” He reached into his pocket again and took out something silver. “This was yours.”

He’d given me such wonderful things that I didn’t know why I
hesitated before taking the object. It was a small sterling penknife engraved with “To MDLS with Love. OKG.”

Suddenly I saw a hotel room, all creams and browns, and the windows outside showed the city skyline. I felt my love for Oswald, and I saw my hand holding the knife that I now held. And now I
knew
that I had truly loved him, but I hadn’t liked the knife.

“Milagro?”

“What? Thank you.” I didn’t want this gift. “It’s lovely.”

“I hope you’ll want to use it … eventually.”

I smiled, which seemed enough for him, and he said, “You’re going to do great.”

When Oswald left, I put the knife in the desk drawer. Then I took a look in the bathroom mirror. My
chi-chis
were tragically flattened in the yoga bra, so I changed into a red lace number that had amazing perking properties.

The ostentatious engagement ring needed to be dressed down. I looped a length of green gardening twine through it and wore it around my neck.

Still, I felt plain. I remembered the disco ball earrings. No one could object to such inexpensive trinkets. I put them on and when I moved my head, they swung amusingly.

I used such infinitesimal smidges of makeup that they were practically theoretical.

I knew the guests had arrived when I heard cars, dogs barking, and then faint voices.

I walked to the study, where Oswald was waiting with another man, who was wearing a brown suit and a pink shirt. He resembled Oswald, but with lighter brown hair and gentler features, like a kind accountant who calculates your taxes from a collection of crumpled receipts.

“Young Lady.” He held out his hands and took mine. He
glanced down at my gloves and then back at my face. He smiled so warmly that I grinned, too, and said, “Hi.”

Oswald said, “Milagro, this is Sam Grant, our cousin and our legal counsel.”

“We’re old friends,” Sam said in a slow, moderated voice. “I wish I could have come earlier, but Dr. Harrison thought that too much activity would interfere with your recovery. You really don’t remember me?”

“If I’d remember anyone, it would be you, Sam,” I said, and winked.

Oswald said, “Milagro, the Council director is with Gabriel and Lily now.”

“Will you be with me for the interview, Ozzy?”

“No, it’s a private interview, and the goddamn director better not stray from the guidelines.”

Sam blinked his large brown eyes and said, “Milagro, just tell him what you remember or don’t. If you feel uncomfortable at any time, ask for a break and come see us.”

Oswald took a breath and said, “Ready?”

“Absolutely, I can’t wait to be done with this.”

Oswald and I went to the living room, where Gabriel and Lily were sitting on a sofa, a bottle of red wine and glasses on the cocktail table in front of them.

Across from them in a leather club chair was a man with dark curly hair, wearing a flawless black suit and an immaculate white shirt. His dark eyes had hooded lids, his nose was aquiline, and he had a full, sensual mouth.

I thought he was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.

Oswald’s expression grew tight and he said, “Let me introduce you. Milagro, this is the director from our family’s organization, the Council, Ian Ducharme.”

The man stood up and gave me a languid look, as intimate as
a caress, that made all my girl parts clench and throb in a flight-or-flirt instinct.

He smiled slightly when he saw my earrings. As he came close to shake hands, I smelled his fragrance … like leather, spice, old books, a wood fire.

He said “Hello, Milagro” in a low, rich voice that made me think
sex
,
sex
,
sex
.

Then Oswald glared at him and said, “Ian, you’re just in time to hear the good news. Milagro and I are engaged.”

sixteen
Zombies and Vamps, Oh, Please

Even though Ian Ducharme didn’t react to Oswald’s announcement, the room seemed to grow cold and I felt a shiver run down my spine.

Ian smiled, showing white teeth, teeth that made me think about biting into flesh, and said, “Congratulations, Oswald. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to begin.” He spoke English like someone who had learned it from his British tutor.

Gabriel said, “We’ll be in the study.” He gave his cousin a sharp look, and Oswald said, “Yes, in the study. Come on, Lily.”

After they left, Ian went to the sofa and said, “Come sit close to me so I can see you.”

“Said the wolf to Little Red Riding Hood.”

His laugh was a seductive rumble, and I sat at the other end of the sofa. He poured red wine into glasses and when he handed one to me, I saw something that looked like sorrow in his deep brown eyes.

We clinked glasses and he said,
“Sanatate
.”

“Back atcha.”

“Dr. Harrison’s given me a quite disturbing report of your condition.”

“Don’t quote me, but Lily’s a bit of a drama queen. She takes things too seriously. I keep trying to emphasize the importance of fun to her.”

“That’s a noble endeavor,” he said, and a smile flashed across his face, making me feel as if I’d dedicated myself to curing a putrifying disease.

“It’s the least I can do for her.”

“I’m sure she’s appreciative. She believes that your childhood history has made you susceptible to memory suppression.”

“Lily has shared that opinion with me, but I disagree that I’m damaged goods. I’m more like those books on the discount table. Perhaps there’s a smudge on the cover, or someone has dog-eared a page, but otherwise the book is perfectly fine, Mr. Ducharme.”

“Do call me Ian.”

“Ian,” I said, and looked into his eyes. It made me feel more exposed than one of those dreams when you’re caught naked in public, so I acted as if it was normal. “Ian.”

“I’ve talked to Mercedes and Gabriel, too, as well as Pepper, and Gabriel’s given me the forensic investigator’s report from your loft.”

“Who’s Pepper?”

“Ernest Culpepper, a trusted friend,” he said. “Wilcox was involved in an activist movement, but no one took his dabbling seriously, so we doubt that was a motive. We thought it more likely that a jealous ex-lover had killed him, since he was a popular fellow, but Wilcox had a talent for staying on good terms with most.”

“What about me? Did I have any enemies or jealous ex-lovers?”

Ian hesitated and said, “Yes, but they’ve been cleared.”

“It’s so strange to think that anyone would care that passionately about me anyway.”

“You’re alone in that opinion.”

I laughed. “You make me sound like a notorious femme fatale.”

He smiled and gazed at me. “We’ll continue to investigate Wilcox’s disappearance.”

“I wish I could help, but I can’t remember what happened,” I said. “That’s not everything, though, is it? No one will tell me about the time between Wilcox’s death and my arrival here.”

“They thought it would impede your recovery.”

“It suddenly strikes me as quite bizarre that I didn’t want to know before. Tell me what happened.”

“I’ll tell you what you told Mercedes. An acquaintance of yours was dabbling in blood play. She accidentally cut an artery and bled to death. You stumbled upon the scene and witnessed her husband slipping, striking his head, and dying.”

It sounded incredible, but I believed him. “How could something like that have happened? This was unrelated to Wilcox’s death?”

“It’s the world we live in, and things happen around you.”

“As if I’m a catalyst?”

“Yes, you could put it that way. You were discovered at the scene and taken in for questioning by a private security group.” Ian paused and again I saw sadness in his eyes. “You wouldn’t tell Mercedes what happened.”

“They hurt me, didn’t they?”

“She believes so. They held you for over a week before you were able to escape.”

“Why didn’t I simply tell these people what had happened, when the evidence would have backed me up?”

“You thought it would implicate your friends. You suffered in order to protect them.” He reached out and then pulled his hand back. “I’m so sorry.”

“That’s why I won’t remember,” I said. “Did Lily tell you that I’m terrified of water?”

Ian nodded.

“I can’t even think about filling a tub for a bath. What are the police doing about these accidental deaths?”

“Your acquaintance who died, Ford Poindexter, was the son of a scientist who works for a military contractor. They’re influential enough to keep the deaths off police records.”

“Will these contractors come after me?”

“They didn’t discover your identity, but that doesn’t mean you’re entirely safe. I believe Mercedes knows more about their location, but she won’t disclose anything else.” He took out a phone and said, “Will you call her and give your permission to tell me anything she knows about where you were held?”

I nodded and he pressed a few buttons on the phone and then said, “Mercedes, I’m here with Milagro. She’d like to speak with you.”

I took the phone and said, “Hi, sweetness.”

“Hey, Mil. So you’re with Ian?”

“Yes, he’s interviewing me about what I know. What did I tell you about where I was held?”

“You weren’t sure of the location. I’ve tried to narrow down the possible neighborhoods from your description.”

“Okay, I give my permission for you to tell whatever you know to Ian.”

“Are you absolutely sure?”

I looked at the dark-haired man. “Yes, I’m absolutely sure. Oh, and guess what? I got engaged to Oswald again!”

“Oh,” she said. “Let’s talk tomorrow, okay?”

“Hokay, love ya.” I returned the phone to Ian who said, “Thank you, darling.”

The term seemed so personal that I was startled and then I
realized that Ian was one of those continental smoothies who probably called every coat-check girl “darling.”

“If Mercedes hadn’t seemed so concerned, I wouldn’t have believed any of this,” I said. “I thought I was supposed to be answering your questions.”

“You are. Did you kill Wilcox Spiggott?”

“I frequently say that I
want
to kill someone, but I hope I would never do anything so unforgivable. I couldn’t stand myself if I took another life.”

“I don’t believe you killed Spiggott. You were fond of him,” Ian said. “Lily’s quite concerned about your answers to word associations and your refusal to accept that we’re vampires.”

“That’s Lily in a nutshell: a pretty and serious girl who has a shared delusion that she’s a vampire,” I said. “Now, you as a vampire, that’s far more plausible. Are you mad with the desire to bite my neck and drink my blood, Ian?”

His lips parted and he let out a soft breath as he stared at me. I felt like a deer who’d run into the road on a dare and was now paralyzed by the oncoming headlights of an eighteen-wheeler. Finally Ian said, “The Grants fully anticipated that when they established the conditions for our interview.”

I felt myself grow hot, and I looked away. He had charisma, and that made me mistrust myself around him. I said, “Back to Lily, I’m very fond of her, especially since I think she’s a natural gardener. I wish she would focus more on horticulture and less on headshrinking.”

Ian reached out and put his hand over mine, making me want to rip off my glove so I could feel his skin.

“She told me about this therapy,” he said, and moved his hand to the rough fabric of my sleeve, making the smooth pink scar on my arm throb hotly in response. “Is she protecting you from your sensuality, or others from its effects?”

My voice came out as a whisper as I said, “What do you think, Ian?”

His lips turned up in a dangerously sexy grin, and just then I heard heels clicking on the floor. I turned to see a stunning, tall, thin woman in the doorway, and Ian moved his hand off my sleeve.

The woman’s straight, waist-length hair had a gold-over-silver luster. She wore skinny white pants, spiky electric blue sandals, and an ice blue silk camisole that matched her ice blue eyes.

“I am tired of the waiting for you, Ian,” she said with some sort of European accent. She gazed at me and made a
tcha!
sound. “How ugly the clothes.”

“Milagro, this is my friend Ilena,” Ian said. “Ilena, that was a very thoughtless comment.”

“It is indisputable of the fact,” she said with a moue.

I plucked at the fabric of my shapeless pants. “It’s okay. These clothes
are
hideous.”

Ilena puffed out her lips and said, “Why is the chubby little pickle always in need of your attention, Ian?”

I looked at Ian to see if he understood what she meant.

He said, “I have a passion for gherkins.”

I thought it would be rude to say that no one had a passion for pickles. “I’ll mention it to Edna and maybe she can serve some at dinner,” I said. “Do you know Edna?”

“Yes, I’m well acquainted with all of the Grant family,” Ian said. “I think we’re done here for now. It was a pleasure spending time with you, Milagro.”

Ian Ducharme seemed like a man who knew a lot about pleasure, and his eyes searched mine for a moment before he stood and went to the beautiful blond girl. He took Ilena’s arm as they went to the study, and I followed frumpily behind.

Oswald jumped up and came to me, putting his arm around me. “How did it go?”

“We’re finished,” Ian said.

Oswald smiled and said, “Excellent.”

Edna had made dinner, extremely rare lamb, dripping in juices, new potatoes, and tomatoes roasted in balsamic vinegar. It was warm enough to eat outside on the slate patio, and Oswald turned on the tiny fairy lights that outlined the impressive old oak.