Born Into Love (2 page)

Tonight no moon b
ore witness. He lay down. Damp grass cooled his skin, heated now by the immediacy of warm blood. Naked and wanting a woman, his senses grew keener. The soil was rich, the pasture pungent. He stretched out and remembered nights when the icy orb gazed down at him.

What was
the difference between them? A question he’d asked before. A familiar answer. Nothing. He and the moon were both dead.

When
he reached his mansion, it was dark. He waited in the foyer off the pool but this was not his usual custom. Luz should have met him to hold his robe as he refreshed what she called “his outfit.” If he transformed while clothed, the unseen molecules seemed to wait until he reverted to human form. He had no one to ask about this strange thing, since the only other vampire perished at his hands. He found his silk robe in the closet by himself and secured it with a sash. “Luz, where are you?” Her key turned the front door lock. “How is it I am home before my housekeeper?”

“Diego. Don’t be mad. These are wild times. More bizarre than the Boozing Thirties.”

“Roaring Twenties. Where have you been?”

“I went with surfers I met at the end of the boardwalk.”

“And you took?”

“Beer.”

“And?”

“I got sick.”

“Foolish creature. Look at me.”

“I am afraid, Master.”

“If you leave the house unattended for a long period of time, it will place our centuries-old contract in jeopardy.”

“What if you ask me to go on an errand?”

“As you well know that is quite a different situation.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Answer the calls on the machine. Check the faxes. I want a report in an hour.”

She scampered into
his library wearing shoes that made her teeter like the champagne-loving European women who so long ago came to him and never lived to tell.

Now that
he had fed, his body was stronger, yet not as fortified as it could be. His powers had diminished for cows did not give sufficient nutriments. Their pleasant blood lacked the kick offered by human sustenance. With human blood, he became pure beast. However, these days, he was less noxious to himself. Would he be less odious to his lovely neighbor?

* * *

From
the upper window he spied Mercedes sitting alone at the end of the pier, her hair swallowed by the night. Had she no sense? The beach was not without danger. Besides, it was damp. Wasn’t it true that women did not like to get their hair wet unless they were washing it?

He should
leave her alone. Luz had sensed something he had not. But. . . he was weary of his life. Tired of sometimes reading minds, bending wills, and existing on the blood of others. When he transformed, often he was aware that he was both man and beast and the knowledge added to his pain.

At times, despite
his attempt to shut down his supernormal abilities, he glimpsed a person’s soul. Not only was Mercedes named for mercy, but something in her eyes made him hope she would share it.

He
would not sneak up on her or transport. That would be melodramatic. He fiddled with several of the tiny pier lanterns bolted to the pilings to alert her. The I-beams of the foundation had been sunk into bedrock, strong enough to resist the persistent force and drag of the Atlantic. Her arched back told him she sensed another presence, but his neighbor did not, would not turn.

“You’re after something. What do you want?” she asked as if questioning the wind.

The breeze nibbled her words, but he understood. He played righteous citizen. “This pier belongs to hard-working, tax-paying residents, correct?”

“Yes.”

“I like to look at the ocean. I won’t bother you.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

“Why the harsh tone?”

She crossed her feet at the ankle. “Seriously, what do you want?”

The tail of her long shirt, he guessed it was muslin, touched her upper thighs. He approved of soft summer fabrics.

“You haven’t answered my question.”

Diego rallied much as he did when he fought his way out of battles. “My brother and I sailed when we were young. We crossed the Atlantic and swam in the Pacific. When I sit out here, I think of him. If I bother you, I can leave, but I am curious what pull the ocean has on you.”

She faced
him and an onshore gust ran through her hair. “I don’t have a tale to tell.”

He
took the opportunity to move closer. “My curiosity has the better of me. I still want to know what brings you into the night.” Had she been waiting for him?

“I jogged. Now I’m thinking about private matters.” She raised a hand to quell her flying locks. “I don’t really like the ocean. I’ve had nightmares about being over the Mariana Trench. Serves me right for watching so many documentaries.”

“That is a lot of water.” She didn’t laugh but her shoulders softened. A good sign.

“Your picture’s in the newspaper, Mr. Castilla.”

“Against my will.” He wanted to tell her that tonight and other nights he left the house to walk the shores or to swim because he was chased by loneliness. But confessing such a thing would be what Luz called a downer. His neighbor angled her body in his direction.

“Why aren’t you happy?” she asked.

Diego quelled his surprise. “Too much work. Never should have brought the fax. Technology is everywhere.”

“A curse. Don’t you have a secretary?”

“I have Luz. She lives with me, but is not entirely efficient.”

“Is she your significant other?”

Luckily he was familiar with this term. “No. We are related by blood.”

“It’s h
ard to fire family.”

He sat
next to Mercedes, not touching, but close enough to have her scent waft over him, a sweet fragrance deeper than that of the purple orchids that had clung to a vine in the rain forest. What a conversational plus not to have to ask Mercedes’ astrological sign! Those days had not passed quickly enough. “What do you do?” An overused question, but an acceptable ice-breaker.

“I’m starting as an intern at the Pascuas Museum in New York. My great aunt supported their efforts. It’s a trial run.”
Her hand fluttered to her neck. “I’m career hopping. I used to work for a big corporation in the city.”

“You have completed your Masters?”

“Not yet.”

“I know the Pascuas. I’m on the board.”

In a swift movement he admired, she stood. He kept his gaze on her delightful face. “You are leaving?” Too distracted by her appeal, he stated the obvious and felt a fool.

“No longer
enough starlight. How could I spot a rogue wave on a night like this?”

“If you like, I will walk you to your door. There might be creeps around.” She laughed the sound soft and throaty. Encouraged,
he continued. “You are free to use my pool. The deepest end is only sixteen feet.”

“Thank you. That depth sounds bearable. It’s volumes of water and the image of me floating on top that gives me the shakes.”

When they reached her door Diego extended pool privileges to her sister.

“How do you know Annie?”

“I saw another woman staying at the house. There’s a family resemblance.”

“She’s shorter and really pregnant.”

“You could address your fear of the deep by coming for a ride on my yacht.”

“No.”

He shrugged. “The offer stands. If you get up your nerve, let me know. The ocean can be merciless, but also fun.” In the cone of light issued from the lamp of her beachfront door, Diego studied her face. She showed no fear of him or rejection, merely registered a distraction brought on by thoughts of her sister. “I won’t take you over any abyssal canyons.”

She rested her hand on the doorknob. “Good. That would be very ungentlemanly.”

“Yes.” He walked away wishing she would follow. The moment Diego entered his house Luz’s voice poked holes in his fantasies.

“There’s a glitch. Remember that really old crate from the castle vault?”

“No.”

“Well, somebody got their wires crossed and sent it. Do you want the shipment to go to the exhibit? I can get rid of the crawlies, repack it, make it presentable for the museum.”

“If the contents are artifacts, they must be included in the exhibit. They must join the other items being returned to Peru. I assume we have the appropriate papers?”

“We took care of that formality centuries ago.”

“I want to shed any reminders of the days when I raged. After this exhibit closes and the pieces reach the Pascuas Segundo in Lima, I will no longer be a collector. I will have left behind that part of my past.”

“But Master, we keep replicas.”

“That is true, but they are like me. I am a replica of the human I once was, a different thing entirely.”

“Yes, Master. The other crates are on their way to the museum. I’ll tell the curator to expect a surprise addition. One more thing. Should I wait
for your delivery from South America?”

She referred to
his supply of canned cow’s blood. “No. I will handle it.”

“You haven’t slept today.”

“Go to bed. I can take care of myself.”

“So you say. I am gone.”

Diego watched her hop up the carpeted stairs to her bedroom probably stepping to a rock tune. It had been ages since he slept above ground. Restless from too much solitude, he returned to the deck that faced the ocean. Traveling with Mercedes on his yacht must soon become something real. Tomorrow at the market he would see her in sunlight. If he could learn the color of her eyes, the painful rays would mean nothing.