"I guess it shows he cares."

"Cares a lot," Windy said. "You ask me, he's in love with you." She glanced to the side. "Here he comes. Don't tell him I said that, okay?"

Feeling a tightness in her throat, Dana smiled at the girl.

Warren placed an open can of beer in front of Dana, then climbed over the bench and sat down beside her.

"Thanks for the brew," she said, and put a hand on his back.

He leaned sideways, bumping her gently. Then he said, "You're going to be late for the movie if you don't start eating."

"I had to wait for you."

"I'm here. Eat."

She took a large bite out of her cheeseburger, moaning with pleasure as the flavors flooded her mouth.

"Tell you what," Windy said. "Why don't you both go to the movie?"

"That's a great idea," Rhonda agreed.

Warren shook his head. "I can't leave you two with all this mess."

"We insist," Windy said. "Besides, Lynn'll be along in a little while and give us a hand."

"That's awfully nice of you, but..."

"It's no big deal," Windy said.

"We insist," said Rhonda.

"If it'll make you feel better, you can do our share of the cleanup next week."

"Well, in that case..."

"We accept your offer," Dana said. "And thank you. That's very nice."

"You'd better get going," Windy said.

"Take your food with you," Rhonda suggested. "You can eat and drink as you walk."

"Wanta?" Warren asked Dana.

"Fine with me."

Leaving their plates on the table, they picked up their burgers and beers. Then they climbed clear of the bench. On their way around the table, they both thanked Windy and Rhonda again.

As they hurried toward the gate, Rhonda called, "See you later."

"See you," Dana called back.

"Be good," Rhonda advised.

Windy elbowed her. "Don't tell them that."

The two girls laughed.

"Don't be good," Rhonda called.

"Be great!" shouted Windy.

Chapter Fifty-two.

THE HAUNTED PALACE.

When Owen arrived at the theater with Vein and Darke, the marquee was dark, the ticket booth empty. But the lobby lights were on. Through the glass door, Owen saw a Beast House guide standing alone on the red carpet, staring out at them.

The big, smirky-looking guy.

The muscle-bound jerk.

God's gift to women.

Clyde.

He strolled over to the door and opened it. "Midnight tourists?" he asked, a cigarette jerking between his lips.

Owen tapped a finger against the badge pinned to his chest. Clyde nodded at it, then glanced at Darke. She dipped fingers into a breast pocket of her black silk shirt, drew out her red badge and showed it to him.

"And how about you?" he asked Vein.

After leaving the men's restroom at Beast House, she had zipped up her leather jacket. Now, she skidded the zipper down and pulled her jacket wide open.

Clyde grinned around his cigarette. "Ah," he said. "There it is. Please come in."

They entered the lobby.

Though Clyde couldn't seem to take his eyes off Vein's chest, he made no lewd or suggestive comments.

Probably afraid of us, Owen thought.

Clyde seemed large and strong enough to handle all three of them at once, but Owen figured he must be creeped out-at least a tittle-by Vein and Darke.

"The show'll be starting in just a few minutes," he said. "Feel free to wait out here in the lobby, if you like. Or you can go in and choose your seats." As if addressing only Vein, he said, "My name's Clyde. I'm one of the Beast House tour guides."

"Will you be our guide tonight?" Vein asked.

"Not tonight. That'll be Lynn Tucker."

"Pity," Vein said.

"I'm only the projectionist for tonight." He tapped some ash from his cigarette. "But I work Wednesday through Sunday at Beast House."

"Maybe we'll see each other again," Vein said.

Clyde grinned and nodded.

"That wasn't a come-on," Darke told him. "That was a threat."

Clyde stood taller and his eyes narrowed. "Maybe you three had better go in and take your seats."

Vein pursed her black lips and kissed the air. "It's been a slice, dahhhling." To Owen and Darke, she said, "Come along, dears."

They followed her into the theater auditorium. Overhead lights were on, illuminating two aisles, row upon row of empty red seats, a slim edge of stage and an enormous white movie screen.

Sitting near the middle of the second row were Dennis and Arnold. They looked over their shoulders and waved.

"Dudes!" called Dennis.

"Greetings!" called Arnold.

"Children of the night!"

"Vampires rule!"

Vein bared her teeth at them.

"Whoa!"

"Awesome!"

"How you doing, guys?" Owen called.

"Flyin' high, dude!"

"Top notch!"

Darke stuck out her tongue and wiggled it at them.

Dennis hooted.

Arnold squealed.

Then Vein pulled her jacket off, swung it over one shoulder, and started striding down the aisle.

Dennis and Arnold stared at her, struck silent.

Vein stopped a few rows back from the guys. "In here," she said to Owen and Darke. She sidestepped toward the middle of the row. Owen went in next, followed by Darke. Arriving at the seat she wanted, Vein spread her leather jacket across its back. Then she turned toward the watching boys. "It promises to be a most interesting night," she said to them. Writhing, she slid her tongue across her lips and gave her left breast a slow massage through her bra. "See you later, dahhhlings," she said, and sank down into her seat.

Dennis and Arnold turned toward the screen.

Vein grinned. Darke laughed softly. Owen sat between them, feeling a little nervous but also, strangely, very safe. As if he'd found himself a couple of spectacular body guards-weird, maybe, but his.

It seemed more like some sort of wild dream.

A great dream.

After so many things going so badly, to be followed into the men's room by these two bizarre, incredible strangers...

Did we really do all that?

Damn straight, he thought, and smiled. He could feel the reality of it all over his body.

They aren't exactly strangers anymore.

Turning his head, he looked at Darke. She was staring forward, her eyes half-shut.

How could I ever think she was a guy?

She looked at him. A corner of her mouth tilted slightly.

Then she leaned toward him, reached over the chair arm that separated them, and gently took hold of his hand.

His heart raced. His mouth went dry.

This is crazy, he thought.

She's holding my band like a normal girl.

But the feel of a girl's hand hadn't made Owen feel like this in a very long time. Not since he was thirteen, he supposed. Thirteen and holding Nancy Farrow's hand...

"Is this row all right with you, professor?"

Monica's voice.

It gave Owen a sudden sick feeling.

Darke's hand tightened its grip.

"Lady's choice," Bixby said, his voice booming at its usual volume.