Raphael

by D. B. Reynolds

  Okay, so now she was inside and short on time. What to do next? She stood slowly, moving along the back of the guest house to peek around the corner. There were windows on this side, all boarded up from within. She frowned and looked around once again. She wished the damn guards would show themselves. At least she’d know what she was dealing with. It was dead as a cemetery in here, quiet as a grave. She covered her mouth against an insane giggle, almost choking when she heard voices . . . and a door slam. Be careful what you wish for, little girl.

  Any shred of humor fled, and she scurried back around the corner, tucking herself down close to the ground in the growing shadows. She had to get the fuck out of here. It was crazy enough to creep around a vampire’s nest in the daytime, but to do so at night would be suicide. Besides, Raphael would be arriving soon after sundown, and she wanted to be there to greet his smug ass. Of course, it would be better if she had some sweet piece of intel to pass on, and she was already here . . .

  The voices were drawing closer and Cyn realized with a sinking stomach that they were coming in her direction. She edged back toward the perimeter wall, crouching near the narrow, reeking space behind the cottage. If absolutely necessary, she could probably squeeze herself in there. If absolutely necessary.

  “Come on, she can’t be that bad.” It was a man’s voice, lightly teasing.

  “Oh hell, she whines constantly. Worse than a child. My ten-year-old granddaughter has more backbone than this one.” A woman this time.

  “I don’t know; she’s a pretty little thing.”

  “She’s a waste of good blood. I don’t know why the master is bothering.”

  “Ssshhh! It’s nearly dark; he could be awake already.”

  The woman blew out a disgusted breath, and Cyn could hear keys rattling, then the soft sound of a door opening. There was silence for a while, although she thought she heard movement inside the small house, then the door closed and there was the clear snick of a lock.

  “You coming?” the woman asked.

  “Nah, I’m supposed to be hanging around here. Something big’s brewing. I’m not sure what. They don’t tell us nothin’. Orders came down to guard this place ‘til a vamp replacement arrives. But a man’s gotta piss and who’s gonna know, huh?”

  “I won’t tell, sweetie. I gotta get back down the hill anyway. Have fun now.”

  “Yeah.” The guard sounded less than thrilled with his assignment. A sentiment Cyn sympathized with. If that jerk-off was going to stand there, how the hell was she going to get back over the wall and the hell out of Dodge?

  “There a problem?”

  Cyn jumped at the guard’s shout, but he was still talking to the unseen woman who said something in response, something too low for Cyn to hear. “Here, let me look,” the guard continued, his voice fading slightly as he moved away.

  Cyn didn’t hesitate, but jumped for the wall and threw herself over, scraping the hell out of her stomach and hands on the rough surface as she slid down the other side. She hit with a loud thump, sending birds scattering out of the trees, and stayed huddled against the wall, fighting to bring her breathing under control, holding it tightly when she heard the heavy footsteps of the guard coming around the cottage to check out the noise. She could hear him shuffling in the dirt near the wall and wondered if she’d left foot prints of some kind, some sort of scuffle in the leaves or something. Shit, she wasn’t a fucking tracker; she didn’t know what he was looking for. But whatever it was, she hoped he wouldn’t find it. She eased the 9mm out of her pocket and listened.

  He moved away finally, muttering under his breath. Cyn waited ten more minutes, until the shadows were so long among the trees that there was barely any light to see by, and then she ran.

  Chapter Forty-four

  FROM HER HIDING place up in the hills, Cyn used a nightscope to watch as Raphael’s vampires arrived. Finding them had been easy. Pushkin’s house was on a dead-end street with only one access road, and there was an old mission down below at the turnoff. The mission grounds were wide and flat, with lots of trees and a picnic area for visitors. This late in the season, there was no one around after dark. Except the vampires.

  There were a couple dozen of them in six big SUVs with black-tinted windows. Not exactly low profile. Although to give them credit, they did arrive separately, in ones and twos. And besides, in this part of the country, there were so many famous, or infamous, people that a security motorcade barely rated a second glance. She recognized a few of the vampires. Duncan, of course, and Juro and his brother, and Elke, and one or two others she’d seen but hadn’t met. All of the guards had traded their charcoal suits for clothing much like Cyn’s own form-fitting, black trousers with solid, lace-up boots, and a long-sleeved black t-shirt. She had added a Kevlar vest beneath her jacket, something the vamps down below clearly didn’t feel necessary. But then, she was only a clumsy human, wasn’t she? She saw Raphael slide gracefully out of the last vehicle and her stomach clenched. Almost unwillingly, her gaze followed him as he prowled among his men, his long, black coat flaring at his heels. No utilitarian clothes for the vampire lord. Clearly, appearances mattered in these things. She sighed. Of all the men she’d met, why’d she fall for this one? Sure he was beautiful, but she’d met beautiful men before. Rich, powerful . . . a dime a dozen around here. So why this one? It was a question she’d probably never have an answer for, and one that didn’t matter anyway since he’d made it perfectly clear that he didn’t want her anymore. Asshole.

  She watched unnoticed as two of the vamps peeled away, disappearing up the hill to check out the first house—the house they still assumed was Pushkin’s hideout. Shifting her nightscope to the second house, she could see a lot more activity now that night had fallen, and all of it in the dark, not even the smallest flash of light gave away the purposeful, organized presence of Pushkin’s troops. She waited until Raphael’s scouts returned, then packed away her gear and headed silently down the hillside.

  He scented her long before the others knew she was there. She saw his head come up and his gaze find her in the darkness between the trees. It was the blood. She’d washed away the dirt and grime from the scrapes on her arms and stomach, and none of the cuts were that serious, but a small amount of blood continued to ooze slowly from a few of the deeper scratches. It was enough that her t-shirt was sticking in places, and apparently enough for the vampire lord to smell her coming. Nice. Not.

  He watched her steadily as she came into the light, his nostrils flaring, his eyes glimmering with silver like frost on a black pearl. The others noticed her belatedly, whether because of Raphael’s attention or because they smelled her themselves, she didn’t know. But they all stilled as she strolled into their midst.

  “Cyn.” Raphael’s voice was deep, humming with a sensuality that had desire racing along her nerve endings, raising her nipples to hard points and sending a shiver along her skin. She cursed her traitorous body and fought to keep her face from showing what she was feeling.

  “Raphael,” she said lightly. “I believe what we have here is a failure to communicate.” She said it mockingly, with an exaggerated Southern accent, and heard a movie buff back in the pack cough to cover a laugh. If Raphael got the joke, he didn’t show it. He was in full glower mode.

  “Duncan,” he said softly.

  His lieutenant hustled the other vampires farther into the park, disappearing around the bulky mission building itself.

  Raphael gave her one of his slow, seductive smiles, came closer and prowled around her in a tight circle, bending over to sniff lightly at her hair, the skin of her cheek. “You’re bleeding, Cyn,” he murmured.

  Cynthia stepped deliberately out of his circle, then spun around and glared at him. “Don’t you dare, you bastard,” she hissed. “You think I don’t understand what went on behind those black eyes of yours yesterday? You don’t want me, fine. But
don’t think you can fuck me into submission. I may be easy, but I’m not that easy.”

  His jaw tightened angrily, but his eyes were hot with something other than anger. Cyn watched his fangs slide over his bottom lip and swallowed hard.

  “I could throw you down and have you right here, sweet Cyn, and you’d do nothing but scream for more. You are mine. My blood sings in your veins; it calls you to me even now.”

  Cyn felt tears pushing behind her eyes, but refused to give him the satisfaction. “You’re right,” she whispered harshly. “I do want you. But there’s a difference between wanting and having, Lord Raphael. That’s a lesson I’ve had to learn. And I won’t have anyone—” she snarled. “—who doesn’t want me.”

  The heat bled out of his eyes as he stared at her, replaced by surprise and . . . pain? God, she hoped so. She hoped he felt even a fraction of what it cost her to stand so close to him and know he wasn’t hers.

  She closed her eyes and drew a steadying breath, then asked, “What did your scouts tell you?”

  He studied her without answering, then shrugged minutely. “You were right about Pushkin’s headquarters. This house—” He gestured up the hill. “—is no doubt his true nest. There are vampire guards at the gate, and . . .” He paused as if uncertain how to explain it. “The scent is right.”

  “That’s not the main house,” she said wearily. She’d expected to feel triumph at bringing him this piece of information, satisfaction that she’d proven her worth. Instead, she just felt tired. She wanted this case to be over with. She wanted away from Raphael and his infernal games, away from his constant toying with her emotions, her desires. She just wanted away. “And I think I know where they’re keeping Alexandra.”

  Chapter Forty-five

  “YOU’VE GOT TO spring the trap,” Cyn insisted, when Duncan and the other vamps had come back around. “If you hadn’t known the other house was the main building, if I hadn’t told you, what would you have done tonight? How would you have gotten through the gate?”

  Duncan glanced at Raphael, who was half-seated on the picnic table, his long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed indolently at the ankles. He kept his brooding gaze on Cyn, but gave his lieutenant a slight go-ahead gesture with two fingers.

  “Lord Raphael would have ordered the gate guards to admit him.”

  Cynthia frowned. “Just like that? Raphael strolls up and says ‘let me in’ and they do it? What kind of security is that?”

  “It is what it is, Ms. Leighton. My Sire is their vampire lord. His will is literally their command. They would be unable to resist.”

  “But, if that’s true, how could Pushkin ever hope to make this work? He has to know that, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “So he has to eliminate Raphael. How does he do that?”

  “He cannot,” Raphael’s voice was cool, confident. “He can rise only by defeating me in a test of will, and Pushkin is nowhere near my equal.”

  “So how does he get rid of you then? You can’t tell me he went to all this trouble without a plan to succeed. If he can’t defeat you, then he plans to destroy you somehow and take over your territory.”

  Raphael puffed out a dismissive breath. “Even if he managed to destroy me . . . which is most unlikely . . . he would not succeed in ruling after me. This is a prized territory. Vampires would come from across the country, from around the world, to wrest power away from him. There are vampires among my own children who could defeat him. He would not last a month. But—” He pushed himself to his feet in a single, graceful movement. “Let us imagine he believes he can hold on somehow. Perhaps by combining his strength with another’s . . . Albin, for example, who is quite strong but unskilled.”

  “My lord, we would never—”

  “I know that, Duncan, but Cyn has a point. One I had not thought of. Pushkin expected to succeed tonight. Why?” His silvered gaze bored into Cyn.

  “He didn’t plan to defeat you,” she said bluntly. “He planned to get rid of you. Which takes us back to the trap. You have to spring the trap. And when he comes to see what he’s caught, you catch him instead.” The vamps stared at her like she’d grown a second head. Cyn made a disgusted sound. “You guys have all lived in the glow of Raphael’s power for too long. When you’re weak, you have to be wily to make up for it. So, let’s suppose you don’t know about the second house. What would you do? Climb over the walls or something?”

  Raphael looked down his nose at her as if she’d suggested something completely ridiculous. “Oh, right,” she said, rolling her eyes. “What was I thinking? Okay, so Raphael here walks up to the gate, presumably with his coat billowing around him in a suitably dramatic fashion, and works his mind trick on the gate guard. But wouldn’t Pushkin, I don’t know, ambush you guys or something? Have his troops waiting in the bushes?”

  “Most likely not. This is, after all, a challenge to my authority by Pushkin. If he cannot stop me from entering his nest, then he would submit to my judgment.”

  “You’re kidding, right? After all this, he bows his head and says he’s sorry?”

  Raphael smiled slightly. “Not quite, but I would not expect any real resistance until I try to enter the house itself.”

  “You have to stop assuming that Pushkin’s still playing by the rules. I don’t think he is.” She thought for a moment. “Let’s say the guard opens the gate, but he must be sending a signal that you’re here, so they don’t accidentally kill an ally instead of you.”

  “From the moment I seize the guard’s mind, he can do nothing but what I tell him.”

  “Can Pushkin, I don’t know, link with his guard, see what he sees?”

  Raphael nodded. “Possibly. If it’s one of his own children, then certainly.”

  “So that’s it. Pushkin sees you arrive, waits until you enter the house . . . and then who knows. Something absolutely lethal. Can you keep Pushkin from using his guard that way?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, you make the guard see what he expects to see, which is you at the gate. He opens the gate, let’s Pushkin know you’re here and walks into the house. Let the guard spring the trap, whatever it is. Let him walk into the house.”

  Raphael looked at her. “That will very likely result in the guard’s death.”

  Cyn shrugged. “Better him than you.”

  Raphael’s eyes glowed with amusement and something else. “So bloodthirsty, my Cyn. Duncan?”

  “It should work, my lord.”

  “Very well, then . . .” Raphael turned sharply and pinned her with his gaze. “Is Alexandra in that house?”

  Cynthia gave him a disbelieving look. Did he really think she’d leave Alexandra to die? Shit. He was such an asshole sometimes. “No,” she snapped out loud. Raphael studied her carefully, then shifted his gaze to Duncan with a jerk of his head.

  “Wait,” Cyn said quickly, before the blond vampire did the speedy disappearing thing. “There’s a lot of activity going on over at the other house. I checked it out with my goggles, but some of your guys should take a look. You see better than I do, plus you’ll make more sense of what they’re doing.”

  Duncan signaled for a couple of the other vampires to accompany him and the three of them were gone before Cynthia could blink twice. She sighed. That was a handy trick. She stood awkwardly for a moment, painfully aware of Raphael’s heavy gaze across the battered picnic table. “Look, my car’s parked at the other end, I’m going to walk over there and gear up.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Raphael murmured, his mouth curving into a bare smile.

  “No.” They all stared at her. “I mean, you need to stay here in case Duncan comes back. I’ll be fine.” Cyn started walking, not daring to look back until she heard footsteps hurrying after her. She whirled, ready to tell Raphael to fuck off . . . but it was El
ke who strolled up to her, a big grin splitting her wide face.

  “The boss sent me along.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “You think maybe he doesn’t trust you?” She sniggered.

  Cyn met Raphael’s eyes over the shorter woman’s head. “Fuck off, Elke,” she said clearly, then spun on her heel and stalked around the building to the other parking lot.

  The female vamp followed her anyway, but Cyn ignored her, pulling out her key and clicking the locks open before yanking up the rear hatch. There would be no finesse for her tonight. Tonight called for brute force. She opened the large, padded gun case on the floor of the cargo compartment, revealing what she thought of as her vampire arsenal. First, an Uzi submachine gun. She slapped in one 32-round magazine and stashed a backup in each of her thigh pockets. An almost involuntary smile crossed her face as she reached for the next item. She’d had it custom-made after her first encounter with a hostile vamp. It was an ammo belt of sorts, four lightweight, machine-sanded wooden stakes, each tipped with a lethal folded steel stabbing edge. The knife maker who’d designed it for her had taken pride in his product and etched intricate designs all around the band of each blade where it gripped the wood. Each was a work of lethal art.

  Behind her Elke hissed out a breath. “Damn, girl.”

  “It takes strength to plow a stake through a man,” Cyn murmured, then glanced at the vamp out of the corner of her eye. “Or a woman. The steel gives me an opening.” She almost chuckled at her own inadvertent pun.

  “You really think you can keep up with the big boys?”

  Cynthia turned around, but didn’t look at Elke, focusing instead on buckling on the belt and checking the slide of each of the stakes. “No,” she said. “I know I can’t.” She looked up then and met the other woman’s stare. “But I can hold my own.”

  Elke gave her a grudging nod. “Maybe you can.”

  “Do be careful to distinguish friend from foe.” Duncan’s voice came out of the shadows seconds before he emerged himself.