Vampires In America: Raphael Part 19

After a long, long hot shower, during which she actually managed to bathe in between bouts of simply standing under the pulsing water, she dried her heat-reddened skin carefully, donned a comfortable robe and headed downstairs in her bare feet.

Her first stop was the coffee maker, after which she sat and stared at the tiled countertop until the smell of fresh coffee roused her enough to pour a cup of the life-giving liquid. With the second cup, she discovered she was also hungry, and microwaved one of her housekeeper's m.u.f.fins and then another. After the m.u.f.fins were gone, she poured yet another cup of coffee and noticed the red light flashing on her answering machine. She doctored her coffee with lots of sugar and pushed the playback.

The first three messages were from her sister, Holly, all along the lines of, "We're sisters, can't we all just get along?" She deleted them. The next message was from Nick, his cheerful voice informing her he'd be in town on Wednesday-she checked the calendar, that was today-and to give him a call if she was around. She deleted that one too, but only after thinking about it for awhile. She wasn't ready for Nick yet. Maybe eventually. But not yet.

Next was a call was from Dean Eckhoff, sounding way too serious and official, asking her to call him. The message had come in the previous afternoon. She frowned, picked up the phone and dialed.

"Eckhoff," he answered.

"It's Cynthia."

"Yeah, let me get somewhere quieter." She heard him moving, heard more than one door open and close, and then the sound of traffic. So, he wasn't getting somewhere quieter; he was getting somewhere he couldn't be overheard. "Are you okay? Where are you?" he asked.

"I'm home. What's going on?"

"Bad s.h.i.t, Cyn, really bad s.h.i.t. They found Carballo's body, and I thought..." She heard him take a deep breath and knew he'd been worried about her.

"I'm okay, Dean. What happened?"

"Vampire. She was completely drained, then dumped off in the hills near Malibu Canyon, along the freeway. Some Cal Trans workers found her. She'd been there a couple of days, looks like."

Cyn was surprised at the pain of loss, surprised at the tears that filled her eyes. Benita had been a friend, no matter what had happened later. But she had also betrayed Cyn to the vamps, knowing exactly what Albin and Pushkin planned to do to her. A part of Cyn couldn't help feeling that a certain poetic justice had been served.

"Cyn?"

"Yeah, I'm here."

"The b.a.s.t.a.r.ds killed her." He was angry, disappointed in Cyn.

"She was your snitch, Eckhoff," Cyn said flatly. "She told me herself." She proceeded to describe the night at the ranch house, how Benita had coaxed her to the party and set her up, then bragged about how she was playing the cops.

"d.a.m.nit," Eckhoff swore. "G.o.dd.a.m.nit. Okay, listen, Cyn, you lay low for awhile and don't be surprised if they pull you in for questioning-"

"I didn't do anything!"

He sighed. "Carballo left some notes, deliberately casual stuff, but enough to let us know where she was going that night and who she was going with. You. She made it look an awful lot like you were the one feeding the vamps information, which was probably the plan all along until it backfired on her. Now that I know where to look, it'll-"

"That's bulls.h.i.t and you know it."

"I do, but a cop is dead, Cyn, and everyone knows you play with the vampires. They'd rather believe it was you than believe one of their own was dirty."

"Great. You know, I'm beginning to think waking up wasn't such a good idea after all."

"What?"

"Nevermind. d.a.m.nit. This blows. So what should I do now?"

"Just lay low. I'll do what I can from here, and eventually they'll have to admit the truth. But, Cyn, it might be awhile."

"Yeah," she said glumly. "I know." No matter how much evidence they uncovered that pointed to Benita's guilt, no matter how squeaky clean Cyn turned out to be, there would always be someone who believed the worst about her. "Look, thanks for believing in me, Dean. It means a lot."

"Hey, I care about you, gra.s.shopper. You know that."

"You may be the only one." She sighed. "Listen, I've got to go. Stay in touch, okay?"

"Sure thing, sweetie."

She hung up and was seriously considering going back to bed when she realized there was one more message waiting for her. She hit play, freezing at the sound of Duncan's even voice. "Ms. Leighton, we need to arrange for final payment on your contract. It would be best to meet in person. Please call with a time and place that would be convenient. I believe you have my number."

She remained frozen, staring down at the colorful tiles of her kitchen floor, until a knock on her front door startled her into movement. Walking automatically across the still dust-strewn living room, she peered through the peephole of the new door. Her housekeeper stood on the porch, looking perplexed as she sorted through the keys on her key ring. New door, Cyn remembered and wondered halfheartedly where the keys were. She threw the deadbolt and yanked open the door.

"Sorry, Anna," she apologized wearily when the woman looked up with a confused smile. "New door."

Anna bustled in, ready to get to work. She stopped and looked around the living room in dismay. "Miss Cynthia?"

"Oh." Cyn looked around as if seeing the mess for the first time. "The workmen. They made a mess. Don't worry if you need extra time today, whatever it takes."

"Yes." The housekeeper nodded slowly, then took a good look at Cyn and scowled. "You've lost weight," she said sternly. Shaking her head, she went on into the kitchen, depositing her purse in the cupboard beneath the island and going immediately to the utility closet for her supplies.

Cyn didn't like to be home when Anna was working. It made her feel like an intruder in her own house. She picked up the phone and dialed Duncan's number from memory. She didn't identify herself when his voice mail answered, just said five words and hung up. "My office at eight. Tonight." She put the phone down and went to get dressed.

Chapter Forty-nine.

Down in the garage, Cyn took one look at the mess inside the Land Rover and closed the door. She'd run it through a car wash and thrown a towel over the seats before driving to Santa Barbara, but it was one thing to drive the d.a.m.n truck to a rendezvous with a high probability of more mayhem, and another entirely to park it behind her office in Santa Monica. There must be someone who specialized in cleaning blood-soaked car seats. Someone like Harvey Keitel in Pulp Fiction. Come to think of it, she'd seen a special on television about a company that cleaned up after all kinds of b.l.o.o.d.y events-crime scenes, suicides, stuff like that. There had to be a company like that in L.A. She'd have to find them and give them a call. In the meantime, she arranged for the local car rental place to deliver a Lexus sedan to her office and called a taxi.

As the taxi dropped her behind the low office building, she noticed the lawyers on either side of her were both in. The therapist apparently took Wednesdays off. Did therapists golf? Or maybe they went to the spa. G.o.d knows, if Cyn had to sit and listen to other people complain for hours every day, she'd certainly need a weekly spa visit.

She let herself in the back door, automatically turning off the alarm and opening the blinds to let in some light. There were a few messages waiting for her, nothing monumental. A backup call from Nick and a couple of potential clients, referred by others. She'd call them later, or maybe not. She was thinking about a nice, long vacation. Somewhere far away from Malibu and its resident vampire lord. Cyn sighed deeply. She'd managed to avoid thinking about Raphael for the last couple of days, had managed to ignore the dull ache of emptiness beneath her heart. Duncan's phone call had brought it all roaring back to life.

She walked over to her desk and leafed through the stack of mail that had been waiting for her. It was the first of the month. There were bills to pay, rent checks to process. Life went on. She opened her banking software and set to work.

By the time she finished, the room had grown dark, with only the small desk lamp and her computer monitor to light the office. She glanced up uneasily, painfully aware that somewhere in the city Raphael was beginning his night. Without her. She pushed away from her desk with an angry kick. She would not cry. She would not.

She glanced at her watch. It was nearly eight o'clock already. Where the h.e.l.l was Duncan? She cleared her desk, closing folders, shutting down her computer. No reason to stay once this meeting was over. There were no other current clients, and she didn't fancy any new ones right now, especially not the ones who came at night. When the buzzer sounded, she jumped, even though she'd been expecting it. She stared at the closed door and reached out reluctantly to click the small k.n.o.b on the security screen.

Duncan stood outside, gazing directly at the camera. "f.u.c.k." She leaned back in her chair and realized for the first time that she'd been hoping Raphael would show up tonight, not Duncan. Her disappointment was bright and sharp, and so stupid. A knock sounded on her door and she heard the vampire's voice. "Let me in, Ms. Leighton. I know you're there."

"How do you know, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d?" she whispered.

"Because I can hear you," he replied, clearly amused.

"Great." She pushed the release.

Duncan walked into her office alone. Definitely alone.

"Why are you here?" she asked.

"I told you on the phone," he said patiently. "I brought your final payment." He laid an elegant, white envelope on her desk. Her name was typed-not written in a flowing hand, but typed on the front. "You did perform quite admirably, but I believe you'll find the compensation more than adequate."

"Yeah, great."

The vampire tilted his head curiously. "You disappeared the other night before I could thank you. I had my doubts about the wisdom of bringing you in, but ... you served him well. That's important to me."

Cynthia stared at the blond vampire with his so human brown eyes. So sincere, so sober Duncan. And so utterly devoted to Raphael. "Can I ask you a question?"

Duncan regarded her steadily, then tipped his head in acquiescence. "Certainly."

"I don't mean to offend, but ... how did you die? I mean what happened that made Raphael turn you?"

Duncan smiled at her. Cyn thought it was the only time she'd really seen him smile. "You're very straightforward, Ms. Leighton. I admire that. As to your question, I was dying, struck down with so many others during the war." He caught her eye. "That would be the War of Northern Aggression, the Civil War I believe you call it."

Cyn nodded.

"It was 1863, the Battle of Stones River. Thousands died on both sides, many more were wounded. There was so little the surgeons could do for us then, and what few skills they had were given to the officers, or to the men who would live to fight again." He stared at the wall, his eyes far away. "I was not one of those. Like so many, I was a farmer, conscripted into the army with no training and even less skill. Such a waste." He shook his head at the memory. "In any event, I was sorely wounded, sliced across the belly, my own hands all that were keeping my intestines from spilling into the dirt. A terrible way to die, slow and painful, with the scavenger birds jostling all around, waiting until you were too weak to push them away. I can still hear the screams of the other men, even after all these years..." He was silent for a moment, then continued briskly. "Lord Raphael found me and gave me a choice. I owe him my life; my loyalty I give freely."

Tears were rolling down Cynthia's cheeks and Duncan stared at her. "Cynthia?"

She wiped her cheeks angrily. "I think that's the first time you've ever called me by my name, Duncan. Be careful; you wouldn't want anyone to think you like me." She forced a smile. "So, how's Alexandra? She recovering okay?"

"As you saw, it was difficult for her, but under the circ.u.mstances, she's doing quite well. Raphael is taking her to one of his other estates for awhile, away from the memories. Though, he is sorry to be leaving Malibu. This is his favorite city." He looked at her directly. "For many reasons." When Cyn didn't respond, he continued. "Alexandra has told us how you killed Albin and freed her. Raphael was furious at first; Albin was supposed to be his." Duncan seemed amused by that. "Alexandra has nothing but good words for you and asks almost daily if you will visit."

"Well," Cyn laughed nervously. "That would be awkward, don't you think? I mean she and Raphael..."

Duncan stared at her. "I believe you have mistaken the nature of their relationship, Ms. Leighton. Alexandra is Raphael's sister. They were separated for centuries; he thought her dead along with their parents. He still feels guilty, I think, that he lost her for all that time, and Alexandra is not above ... Well. Let us say Alexandra can be rather demanding."

"His sister." Cyn felt like someone had kicked her in the stomach. She fought to keep the pain from showing and knew from Duncan's expression that she wasn't succeeding. So she turned away, busying herself with taking the envelope-which was filled with cash-and shoving it into her backpack. She switched off the light before facing him again. No doubt he could see her just as well in the dark, but it made her feel less exposed.

"Thank you for bringing this, Duncan. It was kind."

"It is no more than you earned." He opened the door, looked back as if to say something, then sighed and said instead, "Take care of yourself, Cynthia." He stepped outside and closed the door behind him.

Cyn sank down into her chair and let the tears come. It had been easier to believe there was no hope, that Raphael's feelings for Alexandra and the deadly permanence of that bond cut off any possibility for them. But now, to find out...?

You're a fool, Leighton. If life had taught her anything at all, it was that love could not be trusted. Her father, her mother, her grandmother, even the strangers who took care of her, every one of them had let her down until finally she'd acknowledged that it wasn't going to happen, that she was well and truly alone. But the d.a.m.n vampire had gotten through to her, had made her feel wanted, needed, cherished even. And she'd responded like the fool she was, letting herself care, letting herself believe that he cared in return.

She stood, shaking herself a bit, straightening her shoulders. What did it matter, really? So Raphael was gone. She'd been alone before and would be again. So she had been a moment's diversion for the powerful vampire lord. So what? The s.e.x had been great, the money generous, and her reputation would certainly benefit, which meant more jobs in the future. So. Great all around.

She picked up her backpack and headed for the parking lot where the rented Lexus was waiting for her. So she'd been a fool. Lesson learned. She'd get over it. A year from now, she'd probably be laughing at the whole thing. But tonight ... tonight it hurt too much.

Chapter Fifty.

Duncan swung the BMW in next to a long, black limo that sat idling in the private hangar. Raphael walked across to meet him, waiting as his lieutenant turned off the engine and got out of the car.

"She is well?" he asked.

Duncan nodded, little more than a bow of his head. "She appeared healthy and well-rested, perhaps a bit too thin, but..." He shrugged. "It was a stressful few days."

"Did she-"

"She asked about Alexandra, inquired for her health. I told her Alexandra has asked about her, as well." He gazed steadily at Raphael, who met his stare.

"What, Duncan? Say whatever it is. I don't want to spend the next several hours in the air with you brooding at my back."

Duncan flushed, whether with anger or embarra.s.sment, Raphael couldn't say. Possibly both. He waited.

"Whether you claim her or not, my lord," Duncan said finally. "She is yours."

Raphael stilled, his black eyes going flat with brutally contained emotion. Left unsaid, never to be said in his presence, was the other half of Duncan's p.r.o.nouncement, the corollary that was as immutable as the truth of what Duncan had dared say. For if Cyn was his, and he was filled with rage at the very thought of her belonging to another, then he was just as surely hers.

Behind him, the pitch of the plane's engines changed as the pilot prepared to taxi and he heard Alexandra calling his name. Raphael sighed as Duncan came up next to him, and together they walked toward the stairs.

"Is it snowing yet in Colorado, Duncan?"

"Not yet, my lord, but soon."

He sighed. "I hate cold weather."

"I know, Sire. Let us hope we can return to California before long."

"Let us hope."

The pilot closed the door and had the jet taxiing out of the hangar almost as soon as they were aboard. There was a short delay while he checked in with the tower, and then Raphael was leaning back in the soft leather seat for take off, his eyes lingering for some reason on the bright lights of a restaurant high above the tarmac and the lone figure of a woman sitting at the bar. She was there and gone in seconds as the plane raced down the runway, rising into the night sky over the ocean before banking and leaving the warm sands of Malibu far behind.

Cynthia sat at the sushi bar above the Santa Monica Airport and watched a sleek Gulfstream as it soared into the cloudless sky. She didn't know why she'd come here, to this place. She hadn't been to this restaurant in years, not since a brief fling with an FAA test pilot. Her only thought on leaving her office had been to go home and sleep a few more days. But she'd found herself turning in the opposite direction, and here she sat watching someone else escape from L.A.

She stood, suddenly anxious to leave. She was cold and her jacket was in the car. Dropping a tip on the bar, she headed for the elevator, wondering if she would ever be warm again, if there was heat enough in the world to erase the touch of his hands, the taste of his kiss. And knowing she'd trade a lifetime of warm for one more night beneath the cool moon in the arms of the vampire lord.

To be continued...