CHAPTER 13

“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.