Before Sam could answer, Ian slipped beside me, putting his arm though mine. "Let's enjoy the night," he said, and he began steering me away toward the fields.

"Ian," Edna called out. "Be careful with that Young Lady."

"I won't do anything to harm her," he answered.

"I'm not worried about her. I'm worried about you," she said. Ian laughed, but I didn't find her comment especially hilarious.

The other voices faded in the distance as we walked on. "Should I be frightened to be alone with you?" he asked playfully.

"Yes, terrified," I responded, even though he made me as nervous as a June bug at a chicken dance.

"Excellent."

When we were far out in the field, he stopped to turn to me. His eyes glimmered in the dark and I could see the shine of his white teeth. "Do you endanger my mind, body, or soul?""You have a soul, Ian?"

"That is a matter of some debate," he answered. "How did you ever convince this cautious family to let you stay with them, to share their secrets?"

"I lived."

"So you did."

His eyes coursed over my body and it was all I could do not to rip my clothes off then and there. I wasn't thinking about intellectual satisfaction, and I didn't even know if I liked Ian, but he radiated sex, sex, sex and brought out all the desires I had been repressing.

"I hope we shall become well acquainted," he said. "It is a novelty to me to meet someone who survived transmission."

"It is a novelty for me to associate with a vampire," I said carelessly. "I'm sorry, not a vampire, but..."

Ian laughed warmly. "Please don't apologize. My sister and I know what we are and are not. ashamed. We are not so modern as Edna's brood, not so concerned to fit into a narrow mold that cannot contain us."

"So you admit that you are vampires?"

"That is a given. The question is, Milagro, what are you?"

Before I could come up with an answer, he said, "Shall we?" and began leading me back toward the house. At the back door to the kitchen, he stopped. "Until tomorrow, Young Lady." He leaned toward me and I expected a besito on each cheek in the European fashion, but instead he brushed the hair away from my neck, and his sensuous mouth was at my throat in a hot, long kiss.

He smelled of sandalwood and blood, and his cheek was rough against my skin. Stepping back, he said, "I shall think of you tonight." And then he was gone.

His touch ignited my reckless, beach-read instincts. After hours of wakefulness, I came to the conclusion that a sincere and serious young woman could learn much from the company of a mature and worldly man.

Chapter Twenty-four

the road to hell is paved with fabulous men

Late the next morning, when Oswald and Winnie were already at work and Sam was locked up in the study, Cornelia found me toiling in the garden. She was wearing a slinky black sweater and trouser set and a wide-brimmed straw hat. She drank something that might have been a Bloody Mary. "What does a girl do for fun around here?"

I took a wild guess that Cornelia would not consider hand-weeding fun. "I've been staying around the house for the most part, but I'm open to suggestion."

"Let's call Ian." In less than an hour, I had changed into a skirt, blouse, and my seashell-trimmed sandals and was seated in the front seat of the Mercedes with Ian. Edna wasn't interested in sightseeing, but Cornelia had pried Sam away from his work.

Previous Sitting beside Cornelia in the backseat, Sam looked like a kid cutting school for the first time.

Ian drove swiftly and smoothly along a narrow country road heading into the hills. Sam cleared his throat and said, "We are going twice the speed limit, Ian."

"Oh, we always go fast," Cornelia observed. "It's never a problem."

"You never get pulled over?" I asked.

"Certainly we do," said Ian, "but I just give the officers a mordida and everything is resolved."

"Mordida?" Sam asked.

"It means bite," I said, "a bribe." At least I hoped Ian meant a bribe.

He turned into a drive with a sign out front that warned PRIVATE PROPERTY. CLOSED TO THE PUBLIC. NO TRESPASSERS. More signs repeated the message farther down the drive.

"Here we are," Ian said as he pulled in front of a winery set among fields of lavender and surrounded by vineyards. "I've arranged for a tour and lunch."

A weathered man in overalls came to greet us and, contrary to the hostile signs, treated us like we were his new best friends.

He guided us into the dark, cool building that stored the casks. The air was ripe with fermentation, and I could hear the squeak of mice in the shadows and see the glinting eyes of cats hunting them. Ian pulled me behind a row of barrels and asked, "Do you take pleasure in the darkness, Milagro?"

"It depends on what's hiding in it."

"How do you know anything's hiding in it?" He took a lock of my hair and twisted it around his finger.

"Let me amend my comment. It depends on who is hiding in it."

Ian chuckled, and then we rejoined our friends. We went outside and through a fragrant lavender field. Ian and Sam strolled beside the vintner. Cornelia walked with me and spoke enthusiastically about the beauty of the day and place. "I'd wondered why Winnie was so pleased to be in the provinces." Cornelia looked around happily and her eyes settled on Sam, who was asking the vintner a question about harvesting. "Now I understand. I could come to like living here."

"Are you sure you wouldn't find it dull beyond belief?"

"Given time, anything can become dull, little one," she said. "Parties, clothes, beaus, anything... that's why I am so grateful to my dear brother. He never gets tired of life."

We had lunch and several bottles of wine under a pergola covered with white wisteria. I was embellishing the glamour of my life in the City to Cornelia when I felt Ian shift closer to me. "Of course, one deplores the Norway rats, and-watchale, Ian, please remove your hand from my thigh."

He was completely unembarrassed. "Must I?"

Sam swayed against Cornelia, who rested her head on his shoulder. "If Young Lady says you must, then you must," Sam said with a loopy grin.

"It's a very nice thigh," said Ian. "Smooth and tender. Allow a lonely bachelor this small pleasure."

"When you put it that way," I said, "it's just rude to say no."Ian was the only one of us who wasn't affected by the alcohol. The ride home was a blur of silliness and laughter. We stumbled out of the car in front of Winnie and Oswald, who were sitting on the terrace.

Sam dropped into a chair and Cornelia sat on his lap and put her arms around his neck. "Its so good to be around family," she said.

Sam stroked her hair as Winnie and Oswald watched in shock. "Sam," said Oswald, "are you drunk?"

"This is not an admission of the accusation in question," Sam said, speaking so slowly that each syllable was independent of the next. "But alcohol is a legal substance, and as an adult representing myself, I have the right to... to whatever." He gave a bleary look to Oswald and Winnie. "I have a right to see a beautiful thing and want to have it for my own."

Cornelia snuggled close to his chest. "That's lovely, darling."

Edna dragged me off to the kitchen and made me help with dinner. "Young Lady, try not to slice your finger off."

"What difference does it make, Edna? It'll heal back up."

"Be careful anyway."

Perhaps because they had worked all day, Oswald and Winnie were quiet at dinner, but the rest of us had a grand time. Sam basked in Cornelia's attention, and Ian's flirting made me feel like a real human girl again. I saw Oswald watching him and I thought, ha, Oswald, just because you're not interested does not mean that I am completely undesirable.

Ian claimed he had another engagement that night, but before he left he grabbed me in the hallway and pulled me into the little parlor. "What are you doing?" I asked, laughing. The room was dark and his arms were around me.

"Saying good night," he murmured.

"Good night, then."

"I yearn to taste you," he said. His teeth nipped lightly at my neck and I felt a thrill run through me.

"Keep yearning," I answered, and pulled away from him.

I could hear him breathing in the dark. I knew he could hear me, too. "I'll wait," he finally said. "I can wait until you're ready."

He left silently. I didn't know if I'd ever be ready for whatever Ian had in mind. But it excited me.

The next day, Cornelia got up late again. She came to my room while I was stuck at a critical point in my zombie story: should the young doctor fall in love with a zombie or would that be over the top?

"Edna says there's a spa in town," said Cornelia. "Let's go."

As a chica on a budget, I said regretfully, "I can't. No tengo dinero."

"My treat," she said.

It had taken some time, but at F.U. I had learned to graciously accept the generosity of others. After life with my mother Regina, I'd been surprised to realize that some people actually enjoyed giving gifts. And so I said, "Fab!" and we were off for a massage, a facial, and, for me, a trim and styling of my hair.

"You look marvelous," Cornelia said as we walked out."It is better to look marvelous than to feel marvelous," I said.

"Absolutely. But when you're one of us, you can look marvelous and feel marvelous." She adjusted the brim of her sun hat. "I hope my brother has not been too forward with you. He's a very direct and passionate man."

I thought it was a little creepy for a sister to talk about her brother's passion, but I supposed it was her continental way. "Oh, who doesn't like to flirt?"

Cornelia stopped and lowered her sunglasses to look me directly in the eye. "Oh, no, Young Lady, don't take him too lightly.

Ian's interest is not easily aroused. He was immediately attracted to you."

I didn't have the heart to tell her that when one was blessed with gaudy chichis and curvy nalgas, one immediately attracted a lot of men.

The man in question was occupying the carriage house of the only hotel in town, a huge white Victorian building. He was barefoot, wearing a beautiful pale blue linen shirt and navy trousers. "Ladies, you look exquisite. What shall we do today?"

"Shop?" offered Cornelia. "Swim, ride, slum, steal cars, go antiquing?"

There was a knock at the door and Ian called, "Enter!"

A girl dressed in black slacks and a white shirt opened the door. It was hard to tell how old she was under a mask of white and black Goth makeup, but she had a teenager's insolent slump. Her lank, dyed black hair hung past her shoulders. She wheeled in a room service cart with a bottle of champagne in a silver bucket and a bowl of strawberries.

"Ah, Tiffany," Ian said to the awkward girl. "You come like a dream to me."

She ducked her head to hide her smile. "Here's the champagne you wanted, Mr. Ducharme. You want me to do up the bed for you now or later?"

"Later will be perfect, my raven-haired angel."

She giggled nervously and practically ran out of the room.

"Really, Ian," said Cornelia. "You have that girl in a tizzy."

"The child is bored and I provide her with a little attention."

"How very philanthropic of you," I said, feeling foolish for being another bored child to this jaded creature.

"I am not interested in children," he said evenly. "Am I, Cornelia?"

"Not in ages, darling."

Ian uncorked the champagne and said, "What say we venture out to meet the local flora and fauna, primarily fauna?" He poured the bubbly into three glasses. "Cornelia, do you think Sam would like to join us?"

Cornelia took a glass from Ian. "How thoughtful you are, dear brother. I'm sure Sam would love it."

So I was already somewhat tipsy when I found myself walking behind three vampires into a biker bar in the township of Lower Sky. The day outside was bright, but inside it was dim and smoky, some of the smoke generated by legal substances and some by illegal. It was a workday, but the room was filled with rough-looking white guys who didn't seem to be on lunch break.

There were a lot of prison-variety ballpoint pen-and-needle tattoos among the clientele. Ian escorted me past guys who looked like they were deciding if they should kill him first and rape me later or the other way around. Cornelia and an uneasy Sam followed. "Here we are," Ian said at an empty booth.

A lump of rotten beef got up from his barstool and lumbered over while his friends guffawed. He hovered over our table and Ian said, "Yes, what is it?"

"This is my table, motherfucker."

Sam was already beginning to stand when Ian urged him to stay seated. "Are you the proprietor of this establishment?" Ian asked the biker.

"What the fuck?" growled the slab of meat. "I will kick your ass." Actually, the biker was drunk so it sounded like, "Ah well keg yer az."

Inebriated or sober, the biker looked deeply and seriously dangerous, but Ian smiled genially and said, "I doubt the ladies go in for that sort of thing, so why don't we talk outside?"