Compared to endless torture by a vengeful pariah Djinn, life with a Vampyre might not be so bad after all.
THREE
Most of Marin Headlands on the Northern Peninsula was federally protected land, given over to the Golden Gate National Recreation Area, but for two major exceptions.
The first was Evenfall, the Nightkind Palace that lay just north of Rodeo Beach, along with a small city of shops and services that clustered around the castle’s stone walls.
The second exception was Xavier del Torro’s estate. According to the directions, the property lay roughly twenty minutes’ drive north of the Nightkind Palace.
After such a sullen start to the day, the sunset turned the sky and ocean into a fiery blaze of color, a canopy of gold, orange and rose arching over water that was almost purple. The last strong strands of sunlight pierced through tall redwood trees that bordered the narrow, winding road, causing blinding patches of dark and light that strobed through her windshield and made driving a challenge.
Light-headed from hunger and the lack of proper rest, she drove carefully, tense from wrists to shoulders. Xavier had not been exaggerating. Once she left the highway, the road had no safety railings and almost no shoulder.
After an intensely uncomfortable trip through the dense forest, the road broke out of the tree line and followed the curving, rocky edge of the coast. The last part of the drive was startlingly beautiful, with the ocean to her left and the forest on her right.
Due to the position of the road as it followed the coastline she saw the estate a few minutes before she came to it. A large, Spanish-style mansion graced the shoreline, with a pigmented stucco facade that was a warm yellow-gold color that seemed to glow in the blaze of the sunset.
The house lay behind a matching wall that barricaded the property from the road for several acres, but even from a distance, she could see glimpses of gracious arches, tile roofing, and large, black-metal framed windows, along with the rooftops of other buildings.
Finally she pulled off the road and onto the short drive, and almost immediately came to a halt by an intercom box in front of huge arched metal gates. As she rolled down her window, a pleasant male voice came over the intercom.
“Good evening. How may I help you?”
“My name is Tess Graham,” she told the unseen man. “Mr. del Torro asked me to come this evening.”
“Of course. We are expecting you. Please follow the drive around the main house and park in the small lot at the side. I will come out to meet you.” With a well-oiled hum, the gates opened.
“Here goes nuthin’, kid,” she muttered. She drove in, and the gates swung smoothly shut behind her, blocking out the world.
That could almost be a comfort, except, well, it wasn’t.
Inside the walls, she got her first real sense of the size of the estate. Several acres of well-tended, emerald green lawn stretched around the main house, which despite its size was gracious rather than ostentatious. Well-placed trees dotted the expanse, along with a variety of bushes and flowers.
She didn’t know the names of the various kinds of foliage, but she could see how everything had been designed to keep the eye flowing from one area to another, like the composition in a painting. Other, smaller buildings were tucked discreetly off to the sides. In her tired mind, details melted into a whirl of jumbled impressions as she followed instructions and drove carefully along the immaculate asphalt drive to the parking lot at the side.
Even as her car rolled to a stop, a man walked out of the house toward her. He was dressed casually in a polo shirt, jeans and dark shoes. While a sprinkle of gray lightened the temples of his short blond hair and his lean, tanned face bore lines at the corners of eyes and mouth, he moved with athletic grace, power and assurance.
She climbed out of the car and turned to face him as he drew closer. As he offered a large, broad hand, she took it, and strong, careful fingers closed briefly over hers.
“Good evening, Ms. Graham. I’m Raoul.”
Xavier had said that Raoul was head of his security. While he wore no visible sign of weaponry, she realized that she looked into the smiling gaze of another dangerous man. “Call me Tess.”
“Sounds good, Tess.” He gestured to her car. “Now, please put your hands on the roof of your car and spread your legs.”
“What?” Her tired mind ground to a halt, and she gaped at him.
He looked polite and entirely relentless. “I’ll need to pat you down. It’s nothing personal, of course. It’s just routine.”
“No problem,” she muttered. “I think.”
Was this okay? What kind of person needed to conduct body searches and car searches, just because you drove onto their property? It wasn’t like Xavier was the president, or even the Nightkind King. But then, what kind of person needed to have a head of security in the first place?