Story: Dribble and Maggot's Private Retreat - 1

Copyright (C) 2012 by Kevin L. O'Brien

Sir Differel Van Helsing leaned over the pool table as she sighted her cue stick on the cue ball. Billiards was not what she would have preferred doing on a Saturday night, but it was all she was allowed to do. Being all of sixteen, she had the normal teenage urges to go out and have fun, and had had them for three years. The problem was, as Incumbent-Director of the Caerleon Order, her life was too valuable to risk going out on the town, at least not without plenty of security, which would spoil the intent.

Then again, even if she could leave the house without a cadre of agents surrounding her, where would she go? Clubbing, shopping, and spa treatments were not her thing. Her tastes ran more towards cultural and intellectual pursuits, such as lectures, museum exhibits, art shows, the theatre, and opera, with the occasional art film at the cinema. And who would she go with? She had no friends to speak of, and the people that she knew who were closest to her age were the house maids. Aside from the usual class restrictions associated with aristocrats socializing with servants, even in a modern day and age, the ones who could go out on their own were adults. She doubted they would be interested in accompanying her to the places she wanted to go, and still being a minor she couldn't go to the places they would prefer. Some of them might have taken her with them anyways, but they would have been responsible for her, and they could be sacked if she got into trouble.

There was of course Margaret Chesham, but she didn't consider her a friend despite their closeness, and all they ever seemed to do was have sleepovers, along with occasional outdoor activities connected with her being a Girl Guide. Besides, ever since Maggot became sexually active, the frequency of her visits had lessened.

As such, to compensate, her guardians tried to relieve her boredom. Aelfraed had taught her how to play pool, British billiards, and snooker, being as he and her father played it quite often when they were younger. He and Mrs. Widget also taught her whist, while Mr. Holt taught her cricket and Vlad chess. Furthermore, they arranged for current movies to be shown in the family theatre, and for concerts and plays to be put on in the garden or great room, and encouraged her to stay active, with swimming in the lake and horseback riding on the grounds as well as her exercises and sword training. However, while their intentions were good, their efforts didn't help in one key area. Ever since she began menstruating, she had been having talks with Mrs. Widget about sex, and while the housekeeper was sympathetic, her advice as always was abstinence, and cold showers. Differel had no intention of complicating her life with dating (not that she had any way of meeting boys, since she couldn't go out and she loathed aristocratic parties and balls), but she felt urges she didn't know how to deal with other than masturbating. She often fantasized about inviting a stable hand or footman up to her room after hours, but never took it seriously, considering the scandal it could cause.

She tapped the cue ball and watched it bounce off a side buffer to strike the seven ball and send it into a corner pocket. "Aelfraed," she said as she walked around the table, sizing it up. Pool at least was one game she could play by herself. She had gotten pretty good over the past three years, being as she played on average five times a week.

"Yes, Madam?"

"Were you and the others serious about what you told me last week?"

It had been a strange meeting, which she remarked on when Margaret called her later that same night to wish her a happy birthday. "Normally I'm not called into their combined presence unless I've done something wrong."

"Yeah, I remember."

Her four senior-most servants—Aelfraed, Mrs. Widget, Mr. Holt, and Vlad— acted as an ad hoc guardian committee. Whereas the Regency Committee headed by her godfather, Sir Edward Penbryn, oversaw the running of the Order until she came of age, Aelfraed and the others saw to her education, training, and upbringing. Which included disciplining her whenever she broke one of their rules. While that could mean corporal punishment (they had indicated on a few occasions that they did not yet consider her too old), most of the time they simply restricted her to her bedroom and had her wash the household dishes, which was always enough to teach her a lesson.

"I wasn't expecting it today of all days, and they called me into the Tea Room instead of the Conference Room."

"Weird."

"It gets even stranger. First they gave me cream tea. In fact they all took some, except for Vlad of course. I was starting to think I was in real trouble, when Aelfraed told me that, since I had just turned 16 and now had my driving licence, they realized I could go off by myself without any of them knowing. I tried to tell them that I'd never do anything like that, when he then said they had decided to let me do it."

"Get out!"

"No, I'm serious. Of course, he was exaggerating a bit. Without Vlad's cooperation there's no way I could get off the estate without the guards knowing, and all the vehicles have tracking transponders built into them even if I could. So my 'guardians' would find out about it sooner or later, and they could locate me and have Vlad bring me back."

"Still, it's got to be pretty gratifying to know they trust you that much."

"Well, there are certain conditions, and they expect I won't abuse the privilege."

"Figures. Like what?"

"Mostly, they allow me to go wherever I want without having to tell them, as long as I inform them of my plans, when I'll be leaving, and for how long. They also expect me to take sensible precautions. Implicit in all this is the fact that if I use one of the manor vehicles they'll know where I go at all times, and if necessary Vlad can find me anywhere, so it doesn't make any difference whether I tell them my destination or not."

"Sucks to be you, Dribble."

"Sod off, Maggot."

"Still, this would be a great time for your first lay. Want me to start looking for well-hung studs?"

"If I go anywhere, it'll be for myself, not you."

"But you do have somewhere in mind."

"Yes, a place I've wanted to see for the past four years, and I'd really appreciate it if you'd come along."

"Knowing you, it's probably some godforsaken ruin filled with monsters in the middle of nowhere. Sounds like fun! When do we leave?"

"Not for a couple of weeks yet. Also, I plan to stay a week. Could you get that much time off around the end of the month?"

"Sounds like that would correspond with the half term break. Should be doable."

"Good. I'll call with full details later, but I'd appreciate it if you would keep this under your hat."

"Are you kidding? Wild Vampires couldn't drag it out of me. Can't wait, Dribble!"

#

"Yes, Madam. Have you decided to take a short trip?"

"A week. I would leave on a Saturday evening, and return at about the same time the following Saturday. Would that be too long?"

He paused in chalking his cue. "It is longer than we envisioned; however, we felt that durations as long as ten days could be tolerated as long as they did not come too frequently. Is it far to go, or are you planning a long stay?"

She sized up a shot. "Both." She struck the cue ball but miscued, sending it off to one side without striking a single ball. "Bloody hell."

Aelfraed made a circuit of the table. "When do you plan to leave?" He took a shot and sunk the nine ball in a side pocket.

"I haven't worked out all the details, but I plan to give you a week's notice."

"Actually, same day notice is sufficient, provided we have sufficient time to make allowances for your absence." He made another shot, but scratched. "Oh, bother."

"Really?" She retrieved the cue ball and scanned the table for the best place to put it.

"Yes, Madam, it's to allow you to just 'take off without a word', so to speak, if you felt like it."

She placed the ball on the felt and sized up her shot. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind." She struck the ball with force and watched it carom down the length of the table.

#

Differel pulled the Rolls-Royce Silver Spirit Hooper 2-door up to the back of the townhouse, where the large two-story garage was placed. Two sets of double doors sat in the right half of the wall, with a pedestrian entrance in the middle of the left half. The drive was very short, only the width of the sidewalk, but fortunately there was no traffic in the street, so she was able to leave it idling partway in the road as she got out to unlock the left-hand set of doors. She pushed them open, and in the beam of the headlamps noted the machinery set up in the back left corner, in front of a third set of double doors.

She drove inside and into one of the two open carports. A third was occupied by a block-shaped vehicle covered by a tarp. She switched off the coupé, retrieved a flashlight from the glove compartment, and got out, but first closed and locked the doors before searching for a light switch. She found it next to the pedestrian door. A half-dozen lights suspended from the ceiling came on, and two immediately burned out, but the rest shed sufficient for her to see. Above the carport was an enclosed space she presumed had been the hayloft when the garage had been a carriage house a hundred years before. According to the records supplied by her solicitor along with the keys to the house, it was now a workshop.

She opened the boot of the Silver Spirit and removed one bag, leaving the three others in place. She went over to the rightmost of two pedestrian doors in the far wall, but placed the bag on the ground beside it. The left-hand door was supposed to lead outside, into a covered porch off the patio area, but she was more interested in seeing what was under the tarp. It wasn't secured, but it was heavy, and she had some difficulty removing and dragging it to one side.

"Sweet!" It was an olive-drab 4-door land rover with a cream hard top, a Series IIA according to the solicitor's records. She took a moment to check out the interior. The front of the cab had three bucket seats, except that where the middle seat would have been was a large console, that contained a radio transmitter and receiver, a tape cassette player, cup holders, and a storage chest. The middle section contained a bench seat, while the rear area was a trailer for storage, but it also had two bench seats along either side. It was accessible through a gate-like hatch in the rear of the vehicle. Two spare tires, one attached to the bonnet and the other to the rear hatch, demonstrated that it was properly equipped and ready for use. Or so she hoped.

Finding it there was a stroke of good fortune. It was not only a well-designed and strongly-built off-road vehicle, it wouldn't have a tracker. That meant no one back at the manor would discover where she was going. She wanted to keep that destination a personal secret for as long as possible.

She went back to the door beside her bag and unlocked it. Picking up the bag, she took one last look at the garage before shutting off the lights. She almost wished she could spend a few days exploring the house thoroughly, but she was more eager to get to Moriah, and she could come back to the townhouse anytime she wanted.

She entered the house proper, and closed and relocked the door. She was in a small room, which she surmised served as the mud room, with a door in each wall. The left one opened onto the porch, while the right led out into the back garden, which used to be a barnyard and kitchen garden. The door in front of her opened into another small room, which had hooks and hanger rods; she figured it was the cloak room.

The opposite door led into a large room equipped with a trio of industrial washers and dryers; obviously the laundry room. Another door in the same wall as the first opened onto the porch, while beside it a staircase went up to the next floor. According to the records, the room above was a servants' dormitory. She was surprised to see a water closet in the room, but the history of the house as told by the records related that internal plumbing was a late addition, and largely limited to those simple compact toilets. Bathrooms were few and far between.

A large block of masonry stood at the far end, with a door off to one side, and she realized it must be the old fireplace for the kitchen. She went inside and checked it out. It was big, at least five wide, and on its left, built into the block, was on old-fashioned wood burning stove. As she looked around, though, she was relieved to see that the kitchen was well stocked with modern appliances. In the center stood a long preparation table, similar to the one in manor's kitchen. She walked up to one side and laid her bag on it before she reached into a jacket pocket for her cell phone.

Before she could dial Margaret's number, however, one of the doors on the far side opened. There shouldn't be anyone else here! she thought in a panic. She reached inside her jacket, pulled out her British Army L117A2 pistol, and aimed for the door.

In the same instant a gentleman in a business suit with a top hat stepped into the room. As soon as he saw her he abruptly stopped, reared back, and held up one arm; the other held a Gladstone bag. She dropped her arms as soon as she recognized him.

"Mr. Atherton! I'm very sorry, I didn't expect you to be here." Finlay Atherton, Esq., was the senior-most partner of Atherton, Cuthridge, and Montmerroy, her family solicitors. He, however, also served as her personal solicitor.

He smiled in a nervous fashion, obviously relieved, and dropped his arm as she put the gun away in the shoulder holster. "It's quite all right, Madam, no harm done." He approached the opposite side of the table. "I came by to personally deliver a few remaining bequests, and to see if I could assist you in any way."

She blinked in surprise. "What bequests?" She thought she had received everything due to her since her parents' deaths.

He placed the bag on the table and opened it. "There were certain items that your mother requested not be turned over until you needed them, for your own protection."

He first pulled out a packet. "This contains instructions on how to find Loch Moriah once you reach the Inverness District. It also contains the keys to the safe house. Information on the house itself is kept in the office there." He laid it on the table.

Next he removed what looked like a remote for a garage door opener. "You will also need this to get into the courtyard." He placed it beside the packet.

Then he took out a small cassette storage case. "Finally, this is a set of tapes recorded by your mother before she died."

Her mind skipped a track. "I beg your pardon?!"

"Your mother recorded messages to you on twelve tapes as she lay dying from her illness. She wanted you to know certain things; about herself, your father, the Order, your maternal family, and what it means to be a Pendragon. My firm was instructed to give them to you on your eighteenth birthday, or when you took possession of this townhome, whichever came first. Each tape is forty minutes long. It will take at least eight hours to reach the safe house, which should give you sufficient time to review them all. You can listen to them on the cassette player in the land rover. It was your mother's, and she bequeathed it to you along with this house. I would recommend that you use it to make the drive. Some of the roads you will need to take to reach the safe house are in poor repair."

She felt almost too flabbergasted to think. "I see. Is it in good working order?"

"Yes, it has been serviced and maintain along with the house, as per your mother's instructions. I instructed the crew to give it a full tank of petrol."

"And where are the keys?"

"Inside a locked box in the cloak room. You have the key to the box on the ring I sent you."

"Very well. Thank you for your loyalty and diligence."

"My job, Madam, and my pleasure. Would you like me to give you a tour?"

That could take hours. "I appreciate it, but no, thank you. I would like the pleasure of self-discovery."

He actually looked disappointed. "I understand. However, I should explain the easiest way to get to the master suite."

He indicated the front of the kitchen, from where he entered. There were three doors in the wall. "The door on the left leads outside onto the patio, past the pump room for the well. The one in the middle is the pantry. The last on the right opens into a piazza connecting the rear service block with the front family block, as well as giving access to the bathhouse. It contains a stairway that leads up to the first floor. The first door off the head of the stairs leads directly into the suite."

"Thank you; I'm sure I won't have any trouble finding it."

"Very well. I parked out front; I'll see my own way out. Oh, one more thing. Your instructions indicated you wouldn't stay more than one night. As such, I instructed the crew to stock the refrigerator with drinks only, no food. However, my wife was concerned that you might arrive too late to eat out, so she provided a meal. It's with the drinks. It's only a stew, but my wife is pretty good cook. I hope you enjoy it. There are dishes in the cupboards to the left of the microwave, and utensils in the cabinet drawers below."

"Thank you, I appreciate that."

"And now, I bid you good night, Madam, and god speed." He touched the brim of his hat and left the room the way he came.

She waited a few moments to make sure he was out of earshot. "Vlad."

The Master Vampire appeared out of a burst of shadow. "You rang, My Master?"

"Make sure he reaches his car safely, but be discreet."

He grinned at her. He understood she wanted him to make sure he actually left. "Of course, My Master." He vanished into the shadow under the table.

Taking out her phone, she dialed Margaret's own phone. "Hello?"

"It's me. You ready?"

"For the past hour! I was beginning to think you were going to blow me off."

"It took me longer than I expected to find the townhouse, and my solicitor, Mr. Atherton, was here. I barely escaped his giving a guided tour, otherwise you'd still be cooling your heels, so count your blessings."

Vlad rose up out of the center of the table. "He has left, Master."

"Good. Go fetch Lady Margaret."

"I am on my way." He disappeared beneath the table.

"He should be there momen—"

"AHHH!!!"

She winced and held the phone away from her ear. When she brought it back she said, "I take it he's arrived."

"I'll never get used to that. See you soon." And she hung up.

In the time it took her to turn off her own phone, Vlad appeared carrying Margaret under one arm and four bags in the other hand. He set both on the ground. Margaret shivered and looked as if she would throw up any moment, but after a moment she shuddered and shook it off.

"Forget what I said before; that I'll never get used to!"

She could sympathize. Whatever realm Vlad used to phase in and out of the 'real' world was freezing cold and produced mind-numbing sensory deprivation. "I don't have much choice."

"Sucks to be you, Dribble."

"Sod off, Maggot."

"What should I do with these?" Vlad rumbled, indicating the bags.

"Put them in the land rover, and transfer the rest of my bags from the boot of the Hooper. Then you can go back to the manor."

"As you wish, My Master. Call if you need me."

Margaret snatched one from the group. "I'll keep this one."

He nodded his head, grinning, and vanished with the others.

"So, what's next?"

"Care to do some exploring?"

Margaret scowled. "If it's all the same to you, I've been doing a lot of running around today, what with leaving Gresham's and repacking for this trip. I'd just as soon eat and go to bed."

"Probably just well. I'd like to get an early start tomorrow. I'd like to be on the road no later than six."

"What about breakfast?"

"There's no food in this place, other than some stew made by my solicitor's wife. We'll get something along the way. That reminds me, though: any problem with getting His Grace's permission?"

"No, none. Saying I'd be staying with you was all the reassurance he needed."

She nodded. "By the way, I didn't tell my solicitor I'd be having a guest, so the master bedroom is probably the only one made livable. You don't mind sharing, do you?"

Margaret shrugged. "We do it every time we have a sleepover."

"That's a room; I meant the bed."

"As long as it's big enough."

"I'm pretty sure it will be."

"Besides, I told you once before, you're not my type, Dribble."

"Hmph. There won't be any men where we're going, Maggot. Sure you can survive a week of abstinence?"

She threw her a dirty look. "Well, if I get too desperate I suppose I could rape you."

The ludicrousness of her comment made her smile. "You can try."

Margaret broke out into a grin and they both laughed.

#

As it turned out, there was enough stew to divide between them. After heating up their portions, they went upstairs with their bowls, bags, and a bottle of Lilt Zero each. As Mr. Atherton described, the door immediately to the right when they came off the stairs opened into a boudoir or drawing room, with another door leading into the interconnecting master bathroom.

They sat in a couple of chairs on either side of a small corner wood-burning stove as they ate. "This is really good!" Margaret said.

"He said his wife was a good cook. I suppose most husbands think that, but I'm glad in this case it's true."

"So, this belonged to your mother?"

"Her family, actually. It was originally bought by Great-Great-Grandmother Dindrane. When Great-Great-Grandfather Abraham formed the Order, he invited her to join as a monster hunter. He wanted her to live in the manor, but she wanted a place of her own. After a few months searching she settled on this terraced house here in Downham Market. It was close enough to the manor that she could attend regular meetings and tactical planning sessions, yet far enough away that she had some privacy. Based on her journal, I get the impression she was a nympho like you."

Margaret's face screwed into a dirty look. "Weren't she and Abraham lovers?"

She almost choked on a mouthful of stew. "From where did you pick that up?"

She displayed a sweet, arrogant smile that Differel hated. "I've been doing some reading on my own about your family."

"Hmph. There were rumors to that effect, but while Dindrane boasted of bedding numerous men, she never mentioned him, and in his diary, Abraham confesses to having a crush on her, but he doesn't indicate he ever acted on it.

"But getting back to the house, it was originally designed and built by Trevor Warren in the early 1720's. This was one of the two end houses, with a large property, so he decided to convert it into a show home. He detached it from the rest of the houses and shrank its footprint to give it a fair amount of yard space. Since then it's been modified to some degree or other by most of the tenants who owned it. Dindrane and her descendents modernized it, including putting in plumbing and bathrooms, electricity, and central heat and air, as well as up-to-date appliances. Mother didn't do much at first, except update the appliances, but she had planned to raise me and any other children there, so she planned to convert the old attic servants' quarters into extra bedrooms. Mother and Father were married in this house; they used it as a retreat to get away from the pressures of the Order. I was born here, and Mother died here."

She stopped and lapsed into contemplation. Margaret stared at her for some moments, but then said, "What's wrong?"

"You and I share at least one thing in common: we both lost our mothers at early ages. But at least you have memories of yours. I don't remember mine at all. Father and Aunt Mandy never talked about her; Aelfraed and Mrs. Widget did, but the person they described is a stranger to me. The manor is so steeped in Father's essence that it's easy to forget I even had a mother, and for all her treachery, I feel closer to Mandy than I do her sister. But here, in this house, I feel her presence more strongly than I ever have before, and the safe house was even more hers than this place was. Plus, Mr. Atherton gave me a set of taped messages Mother had recorded shortly before she died. I can't help feeling that on this trip I may finally meet her—not Father's wife, not the young Pendragon who adventured with Vlad, but my own mother. It's…exciting, and frightening, and disconcerting, all at the same time."

"Are you sure you want me around when you do?"

She looked at her. "Remember when you thought you were pregnant? You were reluctant to tell His Grace? I volunteered to stand by your side when you did, to give you moral support. I find I need you to do the same for me now. You're not obligated to do so. It's not too late, I can have Vlad take you home if you prefer, but I would really appreciate it if you stood with me when I confront her ghost."

"You are speaking metaphorically, aren't you?"

She grinned. "I hope so, but you never know."

"Oh, bugger. Look, I've helped you face down Spriggans and Zombies and Jermlaine and a Vorvolaka and an Anthrovore, and god knows what else. I'm not going to turn tail and run from the ghost of your own mother, and I'm certainly not afraid of her memory." Then she grinned. "Besides, I'd like to meet the woman who gave those swashbuckler genes. I'll bet she was real fun at our age."

Differel laughed. "According to Aelfraed she was. All right, it's a deal." She spit in her hand as Margaret did the same, and they slapped them together.

Once they had finished eating they undressed and carried their bags into the bathroom. After cleaning up, they slipped on nightshirts and went into the bedroom. The bed was made and there was wood piled up for a fire. Margaret got a cheery blaze going as Differel turned down the bed, but the Margaret surprised her with a hip flask. She opened it and held it up in a salute.

"To the Queen." She took a sip and handed it to Differel, who repeated her toast and took a drink. It was fine, smooth Cognac, and she coughed at the unexpected strong alcohol.

"Sorry." She handed it back.

Margaret raised it again. "To a productive trip." That time she took a longer drink.

Differel accepted it back and repeated the toast. Then she raised the flask herself. "To our mothers." She took a long swig and handed it back.

"And their daughters," Margaret added. She tipped back the flask and drained it before tossing it on top of her bag.

#

The alarm rang at two minutes before five, startling Differel awake. She shut it off and sat up, feeling like gunk under Vlad's tongue. Margaret stirred beside her. She glanced at her and watched as she burrowed deeper into the covers. They had gone straight to bed after the last toast. Margaret had fallen asleep very soon afterwards, but Differel had lain awake for some time, too worked up to relax. When sleep finally did come she had been unaware of it, because the next things she knew the alarm was sounding. As tired as she felt, she figured she had had a restless night; that, and she normally didn't wake up until an hour later.

She gently rocked Margaret. "Wake up." She just tried to burrow deeper.

She shook her harder. "Come on, I want to get going by six."

"Just five more minutes, Martha," she murmured. "There's no school today."

She felt her irritation flare. She threw off the covers, rose to a kneeling position, and shoved her off the opposite side of the bed.

"WHAAAA—?" She flailed her limbs as she spilled onto the floor, landing with a thud. Moments later her head appeared above the level of the mattress. Her hair was disheveled and she looked like death warmed over.

"What did you do that for!?"

"You can sleep in like a lazy dog all you want when we reach the safe house, but this morning I want to leave ASAP! Got me?"

Margaret braced her arms on top of the mattress. "Why the rush?"

"Mr. Atherton said it would take at least eight hours to get there. I actually figure more like nine."

"Oh, bugger." She pushed herself up to stand next to the bed.

"Besides, I want to get there as early as we can make it. It's like I said last night: I want to get this started now and I want it over with as quickly as possible."

"Why not have Dracs take us there?"

"As far as I know he's never been there. He can't go anywhere neither he nor I have ever been."

"All right, all right." Margaret raised her hands as if in surrender. "I just need some coffee."

"I prefer orange juice myself, but we don't have either. We'll get both with breakfast. Meanwhile, a hot shower will perk you up. You go first, I want to check something out."

She followed Margaret into the bathroom, but continued on into the drawing room to collect the dinner things and the house keys. She took them downstairs to the kitchen and washed the bowls and utensils thoroughly to remove as much food as possible before leaving them in the sink. She collected the packet, remote, and cassette box, and went into the cloak room. She located the box and unlocked it, finding the land rover keys inside. Removing them, she went into the garage. First she threw the plastic Lilt bottles into a recycling bin. Then she unlocked the vehicle and sat inside on the passenger side. She opened the glove compartment, but didn't find a map. She figured there had to be one somewhere around the house, but didn't want to take the time to find it. Besides, they were cheap enough at any convenience store. She placed the items Atherton had given her inside and closed the compartment, then placed the car keys in the storage console between the two bucket seats.

As she headed back to the bedroom, curiosity made her pause and peer into the bathhouse off the piazza. Though not in operation, she was surprised to see a hot tub big enough for six people, two dual and two single spa tubs, a number of free-standing showerheads, and a two-seat steam room booth with transparent walls. It made her wonder what her parents had been up to when they visited.

When she returned to the bedroom, Margaret had just finished her shower and was retrieving her clothes from the drawing room. Differel did the same before taking her own shower. Though she was now fully awake, the hot water reinvigorated her. After drying off she dressed except for the shoulder holster, and they brushed their teeth and hair before stashing their underwear in individual bags and repacking their toiletries and nightshirts. She put her pistol and extra magazine clips in the pockets of her jacket, and finally they headed back downstairs. They collected the rest of the drinks from the refrigerator before turning off the lights, and went out to the garage by ten before six.

While Differel locked the door into the house, Margaret spotted the Rolls-Royce. She headed straight for it, but paused when Differel opened the driver-side door to the land rover.

"Aren't we taking the Rolls?"

Differel leaned in to retrieve the keys. "No, it has a tracking device in it. I don't want my people knowing where we're going. Besides, it would be pretty ostentatious, and I want to keep a low profile."

Margaret stepped up to the back of the rover. "I don't understand. What's all this about? Just what is this place we're going to?"

She backed out of the cab and turned to face her. "I plan to explain everything, but only after we're on the road."

"Oh, bugger." Margaret flashed a weary expression. "Fine, whatever."

She tossed her the house keys. "Open one of the doors. After I pull out, close and lock them, please?"

"Yeah, sure."

As Margaret followed her instructions, she opened the back gate to toss in their bags and the drinks, except for a couple of bottles of diet Tango Orange. Those she placed inside the console when she sat in the driver's seat. When Margaret waved to her, she started the rover. She reached for the transmission, and for a moment panicked, realizing it could be a manual, but she was relieved when she saw it was an automatic. She backed up, then turned and pulled out into the street. She watched Margaret in the rearview mirror as she closed and locked the doors, and as soon as she got in on the passenger side Differel headed west.

She handed her the house keys. "All right, spill it."

Differel placed them inside the console. "Do you have a preference where we get breakfast?"

"Stop stalling, Dribble."

She felt her irritation flare. "I'm not, Maggot, but you said you wanted coffee."

She pouted for a minute. "No, not really, anywhere's fine."

"Wimpy okay? There's one a few blocks away with a drive-thru."

"I don't care."

"Very well then. In my family's records the property is officially referred to as the Loch Moriah Safe House. It has been owned by the Pendragons since the late mid eighteenth century. It was originally a holding of clan Fraser that was converted into a croft when the clan chieftain claimed ownership of clan common land and enclosed it. After the First Jacobite Rebellion, in 1725 General Wade created the Black Watch. One of the commanders seized the croft on a pretext, for no better reason than he liked the location. At the time the dwelling was a blackhouse, a single-room longhouse that housed both the family and their cattle, but he had it torn down and constructed a white-house in its place, essentially a fortified farmhouse later called a bastle. It formed the basis of the modern house. However, his neighbors in the local village of Kiltearn despised his presence and harassed him, so he abandoned it. His son later sold it to Igraine Modron Pendragon. Though Welsh, she endeared herself to the village by saving them from a paranormal threat and preserving their Gaelic culture. Over time the Pendragons enlarged and improved the house to make it more comfortable. Though it's sometimes referred to as a 'castle', it's really a fortified country home."

"That's all very fascinating," Margaret said with as much sarcasm as she could manage, "but that doesn't explain why you don't want anyone to know where we're going."

"Doesn't the term 'safe house' suggest anything?"

Margaret opened her mouth to make another snide remark, when she closed it as her expression softened. "Okay, but could you please explain it in more detail?"

By that time they had arrived at the Wimpy restaurant. Differel pulled into the back of the line in the drive-thru. "The Pendragons were not invincible, even with Caliburn. They frequently encountered paranormal creatures stronger than they were, and while sometimes they enjoyed the patronage of a chieftain, peer, or sovereign, most of the time they acted outside official sanction, or even against it. More than a few were declared outlaws at one time or another, and despite its reputation, Caliburn cannot defeat whole armies by itself. My family needed safe places to retreat to, where they could hide while they rested, recuperated, and reorganized."

She paused as they pulled up to the microphone. She ordered a quickbite sausage and egg in a bun with orange juice and a side order of mushrooms, while Margaret requested the bacon and egg in a bun with a large coffee. She pulled away to wait in line for their order.

"Over the centuries they made use of a number of different types of hideaways, but they preferred safe houses where practical. The advantage of a safe house is that it allows one to hide in plain sight."

"I don't understand."

They pulled up to the payment window. She took out her wallet and handed the cashier a £20 note. "A safe house is not secure because no one knows it exists; it's secure because no one knows who really owns it." She took her change and pulled away to wait in line for the next window. "Igraine did not purchase the property under her own name, but through a solicitor who supposedly represented an English lord, who was really just one of a number of cover identities my family created. The location of the property is documented with the Scottish and British governments, but as far as anyone knows it's still owned by the descendents of that fictitious lord, and that's the way I want to keep it. Mr. Atherton is my go-between. I give him instructions, he deals with all the third parties, in the name of that fictitious lord, so no one else knows I'm involved, not even my own people."

They pulled up to the pick-up window and she accepted the bag containing their food. She passed it to Margaret, then took the drinks, setting them in the cup holders. When she drove away from the window she pulled into an empty parking space instead of back out onto the road.

"I though you were in a hurry."

Differel took the bag. "I can't eat and drive. Besides, I want to go over a few things first." She opened the bag, handed Margaret her sandwich, and removed her own breakfast.

"All right, I understand you don't want anyone to know you own this place now. But why keep it a secret from your own people? Don't you trust them?"

"Of course, but say sometime in the future they become compromised. They would constitute a grave threat because they know so much about me. I need at least one place they don't know about to protect myself."

Margaret nodded. "Okay, I see that. But why drag me along?"

"Aside from the reasons I mentioned last night? Because I may need your help if and when it becomes necessary for me to disappear. I can't imagine that each Pendragon didn't take at least one person into her confidence, someone they trusted implicitly."

Margaret threw her a surprised look with a mouthful of sandwich. Differel almost laughed at the comical sight. She swallowed as she blushed. "I don't know what to say."

"Nothing needs to be, but I am depending on you not to say anything to anyone, no matter how much you trust them, without my permission. Understand?"

She scowled in irritation. "I can keep a secret; don't worry."

"I also need someone besides myself who knows how to get there. The location may be generally known, but finding it is still difficult. The exact route is also a closely guarded secret. Open the glove compartment."

Margaret did so. "While I drive, you'll navigate, but I can't drive for eight hours straight, so we'll trade off every couple of hours. That packet contains precise directions for reaching Loch Moriah. I haven't looked at it yet, but we'll have to sometime before we reach Scotland. It should give us a starting location. Once we reach that, I'll drive while you read off the directions. Once we get there we'll both know how to find it in the future. I may need you to go ahead of me to set things up if I have to wait until the last minute to vanish. We'll decide on an appropriate codeword later."

"I don't have my driving licence, remember? You told me not to bring it."

"Yes, I know." She took out her wallet. "This isn't just an exploratory mission, or a voyage of personal discovery. It's also a dress rehearsal for being on the run, to identify any bugs."

She pulled out two cards. "I had Aelfraed create three false identities for me. They have birth certificates on file, properly registered driving licences, bank accounts with debit cards, and more. Their names are Isolde Pendragon, Miranda Churchill, and Margaret Spencer."

"But if Aelfraed knows about them, how does that keep you safe?"

"These are part of the 'sensible precautions' he and the others wanted me to take. I'll also use them if I have to go undercover. In such circumstances I would normally want them to be able to track me. Eventually I will create identities of my own, but I don't know how yet. But I can work around this problem. Practically speaking, they can track me effectively only through the debit cards. The only way they could do so using a driving licence is if I were arrested for anything. So as long as I don't use the debit card, they won't be able to locate me."

"But won't we need it?"

"Just once. In fact, that will be our last stop before we hit the road. For now, I've taken the Pendragon identity."

"If this were an actual vanishing act, wouldn't that be a bit obvious?"

She nodded. "In that case I'd use one of the others, but for some reason I had the feeling it would be more appropriate this time around. Call it a hunch. You'll be Margaret Spencer, my cousin. Be sure to remember to call me Isolde in public, and for the time being we should dispense with using our 'pet' names." She handed her a driving licence.

"It has my picture on it."

She put the other card back in her wallet. "I had Mr. Atherton create it. He only had time to do one, so I had him do you. It isn't official, though it looks it. If we get hauled into a police station for any reason, they'll be able to tell very soon that it's a fake, but for an ordinary traffic stop it should pass muster. Just try not to break any laws."

Margaret put it in her coin purse. "I think I manage that," she said in a dry tone.

She swallowed her last bite and washed it down with a drink of juice. "You ready?"

"Yeah." She and Margaret packed the trash in the food bag except for the drink cups, which were not yet empty. She took her pistol and ammunition clips out of her jacket pockets and passed them to Margaret.

"Put these in there. The permit is in the Pendragon name, but I'd rather not have these found on my person. They would raise questions I do not want to answer."

"No kidding." Margaret put them in the compartment, but as she was about to close the lid she picked up the cassette case. "What're these?"

"Those are Mother's tapes that I mentioned last night. There's eight hours of recordings, so I plan to listen to them as we go. Give me the first one."

Margaret opened it and removed one marked "#1". "Are you sure you want to play these while I'm around?"

She hesitated, but then accepted the tape with a shrug. "She may use certain embarrassing phrases, but I doubt she'll say anything I wouldn't want you to hear." She inserted it into the tape player as Margaret closed the case and placed it back inside the compartment, which she also closed.

She started the rover, and after a pause to dump their trash, they started off down the road. "The last place I want to visit is a Barclays branch. I'll use its ATM to withdraw funds using the debit card."

Margaret smiled and nodded. "And so avoid using the card elsewhere. How much do you plan to take out?"

"£600, to be split between us. Try not to spend it all in one place."

Margaret flashed a consternated look. "Wouldn't an amount like that tip them off?"

She shrugged. "It can't be helped. I want to make sure we have enough money to cover nearly any contingency. Besides, with any luck they'll just assume we went a little wild with our first taste of unsupervised independence."

Margaret nodded again. "Okay, but I'll have you know, I've been on my own for over a year now."

The bank appeared on their left. Differel pulled into the parking lot and parked in front of the entrance, where the ATM sat off to one side. She left the rover idling as she got out and made her transaction. Then she took out her Sykes-Fairbairn dagger and, in full view of the security camera, deliberately scratched up the magnetic stripe on the back to render the card unusable. She tossed it in the trash receptacle and stared into the camera for a few minutes before returning to the vehicle.

"Why'd you do that?!"

"So we wouldn't be tempted to use it later. I also wanted Aelfraed to know I had done it and not someone else who just looked like me."

"You do realize that, when Aelfraed learns of this withdraw, he'll discover we weren't using the Rolls, don't you?"

She hesitated as she counted out the money. "I hadn't thought of that. But, no, the bank is within walking distance of the townhouse, and you can walk anywhere in Downham Market within a few hours at most. Most likely he'll assume we're on foot. Here." She handed her a stack of £20 notes.

She placed her share in her wallet as Margaret put hers in her purse, then she buckled her seatbelt, backed up, and pulled out of the parking lot back onto the road.

"We'll take the A10 north to King's Lynn, then pick up the A17. I want to proceed northwest with as few detours as possible."

"Right. I thought of something while you were getting the money."

"Oh? What?" She turned east onto the Bexwell Road.

"If this safe house is located next to a name lake, what's to prevent someone from just looking it up on a map? Even if the location of the house is not shown, you know it's somewhere beside the lake."

"True. However, knowing its location and knowing how to get there are two different things. It sits at the base of Ben Killilan, in a deep hollow with steep walls, surrounded by rugged ridges covered with moorland and pasture. Even on foot or horse it can be difficult to find and reach on the ground, and with one exception there are no roads through that area. Then there's the fact that there are hundreds of small lakes in the Highlands. Most of them are probably named, but most aren't mapped, not even on a highly detailed Ordnance Survey map. If that's true of Moriah, to actually see it you'd need a satellite map, and even then you'd need to know its exact longitude and latitude to locate it. I've already checked; government records don't give that kind of information. Now, this may change after the turn of the century, but for now the location should still be fairly safe."

"And the village?" She entered the roundabout to turn onto the A10, heading north.

"Kiltearn may be listed on Survey maps and an unnamed body of water would probably be shown next to it, but unless you already knew it sat near Loch Moriah, you couldn't locate the safe house using the village. You need to keep in mind, though, that as long as no one knows I own it, there's no reason for anyone to try to find it."

"You seem to have an answer for everything. Okay then, what about the villagers? How do you know they can be trusted?"

"How do you mean?"

"They know your secret. What's to stop them from revealing it, even if accidentally?"

"Well, they don't need to know I've taken possession of the house. Also, if they find out, since I'm traveling as a Pendragon, they won't have any way of connecting the girl Isolde with Differel Van Helsing. More importantly, however, it's to their advantage to keep the secret as long as possible."

"How so?"

"For as long as we've owned the house, my family has patronized the village. They protected it from the Clearances, encouraged it to switch to sheep farming and later helped it to develop new sources of revenue, paid to educate promising children, many of whom returned to the village, and sponsored various social service and civic projects. It owes its continued existence to the beneficence of my family, and as long as it helps to keep our secret we will continue to benefit it. But if we were ever to lose the security of the safe house, there would no longer be any reason for us to use it, and the village would lose our patronage."

Margaret threw her a disturbed look. "Isn't that like blackmail?"

That stung; she had never considered that. "Hmph. I suppose it could look that way, but I don't believe it was intentional. I certainly won't pretend it is. More than likely it's just a mutually recognized consequence. In any event, I and my family benefit as much as the villagers do. Mr. Atherton uses a work crew to clean, maintain, and restock the house when no one's living there, and it consists entirely of villagers; no outsiders whatsoever. Plus, no safe house can remain secure without the cooperation of its neighbors. Granted, most times they don't know what's going on, but if they are reasonably observant they'll notice strange people coming and going, at long intervals and frequently at odd hours, while the house remains empty most of the time. They could cause trouble if they alert the authorities. It's better if they do know, at least a little, and can help maintain security by running interference for the true owners. Being as the villagers except my family as friends and neighbors, their natural reticence towards 'foreigners' keeps them from talking out of turn, and their gratitude for our patronage reinforces their desire not to cause us trouble."

"I hope you're right." Margaret took a sip of her coffee and made a face. Differel figured it had gone cold.

"You said it would take us nine hours to reach this house. How do you know?"

"I estimate the distance to be at least 800 kilometers. Assuming an average speed of 88 kilometers per hour, that makes nine hours. Of course, our actual speed will be variable. We should make good time in the lowlands, especially on the highways, but we'll slow down when we hit the highlands and its back roads."

"You sure this heap can make it that far?"

"Mother had already put some 43,000 kilometers on it before she died."

"Probably eats petrol, though."

"Well, it only gets eight kilometers per liter, but the tank holds 72 liters. Technically we wouldn't need to refuel for another 570 kilometers, well over half-way. But I don't want to risk running out of petrol in the middle of nowhere, so I plan to top off whenever we make a stop."

"Fine, whatever." She sounded exasperated. "But if we're going to be on the road that long, we'll need snacks and drinks."

"We have the drinks that were in the refrigerator from the townhouse."

"That'll be fine when we reach the back of beyond, but for now I want something fizzy, and cold, and loaded with caffeine."

"You're the navigator; find a place."

"How far are we from King's Lynn?"

She glanced at the console. "About five minutes—oh, bother."

"What is it?"

"Mr. Atherton said the crew that maintains the townhouse filled up the tank, but it's only reading three-quarters full."

"Told you this banger would be a petrol-guzzler."

"That would be bloody awful mileage for just fifteen kilometers. I think whoever filled it went for a joyride." She turned into the roundabout that connected with the A47 dual carriageway.

"There!" Margaret point to an Esso filling station on the opposite side.

"Got it." She switched lanes and followed the roundabout around, getting off on Queen Elizabeth Way, before turning left into the station. She pulled up to an empty pump and shut off the engine. Differel spotted a Tesco Express convenience store behind the pumping stations.

"You get the snacks, I'll fill up the tank. You'll have to pay for the petrol, but I'll get it next time."

"All right." They got out and Margaret paused at the pump. "Any preferences?"

"I don't suppose they would have caviar or pâté."

Margaret flashed a snide smirk.

"Never mind. Whatever you get is fine with me. Oh, and get a roadmap, as detailed as possible."

"Right. Be back in a flash." And she walked briskly across the parking lot.

Differel opened the fuel tank, selected her grade, and inserted the nozzle. She leaned against the side of the rover as the pump dispensed the fuel. Not for the first time she wondered if that trip was a good idea. She needed to locate and claim the safe house, but she didn't have to do it so soon after turning 16. She understood this had more to do with rebelling against the restrictions Aelfraed and the others had placed on her, but even that seemed secondary. She had to admit, if only to herself, that she had no idea why she was making the trip; everything she had told Margaret were only justifications. She just felt drawn to it, but she didn't believe she would find her 'destiny' there. She was a Van Helsing; her destiny was already determined: she would run the Caerleon Order and that was that.

A constable rode into the station on a blue and yellow checkered motorcycle just as the pump shut off. She glanced at him then looked away, to avoid eye contact, before removing the nozzle. The last thing she needed was a police officer getting curious. Unfortunately, as she placed the nozzle into its holder on the pump, he pulled up beside the rover and got off. He came around the front of the vehicle, raising the visor, and approached her. He wore the normal black uniform of the Norfolk Constabulary, with gloves and a helmet, but over it was a red and green hi-visibility jacket that covered a stab vest. As was standard, he carried no firearm, but she noted an X26 Taser attached to the jacket along with a telescopic baton and a can of incapacitant spray.

"Excuse me, Miss, may I see your licence?"

"Certainly." She took out her wallet and removed the Pendragon ID.

He took it and examined it. "You just turned 16?"

"Yes, sir, three weeks ago."

"What year were you born?"

"1976." She replied without hesitation.

He nodded and handed back her licence. "Thank you. I asked because of the way you maneuvered through the roundabout. You were within the speed limit and you signaled properly, but your actions seemed reckless, and when I saw you I was concerned you may be underage."

"I understand, Constable, I do look rather young for my age."

"Thank you, Miss. This is not a formal 'stop and account', but if you like I can fill out a receipt."

"No, thank you, that won't be necessary."

"Very good." He produced a business card and offered it. "This has my name, number, and station identification, along with other details. You should keep it if you plan to make a complaint."

"I have no reason to, you have been professional and respectful, Constable." But she accepted it and place it in her wallet with the licence.

"Thank you, Miss, I appreciate that. May I ask where you're headed? I noticed the bags in the back and the drink bottles."

"My cousin and I are on a road trip into the Highlands. We plan to spend a week hiking and seeing the sights." She indicated Margaret as she approached the car, a bag hanging from each arm and a jumbo-sized fizzy drink in each hand.

"Very good. Just take care with your driving, and have a safe trip." He saluted them with a wave and returned to his bike. After he lowered his visor he started up and went back out onto the road.

"What did he want?"

"He thought my driving was a bit erratic." She ducked into the cab to collect the orange juice and coffee cups. She drained the former and tossed both in the trash as Margaret got in.

She followed. "He checked my licence, but he was satisfied I was really 16." She accepted one of the drink cups and took a sip; it was a diet Evoca Cola. "We're lucky; had he asked for the registration or called in the plate number, he would have discovered the rover's still registered in Mother's name." She buckled her seat belt. "Even now, I can't be sure he still won't. This is exactly what we need to avoid. Hopefully this'll be the only incident." She started the rover and got onto Queen Elizabeth Way back to the roundabout. "What did you get?"

"Not being sure what you liked, I got a little of everything, almost. Cheese puffs, corn chips, potato chips, pork rinds, crackers, trail mix, jerky, and Rice Krispie treats."

They navigated onto the A47 and headed west. "What, no pretzels?!" she said in a tone of mock disappointment.

Margaret glared a dirty look. "I hate pretzels. I also got some jelly babies, toffee, and fig newtons. But there's not much of anything, so seconds won't be possible unless we make another stop."

Differel checked the clock. "A little after 6:30. We can cover 530 kilometers in six hours. The we can stop and have lunch."

"What about a spot of tea around ten?"

"Maybe. Depends on how far we get by then. I want to get to the house before dark." She noted as they crossed over the Great Ouse river. "Did you get a map?"

"Sure did." She took out a packet the same size as a piece of paper.

She maneuvered around another roundabout. "Go ahead and break it out. We just got on the A17. I believe it goes as far as Newark-on-Trent, but I need to know where to go from there. We should be there in an hour."

Margaret tore off the shrink wrap, opened it up, and began refolding it to isolate one small section. Glancing at it, Differel noted that it covered the entire United Kingdom, including Northern Ireland, and if fully opened would cover a kitchen table.

"Do you mind if I start the first tape?"

Margaret shook her head in what appeared to be a distracted manner. Differel reached down, ran her fingers over the buttons, and pressed the one she believed was play.