His dark eyes swung to her face, his gaze shifting to her injured shoulder beneath the thick sweater she’d put on after her shower. “What else did you find out?” he snapped.
Asshole, she thought. “I traced Odessa Exports to a Santa Barbara holding company. They list their corporate offices on State Street, but if you want to find this Pushkin, I suggest you look in Montecito. That’s where you’ll find him, and . . .” She squinted up at the angry vampire glaring at her across the brightly tiled countertop. “That’s probably where they’re holding Alexandra too.”
“How did you escape Albin?”
She blinked, startled by the near non sequitur. “I shot him,” she said simply. “You guys tend to dismiss humans as harmless. Especially the old ones like Albin who grew up fighting wars without modern weapons. He never even searched me.” She crossed her arms, hugging herself against the memory. “He was coming at me,” she said, her voice soft. “So fast; you’re all so fast. I barely got the gun out before he was on me, his teeth ripping into my shoulder. I thought I was dead, but I think he wanted to play first, wanted to hurt me, to hear me scream. I screamed all right. But while I was screaming, I shot the bastard with a nearly full load. I don’t know if it killed him, but it put him down long enough for me to get the hell out of there. And that’s all I cared about at the time.” She looked up and paled at the fury on Raphael’s face. “So,” she said lightly. “When are we going after these guys?”
“You’re not,” he said in a flat, hard voice.
“Think again, my lord,” she said flatly. “This is my case and I intend to see it through. It may have escaped your notice, but I’ve got a few grudges against these guys myself.”
“It will be far too dangerous. We won’t be facing clumsy humans this time. If this is Pushkin’s nest, he will be expecting us, expecting me.”
“Yeah, well, news flash, bud. This clumsy human’s coming to the party. And I don’t need your fucking permission. You can take me with you or follow me there, but I’m coming along.”
He glowered down at her, using his greater height and considerable size to intimidate her. Or at least he tried. Cyn refused to be intimidated by him or anyone else.
“Fine,” he snarled, spinning around and striding over to the stairs leading down to the garage. “Tomorrow night. I suggest you bring a few stakes along.”
“Don’t you worry about me,” she called after him, hurrying over to look down the stairwell. “I’ve got my own weapons.”
Raphael paused before he reached the door, his broad shoulders hunching briefly as he looked up at her. “Cyn . . .”
She met his eyes and for a moment thought perhaps . . . but, no. His expression hardened, his eyes going flat and blank once again.
“Be at the gate by eight o’clock,” he snapped. “I won’t wait for you.”
And he was gone using that preternatural speed that was little more than a blur of motion to her human perceptions. “Coward,” she whispered, sinking back down to the bar stool. “You fucking coward.”
Chapter Forty-two
CYN WOKE BEFORE noon, aching all over and feeling like she hadn’t slept at all. She told herself it was leftover stiffness from Albin’s attack, from her narrow escape. It couldn’t be the result of a sleepless night spent dreaming of dark eyes and a sensuous mouth, or the ache of loss in her heart, or even the ache of desire between her legs. It didn’t seem fair that the bastard could walk out of her life and still haunt her dreams. She rolled out of bed, determined to put Raphael and his heat-filled gaze out of her mind, out of her heart. At least until tonight. Which reminded her.
She called the vampire lord’s estate and asked to speak to Dr. Saephan. Chances were, he kept night hours pretty much like she did, but he would have to wake up early today. Why should she be the only one suffering?
“Saephan,” a sleepy voice answered.
“It’s Cynthia Leighton.”
“Cynthia.” She could almost hear him trying to think. “You’re not having any problems, are you?” he asked with quick concern. “You seemed—”
“No, no,” she assured him. “I called to apologize for the other day. For, you know, shutting you out.”
“Oh. Well, thanks. That’s good of you . . . I guess. You could just have asked me to leave, you know.”
“Yeah. I’m afraid living alone has taken a toll on my social skills.”
“Mmmmm.”
“So, is your partner going out on the big hunt tonight?”
“Oh God, yes,” he groaned. “That’s all anyone’s talking about. They’re like a bunch of kids before Christmas around here. Bloodsucking, lethal kids, but . . . you get the idea.”
“Yeah.” She forced a chuckle. “They’ll hit the road as soon as it’s dark enough, huh?”
“Fortunately, yes, otherwise, they’d drive the rest of us completely insane. I think . . . Cynthia, are you pumping me for information?”
“Maybe a little,” she admitted. “Raphael said I could go along, but he seems to have mistaken the departure time by a few hours. Odd, isn’t it?” She heard a deep sigh on the other end of the line.
“Maybe he didn’t want you getting hurt again,” he said softly.
“And maybe I don’t need some hulking vampire deciding my life for me.”
“What are you going to do?” He sounded worried.
“Don’t worry, Doc. I’m very fond of my life, all evidence to the contrary. But I won’t be shut out of this. I’ve earned the right to see it finished.” She listened to the silence on the other end of the line.
“Maybe so,” he said finally. “But . . . I’ve seen these guys in action. You don’t want to get in the middle of that, believe me.”
“I do. Believe you, I mean. So, don’t worry, I’ll be careful. Listen, I’ve got to get going. Daylight’s burning, as they say. Thanks a lot, Doc, and I am sorry for the other day.”
“Sure you are. Take care.”
“You too.” As she hung up, she wondered if Saephan would mention their conversation to his partner, or even to Raphael. Not that it mattered. By the time the vamps rolled out of their beds tonight, she’d be long gone.
Chapter Forty-three
PUSHKIN’S COMPOUND couldn’t compare to Raphael’s expansive estate. It was one of two properties at the end of a twisty, narrow street in the hills above Santa Barbara. The first was a sprawling hacienda-style residence with sandy beige walls and a red-tiled roof. It was surrounded by an eight foot masonry wall and had a single wide entrance gate. A lone, bored-looking human guard stood just inside a flimsy booth, seeming more interested in what Judge Judy had to say on the small television screen than on anything Cyn might be doing. Not that he would have noticed anyway. She was a hundred yards distant, at the edge of a property slightly higher than the vampire’s, with a perfect view of the entire compound.
Other than the guard, there wasn’t any movement in or near the house. Heavy drapes covered all the windows she could see, but Pushkin seemed to lack either the resources or the desire to maintain a substantial human guard presence for daytime. She considered this, thinking it was unlikely the Santa Barbara vamp had the kind of underground facilities that the Malibu estate did. This house was old, not something he’d had built for his own use, and the houses around here didn’t have basements. Pushkin himself probably had some sort of windowless, inner sanctum where he slept out his daytime hours. But it looked as if some of his vamp followers spent their days dead to the world with nothing but a piece of heavy cloth between them and instant immolation. Cyn imagined Albin’s white skin burning to a crispy black beneath the sun’s heat and smiled grimly.
Movement below drew her eye. She raised a pair of high-powered binoculars and watched as a lone, middle-aged woman hurried out of the main house, drawing on a sweater against the cool air. It had rained duri
ng the night; the ground was still wet and the air carried a distinct damp chill. The woman exchanged words with the gate guard, friendly words it seemed, since they both smiled and Cyn could hear the man’s bark of laughter as he opened the gate enough for the woman to pass through.
Once outside, she turned left, walking with a purpose, not like someone out for a stroll. Pushkin’s residential lot was big enough that it was a brisk ten minute walk before she came to the other property, which was around a curve and wedged deep into the dead-end. A thick stand of eucalyptus, wild oleander and scrub brush covered the space between the two houses and took her out of the guard’s sight long before she reached the second estate. It was a faded white house in the same adobe style, but it appeared almost abandoned, with trees and vines overgrowing the yard and creeping over the pale wall. From Cyn’s vantage, she could barely see the ground floor. From the street, a passerby would see nothing at all.
The woman entered a code on the remote keypad, letting herself in through a narrow pedestrian door set into the solid metal gate. She disappeared beneath the trees for a few minutes, then reemerged almost to the main house, where she pulled a key from her pocket, went up the few steps and inside.
Cyn frowned. Could it be that simple? Was Pushkin that clever or his enemies that easily fooled? She didn’t want to think so. But it certainly seemed that Raphael’s enemy was hiding in plain sight, leaving the well-maintained and obviously, if inefficiently, guarded house as nothing more than a fake while he and his vampires rested in the relative obscurity of this broken-down neighbor. But if that was so, she’d expect at least some guard presence. He might be confident in his ruse, but surely not that confident.
She scanned the new property with her binoculars and her certainty grew. Heavy, metal storm-style shutters covered every window. She lifted her gaze to the rooftop and almost missed the giveaway, it was so subtle. Nothing more than a shadow on the pale brick of the chimney. Her gaze traveled back to its source and she saw a black-clad leg shift into cover behind the arched parapet of the faux mission exterior. A careful search found no other signs, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there, only that the guards here were professional enough not to be seen . . . unlike the Judge Judy fan at the other house.
Cyn continued to peer through the binoculars until her eyes watered with strain, but she could find no other indication of either vampires or their guards. Rubbing her eyes, she glanced idly at the rest of the compound and caught a flash of faded white far behind the house. An outbuilding of some sort? A garage?
She’d been hiding in the scrub of the hillside for nearly two hours, remaining virtually still, concealed within a thick cluster of oleander bushes. She was bored, restless, and beginning to wonder why she cared enough to spend her day lying on the wet ground while small rodents scurried about their business far too close for her comfort. Making a decision, she tucked the binocs carefully into her backpack and slithered up and over the hill until she was out of sight from below. Then she stood and began walking. Maybe a little direct reconnaissance was in order.
THE GUARD AT the beige house paid little attention as she jogged past, other than a leering scrutiny that filled her with disgust at the man’s complete absence of simple intelligence, much less professionalism. Sure, she had quite intentionally stripped down to nothing but a stretchy, sleeveless undershirt, had even switched her utilitarian sports bra for a lacy number left over from her quick change at Benita’s. But she was also wearing a baseball cap pulled low over her face and black, form-fitting trousers tucked into SWAT-style heavy boots which were hardly running shoes. And still the guy hadn’t noticed anything except her bouncing boobs. She kept running until she was deep into the cul-de-sac, at the very far edge of the second property. A glance over her shoulder assured her the incompetent guard couldn’t see her even if he thought to look, but cognizant of the watchers on the roof, she stopped on the street and moved from foot to foot, shaking her legs out, as if resting before resuming her jog back down the hill.
She stared at the house, wanting desperately to follow that wall just a little ways through the trees. Maybe there was a back gate, something less guarded, someplace big enough for a small human to pass through, but too small to warrant a full-time guard. She toyed with the idea for all of ten seconds. Too risky. The guards on the roof had certainly seen her enter the cul-de-sac, might even be watching her right now. If she disappeared, they’d come looking. And if there was one thing Cyn knew for sure, it was that she didn’t want to party with Pushkin’s vampires ever again.
She sighed in resignation and started back, resuming her jogging persona until she was down the road and out of sight. She’d have to do this the hard way, which meant circling around through the brush. More rodents, and probably snakes too. That damn Raphael had better be worth all of this.
ON HER HILLSIDE perch once again, she studied the area for several minutes, then scooted out of sight and started walking. It was a long, filthy hike and, despite the cool temperature, she was sweating profusely beneath the heavy material of her jacket. But that was better that having the skin scratched off her arms as she forced her way through tangles of brush and grass that probably hadn’t been cleared since the last fire rolled through this area several years ago. She swore in disgust. Cyn was a city girl through and through. If she needed a jog, she did it on the sands of Malibu in front of her condo. If she wanted to hike, she drove to Beverly Center and hiked through the mall. She really didn’t enjoy the great outdoors all that much, and this was definitely not her idea of a good time. But she wasn’t some sort of foolish liability who needed to be left standing at the gate while the big boys raced off to save the day, either. So she kept walking.
It took the better part of two hours, and she had long since drained the last of her small water bottle, but eventually she made her way to the slope directly behind the overgrown white adobe. There was nothing here but scrublands, probably some sort of federal parkland or conservation area. Cyn dropped to her belly and pulled out her binoculars once again. It was a short drop to the estate on this side of the hill, with plenty of cover all the way down, wild oak mostly with branching trunks and full canopies, crowded by more of the tangled brush she’d fought through all the way here. The steep slant of the property would make it difficult for the watchers on the roof to see her, but a good security team would have people on the ground to make up for that. On the other hand, she hadn’t seen a single guard outside the perimeter of the wall yet, not from her earlier observations and not now. Which only meant they were inside on the estate grounds instead.
She frowned and thought long and hard about what she was going to do. It was still daylight, so the guards would be human. She could handle human. They made noise and could be tracked like anyone else, and more importantly, they didn’t have superhuman speed or fangs and claws. She lifted the binoculars once again. There was no break in the stone, not even a back gate of any kind, but the building she’d glimpsed from the hillside edged right up to the wall here. It would cover her if she wanted to climb over.
It was the memory of Raphael’s voice telling her to be at the gate at eight sharp that got her moving. The vampire thought he could leave her behind, did he? She slithered down the hill, staying close to the ground and moving slowly, mindful of every sound. They’d cleared fifteen feet or so around the estate itself. It wasn’t enough for an effective fire break, but it meant she’d have to cross a wide open space to reach the wall. She crouched beneath her last bit of cover and waited. After several minutes, during which she neither heard nor saw any indication of movement inside, she pulled flexible pads out of her thigh pockets and strapped them onto her knees. Then she stood and ran for the wall, flexing her knees and jumping at the last moment. Her hands caught the top edge and she pulled, using her feet and knees to gain traction on the rough surface, hitching herself higher until she could throw her upper body over the top. It was like climbing th
e rock wall at her gym. Or close enough. Once there, she froze in the lee of the outbuilding and listened. There had to be a guard presence in there somewhere, but damned if she could hear anyone, not even the shuffle of a boot or a grunt of movement gave them away. The wall of the outbuilding was very close, its peaked and tiled roof hiding her from anyone looking down from the main building. Below her was a cramped space filled with leaves, dirt and the usual detritus, reeking of animal feces and rot. She looked up. The roof was close, but those tiles were far more fragile than they looked, and they were hell to traverse. Was she really going to do this? Her stupid pride answered the question. Hell, yes!
Maneuvering the rest of her body onto the top of the thick wall, she used the roof edge for support and duck-walked to the far end where she peered around slowly. It looked like a guest house of some sort, or maybe an old converted storage room. She thought about it for ten seconds, then swung her legs over and dropped quickly to the ground inside the compound. Her heart was pounding with the adrenaline rush of danger, that chemical cocktail that made everything seem a little more alive, a little more intense. It was the rush that every extreme athlete, every fireman, every Navy SEAL understood. It was the reason they did what they did. For Cyn, it was that little edge that pushed her to take insane risks from time to time. She wasn’t a junkie, but she sure did like the taste on occasion. It had made her question her own sanity more than once, like right now, when she was hunkered down in the lair of a known thug who happened to be a vampire and had already tried to kill her once. And if that wasn’t enough, a quick glance at her watch told her sunset was less than an hour away. She’d checked the almanac this morning to be sure. Jesus, Cyn. If you needed a break from routine, couldn’t you have taken a nice vacation?
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