She smiled brightly. "I support anything that helps the Toddster in his career and I j'adore my country, except for the flag, which is too busy. Stars and stripes-what were they thinking? CACA cares about this country, Mil. Don't you?"

"Nancy, you know I am all about the let-freedom-ring thing, even though I agree about the flag," I said defensively. I sadly realized that my friend had gone over to the dark side. "Nancy," I said, "promise that you won't tell anyone that you saw me."

"Why?"

"Just promise. I won't ever ask for anything else."

"Sure, whatever," she said breezily. "But if you really love me, you'll work out things with Sebastian and Tessie so there won't be any nasty fighting at my wedding. Todd's asked him to be one of the groomsmen."

"Sure, Nance," I said despondently. We promised to call soon, even though she didn't ask where I was staying, and then exchanged air kisses and parted ways. I wondered if I'd ever see Nancy again.

The city commotion and clutter assaulted me. Gusts of wind blew grit and papers down the sidewalks and everyone seemed to be in a rush. Like a forgotten temple, a branch library stood solid and neglected in the chaos. I walked up the steps, past the Doric columns, and pushed through the tall, heavy brass-trimmed doors. The room was high-ceilinged, serene, and silent, with the glorious scent of paper and ink.

Running my fingers over the book spines, I saw familiar and loved names. I found myself by Faulkner and I remembered Dena Franklin. I walked backward until I discovered Franklin's slim collections of stories and something I hadn't seen at the ranch: a full-length Franklin novel titled Chalice of Blood.

I flipped to the back inside jacket and there, in black and white, was a photo of a younger Edna. Dark hair waved around her perfectly oval face, eyeliner accentuated her magnificent eyes, and her lips curled in a naughty grin. I experienced a "Duh!"

moment. The bio said that Dena Franklin traveled extensively, had published several short stories, and enjoyed "icy cocktails, dashing escorts, and witty repartee."

The book was a first edition published decades before. After searching through ancient microfiche, I discovered a lone reference to Franklin, a mention in a social column. "Devastating Dena Franklin was spotted in the company of several handsome companions at a late-night hot spot. The author of the audacious Chalice of Blood laughed off critics who are offended by the novel's madcap sexual escapades. " 'Darling,'" she purred to yours truly while sipping an appropriately crimson cocktail, 'a girl's got to have her fun.'"

And that was it. Dena Franklin had disappeared from public notice. I found a comfortable chair in the corner of the library and started reading Chalice of Blood. It was a raucous love story between a vampire girl and a lusty novitiate born into families once bound together by a secret order. Franklin's vampires enjoyed copious blood drinking, robust sex, slaughtering enemies, and the latest fashions. The novitiate's sanctimonious clan professed chastity in others, but secretly indulged in orgies and sadomasochism.Edna had just been taunting her enemies with this novel. I don't know how she had dared.

I put the book back on the shelf and thought about the vampires' last names: Grant, Harding... Why hadn't I noticed before?

They were trying to fit in with classic American names, trying not to be freaks. I remembered what Oswald said about helping those who wanted to be normal. Of course he would understand what it was like to be an outsider.

My thoughts were all in a muddle as I left the library. Nearby, a dusty Victorian box tree was in bloom, but its heady fragrance was barely discernible under the stench of the street. I heard a voice calling, "Young lady! Young lady!" and my heart leaped. I turned around to see the librarian bustling after me. "You forgot your handbag," she said.

"Thank you." She returned to the library, but I was frozen on the sidewalk. I couldn't believe that I would never be "Young Lady" again. I needed to apologize again and again and again even if the vampires never forgave me.

On the corner, I found a working pay phone. Although I had never dialed the number at the ranch, I knew it by heart. The phone rang once and I felt so jumpy I almost hung up. Then a man said, "Hello?"

"Hi, it's me," I said nervously. "It's Milagro."

"I thought you'd call eventually," said the man, and a chill ran down my spine.

"Who is this?" I asked.

"You know who it is," answered Sebastian. "Once Kathleen spotted you, we knew where to start our search. We have your friends in custody."

"How can you do that?" I said, stunned.

"We worked with local authorities," he said. "You'd be surprised at how flexible they became when all the rumors about Satanism began. The most amusing thing is that some of these yokels were actually worshipping the devil! All we had to do was encourage a few animal sacrifices and offer a sympathetic ear to misunderstood locals, and we were able to flush out your vampire allies."

What would he do to the vamps, especially pregnant Winnie? I had to get them out. "Sebastian, let them go and you can have me."

"That's not much of an offer, Milagro," he said smoothly. "I don't want you. I have never wanted you."

Thanks to Tessie, I knew he was lying. "Yes, you did, Sebastian," I said seductively. "You want me still. I know because I want you, too. Let the women go and you can have me again." I could hear him breathing heavily at the end of the line. "You know I can provide you with more pleasure than an old lady and a pasty stick."

He was silent so long that I thought he had hung up. "Sebastian?"

"I'm here," he said. He paused again, then asked quietly, "Why did you keep all those things? My letters, theater programs, ticket stubs..."

So he had found my mementos when he'd ransacked my flat. "They mean a lot to me. You mean a lot to me." I became flustered, so I said, "I'll call you later," and hung up.

Chapter Thirty-two

classless reunion

"Absolutely not," Mercedes said when she came home. She'd left the club early to deal with my crisis. "There's got to be a better way."

"What way? You saw the news report-'suspects in custody.' What happens when the word Vampire' comes out?"

The latest news reported that a local girl had gone missing, although the sheriff's department had not found any signs of foul play. "Foul play" made me think sadly of both Oswald and my chicken. When the television screen showed a photo of the missing person, it took me a moment to recognize Tiffany without the heavy makeup and dyed hair. Surely, Ian wouldn't have harmed her.

"Winnie's pregnant and Edna's older and I'll be okay," I said. "I always am."

"You aren't going without taking some precautions and having a plan."

"The vamps had a plan and what good did it do them?" I was frantic and wearing a rut in the carpet with my pacing. "They were trying to hack CACA's accounts, as if that would stop them. What a waste all my great forgeries are!"

"Milagro, go clean the kitchen. I've got to think." I would have argued with someone else, but I trusted Mercedes implicitly.

Her giant brain would figure a way out of this.

At one point she asked me for a detailed description of Gabriel and to tell her absolutely everything I recalled about his activities. When I asked why, she answered, "International Brotherhood of Hackers. I'm going to work backward and see if I meet his hackers coming from the other direction."

Several excruciating hours later, while I was scouring the grout around the sink with a toothbrush, Mercedes emerged. "Okay, you can call Sebastian now. You offer yourself up in a fair exchange for the women in a public place. I'll have you and the others out soon after that."

She connected the phone to the computer so we could record the conversation. "See if you can get him to fess up to something sexual. Hell hath no fury like a pissed-off fiancee, and Tessie Kensington's uncle is a senator."

Sebastian picked up the phone on the first ring. "Yes?"

"It's me, babe," I said in a sultry voice. I called upon the great Latina femme fatale, Rita Hayworth, to help me in this hour of need. "I hope we have a deal. I've missed you so much. I want you so much."

"Milagro," he said in a rough voice. "I, I, um, yes, we have a deal. Where will you be?"

I named the biker bar in Lower Sky. "Meet in front, tomorrow at eleven o'clock. Release the women and I'll give myself to you... again and again and again." I sounded cheesier than a daytime soap, but my gay friends had assured me that you could say any outlandish sexual comment to a man and he would believe it. "That's what you want, Sebastian, isn't it?"

"You have no idea," was his response.

Waiting was the hardest part. Mercedes worked at her computers while I altered a dress of hers to make it more revealing.

When she saw me lowering the neckline, she asked, "You're not going to have sex with him, are you?"

"I hope I'll just be able to lead him on," I answered. "But if I have to, it won't be the worst thing I've ever done." The worst Previous thing was betraying Winnie.

"Stall as long as you can. I'm hot on Gabriel's trail in the CACA accounts, but I need more time."

Our drive to the township of Lower Sky was awful. Just getting out of city traffic was difficult and I panicked that we wouldn't be on time. Mercedes was anxious to get back to her hacking.

When we arrived at the bar, I immediately noticed a huge, shiny SUV parked down the block. I got out of Mercedes's car and stood on the sidewalk. The back door of the SUV opened and Edna and Winnie stepped out, accompanied by the gorilla, Peters.

"Hey, Milagro," a voice boomed behind me. I turned to see Pepper. "I'm here like you axed. Where's Ian and everyone?"

"Hi, Pepper," I said. "Wish I could party hearty with ya, but I got some business to take care of. I'd appreciate it much if you and your buddies could escort me to that SUV, then make sure those ladies down the street are treated good. I'll owe you."

"Hell, you don't owe me for nothing," Pepper said. "We're still in debt to Ian for getting Artie to shut the fuck up, pardon my French. What is this, a hostage exchange?"

"Yeah, afraid so."

Pepper glared at Peters. "We can take them easy. Might be able to piece out the car for some beer change."

"Thanks, Pepper, but we're still in negotiations."

"Your call," said the biker, with a shrug.

The cluster of bikers gave me confidence as I walked to the SUV.

"Milagro," began Winnie.

Peters snapped, "No talking!" His beady eyes took in the contingent of animals behind me. If he had been thinking of keeping Edna and Winnie and grabbing me, too, he'd have a hell of a fight. "They can go now and you come with me," he said.

"Come on, ladies," Pepper said to my former friends. "You gonna be okay, Milagro?"

"You know it," I said just as Peters clutched my arm.

Edna's and Winnie's eyes were wide with concern, but I glanced at Peters and said, "Don't ruin the merchandise or your boss will have your lumpy ass."

I was pushed into the car and the door slammed shut. "You filthy vermin," Sebastian's thug muttered. A more compact version of the same unappealing model was in the driver's seat.

"Hi, Peters," I said. "I hope we can let bygones be bygones. You kidnap me, I shoot you-it evens things out. Years from now we'll be laughing about this whole crazy mess."

"I've got the gun this time," he snarled, and pulled his jacket back to show me an intimidating hunk of metal.

Mini-Peters cackled at his partner's great wit.

Peters snapped a pair of handcuffs onto my wrists. "Does Sebastian go in for this kinky stuff?" I asked. "Where are you taking me?""That's for me to know and for you to shut the hell up," said Peters.

"Your kind makes me sick!" the little one spewed.

"What kind? Sexy babes who wouldn't give you the time of day, you loser creep?"

"I could..." he began, but Peters shut him up with a hard look. Neither of them spoke for the rest of the journey to a nearby town. They drove into the back parking lot of a blocky institutional building. There were few cars in the lot and the day was so warm I could see the heat rising off the asphalt.

Even though I walked willingly, Peters and mini-Peters felt the need to jostle me as we got out of the car. We entered the building through an industrial metal door and went along an L-shaped hall. Another door led to a main hallway and Peters hollered, "I got her, boss! I got the bitch!"

Lo and behold, there was Sebastian before me. He stood on the dull green linoleum floor wearing the establishment uniform of a navy suit, immaculate white shirt, and red power tie. An enameled American flag pin decorated his lapel.

"Hello, Sebastian," I said with an enticing smile. "I came just like you wanted me to. I'm so glad you wanted me."

He nervously cleared his throat. "I'll take over from here, Peters. Thank you."

Peters and his puny cohort gave me hateful looks before leaving us standing under the fluorescent lights. "You're not going to try to run away?" Sebastian asked.

"I wasn't the one who ran, remember? You were the one who abandoned me."

He took my elbow and guided me down a hallway of doors with reinforced glass windows. At the end of a corridor was a large oak paneled door that he unlocked. We went through a reception room and into a large windowless administrator's office. The room contained a bare desk, a leather chair, and a matching sofa. At the far wall was a door.

Sebastian stepped toward me, his whole body so tense that I felt sure he would strike me.

I waited for his hand to come at me. I would step on his insole, and then knee him. I would bring the handcuffs up hard under his nose and at about that time the security guards would tackle me and crack my skull open.

"I thought you'd be dead by now," he said in a gentle voice that hurt me more than a blow. It was the voice he'd used to read sonnets to me, the voice that spoke to me as he explained a museum exhibit or recommended books, the voice that made me feel loved. "You kept everything. Despite the way I cut you off, you kept everything."

"Sebastian, why don't you tell me what's really going on?"

His beautiful face became sorrowful as he dropped onto the sofa. "I'm sorry I was so rough on you at Kathleen Baker's and that night in the car. I had to be with Peters there. They expect me to behave a certain way, especially with the lower levels."

"Other people's expectations can be a burden. Not that I know. No one ever expected anything from me."

"I know," he said. "Everyone else at school knew just how to behave, and you were in your own world. You made up your own rules as you went along."

"I was clueless," I said with a little embarrassment.

"You were wonderful. You always made me laugh. No one makes me laugh anymore." The color of his eyes reminded me of the sky beyond these walls."Sebastian, why did you leave me for Chalice of Blood? Didn't it matter how much I loved you? How much you loved me?" I'd forgotten about being seductive. I was fighting to keep from crying.

He jumped up and ran his hands through his golden hair. "So the vampires told you about Chalice of Blood, did they? Did they tell you how my life is controlled?" he asked bitterly. "The Chalice decides what I do and when I do it. They told me to join CACA, pick a suitable wife, take leadership positions... They didn't even want me to write fiction, but I fought them on that one and they gave in."

"Why can't you leave them? Why can't you lead your own life, make your own decisions?"

"The Chalice does not accept resignations, Milagro. Punishment is severe. Conversely, the rewards for compliance are enormous."

"Accept the punishment, reject the rewards," I pleaded. "We've both made some terrible mistakes, but we're still young. Don't you think there is time for redemption?" The years dissolved, and I was speaking to the golden boy again.

"Milagro," he said, "my favorite girl." He took me in his arms and we stood together.