The Dragon DelaSangre

Chapter 14

"Why don't you just kill him?" Elizabeth says, when she feels me stir next to her in the morning.

Her words jar me from that state of half-sleep, that warm dreamy place our minds occupy when we first resist the necessity of awakening. I stretch and yawn and try to delay answering-Jorge Santos an unwelcome presence in my thoughts.

I would prefer that Elizabeth half doze beside me, but she turns over and says, "Why don't you?"

The last vestige of sleep escapes me. I sigh. "Jorge Santos is simply a human who doesn't know when to stop pestering me. When we get back to Miami, I'll meet with him, answer a few of his stupid questions and send him on his way. That will be the end of it."

"I don't understand," she says. "You say he's only a human. Why bother with him at all?"

Why indeed? I think. One simple phone call to Arturo would ensure the man's rapid disappearance and demise. But what I can't tell Elizabeth is that I possess no appetite to eliminate Maria's brother.

Had the girl just been prey, had Maria been as anonymous to me as the hundreds of others I've killed over the years, I would give her and her brother no thought. But she had laughed in my arms and I had resolved to let her live and then I had failed her. If Jorge Santos is stupid enough to trespass on my property and Arturo kills him-so be it. Otherwise, the least I can do for the girl is to meet with her brother, steer him away from me.

"We'll see what happens," I say. "If he continues to be an irritant after the meeting-then I'll follow your advice."

I'm anxious to leave, to be on the way home. I want to walk the corridors of my house again, sleep in my own bed with my new bride beside me. I miss the sea breeze, the ocean's constant song outside my windows. I ache to cruise Biscayne Bay in my Grady White, show Elizabeth the dolphins racing alongside our bow. But when she asks me to stay another day-so she can spend some last moments with her sister and mother-I have no heart to refuse.

Her father finds me on his veranda in the late afternoon, warming myself in the rays of the waning sun. Charles Blood has retained his natural state while I've changed into my human form. The elder dragon towers over me. "Lost track of your wife already, have you?" he asks.

"She's upstairs with her sister." I smile, knowing Charles has to be perfectly cognizant of my ability to sense where Elizabeth is at all times. Though the image is, at best, obscure, I picture her upstairs with Chloe, both of them in their human states. Both I guess giggling and whispering, talking of her future.

I'm conscious of Elizabeth's whereabouts and well-being in almost the same way as I know the placement and condition of each of my limbs. This, I think, must be what Elizabeth's mother meant when she said we'd always be connected. We may no longer share the intimacy of our thoughts, but we still share a permanent awareness of each other.

"Actually, I'm glad to find you without her. I wanted to have a word with you before you take her away from us," Charles says.

I cock an eyebrow, wait to hear what he wants to say.

"For some reason, when it comes to our people, you've been given a regrettably inadequate education. " He motions with a taloned paw, as if to wave away the statement. "But that has to do with the past. What's important here is that you understand what you have on your hands."

"Which would be?" I ask, reminding myself that this is my bride's father, resisting my impulse to turn my back on his lecture.

"Which would be Elizabeth," he says, staring at me with his cold green eyes. "I know what our young men do and I have no doubt that you're well-experienced with human women. But what you have now is a woman of the blood. She may belong to you, but don't think for one minute that she'll be controlled by you.…"

"Father said our women can be impetuous and headstrong. "

Charles laughs. "Especially your bride. Of all my children, she takes after her mother the most. You can take this from one who's lived with it. There are times it's like bedding with a tiger." His tone turns stem. "But it's your responsibility to make sure she doesn't bring harm on herself. I want you to know I expect that from you."

I nod and promise him that he doesn't have to worry. Yet, after he leaves, I wonder just how I'm supposed to control this supposedly half-wild creature.

The next morning, Derek wakes us by honking his car's horn. By the time I've finished dressing, he's honked three more times. Elizabeth, in her human form, naked, still lounging under the sheets, sighs, and says, "I haven't even finished packing. Please go outside and keep the fool company. Tell him I'll be down soon."

"Soon?" I say, having already learned that, for my bride, soon can be measured in anything from minutes to hours.

She shrugs, gives me an innocent look. "Not too long. I promise."

I find Elizabeth's parents and younger brother, in their natural states, basking in the morning sunlight on the veranda by the front door, waiting to say their good-byes. Chloe in her human form-barefoot and adorable, in cutoff jeans and a skimpy red halter top held up by two thin straps tied behind her neck-sits on the hood of the Land Rover. She waves and jumps off when she sees me.

Derek, also in human form, sitting in the car, the engine running, the windows down, frowns, glances at his watch. "Damn it, old man, it's bad enough I have to run you two all the way to the coast. Do you have to keep me waiting like a common taxi? The least you could do is let me leave in time to make it home before dark."

"Don't pay any attention to him," Chloe says, running up to me. She kisses me on the cheek, straining on the tips of her toes to reach. "Derek's just jealous that Elizabeth's getting to leave before he can."

"Elizabeth said she'll be down soon," I say.

"I've heard that before," Derek says.

Chloe giggles, and grabs my hand. "Come to the stables with me while you wait. I'll show you my horse."

I let her tug me along.

"Do you see many movies?" she asks. "TV shows? What books do you like?"

My answers just invite more questions. Smiling at her interrogation, I find myself wishing we could bring this girl home with us. Of all the members of Elizabeth's family, my bride included, this girl seems to have the most curiosity, the most willingness to experience human things.

"I named him Atticus," Chloe says at the stable as she leads a small white horse out of its stall. She giggles. "Pa asked why. I told him I named him after someone gentle and Pa said, "But you never knew anyone by that name" You see, Pa doesn't like me to read very much. I didn't have the heart to tell him I named him after the lawyer in To Kill a Mockingbird.

"You read it, didn't you?" Chloe says.

I nod and she rewards me with a wide grin, then leaps on the horse, riding him bareback, nudging him forward with her bare brown feet, walking him beside me as we head back to the house.

As we approach, Elizabeth, now downstairs, waves from the veranda. I wave back, grinning at the sight of my bride in her human form standing in the midst of three dragons, each one, even her younger brother, towering over her. But then I notice the single leather suitcase and small, wooden box placed on the floor beside her.

"Is that all she's bringing?" I ask.

"That's all she has," Chloe says. "Here at Morgan's Hole, we don't have much need for large wardrobes."

"And the box?"

"Seeds and herbs. Mum wanted her to bring them so she can start her own garden."

I nod, thinking of my mother's garden back on Blood Key, thinking how good it will be to see someone care for it again.

Once we're in the car and on the way, I tell Elizabeth, "I think we'll get you some new things as soon as we get to Montego Bay."

Chloe insists on riding her horse alongside our car. She keeps pace with us, leaning forward on her horse, urging him to go faster, moving in unison with him as if she were melded into his back. She waves her farewell only after we reach the pass out of Morgan's Hole.

Elizabeth waves back. "I'll miss her," she says, frowning. She turns her attention to the passing scenery and says nothing more, quite clearly lost in her thoughts. Derek also makes the trip in silence.

Just before he leaves us at the marina at Oyster Bay, Derek presses a piece of paper into my hand. "Claypool and Sons-our agents in Kingston, old man," he says. "Pa said to remind you that is where to send the gold you promised." He drives away without a word to his sister.

My impulse is to prepare to leave immediately. Only the knowledge that Elizabeth lacks the proper papers stops me from rushing us away.

I rent a convertible the next morning, take Elizabeth north to Montego Bay. The stores and crowds of tourists leave her wide-eyed and openmouthed and I find myself smiling at her behavior, taking vicarious pleasure from her reactions to a world that's fresh and new to her. "Wait until you see Miami," I tell her.

Elizabeth darts into every store we pass, tries on almost everything she can. By early afternoon she's bought enough new clothes to fill two more suitcases. When I insist we stop shopping and seek out a photographer-to arrange for ID pictures of Elizabeth to be expressed to Jeremy Tindall's office in Miami-she pouts, but finally humors me.

"This way," I explain, "by the time we leave Jamaica, you'll be an American citizen."

She's less tolerant afterward, when we stop at a bookstore and I spend a half-hour selecting five paperback books. "What do you want those for?" she asks.

"I like to read them."

Elizabeth shakes her head. "I tried to read one once but it bored me. Chloe gets Derek to buy them for her. Pa doesn't like it… He says, "Why bother? They're just stupid stories about humans. I think he's right."

Back at the boat that night, she shakes her head again, when I tell her I don't want her to go hunting. "In a few days," I say. "After Tindall sends your papers back and we put to sea. Then we can hunt every night, feed as much as you want."

"But I'm hungry now…"

"And we have meat in the freezer. This isn't Cockpit Country. There are lights here. People have powerful guns. You have to be more careful around civilization."

Elizabeth sulks but accepts a defrosted steak, nibbles at it, leaves it half finished. "I'm going to bed," she says, and goes to the cabin without waiting for me to accompany her.

I join her later, lie down beside her, pull her toward me. She wiggles away and I accept her rejection.

Later that night I awake to find the bed empty beside me. I sense that she's miles away, on a hunt, and think of her father's words. Once again I wonder-if she won't listen to me, how can I hope to protect her?

Elizabeth seems content to hunt and feed at night, sleep through most of each day. I refuse to accompany her, continue to ask her to stop until we're away from land. She ignores me but, as a good mate, returns with her prey each evening to share with me.

Some nights she carries her fresh kill to the boat; other nights she lures men home and slays them below deck, in the salon. "Human men are so easy," she says. "They'll follow me anywhere, do anything I ask if they think it will lead to sex."

While I frown at her, scold her for the risks she's taking, I neither turn down the fresh meat she brings me nor the lovemaking she offers after we feed.

I watch her sometimes as she sleeps, marvel at her innocent countenance, wonder at her seeming contentment. Even when Elizabeth awakens, late in the afternoon, she moves about the boat with the same fluid motion, the same air of absolute indifference to her surroundings cats possess. She rarely bothers engaging me in conversation.

"Don't you want to know more about me?" I ask her one night before we surrender to sleep. "Isn't there more about you, you want to tell me?"

She shakes her head and sighs. "Why do you always want to talk about everything? We have plenty of time for all that, Peter. Why not just enjoy each day we spend here? They don't have to be anything more than they are."

But the hours go by too slowly for me. I pace the deck, worry about each new person who approaches the docks. I call Jeremy Tindall the next morning, demanding to know where the papers are.

"For Christ's sake, Peter," Tindall snarls. "My youngest son Tyler was just burned to death. The business he built is nothing but cinders. I think you know that. My wife is a wreck. And you're bugging me about some stupid damn papers?"

Thank God for Arturo and his efficiency. "Too bad you couldn't have helped him find a safer business," I say, choosing my words, speaking without inflection. "Hopefully you'll be more careful about yourself and the rest of your family. Hopefully you'll remember your commitments… including your promise to rush the papers to me."

"Relax," Tindall says. "The Santos report you ordered is already here. All of Elizabeth's papers are being rushed. You should have both soon. And Peter, I doubt that my wife, my other two sons or I will be looking to engage in any risky behavior. I surely hope nothing else happens…"

"I doubt anything will," I say and hang up.