Raphael Read online

  Chapter Eight

  AS THEY STEPPED into Raphael’s house, Lonnie grabbed her elbow again, but Cynthia pulled away with a sharp tug. She didn’t like anyone grabbing her, and especially not in a situation like this.

  The space inside the double doors was wide open and high ceilinged, with big sliding windows overlooking the brightly lit pool on one side. There was an enormous chandelier overhead, but it was unlit; the only light was whatever filtered in from the pool area, its lambent blue glow bouncing off the marble floors, casting random shadows and doing little to dispel the darkness.

  “Cynthia,” Lonnie hissed in her ear. “Remember. Raphael’s like royalty, so when you address him, you say ‘my lord’ or ‘my lord Raphael’.”

  Cynthia looked at him from the corner of her eye, distracted by the shadows which had begun to move. She jerked away from him, freeing her hand to rest on the gun under her jacket. “Give it a rest, Lonnie!” she snapped.

  “Yes, Lonnie, do give it a rest.”

  Cynthia swung her head around at the light, feminine voice coming from directly in front of her. She took an involuntary step back, surprised—and worried—that the vampire had gotten so close without her realizing it. The woman smiled, slowly revealing long, white fangs pressed into a perfectly lipsticked lower lip. The lipstick was a deep, rich red, which Cyn thought was a bit of overkill, especially with the pasty white skin and icy blond hair. The suit was nice, though. Double breasted charcoal with slim trousers that looked good on her in spite of a body that had spent a little too much time in a gym somewhere.

  “Elke! This is Cynthia Leighton. The master is expecting her.” Lonnie was striving for his usual easy manner, but Cynthia figured if she could smell his fear then the vampire sure as hell could smell it better.

  “I know who she is,” Elke purred, closing the distance between them. She walked a small circle around Cynthia, ignoring Lonnie as he hustled out of her way. She was shorter than Cyn by several inches and had to look up to meet her eyes. “So, you’re a private investigator.”

  “So, you’re a vampire,” Cynthia responded dryly. “What’s with the shadow games? Or is this the usual vampire greeting. You’ll have to forgive me. I’m not up on your customs.”

  Elke froze, her pale gray eyes staring unblinking like some sort of robot whose power had been turned off. Cynthia watched, fascinated in spite of herself, wondering if she was supposed to be afraid. Well, okay, she was afraid, terrified actually, but she’d be damned if she was going to let this freaky chick know that. Of course, the vamp could probably hear Cyn’s heart trying to break its way out of her chest, but, damn. Courage was standing your ground in spite of your fears, right? Only a fool wasn’t afraid when faced with imminent and violent death. She choked back a laugh, knowing once she started, she might never stop.

  Heavy footsteps thudded against the slick marble floor, and suddenly the chandeliers that had only moments before reflected nothing but moonlight were brightly lit, filling the foyer with a clear, white light. The new arrival must have flicked the switch. That was the logical explanation, but Cynthia glanced at Elke, who gave her a slow, knowing smile, before blinking once and taking two deliberate steps backward. There were rumors of vampire mind powers, rumors that frightened Cyn more than any threat of physical violence. Her mind was her own, the one place she was unassailable, secure. The possibility anyone could mess with her mind, could make her see and feel things that weren’t real . . . really pissed her off.

  “Did you take her weapon?” Cynthia shifted her gaze from the treacherous Elke to the newcomer . . . make that newcomers. Two Sumo-looking male vampires had joined the party, both pushing seven feet tall, with broad chests and arms twice as thick as Cyn’s thighs. What was it with these guys anyway? What was the point of eternal life if you spent every hour in a fucking gym? These two looked enough alike to be brothers, maybe even twins, and both wore the male equivalent of Elke’s elegant charcoal suit; even their long, black hair was tied in identical tails at the napes of their necks.

  The one who’d spoken approached Cynthia and held out his hand, palm up. Cynthia looked up at his uncompromising face, then down at the enormous paw outspread in front her, and sighed. After first showing the vamp her empty hands, she reached slowly under her jacket and removed the Glock from its shoulder holster. Holding it with two fingers, she placed it on the vamp’s hand and glanced back up at him.

  “I’ll get that back, right?”

  For a moment, she thought the big vampire wasn’t going to answer her. But as his thick fingers closed over the gun, making it look like a child’s toy, he said, “When you leave.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Well, now that’s over with,” Elke said with obvious boredom.

  The big vamp turned so fast, Cynthia didn’t see him move. One moment he was in front of her and the next he was five feet away, glowering down at the much smaller Elke.

  “You would permit the human to go before our Sire with a gun in her possession?”

  Elke glared up at him, then lowered her gaze. “No,” she said softly, and looked up defiantly. “But I would have checked, Juro.”

  He stared at her a moment longer, then glanced at his brother, giving a little jerk of his head toward Cynthia. The two of them flanked her, and Juro made a sweeping gesture toward the stairs. “This way, Ms. Leighton.”

  “You can leave now, Lonnie.” Elke’s voice made Cynthia turn around to stare at the female vamp who had moved to block Lonnie’s progress.

  “The master said for me to bring her over, Elke.”

  “And now you have. She drove her own car, didn’t she?”

  “Well, yes, but—”

  “Then she certainly doesn’t need you any longer. Go back to your little feedlot.” The vamp made a little shooing gesture with her fingers, as if telling a servant to run along to his chores. Lonnie’s mouth tightened almost imperceptibly, but he gave Cyn an apologetic look over Elke’s shoulder.

  “Sorry, Cyn.”

  Cynthia felt a sudden sympathy for the friendly vampire. It was obvious he was low on the totem pole around here, and it struck her this was a pretty dog-eat-dog place. It had to be tough for a guy like Lonnie. He’d made a place for himself at the beach house, but in spite of that, he had very little real power.

  “It’s okay, Lonnie,” she assured him, with a look of disgust for Elke. “Thanks for coming this far.”

  Lonnie grinned, and with a final unfriendly glance at the female vamp, disappeared back out to the courtyard.

  Left on her own, Cynthia didn’t see she had any choice but to go along with Juro and his twin, so she strode across the foyer to the stairs and began climbing. The two of them kept pace with her, climbing in lockstep, and Cyn felt like a skinny slice of pale lunch meat sandwiched between the two dark-clad giants. Bad choice of analogy, Cyn, she reminded herself. Let’s skip the food metaphors for the duration.

  They turned right at the top of the stairs, then left down a long hallway which dead-ended at a pair of towering, black walnut doors. They were the largest doors she’d ever seen outside a cathedral—several feet above her head and at least six feet wide, beautifully carved, with elaborate bronze inlays. Leaning forward, she looked closely at the design, expecting to find a scene of battle lust and mayhem. Instead, she found herself looking into a dark garden, as if the doors stood open to some midnight hideaway, if only one knew how to pass through. She straightened, then glanced around at her guards, waiting for whatever was going to happen next and feeling rather abandoned without Lonnie. Not that Lonnie was any kind of protection, but at least he was a face she knew.

  Juro stood motionless for a few minutes, and then suddenly, as if some silent signal had been given, he raised his huge fist and gave a surprisingly gentle knock on the thick wooden doors. There was no sound from inside the room, but the doors began to swi
ng open, and Juro and his brother stepped back, indicating she should proceed alone.

  Cynthia looked from one to the other, then drew a deep breath, straightened her shoulders and stepped into the lion’s den for true.

  Chapter Nine

  RAPHAEL WATCHED silently as the Leighton woman walked through the doors. She flinched minutely when the doors closed behind her with a noiseless rush of air, then visibly gathered her courage and scanned the room, her gaze going first to Duncan where he stood to one side and slightly behind her, and then to Raphael himself, sitting behind his desk. She surprised him by shifting her position, moving away and back, which enabled her to keep both vampires in her sight. She was a single human female, unarmed, alone in a room with two powerful vampires. She should have been cowed, trembling with fear, kneeling before her obvious betters. Instead, she stood there defiantly, positioning herself for better defense, as if she had a hope in the world if he chose to take her.

  It intrigued him. And Raphael found little enough to intrigue him these days. He studied her more closely, taking in the elegant ease of her tall, slender figure. She wore form-fitting black trousers over long legs, and elaborate Western style boots with some sort of metal decoration on the angled heels and sharply pointed toes. A silk blouse the green of a deep forest caressed the swell of full breasts before disappearing into the trouser waist, and a short, soft leather jacket accented the gentle curve of her hip. Everything about her spoke of money. Perhaps her business was more lucrative than Raphael estimated. But he recalled Lonnie saying she came from wealth and nodded to himself. That sense of style and confidence was almost always bred into the bones. Her face revealed very little to him as she silently examined the room. No, sized up the playing field, he thought with silent applause. Her very silence was unusual in a human. They were always so eager to fill the air with their meaningless words. She finished her survey of the room and turned her gaze to Raphael, studying him in turn. A cynical grin lifted one corner of her mouth, and he felt the stir of a long dormant desire as her green eyes flashed with a combination of humor and irritation. Intriguing, indeed.

  CYNTHIA MET Lord Raphael’s depthless black eyes with a little grin and wondered what to do next. She was heartily sick of all the phony dramatics the vampires seemed to be so fond of, beginning with the spooky, tree-covered driveway, the shadows in the foyer, creepy, little miss robot bodyguard out there, and doors opening and closing on their own. And now he just sat there watching her, his hands folded together on top of a massive desk, his back to a wall of windows overlooking the ocean. Cynthia could see a slight waver in the glass, which told her it was thicker than usual and, no doubt, bullet proof. The walls to either side of the room were lined with built-in shelves of gleaming red oak, and one of those rolling ladders stood against each wall, giving access to the highest levels which had to be at least eighteen feet above the floor. The upper shelves were completely filled with books of all sizes and shapes, and there were several volumes lying askew or stacked irregularly which told her this was a working collection and not merely for show. Scattered among the lower books were various pieces of art and what she assumed were the memorabilia of a long life. Markedly absent was any kind of photograph, something you would almost always find in a human’s private office, even if only for effect.

  Duncan was standing to her right near the opposite wall. She’d shifted away and back automatically, to keep him in sight, although there was probably nothing she could do if he moved on her. But at least she’d see it coming. Maybe. The humongous Juro had moved so fast as to be invisible.

  No one had said a word yet. Lonnie had told her Raphael was like royalty, so maybe it was one of those protocol things where no one could talk until the monarch spoke first. She pictured the three of them standing there for hours, each waiting for the other to speak first, and her mouth quirked up in a half smile.

  Raphael smiled back at her. He really was gorgeous when he smiled, she thought. Of course, the rest of the time he was a bloodsucking monster, but then, so were most of her father’s banker friends, so who was she to judge.

  “Thank you for coming so quickly, Ms. Leighton.” Raphael spoke at last. “I hope you don’t think me too abrupt, but the night is short and I would like to get started. Alexandra was abducted from her guest house here on the estate, so we should probably begin there. Why don’t I walk you over?”

  That surprised Duncan, Cynthia noticed. He reacted visibly when Raphael stood and started around the desk. “My lord,” he said hesitantly.

  Raphael paused and looked over at his lieutenant. “Duncan?”

  The blond vampire opened his mouth, then clearly thought better of whatever he’d been about to say. He shook his head. “I’ll go with you,” he said instead. “I’ll tell Juro—”

  “No. You may accompany us, of course, but no other.” Duncan frowned, clearly unhappy. “I’m perfectly safe here on the estate, Duncan. Or do you think me incapable of defending myself?”

  The question seemed simple enough to Cynthia, but Duncan paled, if that was possible for a vampire. He seemed shocked at the question, and maybe a little frightened. “No, Sire,” he whispered. “I would never—”

  “Be at ease, Duncan. It was a jest, nothing more. In any case, I think you and I are more than enough for whatever our enemies might throw against us.”

  “Always, my lord. I am yours.”

  Raphael smiled fondly, walking over and reaching out to squeeze the other vampire’s shoulder. “I know that, Duncan. I value it.”

  Cynthia was reluctant to interrupt the vampire love fest, but her time, at least, was valuable. She coughed noisily, drawing the attention of both men. “The guest house?” she reminded them.

  “Of course,” Raphael said. “Come. It’s a lovely night for a walk.”

  Chapter Ten

  “LOVELY NIGHT FOR a walk, my ass. It’s fucking freezing out here,” Cynthia muttered to herself as she stumbled along the dark pathway beneath the trees. She’d pulled on her favorite Zanotti boots this afternoon before leaving for her office; they were gorgeous and perfectly comfortable for running errands and working at her desk. But if she had known there would be late night hikes through the woods, she sure as hell would have worn something more practical.

  The grounds between the two houses were much more cultivated than the dense forest outside the walls. The undergrowth had been cleared out to create a maze of elegant tree trunks of all shapes and sizes. There was room to walk among them if one chose, and if one wasn’t wearing six-hundred-dollar boots with metal studded heels. Cyn sighed. At least there was a pathway, she thought, even if it was completely unlit and paved in gravel. Besides, the great Raphael had deigned to provide her with a flashlight to augment her meager human sight. She’d flicked it on as soon as they left the house. Much to the amusement of that bitch Elke. But Cynthia had gotten some amusement of her own when Elke discovered she wasn’t invited on this little midnight stroll. Juro hadn’t been too thrilled either, but he was much better at concealing his emotions than the volatile Elke. Her rage had been blatant . . . and quickly cooled by a single glance from Raphael.

  “It’s not far now,” Raphael commented. She jumped as his silky voice seemed to come from nowhere, then sighed in irritation when he appeared from the trees on her right side. She would have sworn he was walking several feet behind with the Southern boy, but here he was gliding along next to her with an uncanny grace, his dark eyes flecked with moonlight. She looked away, wondering how anyone could ever mistake him for human. Duncan could have passed easily, but Raphael was just too . . . something. Too everything. Too gorgeous, too smooth, too graceful, too predatory. That’s what it was. There was a predatory quality that surrounded him like an invisible cloak. That’s what her hind brain had been trying to tell her earlier, screaming at her to run, run for her life! She imagined herself running down Raphael’s elegant hallways, screamin
g like a lunatic, and chuckled softly.

  “Something amuses you, Ms. Leighton?”

  It was said gently enough, but it triggered a little thrill of fear. She didn’t know how to explain what she’d been laughing about without looking foolish, or maybe even insulting, so she said instead, “Call me Cynthia. Or Cyn. If we’re going to be working together, you can’t keep up with the Ms. Leighton. We’ll both get sick of it.”

  “Cyn,” Raphael repeated thoughtfully. “Interesting choice.”

  “C. y. n,” she spelled.

  “Of course,” he agreed. “Ah, here we are.”

  Cynthia looked up and finally saw white light filtering through the tree trunks. The path curved sharply up ahead, winding around a particularly thick stand of leafy trees before emerging into a clearing bordered by a lush privet hedge. She stopped short, uncertain how to react to the “guest house.” There was nothing about Alexandra’s house, not the design, the color, or even the landscaping, that was remotely similar to Raphael’s Southwestern style mansion. It was a two-story French manor house, plucked whole from the 18th century, with whitewashed walls and blue peaked roofs, dormer windows and climbing ivy. It reminded her of the old houses she’d seen in Europe during her college days, albeit a hell of a lot better kept than most of those. It was even attractive, in an old country sort of way. Except for a black and white checkered courtyard occupying the entire frontage like some sort of bizarre ice skating rink. That didn’t belong in front of this house or any other to Cynthia’s mind.

  She blinked at it a few times, then gave Raphael a doubtful sideways glance. He caught the look. “Alexandra saw it in a magazine. Quite by chance.” He gave a minute shrug.

  Cynthia let her raised eyebrows speak for her and turned back to the house, trying to see it as a crime scene. From where they stood she could tell there was a separate entrance on the far side, with a driveway running directly in front of it, probably so they wouldn’t have to use the courtyard much. That made sense. Why mar the garish perfection of the black and white squares with regular wear and tear. Of course, why pave the front of the damn house with the things in the first place? But hey, not her house, not her decision. She walked to the edge of the courtyard, then hesitated before stepping onto it. “May I?” she asked formally.