by Marta Acosta
“She seems so confident now.” When I tried to imagine Ian and Cornelia as children, I envisioned them in miniature form.
“He brought her out of her shell, and now that he’s found someone special, we hope that Cornelia will find someone, too.”
Just as she seemed about to say something else, to confide in me, my cell phone rang.
Although Ms. Smith still smiled, her expression became more closed. “I’ll leave you to your business.”
Mercedes was calling. “I’ve got some info for you.”
“Talk to me.”
“My subway expert knows of a few locations, including one near the address you gave me, with suspiciously high electrical usage and other odd things. He thinks there’s an abandoned tunnel there, one that’s not on any known maps.”
“Does he know any possible routes to this hypothetical tunnel?”
“He’s got a few ideas, but he’s never actually tried to get in that area. Milagro, what are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that I might do a little spelunking. Where does your pal think access to the tunnel may be?”
She told me and added, “Don’t do anything too stupid. A lot of crazies live down there, too.”
“Worry not about my safety, O brown damsel.”
“I’m not worried about you getting hurt,” she said very quietly. “I’m worried about you hurting someone.”
I worried about that, too. “I only whack people upside the head when they deserve to be whacked upside the head.”
I dressed in my black suit so I looked like any other competent and capable city girl. I told Ms. Smith that I was going out for a walk and I’d be back in a few hours, and then I took off to find the vamp cave. On the way to the suspect address, I saw a manila envelope at the top of a trash bin and picked it up.
The building was in the middle of a block, brand spanking new, stainless steel and glass, and I was able to go right by the security desk, carrying my envelope as if I were delivering something. It was only when I got in the elevator that I saw that the button to the basement required a key. You didn’t need an F.U. degree to guess that the stairway access to the basement would also be locked.
I had been unceremoniously let go from enough jobs to know that the majority of workers were sadly in need of interesting diversions. I unbuttoned my blouse until the lace from my bra peeked out.
Returning to the main floor, I surveyed the three security guards stationed around the lobby. An appealingly beefy guy with his hair cut close to his head was sitting at a desk in the corner and wearing a suit with the firm badge. I strolled over to him and smiled. “I need to talk to your supervisor.”
His hazel eyes took in the view and he returned my smile. “I’m the supervisor. What do you need?”
I inched closer to him and dropped my voice. “I need to get to the basement. I left something down there.”
“Access is restricted,” he said.
“Tell me about it. I left my key down there.”
“Who gave you a key? Who are you?”
I’d always been an ace at pop quizzes even when I hadn’t studied. The trick was to choose the most likely answer. Who was most likely to be at the top of any vampire power structure?
I said, “He likes it when I call him George. Or President Washington. I’m Honey, his special friend, but he’ll be mad at me if he knows I forgot the key.”
The security guard wanted so much to believe my story, but he had to ask, “Why don’t you go through the Presidential Properties building?”
“Mrs. Smith spies for all the wives, you know. Some women want to neuter men,” I said and leaned low to give him maximum diversion. “But I admire masculinity. I honor it.”
The security guard swallowed. I was about to say that George Washington liked it when I dressed in a trilby hat, see-through plastic platforms, and nothing else, when the security guard said, “I can let you downstairs. You want a flashlight?”
“You’re fabulous!”
He opened a desk drawer and took out a big metal flashlight. We went into the elevator and he sorted through his key ring, selected a small key, and inserted it in the lock. Then he pushed the button for the basement.
When the door opened to a dark basement he said, “Do you want me to come with you?”
“I’d love you to come with me,” I said huskily. “But then Mr. President would have to fire you. I know the way.”
I walked into a hallway. The rooms off it were filled with machinery and office furniture. I glanced in one room filled with cleaning supplies and was about to leave when something caught my attention.
Against the wall was a rack of hats and a shelf with bottles of expensive sunblock. A few seconds later I discovered a hatch in the floor under a blue industrial rug. I opened the hatch and saw a ladder leading down into darkness.
I climbed down the ladder, feeling chilly dampness. It led to a narrow corridor. It was so utterly dark that even I couldn’t see. I turned on the flashlight and slowly made my way along the corridor, at the end of which was a narrow, low-ceilinged stairwell.
By the time I had walked down three sets of stairs and along as many walkways, I had lost all sense of direction. I wondered how much farther down I had to go, but there were no more stairs. I turned a corner and saw grayness ahead. I had arrived at the vampires’ lair.
It had looked impressive with the lights on. Now it just looked spooky. The darkness seemed to shift and move like a living thing. I wanted to know what was behind the arched doors. The one closest to the marble-topped conference table opened to a large lounge area, complete with sofas, a television, and a kitchenette filled with unmarked vials of blood. There was a full bathroom off this room. A vampire rumpus room, I thought.
The next door was locked. At the far end of the cavern was another door, unlocked. I opened it and saw three small cells behind iron bars. Chains were bolted to the walls by the bare mattresses. In one cell there was a half-filled plastic cup of water, as if someone had been there recently.
I’d taken too long already. I’d seen enough, so I hurried back the way I’d come along the corridors and up the stairs. As I climbed up the ladder and saw the dim light from the open hatch, I felt a rush of relief.
I pulled myself out of the hatch and stood up.
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 c
ome 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 soufflйs and the waiters were as capricious as cats. We shared a gruyere soufflй 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. S
upposedly 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.”
nine
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.”
