Vampire Zero (Laura Caxton, #3)(40)
The girl nodded again and then turned around and started trudging across the lawn. The hem of her dress dragged through the snow, but she didn’t seem to notice or mind. Caxton followed close behind.
Vampire Zero
Chapter 25.
Caxton was brought into the main hall of the huge building, an echoing cavern with marble floors and high columns. A spiral staircase in wrought iron rose from the rear of the hall while massive fireplaces on either side roared with heat and light. The only other illumination in the room came from standing candelabras. There didn’t seem to be any electric lights in the hall. Caxton wondered if the place was even on the power grid.
Her silent guide led her toward a door set in one side of the hall. The girl knocked once, hesitantly as if afraid of making too much noise, then stepped back quickly. She turned and smiled at Caxton again, with lots of teeth.
Someone beyond the door called, “Enter.” Caxton shrugged and pushed the door open, then walked into a small but pleasant little office. The walls were lined with crowded bookshelves, except where they were pierced by a broad window that looked out on the lawn and another, if much smaller, fireplace that crackled merrily. Behind a massive oak desk a young woman was seated, dressed in a severe black dress and with a white cloth over her hair.
“You’ll be Trooper Caxton, then,” the woman said, rising from where she sat to hold out one gloved hand. Caxton shook it. “Welcome to our little sanctuary. Raleigh has told us about you. I’m Sister Margot.”
“Sister?” Caxton asked. “I didn’t realize this was a convent. I guess I should have guessed from the—the clothes.”
“This place was a nunnery once, but it’s moved on with the times. The staff remain under holy orders but we’re purely nondenominational. As for this outfit I’m wearing…it’s commonly called a habit,” the woman said. “We like to say it’s the last habit we ever want to take up. Please, please sit down. Can I offer you something to drink?” She turned to where a plastic cooler sat next to the window. It looked distinctly wrong in the room, which otherwise might have been furnished in the previous century and never renovated.
“I’d love a Diet Coke,” Caxton said. It had been a long, thirsty ride.
“Sorry. We don’t take stimulants. How about apple juice?”
“Sure.” Caxton took the proffered bottle and twisted off its cap.
“It’s vital to stay hydrated.” She offered a bottle of water to the silent girl standing in the doorway.
“You’ve already met Violet, but of course she didn’t introduce herself.”
“Pleased to meet you both. I guess you know why I’m here.”
“Of course,” Sister Margot said. “Sister Raleigh will be down in a while. She’s currently engaged in a group therapy session that can’t be interrupted. In the meantime I’ll be happy to answer any questions you have. We may look as if we’ve turned away from the world, and we have,” she giggled—behind Caxton Violet bubbled with mirth as well—“but we believe in hospitality as well, which includes cooperating with the authorities whenever we must. We also pay our taxes, quite regularly.”
“Good to hear it, though that’s not my department. Nice place you have here, by the way. All women, from what I hear. Must be very peaceful. So are you a Moravian? I never heard of Moravian nuns before.”
“Oh, no,” Sister Margot exclaimed. “There is no religion within these walls. When I want to pray, I actually step outside. We’re very careful not to exclude anyone.”
“Except men,” Caxton suggested.
Sister Margot shrugged. “They can be a distraction to the work we do here.”
“I see,” Caxton said, although honestly she was pretty confused. “What kind of work would that be? I’m afraid I don’t know as much about Raleigh as I thought I did.”
“This is a place of refuge. The girls who come here have all met the dark side of life, one way or the other. They need a place they can go far away from the temptations and stresses of modern life. We provide counseling and therapy, but mostly our work is to provide a different way of life. A simpler way.”
“So this is a halfway house?”
Sister Margot’s smile dimmed, but only by a fraction of a watt. “More like a retreat. A shelter from the storm. Trooper, we try to provide an oasis from all distractions, that’s all.”
“It’s, uh, Special Deputy. Not Trooper. So religion is one of those distractions. But you’re a believer yourself, aren’t you? I mean, you’re a Christian or something.”
Margot’s smile faded a few degrees. “I have taken certain vows, yes. I am required by those vows to wear this habit. The building we’re in was once consecrated to a holy order, as well. In the past it was a home for wayward girls—unwed mothers, to be exact. In recent years we’ve broadened our scope and also our outlook. The work we do here is vital and it must be completed in an atmosphere free of judgment and prejudice. The girls who come here have all made bad mistakes in their lives. The last thing they need is authority figures—like God—to remind them how they’ve failed.”
“Mistakes?” Caxton asked.
“Some became addicted to drugs or to less material pursuits. Some are just lost. What you would call mentally ill. I started out here myself, years ago. I suffered from schizophrenia and delusions of grandeur. This place helped me immeasurably.”