Page 32 of The Elementalist (Four Elements #1)

We Could Always Try Diplomacy

Under protest, I changed into my suit before we left.

“Wow…” I blinked a few times.

“Something in your eyes?”

“No, just making sure I’m not hallucinating a goddess or something.”

A hint of blush reddened her face. “Please don’t say anything that embarrassingly cheesy in front of my family. They don’t think of me as fondly.”

“Cheesy?” I put a hand over my heart. “You wound me.”

“It kinda was, but I thought it cute.”

I fake wiped sweat from my brow, then held out my arm. “Shall we?”

She rolled her eyes, but took my arm. “You’ve not had a single bit of experience dealing with the upper class, have you?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Yeah.” She winked. “Just let me do the talking.”

***

Crystal had a nice little Lexus, designed more for sport than luxury.

The car suited her well, a lot of power in a compact package, cute, dangerous, and sleek.

It could’ve done with a bit more legroom, but I’m used to my truck.

She didn’t seem the type to go for the big ol’ luxury land yacht type cars anyway.

I got the feeling she lacked the patience for the stuffiness of the Founding Families and rather enjoyed being mostly free of it.

Most of the old money in Shadow Pines lived in the northeast part of town, where sprawling landscapes surrounded mansions. Three of the families built their estates past the outskirts, no doubt to keep their distance from rival families. Like the Anworth estate… two miles south of town.

We drove past the downtown district, on high alert verging on paranoia, but no one attacked us or even gave us strange looks.

I’m guessing the vampires tended to stay out of the sun whenever possible, especially this early in the day.

Assuming they had to sleep at all, it stood to reason they probably would have been out cold after staying up all night.

Crystal drove through a few residential areas and took a pastoral road with brand new paving and storybook-perfect trees on both sides.

We passed two private driveways about four minutes apart.

She turned left into the third one. I wondered if having an estate where you can see your neighbor’s house made it a ‘McMansion.’ The Anworth estate I’d been to once, if following a suspected cheating husband and waiting outside the gate for him to do cable TV work inside counts as ‘been to.” Anyway, those people had a crapload of land.

They couldn’t even see the town from their windows much less another mansion.

Crystal pulled to a stop at the large gate blocking the entrance to a courtyard with a fountain at its center.

A droll-faced man with salt and pepper hair in his later forties appeared via a small screen on a post-mounted console.

He didn’t even need to say ‘what are you doing here?’ His expression already did that.

“Hello, Pierce,” said Crystal. “I know I’m not welcome, but it’s important I speak to Grandmother. It’s about Dana.”

“There’s nothing you can do for her now. The poor, misguided soul.”

The screen went dark.

Crystal reached out and pushed the button. She waited a moment, then pushed it again—holding it down.

A flustered Pierce reappeared. “Must you?”

“We both know I could walk right in if I wanted to. I am attempting to be civil about this. Whatever the family thinks of me, they at least owe it to Dana to hear what I have to say regarding the reasons she was killed. If you don’t at least tell Grandmother I wish to speak to her, I’ll do so myself. ”

Pierce sneered at her the way I’d expect her deceased stepfather, the former mayor, to look down at a homeless guy who’d touched his suit. Then again, I’m not sure where that thought came from. “Very well. One moment.”

The screen went dark again.

“I sincerely want to punch that man.” I looked at my hands. “Or turn his dick to stone.”

She giggled and leaned back into her seat, facing forward. “So do I. The punching him part, I mean.” Crystal turned her head to look at me. “Something against the wealthy, or that man in particular?”

“Although I can’t say I’ve got a lot of love for the snob crowd, there’s no animosity on my end. No, that guy in particular—for looking down at you like that.”

“He looks down on everyone who isn’t one of the Families, and looks down worse on anyone who was one of the Families.”

“That doesn’t make me want to slug him any less.”

We sat there for a few minutes. Crystal mostly told me random stories of her childhood.

Dana had been two years older than her, and they’d been close as children, remaining so even after the ‘exile.’ Her sister’s fondness caused a bit of a row with the family, but not so much they gave her the boot as well.

Marrying a man from outside one of the families bothered them more.

Luke Hayden, an attorney, hadn’t been poor by any means, though he didn’t come from ‘old money.’ She started telling me about how her sister had met the handsome lawyer from LA and fallen immediately in love with him, when Pierce appeared once more on the little monitor.

“Mrs. Bradbury has agreed to give you a few minutes of her time on the condition you remove yourself from the premises the instant she requests you to do so.”

“That’s fine,” said Crystal in a tone that changed the meaning to ‘eat a dick.’

He either ignored it or missed it, nodded, and disappeared. A second after the screen went dark, the large iron gate in front of us motored inward, the end rolling on a fat little tire like the kind you see on a riding lawn mower.

Crystal drove in, circled the fountain, and pulled into one of five parking spaces labeled ‘visitor’ on the left side.

She didn’t say anything, but her short, harsh motions turning off the ignition and getting out told me she hated feeling like a ‘visitor’ at her childhood home.

Whatever animosity existed between her and Grandmother Bradbury didn’t appear to be enough to get over her attachment to this old place.

Spend enough years as a child somewhere and it’s forever ‘home.’

Her high heels (dark blue like the dress) clicked over the pavement. I put on my best attempt at a high society bearing and followed. Hey, I’d seen Titanic. I’m hardly Jack Dawson, but I can fake it. Maybe.

We stepped up onto an enormous porch with ivy-enshrouded columns, fancy brickwork and old wicker furniture.

The place looked like a cross between Dracula’s estate and one of those creepy ass British manor houses from like Flowers in the Attic.

This place had secrets, I had no doubt—and most of them probably ran on the ugly side.

Tall multi-panel windows looked in on a sitting room decorated in dark colors as well as an entry foyer.

A brown-haired woman in a black polo shirt and leggings—no doubt a servant of some form—appeared in the distance and hurried over to the door with an expression that made her look like she did something she expected to get in trouble for.

The woman opened the door for us and backed out of the way.

Crystal offered a friendly nod to her, then looked around at the foyer as well as a giant chandelier above us.

I expected a wistful sigh of longing, but her expression hardened to one of rebellious defiance.

Maybe I misjudged her and she didn’t really miss the place.

Being here might make her think about Dana’s death.

The woman wordlessly led us down the hall, into a hallway on the left, and to a set of dark mahogany double doors. She opened those and stepped inside, waiting for us to enter before closing them behind us.

I felt like we’d walked into the set of an old movie.

With the exception of there being electric lights on the walls, the décor gave off an early 1900s vibe.

An older woman with dark pewter-grey hair sat in a wingback chair on the left side of the room.

Her dress, similar in color to Crystal’s, appeared plainer, though probably still cost a ridiculous amount.

I’d guess her age around seventy, though she had a severe presence that made me feel somewhat like we’d been sent to the principal’s office.

Grandma Bradbury, of course.