19
THE building sat in the far corner of the dome,
set along charming cobblestone pathways lined with flowering fruit
trees. It was small, unassuming, yet was a beautiful example of
modern architecture. Here Sante had not gone retro. The pointed
roof was all unbreakable glass, reflecting the light of the fake
sun on this lovely fake afternoon. Likely, as all the buildings in
the dome had, there were solar panels embedded in the glass.
Outside the walls of the dome it could have been midnight for all
Daria knew.
The bottom half of the circular structure was
creamy white restao, a building material they frequently
used in the Logos Territories to aid in relieving the excessive
heat. Wide, long windows were placed at regular intervals around
the building. To serve as a transition between the white restao
walls and the glass ceiling was a wooden lattice overhang, from
which cool grapevines twined and lush, vibrantly green potted ferns
hung suspended.
Here, apparently, was Sante’s headquarters within
the dome. Here would be where she and Alejandro would gain coveted
membership in Sante’s inner sanctum.
Sante had sent a messenger to their room that
morning telling them to forgo their work at the factory and to come
here instead. It looked as if they would not be returning to their
daily factory shifts ever again, a fact which made Daria a little
disappointed since she’d never reached her goal of attaining
entrance into the packing room. However, this opportunity might
offer her other ways to snoop.
Hell, who knew? Maybe Sante would show all his
cards to them immediately and they could wrap this gig up. Daria
and Alejandro could take this place down, put Sante in jail, and
she could get on with her immortal, bloodsucking life.
It had been four days since Sante had called Daria
and Alejandro to his home. He’d waited such a long interval to
contact them again she’d begun to worry their chance had somehow
slipped through their fingers. Likely it was just that Sante was a
busy man—people to kill, women to kidnap, slaves to traffic, that
sort of thing.
Carlos stood at the entrance, smoking a long, thin
Darpongese cigarette. The acrid smoke floated a long way on the
normally pure air of the dome, fouling it.
As she and Alejandro approached, Carlos’s mouth
twisted into a bitter not-smile. “For the record, I think it is too
early for you to join us. In fact,” he continued, eyeing Alejandro
from toe to head, “I don’t think some of us should have an in with
Sante at all. It is a privilege and an honor to be accepted into
this building. However, it is Sante who dictates membership, not
I.”
“Well, thanks for letting your preferences be
known,” snapped Daria. “You can be sure I made note of them.”
“Carlos, let them in,” called Sante from the
interior of the structure.
Carlos gave them one last hostile look, then
stepped aside to allow them passage.
They entered the cool, round room. The floor was of
tan stone and covered with large area rugs. Potted plants stood at
various locations, accenting plush, multicolored furniture with
many throw pillows. Doorways led into other rooms at the back, and
a large fountain burbled happily to itself along one wall. The
wooden rafters above their head were home to a few vibrantly
colored birds, which flitted here and there, the soft whirrr
of their wings playing nicely with the sound of the water.
Daria wondered if it bothered the birds to see the
sky above them through the glass ceiling and be forever unable to
reach it. Maybe that amused Sante. It seemed like something that
would.
The great man himself lounged on a bright blue and
orange couch, gazing at them lazily as though he had no cares in
the galaxy. He moved his hand. “Forgive Carlos. He has appointed
himself my watchdog and he can be rabid in his protection of
me.”
Carlos, who had entered after them, didn’t argue
with this assessment. He only took a place at the back of the room
and settled into a gimlet stare at Alejandro. He wore a white
shirt, open at the collar, and had his hand tucked into the pocket
of his beige slacks.
Daria wondered what Carlos had hidden in that
pocket, a knife? Carlos seemed the knife type. A thug. Although he
was such an old Chosen and had amassed so much power over the
years, he could probably kill them where they stood with his bare
hands. Still, Daria bet anything he preferred to use a knife—more
blood that way.
“We understand,” answered Alejandro diplomatically.
Even though she could feel the tension in his body, he sounded
relaxed. His gaze rested on the woman sitting on a nearby chair,
the only other female besides Daria in the room. “Nice to meet
you.”
“This is Eleanor Matthews. She comes to us by way
of Songset. I know her through our shared blood mother,” Sante
introduced. “Eleanor, please meet Valerie and Alejandro.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Eleanor responded, sounding
anything but.
Daria would have speculated that the tall blonde
was the woman Sante was in love with, if she hadn’t recognized her
as one of the inner circle following Sante the night of the party.
She knew her name, in any case. Eleanor Matthews. She’d been in the
file she’d received from the GBC with the information on all of
Sante’s closest Chosen. The ones he wrapped around himself like a
warm blanket. It was true Eleanor shared Sante’s blood mother and
had been with him from the beginning.
Anyway, Sante’s lady wasn’t a moderately aged,
moderately powerful Chosen like Eleanor. She was a succubare, if
Daria’s little trip to Sante’s house that night had given her any
clue. Unless, of course, that woman had just been a snack on the
side. That was always possible.
Daria glanced around the room and searched with her
limited psychic sense to find other bodies in the building, but
came up empty. Damn. She’d hoped to meet the mystery woman
today.
“Please, have a seat,” Sante said, motioning to the
available furniture. “There are refreshments on the table if you
desire something more than blood this morning.”
“Thank you,” answered Alejandro. They sat
down.
Sante motioned to a bright red pitcher holding some
unidentifiable cool drink that sat on a tray on the coffee table.
Red glasses had been lined up on either side. “It’s chilled blood
wine.” Sante frowned. “Some kind of fruit flavoring, I
believe.”
Daria shivered. She was Chosen now, but hadn’t
grown used to all a vampire’s common dietary preferences yet. Blood
wine was sought after in the Chosen community—blood mixed with wine
and flavored with fruit. It was generally a very expensive
refreshment. Something about mixing blood with strawberries or
cherries made Daria’s stomach unhappy.
Alejandro poured himself a glass and she relaxed,
off the hook since one of them imbibed.
“I called you here so you could meet a couple of
the people you may find yourself working with,” said Sante. “I
thought I would put both of you on my staff for community
relations. You’re new around here, so it will give you a chance to
meet people.”
Community relations. That didn’t sound promising.
She’d been hoping he’d appoint them to drug trafficking or
something interesting.
“What exactly does the community relations staff
do?” asked Alejandro.
Eleanor curled her long legs beneath her. “We
organize parties and gatherings. Generally, we promote goodwill
among our residents.”
Holy shuffleboard on the lido deck, they wanted
them to be party planners? Teddy bears, honey making, and goodwill.
What was next? Organized rainbow chasing and bubble-blowing
contests?
Eleanor smiled at Daria. “I see your expression,
Valerie. It will be far more interesting than you think. Keeping
the long-lived and generally jaded Chosen entertained is quite a
trick. You haven’t been here long enough to discover all our
various gatherings.”
“Valerie and Alejandro, my pet,” Sante broke in,
“are sadly monogamous. There will be no playing for them.”
Oh.
Eleanor eyed not Alejandro with regret, but Daria.
She made a moue with her rosy lips. “What a pity. Well, give them a
hundred years of the missionary position with only one partner and
they might change their tune.”
“Eleanor, don’t push,” Sante said in a reproving
tone.
She studied Daria. “But that still shouldn’t stop
you from helping organize the fetes, correct?”
Daria didn’t like the predatory look in her eyes,
as though Eleanor might be inclined to try and change her mind on
the issue. There would be no changing her mind, ever.
“Of course not,” Alejandro answered for them.
Daria nodded her assent. “We’d be happy to help
out.” They had no good reason to decline and, at this point, they
had to take what was offered. “It sounds . . . fun.”
“It’s a lot of work,” Sante broke in. “We take the
happiness of the residents very seriously. Bored Chosen are
dangerous Chosen.”
Why did that statement seem so ironic coming from
his mouth?
“All members of the board of directors, as they’re
called, are in charge of various things here at the Shining Way,”
continued Sante. “I switch members around sometimes, so you won’t
be doing this forever.”
“What is Carlos in charge of?” Daria couldn’t help
asking. It just flew right out of her mouth.
Sante smiled wolfishly. “Security.”
Color her surprised.
“Do you think we could get a formal tour of the
dome?” Daria asked. “We’ve been here a couple of weeks, but we
still feel like we haven’t seen it all.”
They would see only what Sante wanted them to see,
but who knew what they might glimpse by chance? Who knew what new
bit of information a tour might yield? Anything to break their
consistent run of bad luck would be welcome, no matter how
small.
Sante mulled that over for a moment. “I can have
someone show you around, yes.”
Movement drew their attention to the back of the
building. The scent of the individual reached her before she caught
a glimpse of the woman’s multicolored gown—a succubare.
The woman bustled through the doorway, and Daria’s
heart stopped for a moment. Her vision blurred and it took every
ounce of her will to not show her utter and complete
surprise.
Ari Templeton.