The Cyn & Raphael Novellas

by D. B. Reynolds

  PASCAL SAT IN the front seat of the giant SUV, his mouth spewing a free flow of inane chatter while his brain worked on the problem at hand. Fucking Juro. That had been unexpected. Pascal had been thorough in his research for this assignment, reading everything he could find on the vampires who constituted Raphael’s inner circle. There wasn’t that much out there because first, Raphael’s vamps were loyal to a fault and refused to gossip about him. But also because, for the most part, the vamps closest to Raphael had all been sired by him and had remained at his side from the moment of their rebirth. Raphael’s lieutenant, Jared, was the only exception. Although he, too, had been sired by Raphael, he’d become Raphael’s man on the scene, traveling all over the West, wherever he was needed. And because of that, Pascal had been able to learn a little bit more about Jared. But Juro . . . Juro had been at Raphael’s side since he’d been turned, and no one was even sure when that was. He was one seriously badass motherfucker, almost as famous as Raphael, and known for his unflinching loyalty, as well as his power and skill as a warrior. He was also the very last vampire Pascal would have chosen to tangle with.

  Fortunately, the big guy seemed to be underestimating Pascal’s threat potential. It was the lone benefit of having been turned at such a young age. In his early days as a vampire, during the flower child era of the 1960s, Pascal had lived among the legions of lost youth in the big cities, finding his victims among his fellow street dwellers. But once he’d come into his full vampiric power, there’d been no more need to dwell in poverty.

  Pascal wasn’t strong in the way things were measured in vampire society. If he ever went head to head with a vampire like Juro, he’d be crushed like a bug. But he had one unique and powerful talent, so powerful that he’d earned a nickname among the vamps he ran with. They called him The Mesmer because that’s what he did. He mesmerized others into doing whatever he wanted. The common term was hypnosis, but what he did was far more complicated than that. He reached right into their brains and persuaded them that what he wanted was their greatest desire. It worked on vampires as well as humans, especially if the vampire was unaware of what he could do and was therefore unprepared to defend against it. As for humans . . . well they were such simple creatures, it was child’s play to persuade them to do whatever he wanted.

  And that was why it vexed him that the Leighton woman was proving so resistant to his manipulation. She’d been his target all along. Within a day of his arrival on the streets of L.A., he’d heard about Lucia Shinn’s house of losers, but he hadn’t paid much attention until the word vampire was mentioned. He’d slipped in among a group of teens dropping by the runaway house and done a little snooping of his own. It hadn’t required any of his talent to discover Cynthia Leighton’s connection to the shelter, and only a smidge to persuade Lucia Shinn to call her good friend about the new, possibly dangerous teen hanging out on her couch.

  And Leighton had shown up right on cue, with goddamn Juro in tow. How was Pascal supposed to have known that the Shinn bitch was fucking Raphael’s security chief? The minute Pascal had met Juro, he’d known that his talent wouldn’t work, that the big vamp was far too powerful, but sheer reflex had made him try it anyway. In retrospect, it had been an ill-considered impulse. Especially since it might have something to do with why he wasn’t able to penetrate Leighton’s natural shields. Maybe she’d picked up on that little exchange with Juro and was now guarding against him.

  But even forewarned, she shouldn’t be able to block him so completely. His talent was unmatched. And that wasn’t ego; it was fact. In his more than fifty years as a vampire, he’d never encountered either a single human or a vampire who could resist his influence, excepting only the most powerful vampires. It was the reason his current mistress had sought him out, why she’d dragged him away from his merry band of thieves and given him this mission. And he couldn’t afford to fail her. His talent was strong and useful, but if he failed her, she’d destroy him without a thought.

  The only good thing to come out of this fiasco was the fact that he was now on his way to Raphael’s huge estate, pulling through the gates with an all-access pass, courtesy of not just Leighton, but Juro. It was exactly what he’d hoped for. Except that the very last thing he wanted in this life or the next was an actual audience with Raphael himself. Raphael would suss him out in a heartbeat. And if Juro could squash him like a bug, Raphael was . . . well, let’s just say that what would be left of him after Raphael finished wouldn’t be worth squashing.

  Unfortunately, a meeting with Raphael seemed to be where he was headed unless he acted quickly. His clever plan for how to get onto Raphael’s estate had somehow gotten twisted into a giant comedic clusterfuck.

  He sighed as Juro drove the SUV through the gates and into the magic kingdom of Raphael. Pascal wasn’t a vampire who worried about things like manicured grounds or aesthetically pleasing landscapes. He preferred living in the big cities where his only acreage was the balcony off a high-rise condo. But even he appreciated the elegant grace of Raphael’s grand estate, with its rolling lawns of green and stands of ancient trees, all lit up with tiny white lights like a fairy princess’s dream.

  He caught a glimpse of the main house, its clean white lines splashed with even more light, but then they were driving past it, the road twisting through the dense trees until a house of an entirely different sort appeared out of the darkness. This one looked like a transplant from somewhere in Europe, which was a place that Pascal had never been. It was dark grey stone with blue-peaked roofs, climbing ivy, and an elaborate maze of shrubbery covering the entire front entrance. Which was probably why Juro was pulling the SUV up to a side entrance instead.

  “Out,” Juro ordered, apparently a man of few words.

  Pascal swallowed his sigh of relief at what seemed to be a temporary reprieve, since it was doubtful that Juro would let him get close to Raphael alone. Plus, he was the only one getting out of the truck. It was also obvious that Leighton and Raphael didn’t reside in this pseudo-European dwelling. Why would they, when they had the big white mansion to live in?

  Hopefully this meant Pascal wouldn’t be meeting Raphael tonight at least, which meant there was still hope for his grand plan. If he worked everything just right, he could still make it happen.

  “Lord Raphael is meeting us here?” Pascal questioned, wanting to be sure.

  Juro’s answer was a dismissive snort, his gaze lifting as the door next to him opened and a vampire Pascal recognized stepped into view. Jared. Raphael’s new lieutenant in the wake of Duncan’s elevation to the hallowed ranks of vampire lords.

  “Juro,” Jared said, lifting his chin in greeting. He then switched his gaze to Pascal, his dark eyes studying him silently. Jared was a handsome black guy with a neatly trimmed beard and mustache, and he was also a very big man. Not as big as Juro, but still a very big man.

  “Jared,” Juro acknowledged. “This is Pascal. He’s visiting from Chicago,” he added, letting his doubts flavor every syllable. “Let’s put him to work while he’s here.”

  Pascal concealed the delighted thrill that rushed through him at Juro’s words. His plan rested on his ability to work himself into Raphael’s guard force. Maybe it hadn’t been such a bad turn that Juro showed up after all, since he had the power to put Pascal on the job with a single sentence.

  Jared’s eyes shifted over to Juro for a long moment of silent communication, though whether it was simply meaningful looks or whether they actually communicated telepathically, Pascal didn’t know. He didn’t care either. What mattered was that Juro was leaving, so he no longer had to worry about the powerful vamp figuring out what Pascal was up to. And, as a bonus, Juro was turning him over to Jared who could put Pascal right where he needed to be.

  Of course, Jared was powerful, too. One didn’t become Raphael’s lieutenant without reason. But Pascal could be subtle and slick when he had to be. He’d bide his time, be the dutiful little vampire until Jared’s guard was down. An
d then he’d slip into the other vampire’s mind like a whisper, quiet and unseen. Pascal smiled privately. Yeah, this was working out perfectly . . .

  Chapter Two

  CYN DIDN’T SAY a word when Juro dropped Pascal off at what used to be Raphael’s sister Alexandra’s mansion among the trees. In the aftermath of what one could politely refer to as Alexandra’s disgrace—but what Cyn described in considerably less genteel language since the bitch had tried to get Cyn killed—the French provincial-style manse had been converted into a barracks for Raphael’s growing stable of soldiers, both vampire and human. If anyone doubted a war was coming, they needed only to count the number of Raphael’s vamps on the premises. As Lord of the West, he’d always maintained a large retinue of vampires of all talents and occupations. It took a lot of staff to maintain an estate of this size, and even more to run Raphael’s considerable corporate interests. And Raphael didn’t trust anyone but his own. Other than the human guards he employed to secure the estate during the daylight hours, every other task was performed by a vampire, from housekeeping to bookkeeping. But his vampire warriors were the most loyal of all his people. Every one of them was a vampire of his own making. They were his close security force and traveled with him everywhere.

  And that was why Cyn found it odd that Juro would permit a vampire he didn’t know to bunk in among the guards and be put to work.

  Okay, so giving him over to Jared’s custody wasn’t exactly an all-access pass. But something about this whole situation was pinging every instinct for self-preservation that Cyn possessed. And by self-preservation, she didn’t mean only her own, but Raphael’s.

  She was frowning, still pondering the peculiar situation when they reached the main house. Juro stopped at the foot of the stairs, waited while she and Elke got out then immediately headed back toward the main gate.

  “Think he’s going back to Luci’s?” Cyn asked Elke.

  “How would I know?” Elke responded irritably. “She’s your friend, ask her. I’m going to the gym. You want to join me?”

  “No. I’ve lost my motivation. Besides, Raphael will be back soon.”

  “Gonna get fat and flabby, bitch. See if Raphael wants you then,” Elke chided and headed for the building across the courtyard, which housed the gym, among other facilities.

  “I am not!” Cyn called after her. She reached down and tried unsuccessfully to pinch the skin around her waist. There was no flab there, no matter what Elke said. Still grumbling under her breath, she marched up the stairs and down the hall to Raphael’s office. She didn’t pause there but crossed immediately to the sliding glass door, pulled it open, and stepped outside to the sound of waves pounding on the cliffs below and the familiar slap of cold, wet air. The smell of the ocean filled her nostrils and she smiled. This was home, whether here at Raphael’s or down the beach at the condo she still kept for her daytime use. The ocean would always be home to her.

  Only one thing was missing about this scene and that was Raphael. Their mate bond grew stronger every day, and it was telling her now that he was still miles away. She sighed, resigned to waiting until he returned, so she could share her suspicions about Pascal.

  But that didn’t mean she had to sit on her thumbs in the meantime. She spun around and headed back inside, heading for the elevator and the private quarters deep underground that she shared with Raphael. Cyn had been working with vampires a long time, searching out old bank accounts and long lost descendants among other things. She was very good at what she did and had built up a network of sorts, not only among vampires, but also with the humans who did business with them. Someone out there had to know something about Pascal, and she intended to find them.

  “PASCAL, IS IT?”

  Pascal nodded as Jared held out his hand, offering a friendly handshake which Pascal accepted. Some of the older vamps rejected the modern custom of shaking hands, either because they came from a time when it wasn’t common, or simply because they disdained what they considered to be a human practice. But first of all, Pascal wasn’t that old, and secondly, he was a flexible guy. He did whatever it took to get the job done, to put his mark, his target, at ease. And right now, Jared was his mark. He wanted a handshake? Pascal would make it warm and hearty.

  “That’s me,” he responded to Jared’s question. “Happy to be here, too.”

  “Not liking Aden?”

  Pascal thought about how to answer that question. If Jared and Aden were friends, it could go against him.

  “Aden’s all right,” he said carefully. “The new guy in town always wants to get his own team in place. You know how it is,” he added, putting just a touch of spin on the words, testing the waters to see if Jared was receptive to his power.

  “Sure,” Jared agreed readily. “Everyone does it, right?”

  Pascal nodded, smiling. “I heard Lord Raphael was hiring and figured it was time for a change of scenery. The weather sure as hell is better out here.”

  Jared laughed his agreement, and Pascal felt a surge of triumph that he fought to keep hidden. His gut was telling him Jared would fall easily under his influence, but it wouldn’t do for him to get cocky. He’d move slowly, carefully. Only a fool would underestimate a vampire like Jared. He was Raphael’s lieutenant, after all, and Raphael didn’t hire weaklings.

  So, while the early signs were favorable, Pascal would be smart. Long experience told him he could overtake almost anyone if he moved cautiously enough, insinuating his control a little at a time, until the only thing left was his will.

  “The final decision on whether to add you to the ranks will be Raphael’s, of course,” Jared was saying. “And you need to know he doesn’t tolerate disloyalty of any kind. Betrayal is met with death.”

  “Not a problem,” Pascal lied easily. “I have no intention of crossing a lord as powerful as Raphael.”

  Jared nodded. “He’s tied up for the next couple of weeks, but we can get you settled in, find something for you to do in the meantime.”

  “That’d be great,” Pascal agreed enthusiastically. “I appreciate anything you can do for me.” He had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing because Jared didn’t know it yet, but he was going to be doing a hell of a lot.

  CYN WAS STILL working at her computer when she heard the elevator come to life. She’d been aware of Raphael returning to the estate some minutes earlier and had fought against the urge to rush upstairs and greet him. Even if the worst she suspected was true, there was no special urgency about Pascal’s visit. She might not like Jared, but he was no fool. He wasn’t about to turn over the keys to the kingdom to an unknown vampire after only a few hours. Besides, Juro had, no doubt, already briefed Raphael on their unexpected visitor.

  Knowing that didn’t make Cyn any less impatient to talk to Raphael herself, however. She was on her feet and waiting right in front of the elevator when it arrived.

  Raphael looked up with a broad smile as the doors slid open. He was still wearing his suit, but his tie was loosened and the top button of his shirt was undone, revealing the strong column of his throat. Cyn’s heart did a happy little dance at the sight of him, forgetting for a moment all about Pascal and his schemes.

  Raphael slipped an arm around her waist as he strode from the elevator, pulling her against his powerful body. She wrapped her arms around his neck, going up on her toes to kiss his mouth.

  “How was your evening, lubimaya?”

  “Empty without you,” she murmured against his lips.

  He laughed. “I know that’s not true, my Cyn. I’ve spoken to Juro.”

  “Just because things happened, it doesn’t mean my night wasn’t empty without you there.”

  “You must be more worried about this Pascal than I anticipated.”

  “Are you saying you didn’t miss me? Because that’s what it sounds—” Her words cut off with a gasp as Raphael lifted her off her feet and into a crushing embrace, his mouth coming down to take hers in a long, lingering
kiss that told her just how much he’d missed her.

  “I missed you, my Cyn,” he whispered at last.

  “Yeah,” she breathed.

  Raphael set her back on her feet, his hands dropping in a slow caress from her back to her hips, before falling away as he moved across the room to their big walk-in closet. “So, talk to me,” he said, as he began to undress. “I have Juro’s impressions of this Pascal, but what are yours?”

  “What did Juro say?” she asked curiously, following him into the closet and leaning against the doorway, appreciating the view as each piece of clothing was removed.

  “No,” he said. “Tell me your thoughts first.”

  “Okay. Well, at first he seemed like any other low-level vamp. Kind of weaselly, and too eager to kiss up to Juro, but that made sense in context. He claims to be from Chicago, says he wants to make a move to the West coast now that Aden’s taken over. Knowing what a dick Aden is—”

  That drew a grin from Raphael, which she returned. She didn’t really consider Aden a dick. Not anymore. They hadn’t gotten off to the best start, but his mate, Sidonie, was a pretty kickass chick and awfully nice. Cyn figured if Sid loved the guy, then maybe he wasn’t as big an asshole as she’d originally thought. Plus he’d turned out to be a decent ruler for the Midwest and, more importantly, he’d allied himself with Raphael in what all of the North American lords thought was going to be a war with the European vamps. Or almost all of the lords. Lord Enrique of Mexico had made his position clear at the last Council meeting. He’d dismissed their concerns in public, while privately accusing Raphael of attempting a takeover of the continent.