I think Saber took my icy hands in his. I think he murmured, “Tell me.” I could only stare out the windshield at the ocean and remember.
Papa and I went sailing, not in his merchant vessel but in a small craft he’d salvaged. The one he used to teach my brothers and me to sail, and the one I took out with Triton when we were sixteen. The summer day was fine, and we cut through the sparkling blue Atlantic waters heading south, with Anastasia Island to starboard. I finished tying off the lines and went to stand beside Papa at the wheel.
“Why do you not marry, my girl?”
I braced myself for the kind of scold Mama gave me. It did not come.
“Figlia piccola.”
Little daughter, he called me, so he must not be too angry.
“Are you too much in love with Triton to choose another?”
I was, but I denied it.
“Does marriage hold fear then? Has a man tried to hurt you?”
Oh, my, but I blushed that il mio papa would ask me such a thing! He told me not to be missish, and demanded the truth. I would not have a man I could have no respect or affection for, I told him. Instead, I should stay home and care for my parents. Papa laughed at that and warned me not to let mama hear me say it. She did not want an old maid of a daughter. Papa was quiet a long time. A while later, we spotted the bow and tall mast of a wrecked ship on the beach, the mast jutting toward the sky at a drunken angle. Papa shook his head and muttered a prayer. Sometimes a man does not reach safe port, he said. A father must secure the future of his daughters while he may, even a willful, independent one that refused to marry.
He smiled at me, his gentle, teasing smile. Then he pinched my chin and told me to look sharp. We sailed home speaking of nothing more than the coming rough weather he felt in his bones.
I blinked away the past to find Saber watching me steadily, his cobalt eyes filled with compassion.
“Your father bought the land to insure your future,” he said, his voice soothing. “Your dowry.”
I nodded and wiped tears from my cheeks with trembling fingers. “Papa could have sold it back to Mr. Fish after I was caught by the vampires. Or sold it before he moved the family from St. Augustine. Papa must have still loved me, even when Mama cursed my name.”
“He also trusted Triton to keep the land for you. Delphinus means dolphin. That is Triton, isn’t it?”
I sniffed, fumbled for the tissue Saber held out to me, and blew my nose. “Yes, and I’m going to kill that man if he ever shows his face. Slowly and painfully kill him.”
Saber chuckled. “That’s the spirit. Ready to go home?”
I blinked away the last of my tears and nodded, but I knew we’d have to discuss the land issue later. Not to mention Triton’s role in it. For now, I was happy for the reprieve.
Saber watched the news while I changed into my Minorcan costume for the ghost tour. Yes, I know a few days ago I’d decided the costume was too hot to wear in the summer. That was then. Today, raw emotions and melancholy had left me chilled. Saber asked if I wanted to take the night off—from tour guiding and from the flying session. I agreed to let him cancel the flight lesson, but insisted on doing my tour. I loved my job, and I even loved the ghosts along the route. I didn’t love seeing my Covenant stalker, Victor Gorman, waiting at the tour substation by the waterwheel. Nor was I wild about spotting my personal paranormal investigator, Kevin Miller, either. The creep and the geek. I so wasn’t in the mood for any more drama today.
“Vampire,” Gorman roared as I drew near.
He was loud enough to drive the dead into hiding, never mind snagging the attention of my ghost walk patrons and anyone else within earshot.
“What’s this crap about that loony tunes blood-suckin’ buddy a yours bein’ a comic?”
“You mean Jo-Jo?” I asked, oh so calmly.
“I don’t care about his name. What the hell is he gonna be doin’ in Daytona? My connections tell me there’s advertisin’ up all over town.”
“If you know about the ads, then you know he’s doing a show at Hot Blooded. Saturday, for one night only,” I said a little louder for the sake of our listening audience. “Then he’ll be playing Vegas and Los Angeles.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, but I am. He’s already been signed by a high-powered Hollywood talent agent.”
Gorman snorted. “Yeah? Who?”
“Me.”
I spun to find Vince Atlas eyeing Gorman as if he were diseased. I hadn’t seen Vince in the crowd, but his timing was perfect.
“Jo-Jo is going to be a household name,” Vince said, turning on the showmanship. “If you want to see him for a reasonable price, catch him at Hot Blooded.”
“I don’t want to see a vampire comic. That’s just stupid.”
“Stupid is as stupid does.” Vince flashed a grin and turned to me. “Princess Ci, please come meet my wife.”
“It’s Cesca, Vince.”
“Cesca, then. I’ve told Jessica all about you and your nice young man. And my new rising star Jo-Jo, of course.”
“Wait a minute,” Gorman snarled. “I ain’t done.”