“I understand your daughter is to be married,” I said to Cruz and his wife, holding up my glass. “Congratulations.”
He finished his wine in a gulp. “It is a terrible situation, terrible.” Cassandra shook her head, a tear sliding down one cheek.
“What’s wrong?”
Cruz and his wife gazed at the table, silent.
I turned to Alejandro, took his hands, squeezed briefly. “Tell me what is bothering you, my friend.” I looked across the table at Cassandra and Cruz. “If there is anything I can do to help, I am at your service.”
Relief spread across Cruz’s face.
Alejandro said, “I see you are like your father in other ways, God rest his soul. Yes, we would like your help.”
“What’s the problem?”
“If you are aware of the wedding, I presume you also know the man to whom Karina is betrothed?” Alejandro asked.
“Yes. Count Nicholas Santella.”
“Santella is a devil,” Cruz said, “just like his father. Our dearest Karina is young and beautiful—a flower only fifteen years old.”
“This is all my fault,” Alejandro said, his shoulders shaking.
“How did this happen?” I asked.
He reached for his drink, took a sip.
“Seventeen years ago a ship carrying a large consignment of our products to France was impounded. Try as I might, I could not negotiate the release of our cargo. Losing the entire load would have wounded my business badly. Count Nicholas offered to intercede on my behalf.
“I knew of his reputation, but I accepted, thinking I would happily pay a healthy fee if he was successful. Four days later our entire shipment was released with no penalty. The release allowed my company to establish a revenue stream that has existed ever since, an income source that has been very important to my company’s performance.”
He took another sip of wine.
“When I asked him what he wanted in return, he said he wanted nothing now, but a favor in the future. Six years later he came to visit me. Juan and Cassandra were visiting with my granddaughter. Karina was nearly five, a beautiful child. Nicholas said he wanted her betrothed to him, the marriage to happen shortly after her sixteenth birthday. This was the price for his intercession.”
Cruz banged his hand on his knee. “It was obvious he wanted Cassie, too! The filthy pig did not even try to hide his lust for my wife. If not for his guards, I would have killed him that night for his insults.”
“You refused to sanction the match,” I said.
“Yes. Santella came back four days later with the Sheriff and ten of his soldiers,” Alejandro said. “He presented the bill of lading for the cargo he had released in France and, using it as surety, ordered me to sign a contract betrothing Karina to him when she turned sixteen. I told him to go to the devil.
“Two of his men held me while a third punched me in the stomach. I think he hit me twenty or thirty times. When the Count saw he could not make me agree by beating me, his men took my wife.” Cruz and Cassandra reached out and clasped hands. “They tore her clothes off and all ten of his soldiers made ready to rape her. The man holding her had his tunic up…” Alejandro’s hand shook. “I had to sign.”
“I understand.”
“The Sheriff witnessed the document, the cursed coward. His signature made the debt a legal one.”
“And now the marriage is three weeks away.”
“This cannot happen! We all know he killed his second wife, though he was never charged.” He drained his wine glass. “He probably did the poor lady a favor. Whenever I saw Minerva in church, she always had on a heavy veil. Most Sundays, the Santellas attended mass without her. Those four years were probably hell.”
Cassandra sobbed. Cruz patted her hand.
“On Minerva’s twenty-first birthday,” Alejandro continued, “Nicholas and two of his men raped her and gave her a brutal beating. She died two days later.”
I muttered some words of pity, Santella on my mind, fury swelling at the story of the young girl’s demise. Briefly, I wished I could take the Count to task for the murder. Murders, more likely. The gossip my men had heard in Toro now sounded less like a rumor and more like a fact.
I did not ask Alejandro why he hadn’t appealed to the king. Count Santella fortified Ferdinand’s army with two thousand men. War always loomed, an insult away, and the king did not put his battle generals in prison for beating their wives.
“We have a favor to ask of you.”
“Name it, Don Alejandro.” Excellent. He wanted me to teach Count Nicholas a lesson. Could I horsewhip the man until he renounced his claim on the girl? I took a drink of wine, realizing how difficult it would be to convince the Count to leave the girl alone by threatening him. Not unless I convinced him his life depended on it.
“We want you to marry Karina.”
I choked. Perhaps Don Alejandro felt the debt my family and I owed had accumulated interest with time.
Bleak acceptance at my reaction sat on his face. “It is clear we ask too much of you. I do not know what to do! If I do not sanction the match, the Count will have me arrested. Then he will take Karina anyway.”
I cleared my throat. “I don’t understand. If I marry her—well, isn’t that a breach of your agreement?”
“No. Until she is sixteen, she has the right to choose any suitor she wishes. If she is unmarried at sixteen however, she is obliged to wed the devil.”
“And she turns sixteen two days from now?”
“Yes.”
“What about someone local? Surely there are young men here she would favor?”
“None of them dares approach her. Though she is a wonderful girl, no man will court her. Everyone knows of Santella’s claim, and no one dares to cross him.” He looked away from my searching stare. “Until now, we could not ask anyone to take the risk.”
A respected military leader, with an army at his back, Count Nicholas was no man to insult. His retribution would be swift and vicious.
I gave an amused laugh, looked at all three of them in turn. “Are you not worried what Santella might do to me?”
Alejandro took my hand, gripped it. “You are different. I considered you very carefully. I remember the first time we met, after your father died.” He squinted up at me. “You are the one man I know who would not be intimidated by Count Nicholas.”
“Perhaps.”
“Your marriage would not have to be permanent. You would take her back to Tarragona with you, yes? You could divorce her then.”
The idea had occurred to me, too. Without consummation, it would be possible to have the union annulled once I returned home. And since no one would know her in my city, I could introduce her as my niece, give her a dowry and a new name, and set her up in her own house. She would be rich and that would attract many suitors.
That plan did not address the problem of how to handle Nicholas. The three of them watched me. They appeared to have stopped breathing.
I resigned myself to the plan. “I should probably meet my fiancée as soon as possible.”
Cruz spluttered an exclamation of relief, clutching his wife’s hand while silent tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Señor Montero, I am your servant forever,” Cruz said.
Alejandro took my hands and kissed them. “I will never forget this. You make an old man’s heart rest easy. With you, she could not be safer. She is in the garden, my boy. Let me take you to her.”
Chapter 5
Friday, February 13, 11:16 p.m.
After I had showered and changed into a clean Oxford gray suit, I settled on the couch to wait for Aliena. Ten minutes later, she appeared. As usual, in spite of my surveillance, I never saw her land.
She crossed the patio and placed her palm against the wall. The doors slid apart. The vampire glided across the front room, hips swaying, and plopped on the couch next to me. Her blouse had two dark teardrop-shaped stains on the collar. A speck of dried blood tinted the sleeve of her j
acket.
“Did you miss me?” She ran her fingers through my hair.
“Coquette. How was dinner?”
“Mmm,” she purred, closing her eyes and licking her lips, “he was excellent. I love when the big ones fight.”
Picturing Aliena wrestling a big man into submission, I said, “You may want to change before we go, dear. You spilled him a bit.”
She looked at her sleeve. “Is it that noticeable?”
“Your collar, too.”
“Oh.” Gone for less than thirty seconds, she re-appeared in the middle of the living room wearing dark gray jeans and a black short-sleeved shirt with buttons up the front. The jeans were skin tight all the way to the ankle. I wondered how she had gotten her foot through the tiny opening at the bottom. The top looked painted on her. I decided to check that. She had on a shirt. I took a knee-length embroidered black wool coat and slipped it on her.
She produced a vibrantly colored tarot card.
“If you travel by portal card,” I said, “you’re going to get there 45 minutes before me.”
The card was part of a unique deck called the Tarot of the Archons, that allowed cardholders to travel instantly to distant locations. A traveler needed a major arcana card (Aliena’s card was the Moon) and the sound to activate the desired destination portal. We had a portal card in this room, the Prince of Wands, lodged in the bricks of my fireplace.
Aliena held the card close to her mouth and spoke in a voice too low for me to hear. Cardholders did not share their portal passwords. The only one I knew was for the Prince of Wands, but since I did not possess a star card like Aliena, I couldn’t journey through it.
The Moon began expanding.
“You’re not going to travel with me?” she asked.
“I want to drive the Ferrari tonight.” This solo trip would give me the opportunity to think again about a question I had decided to ask her tonight. I gave her a kiss. “See you there.”
The card had grown to the size of a doorway. When Aliena stepped through, she and the card disappeared with a small sizzle.
Bar Sinister on Cherokee Avenue catered to the Gothic crowd. Aliena and her acquaintances melded into the scene perfectly, and many of them browsed there regularly. I had seen the place advertised on the internet as “vampire friendly.” Of course, no one at the club really thought there were vampires in their midst.
The owners saved electricity by keeping the awesome chandeliers dark and the building cold. Wood blazed in massive fireplaces in each of three chambers, throwing wavering shadows on the red walls and scarlet velvet curtains.
After entering the red-paneled hallway to the main club, I found Aliena. She watched the people headed up the stairs.
“I love your fangs,” said a gorgeous Mexican woman walking by.
Aliena smiled, her canines prominent.
“Now, now, darling,” I said as we turned toward the dance floor, “you wouldn’t want to get fat.”
“You take chances, Sebastian.”
“You just ate.”
“Sometimes one man is not enough.”
Deciding not to comment on that, I pressed against her. Those brown eyes surveyed me coolly.
“What is this?”
“You’re too far away,” I told her. “It’s dark in here. I can’t see you clearly.”
“Oh, really.” She pulled me close. “Why do you love me, Sebastian?”
“How many reasons would you like?”
She wrapped her arms around my neck. “All of them.”
I smiled down at the most beautiful face I have ever seen in my very long life. “That would take several days. I can give you the highlights.”
She giggled and pressed closer, making it hard for me to breathe properly.
“When you stand this close to me, I feel as if I am losing my balance. Whenever you look in my eyes, cool breezes tingle my skin. Your laugh thrills me and makes me feel lost at the same time. I have never known anyone who causes my whole being to react with such electricity. From the first moment you tried to kill me, I have been hopelessly infatuated with your spirit.”
“That was very nice.” She placed a soft kiss on my lips. “I love you, too, Sebastian.”
She had now said that eleven times. I wondered if I would ever tire of hearing it.
“Take your picture?”
We turned. A cocoa-skinned young lady stood in an alcove designed for a lover’s tryst. Two horns stuck out of the long black hair on top of her head. Her nametag read “Mary.” Dressed like a sexy devil, she sported a short red dress with attached tail.
Next to her stood an unusual-looking camera on a wooden tripod.
“What is that?” I asked.
“A Kirlian camera.” She patted the antique. “It will capture your aura.” She leaned over and put her eye to the viewfinder, holding up the flash.
“No,” I said. Before I could move us out of frame, the flash flared and I heard the familiar electric arc of the mechanism.
“No,” I said again.
“What’s wrong?” Aliena asked.
“I’ve seen a camera like this before,” I whispered. “It—well, it shows us to be different.”
“I know. We come here all the time,” she said.
We watched as Mary pulled the plate out and developed it.
“Whoa,” she said.
I had known that was coming.
“What is it?” I asked. Innocent voice.
She looked up at me. “I’ve never seen an aura like yours before…and the circle. That’s freaky.” She glanced back at the picture, her expression puzzled. “I don’t get it.”
I wondered if she planned to show us the photo. Aliena’s patience finally ran out. In a flicker she held the large print.
The old-fashioned flash powder would normally have brightened the foreground while reducing the background to imperceptible shadows. The Kirlian lens, designed to detect the auras of living creatures, transformed the light, muting its effect on Aliena and me. Behind us, the club’s bar stood out with prismatic clarity, the image featuring three-dimensional depth. Our bodies and those of the other patrons were pencil outlines, clear shadows cast by a full moon.
Our auras, however, dyed the photo with smatterings of color.
Mine encompassed me, mellow gold, curved on top and bottom, pointing toward Aliena, shaped like the letter ‘c’.
Aliena’s aura burned scarlet. The wash of red curved like a backward ‘c’, the open end facing me. Our spirits completed a circle.
Several others in the background had reddish auras. The forces of the mortals were dim shades of grayish-black, wispy and insubstantial.
I leaned forward, focusing on the bar.
“Usually,” Mary said, looking at the upside-down photo, “the picture shows one person’s spirit dominating the other’s. Especially in this club. The two of you seem to be supporting each other, or embracing. I’ve seen red auras in here before, but not gold. What are you?” she asked. “That’s not a normal human aura.”
I turned toward the bar as Mary tapped a red fingernail on the figure I had noticed.
“Who’s that, one of your friends?”
The Kirlian photo showed a woman with a golden aura behind us, her outline partially blocked by a man standing next to her. In the photo, the woman faced in our direction.
Aliena gave me a sideways glance. “Sebastian?”
The man at the bar now sat alone. I scanned the area quickly, found nothing, looked at the photo again. “Do you have any copies?”
Mary gestured at the bulky object poised solidly on its tripod. “This isn’t digital.”
“Good.” I took the photo from Aliena and pocketed it. “How much?”
“I would rather you answer a question.”
“I would rather pay.”
“Why does your aura look like that?”
I kissed Aliena on the ear. She slid her arm around my waist. We waited.
“Fine,” Mary said. �
�Fifty for the print.”
I gave her a hundred, ignoring the sign advertising Kirlian Photos for $25. “Keep it.”
“Thanks.”
“Maybe we look different because we love each other,” I said.
“Why do you have that powerful-looking golden aura?”
“Probably because your camera is so old.”
“Nice try. I’ve been taking pictures with this for seven years, and I’ve never seen a golden aura.” She looked at me as if I had lied to her. Since that was the case, I did not take offense.
“What about you?” she asked Aliena. “Why is your aura red?”
“This is a vampire bar, isn’t it?”
Mary frowned. “May I take another picture?”
“Sure,” I said. “As long as we’re not in it.”
Chapter 6
Friday, February 13, 11:41 p.m.
Aliena and I separated so she could go upstairs to the private section. There, exclusive club members drank room-temperature human blood from crystal goblets. It was all perfectly legal since the members contributed their own blood.
“Love you,” she said before leaving. Twelve.
I felt like having a drink or seven. As I approached the bar, Aliena walked up the stairs to the VIP room, a statuesque woman with dark red hair holding her arm.
The bartender sauntered over.
“What sort of whisky do you have under there?” I asked.
“I have Jack.”
“Fine. How much for a shot?”
“Twenty.”
“Hook me up with ten of them.” He hesitated until I set four hundreds and a fifty on the mahogany. “The extra is for the taxes. If there’s anything left after they’re paid…”
He started setting out glasses.
“No, no,” I said. I took one. “I’ll drink them as you pour.” I held the shot glass toward him.
He didn’t want to stand there, assuming this would take several minutes, but a two-hundred dollar tip gave him incentive. He filled it. I shot it. We did it nine more times in succession, finishing in less than a minute.
“Thanks.”
“Yeah. Any time.” He watched as if waiting for something to happen, the bottle of Jack still tilted. “You need some help?”
Ghosts of Atlantis (Immortal Montero Book 3) Page 4