Mercy's Debt

FIVE



Dignitary was situated in an outlying suburb of San Francisco in a very exclusive side of town.

The business itself was located inside of a house, but that didn’t really concern me much. Due to the density and lack of space in the city, many Bay Area companies were run out of residential neighborhoods.

I’d been so worried about being late that I ended up arriving ten minutes early. I parked half a block away and sat in my car, scoping the house while trying not to look like a burglar casing the joint. I primped in the rearview mirror, adding more lipstick and adjusting my breasts in such a way that made my cleavage more buoyant.

I thought I looked okay; not amazing and not horrible, just okay.

As I’d been a broke student for the past four years, and then just broke in general, I didn’t really have a lot of clothes in the “sexy” department. I opted to wear simple black heels (and by “opted,” I mean that it was all that I had), which were the same shoes that I wore to my more “legit” job interviews.

I also donned a slinky hand-me-down wrap dress that had been given to me by Liz, fretting about whether its light blue color was suitable for an evening get-together. Liz, beanpole that she was, was a couple of sizes smaller than me, so the jersey fabric the dress was made of pulled against my body in a way that I hoped was vaguely sensual. I felt more appropriately outfitted to go to a christening than to meet Michael and Marlena at the mysterious Dignitary to discuss God knows what, but it was the best I could muster on such short notice. I didn’t exactly make it a habit of meeting strangers late at night, so if I wasn’t hot enough, they could just sue me.

Even though it may have been foolish of me to meet with Michael and Marlena on my own, I hadn’t thrown caution completely into the wind. I left a note for Liz providing the address of my whereabouts, should I happen to disappear. Liz having the address really wouldn’t matter much if I wound up dead in a ditch somewhere, but the preemptive measure, no matter how useless, gave me some semblance of security.

The house was painted a soft salmon shade. It looked like it had been taken straight out of the French Quarter in New Orleans and plunked down right in the middle of San Francisco. It was from a more graceful era, a time when one would sit on the porch drinking mint juleps, uttering pleasantries like “goodness gracious” and “I do declare.”

I smoothed down the front of my dress, suddenly feeling a tad ratty and unbefitting for such an elegant environment.

I raised my hand to knock on the door, but it opened before my knuckles could make contact against the thick wood. A woman wearing a tailored pantsuit the color of cream smiled out at me from inside the house.

She was an amazon, about the same height as Liz, but built differently. She had one of those rare, almost unachievable body shapes that combined a perfect mixture of feminine curves and taut muscles. Her alabaster skin glowed from within like she’d been using fireflies as vitamins. Her bouncy hair hung loosely around her shoulders and was a shade I’d never seen before, a fiery copper with iridescent gold highlights. Her face was youthful but also shrewd, so it was difficult to guess her age, which I approximated to be around thirty.

To state that the woman was merely “attractive” would not do her beauty justice. This was the kind of woman who inspired songs and maybe even a few suicides. I continued staring like a simpleton until her dazzling emerald eyes met mine.

“You must be Mercy,” she said. It was the same angelic voice from the phone.

I swallowed and nodded.

“I’m Marlena,” she declared. “It’s so nice to see you, Mercy.”

Marlena’s disposition was welcoming, as if she’d never been more ecstatic to see any other person than myself in her entire life. Her speech was laden with practiced enthusiasm, similar to the voice an A-list actress would use while promoting a movie she obviously thought was crap. Her greeting was intended to make me feel like I was the most important person in the world, but I didn’t take kindly to being bullshitted.

She beamed at me again sweetly, beckoning me into her home. Feeling somewhat ashamed for being so bitchy, I reconsidered my snap judgment. Although she unnerved me in a way I couldn’t pinpoint, I figured I was just being paranoid because of my uneasiness and feeling insecure next to her perfection. She may have been a bit on the phony side, but at least she was making an attempt to be friendly, which is more than I can say for a few women that I’ve encountered. Still, I didn’t like that her smile didn’t reach her eyes. However, with the kind of money she had, she’d probably been Botoxed to hell and back.

As I walked into the house, she put her arm around me in a friendly gesture. Her skin felt icy even through the thick satin fabric of her clothing, adding to my agitation. It took an obscene amount of concentration not to recoil.

Marlena led me through the cavernous house. She invited me to take a seat once we’d arrived at the entrance of a stylishly decorated office. She took my coat and handbag from me, hanging them on a coatrack by the door. The air inside the office was more like that of a meat locker, yet I noted with pleasure that a fire was blazing inside an old-fashioned hearth. Marlena, commenting on my goose bumps, crossed the room and added another log.

Michael entered the room just as I was settling back into my seat. I stood and went to him. He hugged me like an old friend, kissing me on both cheeks. His skin was even colder than Marlena’s. I wanted to ask if their heater was broken, or if they were trying to cut costs on their energy bill, but I thought it seemed rude.

“Mercy!” he bellowed. “I am so pleased that you have decided to give us a chance.” His over-the-top fervor was on par with Marlena’s. But, unlike his wife, he appeared genuine.

“Hello, Michael,” I smiled. “Nice to see you again.”

He clasped both my hands in his icy grasp. “Are you hungry? Thirsty? I can have something made for you,” he said, his brows knitting together fretfully. He was a caricature of an anxious grandmother, doting on her grandchildren with forceful offers of sustenance. It wouldn’t have surprised me if he whipped out a plate of freshly baked cookies from a drawer in his desk.

“No, I’m fine. Thank you,” I said, biting back a smile. I unexpectedly yawned, which was mortifying because Michael noticed. I wasn’t bored. I just wasn’t exactly running on all cylinders because of my lingering hangover.

“Are you sleepy?” he asked. “Of course, you were out late last night. I sometimes forget that humans- er, young people like you- do not typically keep the same hours that we do. I will have my assistant make you a cappuccino. You do like coffee?”

“Really, I’m-”

He held his hand up, cutting me off. “It is no trouble.”

“Okay,” I submitted. There was no point in arguing with the man. “A cappuccino would be great.”

He spoke into an intercom on the wall, asking a young-sounding voice to make my coffee and bring into the office. I wanted to laugh; I was lucky if I could get Liz to remember to refill the water jug after she emptied it. Having people at your beck and call around the clock was simply one of the endless benefits of being rich, I imagined.

Michael and Marlena pulled up chairs across from me, an indication that our meeting was commencing.

“I am sure that you are wondering why we asked you to come here,” Michael said.

I nodded. “The thought has crossed my mind, yes.”

“Mercy,” he continued apprehensively, “I am just going to cut to the chase and throw this out there. We- Marlena and I- would like you to work for us.”

“Doing what exactly?” I asked.

Michael looked beyond uncomfortable. I seriously hoped that he and his wife weren’t sex freaks who wanted to tie me up in their dungeon and throw canned creamed spinach on my naked body while I called them “master.”

“Before we can tell you more,” Marlena said, “I have to ask you to give us your word that you won’t repeat anything that we’re going to discuss with you. I’m not sure how much Michael has told you about Dignitary, but we run our business very cautiously. Our clients are very powerful and they value our discretion. For that reason, I’m afraid that we really do need you to promise us that you’ll keep a tight lip, whether or not you decide to accept our offer.”

Yep. Sex freaks. I totally knew it.

“Of course,” I conceded. “I promise. You have my word.”

They exchanged a look and Michael sighed. “Okay, here goes,” he said. Marlena reached over and squeezed his hand. “Dignitary offers a chaperone service to its clients, both male and female. Now, before you jump to any conclusions, allow me to clarify my use of the word chaperone. We are most certainly not operating a brothel or anything even close. We simply offer human companions to our clients.”

I stared at him, confused. “I’m not quite following you- human companions?” What other kind would there be?

“Okay, let me try a different angle,” he said exasperatedly. “You see, Mercy, when I spoke earlier of humans having different hours from us, what I was suggesting was that we, Marlena and I, are different from you.”

“Different,” I repeated.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake!” Marlena gasped, throwing her hands up. “You’re not making any sense, Michael! Just spit it out!” She turned to me and took my hand in hers, gazing into my eyes. “I am certain that you are going to find this difficult to believe, Mercy, but we run a service for vampires.”

Vampires?

I snorted, shifting my eyes back and forth between my two hosts, who were clearly not sharing my amusement. They stared back at me earnestly, Michael backing his wife’s claim.

I glanced at my purse hanging on the coatrack and thought of the pepper spray inside, feeling an acute concern for my safety. These people were clearly out of their minds.

This was much worse than them merely being ordinary sex freaks. At least I’d been formally educated on how to treat run-of-the-mill dysfunctions. People who believed in wizards, werewolves, and vampires were an entirely different story. They were an extra special kind of crazy I wasn’t equipped to deal with. I thought of the front door, wondering how far I’d get if I made a run for it, or if I could manage not to get lost in the massive house before one of them caught up with me.

Just then, a boy who looked about twenty walked into the room carrying my cappuccino. Like Marlena, he was inhumanly beautiful. His skin was pale, too, yet his hair and eyes were dark and appeared Mediterranean in origin. Without a word, he set the drink down on the coffee table in front of me and turned to leave the room.

“Wait a moment, Stephano,” Michael said to the boy.

“Yes?” he asked serenely.

Michael turned to face me. “Mercy, I know that you are probably frightened of us right now, and I cannot blame you,” he said. “You surely must be thinking my wife and I are utterly insane. But, please, stay here for a bit longer and hear us out, okay?”

I nodded my head emotionlessly; like I was going to argue with a nutcase.

Michael turned back to Stephano and said, “Do you remember that thing you have done for me in the past?”

“Of course,” he said.

“Would you mind doing it again for Mercy?”

Stephano smiled. “Not at all.”

“Okay, Mercy,” Michael said to me. “Keep your eyes on Stephano. Are you ready?”

I focused my gaze on the boy, playing along. I expected him to stand on his toes and pretend to levitate, or bare his teeth and hiss at me over his invisible cape, the embodiment of every vampire cliché known to man. No matter what he did, of course I’d feign being utterly astounded by his great feat. Anything to get the hell out of there.

“Yes,” I muttered. “I’m ready.”

Michael nodded his head once, giving Stephano the go-ahead.

And then Stephano was gone.

“Where did he go?” I whispered.

Michael and Marlena smiled, casually pointing skyward. I glanced up and let out a shriek. Stephano was lounging on the ceiling, his chin resting on his hands in a nonchalant pose.

“Hi, Mercy,” he said. He looked down at me and winked, wriggling his fingers at me playfully.

“Holy shit!” I screamed. I jumped up suddenly, knocking my chair over. It hit the coffee table with a whack, slopping my cappuccino over its side.

I ran in the direction of the door, but didn’t get too far on my gelatinous legs. Seeing dozens of white flecks dancing before my eyes, I shook my head back and forth dazedly. Michael and Marlena ran to my side and eased me down onto the sofa. Michael placed a satin pillow behind my head. Marlena fanned my face with a magazine.

“Do you think she believes us now?” Michael asked.

I nodded my head once, shadows enveloping my view of the ceiling.