had been hours since I’d had lunch, so I ordered a ham sandwich with butter on a baguette and grabbed an apple from a bowl near the cash register. William paid for my dinner and asked the clerk if he could have a small bag to carry the food. Soon we were back on the sidewalk, William carrying a petite brown paper bag with handles that said CHEESE DEPOT in one hand, while holding my hand with the other.
“I want to take you someplace special,” he said, glancing at me as he spoke. “Time is running out to see it, so we have to go tonight.”
“I’m all yours,” I said. “Let’s go.”
I glanced out the car window as we left Polk Street and crisscrossed the city, leaving downtown behind us in the rear view mirror. William drove the length of Valencia Street to Caesar Chavez and then on to Bayshore Boulevard. We were moving southeast toward the old Hunter’s Point Shipyards, where the Navy had once maintained a thriving base during World War II.
“Where are we going?” I asked, finally unable to control my curiosity.
“I’m taking you to a castle,” William said nonchalantly.
“A castle,” I said, “Here in San Francisco?”
“Yep, in fact, here we are.”
True to his word, we pulled up in front of a large compound that was hidden behind a massive stone wall. The wall was partially obscured in places by a number of very old oak trees. William leaned in front of me to open the glove box. He pulled out a set of keys and a small black flashlight. He kept the keys and handed me the Maglite.
“This is for you,” he said. “I can see in the dark, but you might need some help.”
I looked around, regarding the city’s skyline in the distance. We were in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but the pale light of a quarter moon to guide us. As we left the car, I focused my flashlight on the path ahead of us. It led to a gate shut tight with an enormous padlock. I shined the beam of the light on the lock, while William flipped through a set of keys and unlocked the gate.
“Welcome to Albion Castle,” he said, as we walked through the gate. “You’re now entering an official historic landmark. It was built in 1870 by a man named John Burnell, a Londoner who came to San Francisco to start his own brewery.”
“Why here? This is the middle of nowhere.”
“Good question. He wasn’t motivated by the landscape, he was compelled by something lurking beneath,” William said ominously, guiding us through the grounds toward the front door. When I shined the light on him, I saw that his face was animated in mock horror for good effect.
“Sounds spooky,” I said, giggling. “Maybe we should go in so you can give me the tour.”
The set of keys jangled in William’s fingers as we stood in front of a massive wooden door with its ornate metal fixtures. He quickly opened the door and led me inside. I ran a beam of light around the perimeter and caught a glimpse of an enormous main hall with vaulted ceilings and wooden crossbeams. A scattering of furniture had been left behind in the room, an old couch with a sheet draped over it, a few rickety chairs and an large oval mirror, still hanging on a wall.
“Don’t move,” William pleaded, disappearing into the dark. I heard his footsteps, then a drawer opening and the strike of a match against its igniter strip. He returned, illuminated by the light of a large candle. He looked every inch the vampire tonight, pale and shimmering in the light of the taper. He had taken off his hat in the car and now his red hair gave off an amber glow from the lit flame. For the moment, I felt utterly human, and was struck by the difference in our situation. He could walk through the dark without assistance. It made me uneasy, and though I tried to brush it aside, my throat tightened with a feeling of doubt. What was I doing here alone with a vampire?
William must have sensed my uneasiness because he quickly handed me the candle and left to retrieve several more. Soon we were sitting on the floor, a sea of candles of various sizes illuminating the room. “Don’t be alarmed,” he said, gently. “I know it’s weird that I can see in the dark, but we’ll hardly ever be in