Pt. 2

Roarke smiled politely as his guest raised some questions about his upcoming fantasy. The Giles family had requested a fantasy involving the Swiss Family Robinson storyline. It was a standard, family-type fantasy that always seemed to bring people together – even while it scared some of the participants. Somehow people never seemed to remember that the characters in the story were stranded on a desert island – not at Disneyland. They always seemed so surprised when the fantasy became uncomfortable.

"Do you need me to keep an eye on them, Boss?" Tattoo asked, coming up beside his friend with Chester the chimp beside him. "Or maybe Chester can help?"

Roarke looked down, one eyebrow raised. "I think having Chester help would make this fantasy more complicated than it needs to be." He looked back at the main house with a frown. "I thought you would be with Maggie."

"She fell asleep on the sofa right after you left," Tattoo said with a shrug. "I didn't think she wanted me to hang around and watch her nap."

"Probably not," Roarke agreed, still frowning. He turned back to his guest and motioned towards a car. "Mr. Giles, if you will excuse me, I have another issue to attend to. My associate will escort you to the start of your fantasy." He turned back to the house, leaving Tattoo to explain how the family would begin their vacation.

-

Roarke entered his office quietly, hoping not to awaken his guest. Her bag had been brought from the plane and was propped against the wall beside the door. Maggie was still curled up on his couch, a cushion cradled against her stomach like a stuffed animal. She had removed the sling that had held her injured arm, dropping it to the floor beside the sofa. Her dark hair fell over her face, partially obscuring her bruised features. Roarke smiled slightly. She had a certain childlike innocence in her sleep, something she obviously wasn't comfortable showing when she was awake. He quietly took his seat behind the desk and began to read through some of the fantasy requests that had come that day.

"Fantasy go okay?" Maggie murmured sleepily, opening her eyes and pushing her hair out of her face. She sat up with a groan, her stiff muscles complaining at the movement.

"It went fine," Roarke replied, eyeing her seductively. "How do you feel?"

"Stiff, sore, uncomfortable. Any or all of the above and more. I hate losing a fight – especially when we didn't." She smiled faintly. "So, when do I get to go back to Grandfather's house?"

"Not today," he replied, folding his hands on his desk. "I don't think that would be wise, considering the condition you are in. I think it would be better for you to have a good night's sleep, perhaps even give yourself time to heal."

"I'm bruised, not broken," she protested. "I've handled worse situations."

"No doubt," he agreed solemnly. "But I would prefer not to deal with your injuries simultaneously with your grandfather's traps – at least not right now."

Maggie sighed, then smiled. "I suppose I should argue, but frankly, I could use some down time. Maybe even a nice long hot soak in a tub. Truth be told, I didn't get much sleep last night. I had some really strange dreams."

"What about?" Roarke responded with concern.

"They were about Elizabeth Bathory. So strange – I hadn't thought about her for years; then, just the last few months, I've been dreaming about that scene I experienced on my tenth birthday when I received her Book of Shadows." She looked at Roarke curiously, seeing the sudden shadow that passed over his face. "Problem?"

"A woman recently requested a fantasy which involved spending her birthday in a castle she had been dreaming of for some time." He stared off into space, his eyes distant. "There was a woman in her dream, a noblewoman whom she knew but didn't know."

"Elizabeth?" Maggie asked quietly.

"Yes. She had made a pact with the darkness, a pact that would allow her to inhabit her genetic duplicate on the woman's thirtieth birthday. That woman was Lisa Corday, my guest. Knowing what I did about Elizabeth's pact, I had to save my guest from being caught in her web. And I had to give Elizabeth the chance to save herself from the darkness she had died in."

"Save Elizabeth Bathory?" Maggie sighed in frustration. "Why bother? She showed no such mercy for the young women she murdered in the name of her vanity."

"She wasn't always as she became," Roarke protested.

"You mean she wasn't always a serial killer? Gee, I'm sure that makes her victims feel so much better about being slaughtered." Maggie rose and stretched, wincing at the pain. "Look, I really don't feel like having this argument with you again. Is there somewhere I can bunk down for the night?"

"We have a guest room you can use." He rose and escorted her to the stairs. "Last door on the right – I'll have one of my staff get you anything you need."

Maggie looked up the stairs, then hefted her bag over her shoulder. "Thanks. It should only be for the night. I'll be out of your hair by tomorrow at the latest." She started up the stairs slowly, and then turned with a sigh. "Look, I'm sorry if I'm being really bitchy but lately Byron and I have been dealing with a lot of cold cases involving murdered kids. On our last hunt, the killer's own mother made excuses for her kid, trying to blame the victims for 'pushing' her son to murder them. I guess it's made me a little oversensitive to hearing excuses being made for someone like Elizabeth. On top of being in a bad mood and feeling like I've been run over by a tank…guess I'm not the most understanding guest."

Roarke smiled sadly and reached up to pat her hand. "We are both a little oversensitive today. Go and rest. We can talk in the morning." He watched her silently go up the stairs and turned back to his desk.