Born Into Love

by LaClaire, Catherine

  A week later Mercedes sat amid the clothes and memories and listened as Matthew David wiggled around. “Thank God I have you.”

  She opened a photo album that followed her and Annie through elementary and junior high. Teen photos were harder to come by. Annie wouldn’t have a picture taken if her hair turned to frizz.

  Mercedes talked to the baby. “Yes, photos of me with braces. Just part of growing up.” She rocked the cradle. “I hope you feel like smiling all the time.”

  She shifted a pile of clothing closer to a cardboard box, but wasn’t ready to fill it. Upon opening a dusty plastic bag, she discovered dolls. From the pile of white tissue Mary Ellen surfaced, her last doll and the only one with articulated arms and legs. “You’re still pretty with your glossy hair and too red lips.”

  Annie’s favorite, a dark haired doll with a porcelain face and hands wore a Victorian dress and looked demure. “I’m going to keep you.”

  She wiped away a tear and fussed with the dress of a third doll with green eyes and impossibly long lashes. After re-wrapping, she returned them to the bag. “I’m going to keep all of you.”

  Diego came into the dining room bearing gifts. “Luz baked cookies and I made tea. Is there anything I can do to help?

  “No. I’m saying good-bye and reminiscing.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “I like your hair swept up. You are muy linda.”

  “Guess what’s holding it?”

  “I give up.”

  “The tupu, even though it’s meant for holding a shawl closed, mine works as a hair pin and a decoration.”

  “With or without it you are hermosa.”

  “Can I interest you in some photographs?”

  “Not at this time. I have been too active. I must rest.”

  “Maybe I’ll do the same, but upstairs and later.”

  “Life with me is not easy, is it?”

  Mercedes sipped the tea. “It has its rewards.”

  * * *

  Later the ocean breeze tangled with the curtains. Mercedes stretched and filled her lungs. Then she leaned back in the chair and smelled a sweater her sister had worn. “I miss you, Sis.”

  Carefully she folded it and reached for the remaining box. Her mother’s handwriting brought good memories of field trip notes signed by her Mom, birthday cards and even grocery lists.

  “Our christening dress! I’m going to stop here.”

  She held the outfit to her chest and walked over to Matthew. “I’ve got a beautiful dress for you, buddy. Your mother wore it last.” She wanted him to smile but enjoyed the moment just as much when he yawned.

  Chapter 22

  Mercedes stepped into her wedding dress of white silk organza. The full skirt rustled soft as blossoms in a windstorm. Mrs. Joyce held Matthew and rocked him gently. He blew a bubble and did not wake.

  Luz joined Mercedes at the mirror. “Let me adjust the chignon.” Mercedes waited as Luz gathered a few stray hairs, reinserted the tupu and stepped back. Luz nodded approval. “Now we’re ready for the veil.”

  Luz stood on a stool and fitted the headpiece. “Took two months to make and thirty yards of tulle, but it’s perfect. You look amazing. More elegant than the princesses I’ve seen married at court.”

  Mrs. Joyce laughed. “Oh the stories you make up!”

  Mercedes nodded. “She’s got the gift.” Matthew squirmed. “My nephew’s the little dumpling. All his fingers and toes and a personality sweeter than Annie or I could ever muster.” Mrs. Joyce adjusted the collar of his stretchy. “I love his chubby cheeks.”

  Luz darted to the window. “Limo’s here.” She shook her head. “We’re only going next door. The driver probably thinks we’re crazy.”

  “He’ll adjust.” Mercedes fussed with the gown. “How do I look? I want to be perfect for Diego.”

  “And you are, dear,” Mrs. Joyce said.

  Before Mercedes knew it, she stood in Diego’s house that had been transformed into a garden. White daisies in white vases created a floral gateway leading her to the deck and then to the beach. Luz fussed with the long veil.

  Mercedes didn’t have anyone to give her away except four friends from her corporate days. Grinning, they waited below. When she reached the last step, they rolled a white rug onto the sand. Just before she passed, they scattered pink rose petals and guests applauded.

  Diego waited at the shoreline in a tuxedo. He wore his hair long and loose as when she had first seen him. The Justice of the Peace began the ceremony amid the beat of the waves and the sound of violins.

  Afterwards, Mercedes stared at the simple gold band on her finger. “I’m married.”

  Diego held her veil. “We are married and I want privacy.”

  Mercedes held his face in her hands. “Have patience, my good husband. You’ve got people to entertain.”

  “I hate this part.”

  * * *

  Just when Diego thought he would burst from being the good host, Mercedes’ Manhattan friends understood the situation. Luz reappeared in her aqua cocktail dress and shawl. She thanked them for the wonderful time and announced that she and “the gang” had plans to go dancing at a nearby club.

  She gave him a wave as she headed out. “I put fruit and wine in the bedroom and tonight I’m staying with friends.”

  He chased her out of the house. “Finally, we are alone.”

  Mercedes whirled flipping clouds of skirt. “This has been my happiest day.”

  Diego pulled off his white tie.

  “We’re at peace, Diego. Dave and the baby are bedded down next door, the house is quiet, and I’m married.”

  “Some needs are still unmet.”

  “Let’s take care of that right now.”

  He carried her upstairs to their freshly decorated bedroom. Gold silk covered the walls and the bed. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and even he looked healthy in the abundant candlelight. White rose petals lay scattered on the bed. The wine and fruit rested on a polished teak table, an antique from his home in Spain.

  Mercedes looked at him eyes shining. “I wanted to make our first night as man and wife perfect.” She kissed him then pulled away. “I have something soft and sheer and a French perfume I chose hoping to please you.”

  He held her by the waist as she inched closer to the bathroom. He didn’t want to let her out of his sight. “Do not take long. Your husband is eager and I also have a surprise.”

  She disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door.

  His nourishment had been taken care of in the subtlest way with a goblet in the library, allowing him the illusion that he had much in common with any other man.

  Mercedes entered the room. She had brushed her hair and fixed it in a chignon with ringlets grazing her temples and neck. He attributed the happiness she showed to her fondness for him.

  The white satin peignoir glistened in the light. He opened his arms and she came home.

  “I have something for you in my hand. Something that I treasure almost as much as I treasure you.”

  She pried open his fingers that he did not try to keep closed. Resting in his palm was the ruby ring matching the necklace his grandmother had passed down to his mother, set in gold.

  “It’s so beautiful. Think she’d be pleased with me?”

  “Yes. She was the heart of our home as you are of mine.”

  Mercedes kissed him. “I’m kissing this ring, too. To say hello to my mother-in-law and all the Castilla women who have worn it.”

  “You are the romantic in the family.”

  Her gaze turned flirtatious. “That’s not the way I remember it.” She freed her hair letting it tumble down onto her shoulders.

  They eased onto the bed, petals and all. Sometimes he just wanted to look at her. But this night called for the truest emotions and he would make them clear. They were safe, they had found each other. He cradled her face, but he froze.

  She opened her eyes. “Dearest, what is it?”

&nbs
p; He looked across the dunes. Whatever he felt on the river waited next door. “Stay here.”

  She bolted out of bed. “Not on your life, Mr. Castilla.” She twisted her hair into a thick bun and pinned it. “Why are you looking at the cottage? What’s going on?”

  “We are no longer safe and neither is anyone else.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “What we must.”

  * * *

  “If anyone hurts Matt. . .”

  “Hush.” Diego knew from the mind that prodded his thoughts that a vampire waited. “Matthew is alive. We face Teodoro.”

  They burst into the cottage foyer. Dave lay stretched out before them, his eyes opened in horror. Bite marks, the edges swollen, marred his neck. His lips moved on the last current of his breath.

  “Save my baby.”

  The shudder that rocked through Mercedes’ body met its echo in Diego’s. Teodoro, strengthened by human blood would be fiercely strong and he, alas, would not.

  Mercedes pointed upstairs to the nursery and tilted her head to the side, exposing her veins. “Make it a fair fight.”

  “I cannot.” He raced up the stairs. She followed, but he heard her whimper out of fear.

  The beast came with an entourage.

  Like Diego when first turned, he basked in full bloom exalting in his control of the weak. The nursery walls undulated with Amazon spiders, large, brown, restless, legs clicking as they moved. They encircled Matt’s cradle, waiting. Another creature hovered in the corner and in its hand burned a torch.

  “The baby!” screamed Mercedes. She raced to the crib oblivious of the crunch of spiders under her bare feet. She wrapped Matthew in his blanket, held him tight to her breast.

  She backed away, but did not get far. The spiders closed in, climbed into the folds of her gown. The message clear: she could die immediately or await the battle. Teodoro fed off fear. Would Mercedes realize? Could she overcome her terror? Should he fail would she understand he had to die not the spiders?

  The former sorcerer flapped a black cape of moldering bat skin adding to the stench. Underneath he wore his tribal loincloth from which hung the heads of the creatures he’d used to dress himself. A green miasma of death floated in the room coating them all.

  “Tonight Castilla, you pay in full.”

  His maniacal laugh reached into the baby’s consciousness and the child screamed. Matthew could not see the danger, but felt it in his growing brain. The spiders quivered. Mercedes gagged and held him tighter.

  Teodoro exhaled a yellowish syrup that shot onto the floor and writhed transforming into a serpent. It reared and swayed, also waiting.

  Matt stopped crying. Good boy. If he were to win, there could be no distractions.

  He and Teodoro fell upon each other. Diego tore the loathsome cape from Teodoro’s body. Mercedes screamed followed by a pitiful outburst of the child. Diego forced them from his thoughts not daring to take his hands off the sorcerer...

  He needed a weapon, but had none. Teodoro sensed his disadvantage. Diego pulled strength from his depths. He fought to save lives; Teodoro fought to take them. He crashed against the sorcerer’s chest. Teodoro spit. The fluid burned Diego’s skin.

  “Ven, idiota!”

  His shadow servant ignored the command. Not even Teodoro’s venomous magic could make the wretched creature come close.

  Teodoro floated to the ceiling. Diego flew after him screaming an age old battle cry.

  The sorcerer flew lower and yanked a machete from behind a sofa. Mercedes shouted a warning, but the words died in the clicking of spider legs that overrode her desperate voice.

  Diego grabbed a cushioned chair and heaved it onto the blade. Caught off-guard, Teodoro struggled to free it. Diego yanked the chair on an angle and the blade came with it.

  Then Teodoro fell upon Mercedes, ripped her away from the baby. Matthew tumbled into the cradle capsizing it onto the floor.

  “You use her as a shield?” Diego challenged. “A coward and a vampire? You are more pathetic than ever.”

  “Surrender to me. I will let her live.”

  She twisted trying to free herself. Her cries tore at his soul.

  Matthew shrieked in his crib. Diego dared not look. Teodoro spun Mercedes to face him and lowered his mouth to her throbbing vein.

  Diego charged. Teodoro maneuvered her to the side to block his thrust. In the instant before he struck the sorcerer, Mercedes yanked the tupu from her hair and drove it into his ribs. Thrashing, he tossed her away trying to save himself. His hand gripped the tupu and started to pull it out. Diego yelled for her to duck. She dove for the floor. He swung the machete and cut off Teodoro’s head. His body landed on top of her.

  “Get him off me!”

  Matthew howled and Teodoro’s servant dropped the torch. The spiders disintegrated. Diego shoved Teodoro’s decaying mass onto the carpet and Mercedes raced to Matthew. The shadow creature disappeared in a whirlwind.

  Fire tracked across the floor. The silk curtains burst into flames.

  He lifted Mercedes, cradling Matthew, and carried them to the beach then he moved Dave’s body. He raced out the back into a contingent of newly arrived firemen.

  “Anyone inside?” yelled a volunteer fireman, his strong frame wrapped in protective garments.

  “Yes. I arrived too late to save my friend. I reached the child.” Mercedes and Matthew huddled near the fire engines.

  The fireman started up the stairs but had to back away. The roof collapsed and the fire fed. The cottage burnt to the ground. Diego remembered sirens, shouts and brave men saving neighboring homes from the cinders flying over the beach. Nothing else could be done. A great relief was that none of the Bravest suffered harm.

  In a quiet moment Diego bowed his head. Dave died saving his son. That is what happened, but he altered the circumstances to hide Dave’s true death for Matthew’s father deserved and earned a better fate than victim.

  Were his motives selfless? No. Will the fire marshals find the cause of the blaze? No. The source was magic and that will not be proven in a laboratory. Dave died a warrior’s death. And Diego? He had a nephew to raise.

  Chapter 23

  Remy’s escape from a Peruvian prison made the six o’clock news. According to the reporter “people of interest” were being interrogated by the Peruvian authorities. An international hunt was underway and the Pascuas Segundo Museum in Lima offered a hundred thousand dollar reward for his capture. He was a man on the run, yet Diego expected his call. He did not wait long. Mercedes, jaw set, handed him the phone.

  “Husband,” she whispered, “we’ve got to get this monster.”

  “What do you want?” he asked him.

  “Castilla, I’ve got Teodoro’s knife. How badly do you want to be human?”

  “As usual you make no sense.” For several seconds Diego listened to his heavy breathing. Finally Remy thought of something to say.

  “Shut up, muerto. I had the wacko’s diary translated. The knife’s got magic.”

  “Wacko magic.”

  “You got a better offer?”

  Clearly a trick, but Procteur knew his weakness. To regain his humanity he would surrender his fortune and meet him anywhere. How possessing the knife could alter his state of being Diego did not know nor could he imagine. “What do you want?”

  “Five million. You’ve got it stashed away. Do what I tell you and you’ll be eating cheeseburgers like the rest of us.”

  “Tell me what I must do.”

  He read the numbers of an account and the name of a Swiss bank. It would be a simple matter of transferring funds. “And the knife?”

  Remy laughed--not his normal heartless mirth, but a blend of hysteria and bravado. “I’ll call you.”

  Mercedes studied Diego’s face as he disconnected. “What’s going on?” She paused. “I’m getting tired of asking that question.”

  He summarized.

  “This time we get the police.”

 
; His wife’s favorite refrain. “No. We have just finished answering the fire marshal’s questions. How many dealings with the authorities can we have before they see us as persons of interest?”

  She chewed her lip, thinking. “Remy says he has the knife, but do we know for sure that it wasn’t included in the artifacts taken from the boat?”

  “We do not know. He could be lying, a possibility more akin to his nature.”

  “Do you think the knife has power?”

  “It possessed enough magic to turn Teodoro into a vampire.”

  Her eyes darkened. “Maybe it’s his weapon of choice. He could kill you with it. That’s what Remy really wants.”

  He hugged her and inhaled a soft scent of jasmine. “There is only one way to know.” She edged out of his arms ready to argue. “Mi amor, I am your husband and soon-to-be adoptive father to Matthew. I have the world to lose. I will be careful, but I have to meet with him.”

  She shook her head. “He hates you. This is a trap.”

  “That much is certain, but he also needs money. I will discover for myself what Ma’ta’s knife can do for me.”

  “This stinks.”

  “Have you noticed, beloved? You and Luz are sounding more alike.”

  * * *

  The streetlights dotting the road in front of his house turned the night mist to smoke. The burnt shell of Mercedes’ house stood black and eerie against the beach. The perfect setting for a murder.

  Remy phoned from the high water mark outside Diego’s home. Foolishly, he began to hope. In starlight Remy looked as pale as Diego. He jutted his jaw confident that he had the upper hand.