... Dooooo yoooouuu wannnnt meeee..." Victoria's voice sang playfully. It sounded unreal, as if a ghost were singing to me. I couldn't see her through the fog. Astonished, I answered the eerie voice. "Yes, Victoria, I do. But where -- ?" "I wannnt yooouu tooooo..." the disembodied voice sang back in a distant, echoing timbre. I felt her presence envelop me. I was literally surrounded by, and swimming in my wife. Suddenly, her neck was at my mouth, her body on top of mine. I bit deeply, drinking slowly. "Ohhhhh, ye-e-e-e-essss..." Victoria crooned. Morning found us wrapped up in each other again. "Good morning, David. Did you enjoy language lesson from last night?" she asked between kisses. "You will now understand spoken language in Carpathia. It was much more fun than teaching you regular way." After breakfast, we headed for castle Dracula. We arrived late at night, a high, pale moon in the sky. Neither Victoria nor I were prepared for the reception we got. A man in uniform met us at the gate. "The castle is closed for the night. Come back tomorrow," he said, obviously annoyed by our arrival. Victoria stuck her head out the driver's window and went ballistic, sputtering indignantly, "I am Countess Dracula! This is my ancestral home!!" "Yeah, sure it is. Now go away, we don't have time to deal with joke- sters," the guard said, pointing down the road. Victoria didn't move a mus- cle. I felt the storm clouds gathering within her. "This is a state tourist attraction, and the rules say it closes a half-hour before sunset. Be a good little Countess and go back to town, eh?" the guard finished, and started laughing at Victoria. "Open the gate." There was no mistaking the tone. It was a command, _not_ a request. I could almost see the lines of power radiate from her. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and I shivered slightly. The guard's laugh died in mid-ha (he got an "h" out). He slowly turned, heading for the castle gate. His partner came running to the car, gun drawn. I could see his eyes. Contact. "Put the gun down." I wasn't about to find out how much a gunshot wound would hurt, not after having been knifed. My anxiety must have added a lot of oomph to my command. Immediately, his gun arm dropped limply to his side. His hand opened; the gun clattered harmlessly to the ground. |