"You didn't stop contact once the cut occurred?" Sam asked.

"Of course I did." Sure, eventually. Why should I mention the whirlwind of sensations I'd felt when Oswald kissed me when I didn't understand it myself? "Sebastian barged into the room and I left."

"You are aware that body fluids can transmit diseases, aren't you?" Sam asked as he fiddled with a pen.

"I am certainly aware of the normal diseases that can be transmitted," I said tersely. "When Sebastian abducted me, he claimed that I had been infected by a vampire."

This word got their attention. "That's ridiculous," Sam said. "However, I do understand how harrowing this experience has been for you."

"Utterly harrowing," I agreed. "Incredibly harrowing. Exceedingly harrowing. Mind-bogglingly harrowing."

"Thank you, Milagro," Sam said, placing a calming hand on my harrowed shoulder. "Your story generally corroborates Oswald's."

"Good, because that's exactly what happened."

"If I may have a word with Milagro privately." Sam looked at Edna and Gabriel. They both stood and left the room.

When the door closed behind them, Sam came close to me and said, "I sincerely hope that you did not find our questions too rigorous."

"No one expects the Spanish Inquisition," I mumbled, trying to hide the fact that I suddenly felt foolish and embarrassed.

He was kind enough to smile. "You must understand that we are reacting to the concern that you might have died. It's incredible that you are doing so well-I mean, amazing, according to what we know from folklore."

"Yes, it's always a miracle when I'm alive," I said matter-of-factly. I couldn't help admiring his sweet brown eyes. The observation threw me into a new despair. Here I was, sick, an unwelcome guest of vampires, despised by Sebastian, my pathetic existence suddenly more deplorable, yearning to see Oswald, and yet I was so trivial that brown eyes distracted me.

I pulled my thoughts away from his pretty eyes and said, "Now I'd like a few answers. Like why is Sebastian so hot and heavy to get to your family? And how does he even know about your, um, condition?"

Sam twirled his pen. "Sebastian's organization and our family have a long and complicated history. We think he might have guessed that Oswald was one of us because of Oswald's strong resemblance to our great-grandfather, who was an industrialist.

We fear that CACA has obtained one of the few daguerreotypes made of him."

"But why does Sebastian harbor such hatred toward people with a genetic anomaly?" I was trying my darnedest to be polite about the bloodsucking, undead angle. "He is not an unsophisticated thinker."

"I can only offer my own theories." When I nodded, Sam went on. "I suspect that Beckett-Witherspoon is looking for a legal avenue to quarantine us in order to get the patent on our DNA. His organization has controlling interests in numerous bioengineering firms. How much would some people pay for an extended life span or increased immunity to disease?"

I thought about women like my mother and Kathleen Baker. "A fortune," I answered. "And I'm in the middle of all this because of Oswald.""While Oswald shouldn't have been with you, particularly since he is engaged..."

I couldn't have been more stunned if I'd been hit upside the head with a cast-iron frying pan.

"Milagro," Sam said quietly, "I was surprised when I heard what happened. I truly believe that Oswald would never knowingly endanger someone else. And certainly not for personal reasons, when his fiancee is such an astonishing, accomplished, and extraordinarily beautiful woman."

"It's not as if Oswald is the only man who has thrown caution to the wind for the pleasure of my company."

"I'm sure many men find you attractive!" Sam said generously despite my current state of hideousness.

"Well, it's been real, and it's been fun, but it hasn't been real fun." It was a dumb thing to say, but what did it matter at this point? "Please tell me where Gabriel is, so I can get a ride home."

Sam shook his head. "Beckett-Witherspoon surely knows where you live by now and without our protection, he may well harm you. You have to stay here until we find a way to defuse CACA."

"Now that I know he's dangerous, I believe I can take care of myself on my own turf."

"I am not just speaking of Beckett-Witherspoon, but all of the CACA and their willingness to act violently in order to achieve their goals," Sam said. "The owner of the daguerreotype of our great-grandfather, a confidant of the family, was found hanged, his home ransacked. The police said it was a suicide, but he had no history of depression, no personal crises, and the note appeared to be forged."

My little brain went ticking through the information I had recently received. "You said that your family has a long and complicated association with Sebastian's organization, yet you plan to defuse them. How long is that going to take? One millennium? Two?"

"We're fine-tuning a plan of action. I believe a resolution is imminent," he said.

"You better be right about that, Sam."

And that is how I came to be a houseguest at Casa Dracula.

Chapter Eight

to snooze, perchance to hallucinate

After the inquisition, I felt disoriented and weak, so I went back to my room, locked the door, and lay on the bed. Staying here meant that I would eventually have to face Oswald, I felt too angry and humiliated to deal with that, but CACA thugs could be lying in wait for me at my hovel.

My muscles throbbed and ached and no matter how I turned, I couldn't get comfortable. After a few hours, I got up and went back to the study, where Sam was talking to Gabriel.

"I accept your invitation to stay," I told them. "But I need my clothes and my writing things. Also, I need to make phone calls.

People are probably very concerned about me."

Previous The vampires said they would provide me with writing supplies and pay for new clothes since they didn't think it was safe to send anyone to my apartment. Sam said, "You can make calls, but I must ask that you not disclose our phone number or location. Corporate Americans for the Conservation of America has long arms and deep pockets."

Gabriel glanced at Sam before saying, "I haven't been able to find out the condition of Beckett-Witherspoon's guard, but they'll use that against you if they can."

I hadn't been the least bit bothered by shooting that gorilla, and I said so, adding, "They kidnapped me! Sebastian pulled the gun on me!"

"Milagro," said Sam, "we all know what happened, but the criminal justice system will give a certain amount of credence to Beckett-Witherspoon." Sam gestured toward the phone on his desk. "You can call from here. It's a safe line."

I waited until the men moved their conversation to the doorway and then I picked up the phone and called Nancy. Our friendship had really developed after F.U. when we both moved to the City. I'd had a lot of time on my hands because I was frequently unemployed, and she'd had a lot of time because she lived off her trust fund. She answered on the second ring, trilling, "Todd!"

"No, it's the anti-Todd," I said. I'd never met anyone named Todd until I went to F.U. The name still cracked me up. "Hey, Nance."

"Mil, I am so wanting to talk to you. What is going on with Sebastian? He left three messages here looking for you."

"I talked to him at Kathleen Baker's party. He behaved very badly and he looks like hell."

"I don't believe it!"

"It's true. He was very rude." This was not the time to tell Nancy about the vampires. One, she'd never believe me, and two, I wasn't sure I could make a convincing argument for something that seemed so insane.

"I mean I don't believe that he looks like hell," Nancy said. "I always thought he'd age beautifully. If he behaved so badly, why does he want to see you again?"

"A natural perversity," I said.

"That sounds intriguing!" she said. "He's always been such a gentleman to me."

Of course Sebastian had been nice to Nancy. She was his kind of people: old money, the right pedigree, the right schools, the right clubs. I said, "I absolutely never ever want to see him again. Promise me you won't tell him you talked to me."

"Mil, he did call un-deux-trois times. Maybe your strong and confusing pheromones finally had an effect on him..." she began.

"Nancy, never in a million years. Promise, not a word." After she swore on a stack of Italian Vogues, I said, "Anyway, I met some marvelous people who invited me to stay at their ranch in the country, so here I am. I'm looking at it as a writing retreat."

Nance made a high-pitched girly sound and asked me where I was staying. I named a fashionable town on the other side of the mountain and said, "Kooky Pescatelli invited me. They've got these incredible vineyards." Kooky Pescatelli was a character in one of my short stories. "I'm just going to hang out here for a while. Kooky is delightful. She collects pewter mugs."

"Pewter mugs, my sweet pink ass! Is there a cute guy there?"

"No! Well, yes," I said, glancing at the cute guys in the doorway, "but that's not why I'm here. I really need time away from the City, time and quiet and a place without rats in the walls, to reflect and work on my novel."Nancy was satisfied with this vapid explanation. She then described in grisly detail various types of trim on wedding gowns.

"You haven't even set your wedding date, Nance," I said.

"Oh, but I have just decided to have a bridesmaids' tea and you have to come. You have to wear something puce."

We spent a few minutes arguing about what color puce was and then she blithely said, "I'm having it at the Croft." When she told me the date, I realized I had no idea what day today was.

"I'll try to come," I said.

"You better come, Milagro De Los Santos, no ifs, ands, or big butts. Promise me you'll be there."

We debated over how I should give my oath and finally decided that I should swear on an annotated collection of Shakespeare's tragedies.

I was relieved when my call to my landlord went to his answering machine. "Hi, it's Mil. I just wanted to say that I've been called out of town on a personal emergency." I dropped my voice and added, "I know I'm late with the rent, but I promise I'll pay you soon. Please don't forget to deep water at least once a week. Really deep." I tried to sound suggestive so he would be inclined to be lenient with me.

Mercedes was next on my list. She seemed to think time in the country would do me good. She lectured me about working hard for a purpose and said that being an artist was not all parties and pretty boys, but actually strenuous labor and dedication.

I always felt a personal obligation to Mercedes and I promised not to slack off.

By the time I hung up, Gabriel had left. Sam asked, "Don't you want to call your parents and tell them you're away?"

I shrugged. "Not especially." I looked down at my ugly chancletas and said, "Clothes."

"We'd like you to have a medical exam first to ensure your continued health," he said. "Then you can buy some clothes."

I envisioned a gala shopping spree a la Pretty Sick Woman. Sam would sip an espresso and nod with approval while I twirled around in designer gowns. Clerks on commission would smile approvingly at my style and capacity to spend someone else's money.

Edna suddenly materialized in the doorway. "You aren't going like that, are you?" she said brusquely.

It was funny because my mother Regina had said exactly the same thing to me on numerous occasions. "If you could lend me something, maybe a skirt or-"

"Never mind," she snapped. "Let's go."

"Thank you, Grandmama," Sam said.

I hesitated. "But shouldn't we be worried about Sebastians group?"

"Oh, you're safe enough with me, young lady," Edna said, and patted her handbag.

"You have a gun?"

"No, I have a phone and common sense. I'm sure you don't know what that is." With that she walked away.

I shuffle-clomped after her. There was the satisfaction of knowing that no matter how embarrassed I was, Edna would be more so by being seen with me. Which shows how very little I knew.It was late afternoon when we stepped out of the kitchen through a mudroom/laundry room. Edna took a straw hat from a row of hooks for herself and handed me a ratty, olive-colored canvas baseball cap. Then she picked up a bottle by the sink and squirted sunscreen into her palm. She gave the bottle to me.

"No, thanks, I don't get sunburned."

"Ha, suit yourself," she said in a way that suggested that she'd be delighted if I sizzled like a chorizo. I put on the sunscreen just in case.

We walked to the back driveway, where a parking area was partially hidden by a fence. The dogs bounded up to us, and I was surprised to see Edna slipping biscuits to them. Probably fattening them up for a night when she wanted barbeque de perros.

The fields were the vivid lime of new spring growth. In the distance I could see a silver ripple of a stream. Looking down the lane, I spotted a brown barn. I was so busy admiring the scene, I didn't notice that Edna had gotten in a dusty green Jeep until she started the engine. I would have pegged Edna for the luxury sedan type.

I hopped into the Jeep. "It's very beautiful here."

"Your powers of observation are dazzling."

I probably would have said something snappy, but I felt snap-impaired. The closest neighbors lived in a small white cottage to the left. It was protected by a vine-covered fence. Oswald's ramshackle shack must be elsewhere on the property.

As we drove to the gate, Edna veered clear of a rider on a roan horse. He was wearing faded jeans and a pale blue shirt, and sat upright in his saddle, one hand loosely holding the reins. I only had a second to see his face under the shadows of his cowboy hat: it was Oswald and he had been gazing right at me. How was it that a man could look so fabulous and yet be such a scoundrel?

Edna glanced my way and I felt as if she was daring me to mention Oswald's name. "Edna, how long have you lived here?"

"Too long," she said tersely. When I asked where her family was from, she named a town that sounded like it was spelled with nothing but x's, z's, and k's.

"How do you spell that, Edna?"

"You can't," she said.

I remembered that a good interviewer asks open-ended questions. "Why don't you tell me a little about your family?" I asked.

"How are Sam and Gabriel related and where are your children?"

"Has no one explained human biology to you, young lady? The boys are cousins in the usual way and my children are off in the world as they should be. Now, may I drive without your incessant chattering?"

We took a road that wound through hills with groves of fruit trees and vineyards. After about thirty minutes, we reached a more urban area. Edna parked in the lot next to a small office building and got out of the Jeep. A sign said LOWER SKY COMMUNITY CLINIC.

She walked to the front door and I shuffle-clomped after her. The lobby was clean and bright plastic chairs lined the wall. "Sit,"