Ghostland (31 page)

Aisling nodded her understanding and acceptance. She had to settle for telling Zurael she was paying a debt incurred and would see him in the morning.

Only when they got to the Bay Bridge and San Francisco loomed ahead of them did her nervousness return like a gust of icy wind. Suddenly references to the Master took on chilly meaning, as did the clothing Marcus wore—clothes centuries upon centuries out of style.

He slowed to a stop at the guard booth.

“Authorization!” the guard barked.

“Certainly.”

Marcus pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to the guard, but not before Aisling saw the green of printed money held firmly to the back of the paper.

The guard slid the bills into his sleeve as he held the paper underneath a scanner. When the scanner beeped, he returned the paper to Marcus.

“Everything is in order. By law I must remind you that under the terms of the compact between Oakland and San Francisco, the bridge closes from dusk until dawn.”

As soon as they pulled away from the booth, Aisling said, “Marcus, do you serve a vampire?”

Thirteen

“YES, miss, I serve a vampire. But unless you do something exceedingly foolish, which I can’t imagine you doing even on such short acquaintance, your physical safety is guaranteed.”

Aisling rubbed icy palms against her pants. A hundred questions crowded her thoughts, raced through her mind with the pounding of her heart.

In astral form she’d felt the presence of a vampire a couple of times, but she’d never seen one, never spoken to one, either in a corporeal form or a non-corporeal one. What she knew of them was gained from gossip and books, from exaggerated tales and the faded memories of the elderly people who visited with Geneva.

“How long have you served him?” Aisling asked.

Marcus glanced at her as they reached the mid-span of the bridge. “Several hundred years.”

Aisling gaped. She studied his face, thinking maybe he had a subtle sense of humor.

He caught her looking at him and asked, “Where did you live before Oakland?”

“On a farm outside of Stockton.”

“Ah, that explains it then. There are very few vampires in that area. It’s human-dominated, nontalented and heavily influenced by organized religion as I recall. I’ll hazard a guess and say you’ve never spent any time in the company of vampires.”

“I’ve never met one,” she admitted.

“Well then, if you don’t mind my offering a little advice, just treat the vampires you’ll meet tonight the way you’d treat any other client. Vampires understand business transactions, and for humans, it’s safer not to mix business affairs with social ones. Once that line is crossed, expectations change and things become a bit trickier to navigate.

“They don’t tend to like idle conversation and they won’t appreciate any questions not pertaining to the task you’re to do for them. I can’t speak for vampires elsewhere, but the ones who claim San Francisco adhere to strict codes of privacy and silence. I’ll mention to the Master where you’ve come from. He’ll pass the word on discreetly, though it’s probably unnecessary. They won’t expect you to understand even the rudimentary rules of their society.”

“Thank you, Marcus.”

He reached over and gave her hand a pat. “You’ll do just fine, miss.”

“Aisling.”

He chuckled. “The Master would have my heart if I was so informal with you while I’m serving as guard and chauffer.”

“Marcus, have you really served him for several centuries?”

“Yes indeed.”

“You’re not a vampire.”

“No. I’m not sure I’d want to take that step even if the Master thought I’d earned the privilege of being offered a place in his family beyond servant.” He glanced at Aisling. “I’ll not say too much about it, but given your line of work, I think you can understand how tricky it is for a soul not to get caught up in moving on to what comes after dying. Sometimes the body restarts but it’s just a husk that has to be destroyed before something else takes up residence in it. Other times there’s no flicker of life after the heart stops the first time. The blood is just not strong enough to get it going again.

“So many don’t make it through the change. But I imagine that’s the way it’s supposed to be. The world would be overrun with vampires if every person lived through it. And some family lines have a better rebirth rate than others.”

Aisling looked out the window as the city approached. She could guess the nature of the service she would be required to perform but she didn’t want to examine it too closely. “Did you know the San Francisco shaman?”

Marcus snorted. “A piece of work that one was. More ego than talent, but some ability is better than none. That’s what kept him alive, though as far as I know none of the most powerful families used him. Didn’t want him capitalizing on their name, I suspect.

“I don’t know the ins and outs of it and I’m not asking you to elaborate, but even vampire servants talk. They whisper the Church brought you here and you survived whatever task they set you to—where their own shaman didn’t. You’ll do just fine with the vampires. Give them honest work and they won’t hold the outcome against you if it doesn’t turn out the way they hoped. Like I said earlier, they understand business.”

“You gave the guard money so you could bring me to San Francisco without anyone knowing it,” Aisling guessed.

Marcus chuckled. “Exactly right. The Master could easily have arranged authorization for you to cross the bridge, but he prefers to keep his affairs private.”

The car left the bridge and entered the city. The silence settled around them like a comfortable blanket as Aisling took in her surroundings. Unlike Oakland, here she saw no burned-out buildings or charred vehicle remains. There were large gaps where buildings had once stood, but they were free of rubble. Residences and shops stood side by side on some streets but were completely separated on others.

Marcus slowed and turned. “This is Telegraph Hill. The Master’s ancestors settled here in the eighteen hundreds, back when they were all fully human. They’ve kept a presence here ever since.”

At the bottom of the hill the houses were small and packed together. As they climbed, there were fewer houses. And those were hidden behind stone walls or dense, high hedges.

Near the crest of the hill Marcus turned into a driveway. The heavy gates swung open to reveal a huge house. As he drove around to the back, he said, “The Master’s old-fashioned. Servants and tradesmen have their own entrance. It’s the same way with the powerful families, only they’ve got an entrance set aside for petitioners, too.”

Marcus braked to a stop. “Now, you stay put. It’s only fitting I open the door for you given your special talent.”

Aisling caught herself smiling. Even after her experience in the library—trusting Cassandra only to realize later the librarian was probably spying for the police or guardsmen—when it came to Marcus, suspicion couldn’t gain any purchase. She liked and trusted him, which made entering a vampire’s lair an adventure rather than a nightmare.

The furnishings were old-fashioned, the halls dim. Heavy drapes covered the windows in the rooms they passed.

The hallway ended in a T. Marcus pointed to the left, where a doorway stood open at the end. “When you get hungry, that’s the kitchen. Cook knows to expect you. There’s an eating nook there or you can do like most of us do and eat at the counter if it suits you.”

They turned to the right, then right again at the next hallway. Halfway down he paused in front of a door and opened it. “These are your quarters.”

Marcus stepped aside, allowing Aisling to go in first. He followed and indicated a pull cord. “If you need something, tug on this and a maid will come.”

Aisling barely heard him. Her attention was riveted to the television set. “Does it work?”

“Yes indeed. We get local stations as well as the national news feeds. Cook will make you up a tray if you decide you want to stay in your room and watch television.”

“I may just do that,” Aisling said, barely able to contain her excitement. She turned to Marcus and touched his arm. “Thank you for making this easy for me.”

Marcus doffed his hat. His face reddened with a blush. “My pleasure, miss. I’ll be back to fetch you when the Master’s ready to see you. It looks like you’ll be content to stay put. It’d be best if you didn’t go exploring.”

“I won’t go any farther than the kitchen.”

“Good. I’ll leave you then.”

Time passed in a whirl of changing scenes as Aisling watched TV. She hadn’t realized how starved she was for information until it was there for her to consume. At home the radio was often on as they went about their chores. And from time to time, Geneva traded for television parts and got the set in the living room running, but even so, the choice of programs seemed as limited as the life span of the TV.

Dinnertime came and went without her noticing, until a knock on the door revealed a portly woman in a cook’s apron carrying a tray of food. “Marcus said I should bring this to you. The Master’s awake. He’s got to take his sustenance yet.” Cook’s eyes strayed to the bed. “And sometimes that leads to a bit of a delay if you get my meaning. But you best be eating dinner and getting ready to be summoned. Marcus will be around when the Master wants to see you.”

Aisling thanked the cook and took the tray of food. After she ate, she put on the same long, modestly designed black dress she’d been given to wear the night Father Ursu brought her to Oakland.

It didn’t look the same on her. When she’d worn it before, she’d felt lonely, diminished, helpless and frightened. But tonight, its stark simplicity seemed to emphasize her blond hair and the blue of her eyes.

“Ready, miss?” Marcus asked from the doorway, making her blush at having been so absorbed in studying her image that she hadn’t heard him enter.

The furnishings grew more elegant as they moved from the servants’ area to the one that housed the Master and his family. Aisling would have loved to ask Marcus questions, but she took her cue from him and remained silent.

Finally he stopped and ushered her into a sitting room done in dark red velvet. It graced the walls, the sofa and chairs, hung in front of the windows in heavy folds.

“Well, come closer, girl,” a cranky voice said, drawing her eye to a wrinkled old man sitting in deep shadow in an overstuffed chair. He motioned with his hand. “Come on, girl. I’m not going to bite you, not on first acquaintance anyway.”

Aisling obeyed. Her heart pounded, more from uncertainty than fear. The vampire in front of her wasn’t anything like she’d imagined.

He thumped his walking stick on the hardwood floor, and she grew apprehensive that he could read her mind when he said, “You think every vampire gets turned in the prime of life?”

“I believe you’re the first she’s ever met, sir,” Marcus said from the doorway. “Until recently she’s lived in the Stockton area.”

“Primitive, backwater place.” The Master rose from his chair with the aid of his stick. “They still unenlightened there, girl?”

“They fear supernaturals and don’t welcome humans with otherworldly gifts.”

The Master snorted. “Place has been an armpit for centuries.” His gaze traveled over her, taking in the dress before lifting to spear Aisling with shrewd eyes. “You’ll do nicely, I think.” He switched his attention to Marcus.

Marcus said, “The car is ready, sir.”

“Good, good.” The Master thumped his walking stick against the floor twice to punctuate his words. “Let’s get going then. Can’t keep Draven waiting.”

The old man moved like a young man despite his frail appearance. He strode down the hall—the walking stick an accessory and not a necessity—and forced Aisling to hurry in order to catch up with him.

A dozen questions came to mind, piling one on top of the other until she shook her head to still them before climbing into the back of a long, sleek, gray limousine and taking a seat across from the Master. Curiosity kept her fear at bay as Marcus drove them to an estate surrounded by walls. But it returned with a rush when she saw the emblem carved on the heavy metal gates. A serpent held an apple in its mouth. From a point behind its head to just before the tip of its tail, the three segments of its S-shaped body were impaled by an arrow.

“You recognize the symbol?” the Master asked.

“It belongs to the ruling vampire family in San Francisco.”

“Quite so.” His eyes caught and held hers. He leaned forward abruptly and warned, “The Tassone aren’t a family to cross. Remember that.”

She nodded because it seemed to be expected of her. Then the car was stopping and Marcus was there, opening the door.

From the darkness two men appeared out of nowhere, their arrival so stealthy Aisling knew they were both vampires. Without a word they escorted Aisling and the Master into the house, one guard in front and one behind.

Incredible wealth met Aisling wherever she looked. Artwork graced the walls. Figurines adorned the polished wood surfaces of antique furniture, while larger statues, many of then on pedestals, served as focal points. But it was the library they passed that made her breath catch and her steps slow for an instant.

“Draven will see you now,” the vampire leading them said, stopping at an open doorway.

The vampire seated behind the desk was everything Aisling imagined one would look like, and it was clear why once they’d been confused with incubi and succubi. He made her think of sex as his blue eyes mesmerized and held her in place until turning to the Master.

“You both may have a seat,” Draven said, indicating two chairs placed in front of his desk.

“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Draven.” The Master’s voice was deferential.

“You’re here with a petition.” The statement didn’t hold even the slightest hint of interest.