Pt. 10

Maggie blinked in the bright sunshine, staring around at the mirror image of the island she had just left. Sarong-clad young women and native men walked among tourists in shorts and shirts. Colorful birds sat on perches or on the roofs of the adjoining cabins, calling raucously to one another. *Well, this is different,* she thought, dropping her bag to the ground. *It's almost too bright, too colorful, after the other island.*

"Miss de los Santos?" A rich baritone floated from just out of sight. A handsome, older gentleman in a white suite walked towards her. "I am Mr. Roarke, your host."

Talk about déjà vu. Maggie gave herself a mental shake and turned on what her partner called her "mega-watt smile." "Please call me Maggie. When I hear 'Miss de los Santos', I think my aunt Ophelia has turned up." She grinned at her host with humor. "If you've ever met my Tia Ophelia, you'd know why that was a problem."

Roarke smiled as well. "I believe I have met your aunt. I think she even made Raul nervous."

Maggie giggled. "She was a real Grande Dame, wasn't she? I still miss her. You have a lovely island. I'm surprised, though, that my abuelo would have a place of power on such peaceful ground."

"I think it was his wife's idea – your grandmother Adelia. Her power was more nature-based than his, and the island was comfortable for her. She was buried on the estate shortly before your parents' wedding."

Maggie sighed. "Sad memories even in paradise." She frowned suddenly, examining her host closely.

"Is there a problem?" Roarke asked.

"You look so familiar. I'm trying to remember where I might have…" She trailed off suddenly, an image abruptly called up. "Wait, now I remember! *Mi abuelo* Raul had a sketch done by one of his sons, of a young man whose family was also magic users. He used to say it was a portrait of Diego." She looked at him critically and then grinned. "You really should have kept the beard and mustache. It suited you."

Roarke laughed, his dark eyes sparkling. "I had forgotten Raul had that sketch." He motioned to the car parked on the path. "Shall we go?"

"I'm in no hurry to see my *abuelo's* hideout. Tell me a little about this place. It's so different from the other island." Maggie started to walk towards the car, her knapsack trailing from her hand.

"As you wish," Roarke agreed, following closely behind her. "My cousin and I tend to have totally different views on the world. Our islands reflect those views, so I would expect them to be different."

"That's an understatement. It's like night and day. Which explains why Raul and Sato would pick the islands they did to set up their power centers." She hopped into the car and tossed her bag in the back seat. "I don't remember *Abuelo* ever coming to this island when I was little – I wonder why?"

"The island had bad memories for your father. I suspect Raul didn't want to rub salt in the wounds." Roarke settled himself behind the wheel and turned to his guest solemnly.

"My grandfather? Not want to rub salt in the wounds? Bringing up bad memories was a specialty of his. He never let me forget my tenth birthday when I almost drowned both families at a birthday celebration."

"I remember hearing something about that, but never heard the full story."

Maggie laughed and settled back in her seat. "It's probably funnier now than it was at the time." She shook her head ruefully. "Actually, it still isn't funny, but in a way it was something of a wake-up call for everyone – including me."

"Tell me about it," Roarke suggested gently.

"Let's see…I was ten, my grandfathers for once weren't at war with one another and had agreed to throw a party for both families at Sato's home on Fantasy Island. Everyone was milling around, piling gifts on a table for me to open later. I was sitting under a tree, watching my extended family mingle without trying to curse each other out of existence, when my uncle Tomas walked up to me with a bag." She looked at Roarke out of the corner of her eye. "Did you ever meet Tomas?"

Roarke cast his mind back to the times Raul had brought his family to the island. "Yes, once. He was…how can I put this delicately…?"

"Illegitimate," she finished for him. "Raul was quite the ladies' man, and sometimes he was even a reasonably good parent if the child had talent. If they didn't, however…well, let's just say he looked out for them but didn't have much interest in having them around." She sighed, looking out at the beautiful landscape. "I always felt sorry for Tomas. He had little to no talent to recommend him to his father, yet he always seems to want to remain close. I suppose that's why I didn't suspect anything when he handed me my birthday present. I opened the bag and found a beautifully decorated book, covered in gold leaf and pages of beautiful calligraphy. It was in a language I didn't know, but it was so beautiful that I reached out to touch the writing…and the next thing I knew…" She stopped and shivered.

"What?" Roarke asked gently.

"The next thing I knew I was in a cold, damp dungeon watching strangers pulling a young woman not much older than I was towards a rusty, old tub. A woman in elegant garb stood beside it, with red hair bound up in pearls. She was watching the men and girl with these...hungry eyes. Then suddenly they wrapped a rope around the girl's ankles and hauled her above the tub. One of the men pulled out a knife and…and…" She stopped, appalled at the catch in her voice. "Sorry! I thought I was over it. Guess not."

"They cut her throat," Roarke prodded, a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach.

"Yes, and then the beautiful woman reached out and caught her blood in her hands and started to spread it all over her face. I lost it, started screaming and trying to call up flames. Then suddenly there was a voice screaming my name, a flash of overwhelming bright light and then nothing. I woke up days later, with my vocal cords so strained I couldn't speak for weeks. The rain was pouring down and no one could stop it. My father sat with me for hours just rocking me as I cried. The rain didn't stop falling until my tears stopped. Then my father bundled me up and took me back to California, and I didn't see either grandfather for almost two years."

"Did you ever find out what triggered that vision?"

"Not really. I did find out later that the book was once the grimoire of a notorious serial killer called the Blood Countess…"

"Elizabeth Bathorý," Roarke finished softly.

Maggie glanced back at her host with concern. "You knew her?"

"It was a long time ago."

Maggie sighed. "Every time Raul didn't want to talk about something he would say it was a long time ago. Looks like he wasn't the only one."

Roarke calmly started the car. "Perhaps it would be best to go the hacienda." He pulled into the path without another word.