• • •
The house was in better shape than we feared and worse shape than we hoped. The pylons driven into the sand continued up through the house, which should have made the space feel cut up and small, but the poles had been wrapped in fancy woodwork and allowed an open floorplan. The first story was all party space, with a restaurant-quality white kitchen and brushed steel appliances that had clearly been updated in the last couple of years. Alex ran a hand along the white and gray countertops and said, “Carrara,” with reverence, so that had to mean they were top of the line. Interesting. Leo may not have been here, but his people had kept up the investment.
There was a dining table that would seat twenty in a pinch, three seating areas, and a library full of moldering books. Except for the kitchen and the big table, all the furniture was old and decrepit, but the staging crew was supposed to bring replacements. The ceilings were a little over standard height and looked like old pressed tin, the ancient Hunter Fan Company fans still worked, and the floors might have been cypress under the layer ofconstruction dirt. The walls were cream or eggshell throughout the lower floor and the wood moldings were stark white.
“Windows?” I asked Mike, to see how well she communicated. Or how well she read my mind. Either way.
“All new three years ago. Shutters all new. They look antique, but they’re electronic hurricane shutters and slide into recesses in the walls. Benefit of keeping out hurricane winds is that they’re also lightproof. So vamps are safe by day,” she said casually. When I didn’t reply she added, “Unless someone hits a wrong switch and the shutters open. But there’s a twenty-second delay and an alarm built into the system, so theoretically any light-sensitive person could get to shelter.”
I made a small sound of doubtful agreement and she went on.
“Sleeping area is on the second story and there are decorative fire escapes built into the outer walls.” Without waiting for us, Mike headed up the wide stairway, located beside the kitchen, in front of the entry.
To Alex I said, “Cameras and electronics look possible?”
“Not a piece of cake, but... we can get something.” He needed to get more than something. He needed to get a system set up that would allow for the Sangre Duello to be uploaded to pay-per-view on the Internet.
I made another small sound as we reached the second floor. It was constructed with a central walled-up, contained area, encircled by a wide hallway, and long narrow bedrooms around the outside. It was set up like insertable boxes, a small central space, a wider open ring, and more box. I figured the central area was for vamp sleeping and the outside rooms were for humans. As I had been informed, there were four bedrooms for humans, two on the front of the house, facing the ocean, and one on each side. Along the back was an even more narrow room, one that appeared to have been a very recently enclosed porch, not much more than eight feet wide along the back wall. In the hallway there was an ice chest, several sawhorse tables, six mesh folding chairs, a fifty-gallon garbage can full of trash and flies, and cola bottles everywhere.
The walls on this level hadn’t been freshly painted, and the color scheme was less than pleasant with clashing tropical colors and ugly murals. Alex said, “This might have been painted by grade school kids,” and he was right. This floor also stank of mold, even with the windows open to the night air.
Walls and wallboard were missing between some rooms, temporary studs visible where one bath had been enlarged and added onto. I didn’t ask where the water came from or where the plumbing drained to. I didn’t really want to know. But the baths were mostly raw pipes. Two men came up beside me and one said, “I’m Jake. Master cabinetmaker. Time constraints mean nothing is custom, but ready-made cabinets were delivered today. I’ll get them in and leveled as fast as I can. The wood floor system is uneven and there’s not a single wall or floor or ceiling that’s plumb in this place, but I’ll get them done.” Jake pointed at the African American man beside him. The name stenciled on his shirt was Trevis. “Trevis has the plumbing complete except for tying to faucets and drains. Fixtures are under the first floor on the sand.”
Trevis nodded at me, silent.
I remembered the boxes and stacked crates downstairs. “Lot of things a large group of vamps and humans can do without, Trevis. Plumbing isn’t one.”
Mike said, “Renny suggested we put in fighting mats on the sand under the first floor. We could add a shower outside since drains wouldn’t be needed.”
They knew the Sangre Duello was going to involve fighting and blood and were thinking ahead. Alex grunted. Eli frowned.
Trevis added, “They fight down there, the sand makes cleanup easier between bouts. The shower would keep some of the bloody mess out of the house, could be used to wash off blood, sweat, and gore outside rather than track it inside up the stairs.”
The idea was brilliant. “And?” I asked.
“And Marco said no,” Jake said.
“You want the fighting area and shower under the house?” Trevis asked me.
“I think it’s nifty. Is it possible to get an outdoor shower installed and still hit our timeline?”
“Can do,” Trevis said and trotted off, calling for Renny.
As he left, five men and the stocky woman I had seen earlier strode up the stairs. They carried hammers, hefty tape measures, skill saws, and an air of determination. In seconds they were banging permanent studs in place beside the temporary ones, hanging wallboard, and discussing ways to finish the walls without the finishing compound drying, which took three days in dry air. I knew finishing compound. It was the stuff that went under, above, and around wallboard tape to keep the seams from cracking. I’d seen Eli use it on the various house repairs. I’d been rough on the formerly freebie house.
I looked at Mike and dipped my chin in approval at the crew.
“Money talks,” she said.
“I hope so.” Especially since I hadn’t cleared the expense with Leo’s accountant, Raisin. My promise would be a smack to the Mithran coffers. “Let’s see the vamp sleeping quarters.”
The central area was separated into four tiny, square rooms, all opening into a foyer of sorts. There were two official doors and an escape hatch out through a hidey-hole that led to a long drop to the sand, like a dumbwaiter chute. No windows. Extra-thick walls. I smelled old blood when Mike lifted the escape hatch. Some vamp had dropped through it in the distant past, badly wounded. Two electricians carrying toolboxes and ladders came in behind us and started work.
“The center rooms were already in place and the walls soundproofed when the full crew got here,” Mike said, “finished some time ago and ready for color. Soon as the last of the new bathroom walls are in place we’ll blow the paint on. We have enough equipment to blow the entire house in about three hours. And if we run out of solar power, we have generators. Paint will dry well enough in eight hours for the electricians to put up the lightingfixtures, and your staging team can work around the wetter spots. You can get the painters to stick around to touch up as needed.”
Mike was good, answering my questions before I asked. She led us back into the hallway, squatted, and indicated the unpainted wallboard. “Finishing compound won’t cure in time. It’ll look okay for a day or two, but in the wet air, it’ll mold if we don’t come back and strip the tape, recompound the walls, and repaint, but this is the best we can do.” She looked up at me, speculation in her eyes. I couldn’t place her expression. Beast raised her head, sniffed, and sat up, vaguely interested, but not telling me why. When I didn’t say anything, she asked, “You don’t talk much, do you?”
“Not really.” I pointed at the stairs up. “Let’s see the third floor.”
