Jabril

by D. B. Reynolds

  Out in the hangar, Cyn could hear the steady buzz of small aircraft taking off and landing on the nearby runway, mixed with the occasional whine of a private jet. This airport handled only general aviation, so there was probably nothing bigger on the runways than her own chartered jet. The hangar itself was big enough for two, but the company had assured her the building would be empty except for her.

  Cyn preferred to be certain, so she did a quick walk around of her own. There was a windowed office against one wall, with a couple of desks and the usual office paraphernalia, but the door was locked and the lights were off. A pair of restrooms and a maintenance room of some sort completed the grand tour. Once she'd checked the locks on all the exterior doors, she went back to the plane and sat on the stairs to rummage in her backpack for her cell phone.

  There were several messages from Raphael's number, which she deleted without listening. It could have been Duncan calling, but she didn't want to chance it. Raphael was altogether too good at convincing her that whatever he wanted was reasonable. And besides, Cyn had her pride. He'd walked away from her weeks ago and now suddenly he was all hot to get ahold of her. Was it coincidence that she'd recently been in Texas with a rival vampire lord? Cyn didn't believe in coincidences. Especially not where vampires were concerned. They made Machiavelli look like a piker.

  There were two other messages, one from Dean Eckhoff, her old training officer at the LAPD, and one from Lucia Shinn, her friend from college who ran the teenage shelter and whose name she'd given to both Ramona Hewitt and Liz's friend Kelli. She called Lucia first, hoping against hope that Elizabeth had gotten the number from Kelli and called in.

  "Hello?” The teenager's voice held so much suspicion and resentment that Cyn wondered why the kid bothered to answer the phone at all. Not that she expected anything else. Luci gave “her” kids the run of the house as long as they observed some basic rules, which came down to no drugs, alcohol, or fighting. Other than that, they were encouraged to think of it as home—a concept which held few fond memories for most of them.

  "Hey,” Cyn said. “Is Lucia around?"

  "Maybe. Who's calling?"

  She rolled her eyes, but swallowed her impatience. “Tell her it's Cynthia."

  "Luci!” The kid yelled so loudly that Cyn winced away from the phone. “You got a call!"

  Cyn heard Luci's voice as she approached the phone, soft and unhurried, as always. If Luci ever raised her voice, Cyn had never heard it. The self-appointed receptionist passed on her name, saying, “Some chick, says her name is Cynthia."

  "Cyn! Where've you been?” Luci exclaimed a moment later.

  "Hey, Luce, you rhyme."

  Luci groaned. “So what took you so long?"

  "I picked up your message two minutes ago; I've been a little busy. When did you call?"

  "Two days ago. Where are you?"

  "Sitting in an airplane hangar waiting for sunset."

  "Waiting for...” Luci sighed. “Vampires, again? I thought you were in Texas. Someone from Child Services there called, Ramona Hewitt, and she said—"

  "Yeah, she told me. We talked. Thanks. You haven't heard from my missing girl, have you? Elizabeth Hawthorn? Blond, blue-eyed, on the tall side, probably with a bit of a twang?"

  "No,” Luci said slowly, as if running through a list in her head. “No.” More confidently. “What makes you think she's here?"

  "She's the reason I was in Texas. Her guardian hired me to find her, and I'm pretty sure she took off for L.A. I gave your number to a friend of hers, hoping she'd get in touch."

  "Okay, I'm confused. Is this teenager a vampire or what?"

  "Not if I can help it,” Cyn said grimly. “It's a long story, but if the kid shows up, don't call anyone but me, okay? She does not want to end up back in Texas."

  On the other end of the line, Lucia sighed. “If she says it's okay, you'll get a call, otherwise—"

  "Yeah, yeah, I know the drill. Tell her Mirabelle's with me; she'll call."

  "Who's Mirabelle?"

  "Her older sister and the reason I'm sitting in an airplane hangar instead of on my way home. Like I said, long story. So you called, what's up?"

  Lucia drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I need your help."

  "Anything I can do, you know that."

  "You might be the only one I can turn to for this. Listen...” Luci's voice became muffled, as if she was shielding the phone. “Can I come over there?” she asked. “I'd rather not discuss this on the phone."

  Cyn drew back in surprise, but said, “Sure, if you don't mind baby-sitting a vamp. Hey, as long as you're coming, can you make a couple of stops for me? I'm kind of stuck here—"

  * * * *

  While she waited for Luci to show up with her requested supplies, Cyn called her friend Dean Eckhoff. Eckhoff had been assigned to Homicide not long after Cyn's rookie year, and they'd stayed in touch after she left the force. He'd help her track down a local Russian Mafia bigwig last month, when she'd first been hired by Raphael to find his kidnapped sister.

  Eckhoff had also stuck by her in the aftermath when an undercover operative who'd been working the same crime organization turned up dead. There were plenty of people in the LAPD who were still convinced Cynthia was somehow responsible. The dead operative, Benita Carballo, had been a friend of Cyn's, or so she'd thought right up to the moment Benita betrayed her to one of Raphael's enemies—a vampire who'd intended to suck Cyn dry. Cyn had escaped, barely. Benita had not. Her bloodless body had been found two days later and Eckhoff was one of the very few who believed Cyn had nothing to do with it.

  The phone finally picked up. “Eckhoff."

  "It's Cynthia."

  "Yeah. We gotta talk."

  "I'm a popular girl today. Everyone wants to talk. Can you tell me what it's about?"

  "Not right now.” He paused. “You're on your cell, right?"

  "Yes."

  "I'll call you in ten minutes.” He hung up.

  Cyn flipped her phone closed with a frown. That was two weird calls too many. Something was definitely going on. She stood and stretched her legs, then walked around the empty hangar restlessly, waiting for her phone to ring. When it did, she answered immediately.

  "Yes."

  "We've got trouble and, like it or not, you're in the middle of it."

  "I've told them everything I know about Benita."

  "Not that. Or not only that, although it sure doesn't help. Someone's killing girls, teenage runaways most of them; we've got five vics so far. All done in by someone with sharp teeth and a taste for blood."

  "Impossible. Raphael would never—"

  "And that's your problem right there,” he cut in. “You're too close to the bloodsuckers, Cyn. People around here are remembering Carballo and your name's coming up again."

  "Oh Christ, what now? I'm helping some creep kill little girls? Get a grip, for God's sake."

  "I didn't say I believed it,” he said thinly, and Cyn could hear the anger under his words.

  "You're right. I'm sorry. It's been a long couple of days. Listen, I haven't even been in L.A. the past week. I got back an hour ago."

  "Well, that's something."

  "I'm telling you, there's no way in hell Raphael would tolerate one of his own killing humans like that. Something's not right about this. How long's it been going on?"

  "You know I'm not supposed to say anything. We've managed to keep it out of the papers because the vics have been all over the county and, for the most part, living on the street. But it's only a matter of time."

  "You wouldn't have called me if you didn't have something to say, boss."

  He sighed, remaining quiet as if thinking over his next move. “You're right. Okay. Five girls in under a month."

  "Jesus! He's a busy little fucker. Luci Shinn's been trying to get ahold of me too. Is that why?"

  "Probably. She's threatening to go to the press if we don't do something."

  "Have you talked to her?"


  "It's not my case, but I don't think anyone's talking to anyone so far."

  "You know, if you'd take the few minutes to talk to her, she might actually help you out. And has anyone bothered to call Raphael? He'd know if—"

  "Like I said, not my case, not my call."

  "Well, shit, Eckhoff!” She thought for a minute. “Can I see the bodies?"

  "What?"

  "Can I see the bodies?"

  "What the hell for?"

  "Because I can tell you if a vamp really did them."

  "The ME says—"

  "The ME's in a hurry. Homeless girls don't make headlines. He sees a neck bite and blood and says vampire. Let me see the bodies, Eckhoff. I might be able to help, and you know I can talk to the vamps and Luci for you."

  There was a long silence on Eckhoff's end. “Okay. But it'll have to be on the down low. I'll talk to my guy in the coroner's office and see what I can work out. You'll be reachable?"

  "I'm pretty much stuck until sunset—"

  "I don't even want to know why. Stick close to your cell. I'll call you when I've set something up.” He hung up without saying good-bye.

  Cyn stood and brooded for a few minutes, staring at nothing, pissed that she was trapped in this stupid hangar. Dammit, dammit, dammit. Now she felt guilty. What if all those calls from Raphael's number were because of this whole vampire murder thing? What if it wasn't even Raphael calling, but maybe Duncan or someone else wanting her help in dealing with the human police? Maybe Raphael wasn't pining away for her, after all. And didn't that just suck big time?

  She was going to have to call. And not only about the murders. Mirabelle would need Raphael's blessing to stay in California, which probably meant petitioning for his protection or something. The vamps were big on ceremony and tradition. Mirabelle would probably have to swear some sort of archaic oath, something involving blood, she was sure. All terribly gothic and portentous, but whatever it was, it had to be better than living as Jabril's private kick toy. None of which changed the fact that Cyn had to call Raphael. Maybe she could reach Duncan instead. “Fat chance,” she muttered out loud. Faint echoes mocked her from the heights of the empty hangar. She looked at her watch and nearly groaned. Hours yet to kill. She climbed the steps back into the plane and settled in to wait.

  By the time Lucia called to say she was outside the hangar, Cyn couldn't get to the door fast enough. It had been nearly an hour since she'd spoken to Eckhoff. She had tried making lists of things to do, lists of clues to follow up, lists of people to talk to, lists of famous people she thought were dead. She'd even tried sleeping, for about two minutes. Finally, she'd pulled on her sweats and running shoes and had started doing laps around the interior of the stuffy building. When Luci arrived, she shifted her pattern and jogged over to the door to let her in, then stood there panting like a dog, one hand on her side which was beginning to ache.

  Luci took in Cyn's sweat-soaked face and shook her head in amusement. “You couldn't find anything else to do with your time?"

  "I couldn't sit still,” Cyn panted. “Too much on my mind."

  "That's one excuse. Okay, I think I got everything you wanted and I brought some food, but...” She gave Cyn a raking glance, somehow managing to look down her wrinkled nose, even though she stood several inches shorter. “You might want to clean up before you eat."

  "What'd you bring?"

  "Sandwiches from Bruno's. You'd never know it from looking at you, but it's cold outside and I thought something hot would be good. Is there a shower around here?"

  Cyn grinned. “Are you suggesting I stink?"

  "I would never be so crude.” Luci stepped past, giving her shining black hair a quick toss. She looked around the empty hangar with a sigh, then shifted her glance from the jet back to Cyn, perfectly plucked eyebrows arching over dark, almond shaped eyes. “I guess we're eating in there?"

  Cyn laughed and nodded. “It's pretty nice actually, and there's lots of cold drinks. Let me wash up.” She started toward the women's restroom, turning around to walk backwards and say, “Dean Eckhoff called me."

  "So you know why I'm here,” Luci said grimly. “I can't get any of those bastards to talk to me. My kids don't mean shit to them."

  "That's not true, Luce. Look, let me clean up and we'll talk."

  Chapter Sixteen

  Cyn licked tomato sauce from her fingers and groaned with pleasure. “God, that's good. I swear I haven't had any real food in days. Between staying up all night with that asshole Jabril and chasing around a strange city trying to find someone with nothing to go on, I barely found time to grab a sandwich from room service. Although I did have some egg rolls or something in the hotel bar. Not what I expected from Houston, but...” She shrugged. “I guess I shouldn't expect a barbecue invite from a vamp, huh?"

  "Hardly. Personally, I don't think I'd accept any dinner invitation from a vampire. I'd be too worried about what—or who—was on the menu. Especially me."

  Cyn chuckled. “Don't believe the movies. Most vampires are pretty careful about consent these days.” She popped the last of her sausage sandwich into her mouth and used a handful of napkins to wipe the leftover grease and sauce from her fingers as she chewed. “So,” she said. “Eckhoff actually did call me because of your missing girls. Did you know the cops think a vampire's doing it?"

  Luci frowned. “Why would they think that?"

  "That's what I'm going to find out. Dean's going to get me into the morgue to see the bodies.” Luci grimaced in distaste, but Cyn continued. “I should be able to tell if a vamp killed them. Although I really doubt it. The vampire lords ride their people pretty tightly. Something like this could cause a lot of problems and no one wants that."

  "Maybe it's some sort of internal vampire thing. You know someone who wants to cause problems."

  Cyn shook her head. “Not that they don't hate each other's guts sometimes. Believe me, they're exactly like the rest of us in that. But this looks bad for everyone, not just one or two guys."

  "Well, if they're really like the rest of us, maybe someone's gone over the edge. You know, just plain crazy."

  "Possible. Raphael's been calling me too; I don't know why. Obviously, I haven't been able to call him back yet."

  Luci frowned. “I thought you and he were—"

  "We were, that is, we are,” Cyn added quickly. “But this isn't personal; it's business. I know you don't like the guy, Luce—"

  "Because he hurt you."

  "It wasn't all—"

  Luci gave her a reproving look. “He broke your heart."

  Cyn sucked in a breath at the blunt reminder. She'd almost managed to forget it in the rush of events since she'd hatched the plot to rescue Mirabelle. Right. “Yeah,” she said and continued quietly. “But Raphael's a businessman, Luci. And this is very bad for business. If he knows about it, then he's trying to stop it."

  "I'm sorry, hon."

  "No. No, you're right. I was getting carried away there for a minute. Look, Eckhoff's going to call when he has something set up. Probably much later tonight, when the morgue's quieter. I'll go over there and talk to him some more and I'll let you know what I find out. You've got to keep this to yourself, though, Luci. If Dean knows I'm talking to you, he'll be pissed as hell and I'll get nothing."

  Luci made a zipping motion across her lips, then opened them and said, “I trust you. I don't trust Eckhoff or any of those guys, but I know you'll do what's right."

  "Okay, thanks. So, what can you tell me about the dead girls? Were any of them yours?"

  "I don't know much, not even their names, except for the latest one. She was pretty regular with us—Carlene. That's all I know, her first name, and that she was close to eighteen, maybe nineteen. You know how it is, Cyn, you're lucky if they tell you their real name. I've been trying to find out about the rest of the victims. You'd think the cops would be glad for someone who wants to help figure out who they are, but I can't even get that much cooperation."

&n
bsp; "It's complicated, Luce. The murders were in different jurisdictions, different cities. It probably took the cops a while to connect them to each other, much less get any kind of coordination going. But believe me, they want to find the killer every bit as much as you do."

  Luci gave her a skeptical look.

  "Okay, well, maybe not as much as you, but you're one of a kind."

  "Yes, I am,” she sniffed.

  Cyn smiled. “Go home, Luce. Go back to your little chickies and I'll call you."

  Lucia stood, gathering up trash and shoving it into a grease-stained brown paper bag. “You're a bad influence. I don't know why I let you talk me into eating this junk,” she groused, wiping her hands.

  "Because it tastes good. Did you have a chance to—” She stopped when Luci held up a bag with the Gap logo across the side.

  "Best I could do on short notice, but it's all there."

  "It's perfect, Luce. Thanks. I'll take her shopping in the next couple of days, but you wouldn't believe what she's been wearing. She's twenty-three years old and dresses like someone's grandmother. Not my grandmother, of course, she'd never be caught dead in those things."

  "Your grandmother has excellent taste. I saw her at a banquet last week."

  "You see her more than I do."

  "That's because I actually participate in my community's events."

  "Uh huh.” Cyn didn't rise to the bait. Luci was always after her to attend some fund-raising get-together. Cyn gave her friend a sweet smile.

  Luci shook her head in disgust. “Okay. I'm off. Don't leave me hanging, Cyn. Call me. Even if you don't have anything new to tell me, you need to call, okay?"

  "Don't count on anything tonight. It'll probably be pretty late by the time I meet Eckhoff, and it may take a while to follow up on what I find out.” They walked together to the hangar door, and Cyn caught a troubled look on her friend's face. “Don't worry, Luce, I'll call you tomorrow night at the latest."