Jabril

by D. B. Reynolds

  Hartzler had been standing there staring at her, pale eyes glowing with excitement. He smiled. “Yes, of course. We'll take the stairs."

  Downstairs, back in his own domain, the morgue tech became the efficient and knowledgeable professional once again. His eyes still watched her a little too closely and a smile kept playing around his lips, but for the most part, he was all business.

  "Bodies or files first?” There was a hint of challenge in his words. As if Cyn had anything to prove to this guy.

  "The files, I think."

  He opened a desk drawer and withdrew several folders. “These are my own files, a combination of the ME's records and what I've been able to glean from other sources. They're confidential, you understand, and don't exist in any official sense."

  "Of course,” Cyn murmured. She took the folders, glancing around for a place to sit.

  "Use my desk,” Hartzler said, sweeping the chair out grandly. “Take all the time you need."

  * * * *

  Cyn wrote a final note and closed the last file. She'd filled an entire yellow pad with notes and sketches and Hartzler had long since gotten bored and wandered away to his own duties. Apparently watching Cyn read the case files wasn't all that much of an honor after all.

  He was nowhere to be found when she pushed through the double doors to the hallway, so she went on upstairs, figuring that's where he'd be. She might not like the guy much, but his files had been amazingly complete, so complete that she wondered exactly where he'd gotten some of it. Not that it mattered. The information had been tremendously helpful to her which was all she cared about.

  The door at the top of the stairs swung shut behind her and she heard voices down the hall. Figuring it must be Hartzler, she headed in that direction, already digging her keys out of her backpack.

  "What the fuck is she doing here?"

  Cyn recognized the voice and spun around with a deceptive smile. “Lovely to see you too, Santillo."

  "I say again,” Detective Charlie Santillo said, ignoring her to glare at Hartzler. “What the fuck is she doing here?"

  Cyn spoke up before Hartzler could get them both in trouble. “I'm a licensed Private Investigator, Santillo, looking for a missing girl. I requested and received through proper channels permission to view the bodies of the Jane Does in this facility in case one of them was my girl. I'm happy to say she's not here."

  Santillo gave her an unfriendly look. “Next time you want to see a body on one of my cases, Leighton, you call me, understand? I don't give a shit what strings your daddy pulled to get you in here, I know who you work for and I don't want you mucking around my case."

  "You have no idea who I work for, Santillo. But then you're pretty clueless about a lot of things, especially these murders.” She turned away from him deliberately. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Hartzler. I'm sorry I wasn't able to help.” She started down the hallway toward the door, but Santillo's meaty hand grabbed her arm, holding her back.

  "What the fuck does that mean?"

  Santillo was an inch or two shorter than she was, but his body was thick with muscle and fat. She looked down at his hand on her arm, and then rolled her eyes deliberately up to meet his with a cold stare. His hand dropped away.

  "We've got your boy dead to rights, Leighton. He won't get away with it this time."

  "You've got nothing, Santillo, and I can hardly wait to see the look on your face when you realize that.” She started walking again, but was once again halted by his voice.

  "What about Carballo, Leighton? Doesn't it bother you to work for the creatures who murdered your good friend Benita? Or maybe it was you helped ‘em cover up the whole thing, huh? You know, I hear vampire sex is pretty damn fantastic. Is that all it takes to buy you, Leighton? A good fuck?"

  Cyn spun on her heel. “Is that what this is about, Santillo? You got your feelings hurt? Did it make you feel all inadequate when you found out Benita was fucking a bloodsucker instead of you?” The deliberately crude words were delivered with a sweetly solicitous smile. And they had the desired effect.

  "Bitch!” Santillo exploded, closing the distance until he was right in her face. His mouth smelled of the garlic he'd had for lunch, poorly masked by mint, and Cyn's nostrils pinched in protest as she held her ground.

  "You got Benita killed, Leighton. They drained her dry and left her for road kill, and you're still defending those bastards."

  "Benita got herself killed. She was dirty and you know it. Just like you know those girls weren't killed by any vampire.” She stabbed her finger toward the floor and the basement below.

  Muscles bunched as his hands curled into fists at his sides. “Don't you talk about Benita. Don't you dare."

  He would have said more, but the door opened behind Cyn to admit another cop, someone she didn't know, but who obviously knew Santillo well. He took one look at the situation and stepped between the two of them. Cyn moved back a step rather than shoving against his bulk.

  "Easy, Charlie,” he said to Santillo. “You don't want to blow this now."

  "You know who that is?” Santillo's arm swung out in her direction.

  "Yeah, I do. And I know she's not worth it, so back off."

  Cyn bristled at this dismissal from someone she didn't even know and was tempted to shove him out of the way after all. But she saw Hartzler's pale face watching from down the hall, eyes wide and panicky, and suddenly she remembered the real reason she was here. She took another voluntary step backward and reached out blindly for the door knob behind her.

  "This isn't over, Leighton!” Santillo's tight voice followed her.

  "Let it go,” the other cop said. “Don't mess this up, man."

  Cyn glanced over her shoulder, quickly pulled the door open and turned to leave. As she stepped outside, the door swung shut behind her, but slowly enough that she heard the unknown cop's voice again. “How much does she know?"

  "Nothing,” Santillo rasped. “Claims she was here on a runaway kid. Besides no one but you and—"

  The door shut, cutting off his words. Cyn stopped at the foot of the stairs and scowled back up at the windowless building. Santillo was the lead investigator on this case. He was the one who'd gotten everyone else started down the vampire killer path, the one who'd pushed until it was the only trail anyone was following. If something was about to break on that, she'd really like to know what it was. Hartzler would probably tell her, but he'd already stuck his neck out far enough. Willingly, to be sure, but she didn't want to push him any further. Not now. She might need him more later, and besides, those girls hadn't been killed by any vampire. She was certain of that much. If Santillo tried to pin this on Raphael or any of his vamps, he was in for a big surprise. And definitely not the good kind.

  Chapter Thirty

  It was late, but she stopped at an electronics store moments before they closed, earning dirty looks from everybody except the sales guy who wrote up her order for a laptop computer and prepaid cell phone. Later on, she'd arrange for Mirabelle to have the real thing, but the prepaid would do for now. Mirabelle wanted to help in the search for her sister, and Cyn had figured out a way she could do that without becoming even more lost than Liz was. She threw her purchases onto the back seat and turned toward Malibu.

  Alexandra's manor was brightly lit when Cyn rounded the final curve of the driveway. Soft electric light filled every window, making the formal building seem warm and welcoming, the kind of house they always showed in those sappy holiday movies, except for the absence of a tree in the window. She wondered if Alexandra planned on getting a Christmas tree this year. Probably depended on which magazines she was reading at the time.

  "Cyn!” Mirabelle came flying out of the house as Cyn was unloading her purchases. “I didn't know you were coming!” she said with a big grin on her face.

  "I wanted to see how you're doing. Everything okay here?"

  "Definitely! This is such a cool house and all the other vampires are so friendly. The guys even te
ase me about my piano playing. Oh, and Alexandra and I have been shopping! Did you know you can buy almost anything on the Internet if you have a credit card? If I'd known that I'd have spent a fortune. Of course, I would have had to get ahold of a credit card, but I bet Liz already figured that out and—"

  Cyn held up her hand, out of breath just from listening. “Great. That's great, Mirabelle. In fact, I've got a new laptop for you here.” She swung the large square box out of the truck, intending to carry it herself, but Mirabelle slid it easily from her arms. Oh right. Vampire. “I want you to start hanging around those message boards you and Liz use,” Cyn said. “Get some messages out there that you're safe and looking for her. I bought you a cell phone too."

  "Cool! Thanks, Cyn. I've been checking our usual boards; Alexandra let me use her computer. But there's been nothing since that first message.” Mirabelle's forehead creased with worry.

  "Yeah, that doesn't surprise me too much, though. Liz's computer might have been lost or even stolen, or maybe she put it in a locker somewhere for safekeeping. Either way, she could log on any day now, in an Internet café or on someone else's computer, and I want you out there waiting for her."

  They started walking toward the house, passing the privet hedge that surrounded the marble courtyard. Cyn glanced over and saw that the shiny marble had been removed, leaving a dusty plot of dirt surrounded by the pristine hedge. “The workmen came, huh?” she said.

  Mirabelle shrugged. “I guess. When I woke up tonight, it was like this. Alexandra says she's going to put in a maze. I always thought those were sort of creepy."

  Cyn slanted a gaze at Mirabelle, but clearly the irony of a vampire calling a maze creepy was lost on her. “Come on,” she said. “Let's get inside and get you set up. Hell, if they've got a wireless connection here, you'll soon be able to shop from any room in the house."

  "Wait until Alexandra sees it. She'll want one too. We've already talked about how it would be better to be able to log on from any room. You know, because she's doing a lot of remodeling and that way we could actually be in the room we were working on."

  "So you guys are getting along all right?"

  "Oh, yeah. Absolutely.” Mirabelle lowered her voice as they entered the house. “I feel kind of bad moving in on her, but she really doesn't seem to mind. She's kind of lonely I think. She's been telling me all about her life and about Matias. That's the guy who died defending her. He sounds really sweet. He was a dancer, you know—"

  "No, I didn't—"

  "—in Europe, I don't know like a hundred years ago or something, maybe longer. Anyway, it's so romantic."

  Cyn nodded in agreement and tuned out, glad that Mirabelle was settling in, and that Cyn was free to continue her search for the missing Elizabeth,

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Three nights went by. Nights spent driving up and down the dark streets of L.A., talking to runaway kids and shelter operators, visiting cafés and clubs, showing Liz's picture to anyone who would look. But Cyn was no closer to finding her. She stood in her closet on the fourth night, wearing nothing but her underwear and staring blankly at the racks of clothes while her brain struggled to think of a fresh approach, something new that would help her find Elizabeth. Several of the kids she'd spoken with had clearly recognized the picture, although not one of them would admit to it. It was frustrating, but it told her at least that Liz was alive and well somewhere on the streets of L.A. Now all she had to do was persuade the girl to come into the light.

  Far more troubling though, was the growing evidence that Jabril's real investigator had finally followed the trail to California. More than one of the street kids had been questioned by someone before Cyn got there, someone the kids had described as looking an awful lot like the white-haired guy she'd run into outside Jabril's place. Which meant not only was he on the right track for finding Elizabeth, but he was far too close to Mirabelle for Cyn's comfort.

  Of course, Raphael's security people understood the importance of keeping Mirabelle on the estate and out of sight, and Cyn had made a point of mentioning it to Alexandra. She'd also spoken privately to Duncan, who assured her the gate guards had been instructed not to permit Mirabelle off the estate without specific permission from either him or Raphael. She'd breathed a bit easier after that, buoyed by the knowledge that the danger to Mirabelle was temporary, only until the young vampire was formally under Raphael's protection. Once that happened, Jabril risked outright conflict with Raphael if he tried to force her back to Texas, something Duncan had told her even Jabril would not venture since the Vampire Council would surely side with Raphael in this matter. Her train of thought reminded her that Mirabelle's appointment with the vampire lord was three days away and Raphael expected Cyn to be there. She sighed.

  As for Raphael and his involvement in the murders, there hadn't been a peep from anyone in the last few days about the investigation. Nothing from Eckhoff, which was expected given her run-in with Santillo, but Duncan had been silent as well. Did that mean the police had stopped looking at Raphael? Surely Duncan would have let her know if things were heating up. She sat down to tug on her Frye boots, telling herself she was a fool. What was she worrying about anyway? Raphael? The big bad vampire could take care of himself.

  She shook her head, dismissing the thought. He was probably traveling or busy or who knew what else? So no one had called her. Wasn't that what she'd wanted all these weeks? To be left alone, to get over him?

  Uh huh. She grabbed the first sweater she found and pulled it over her head. It was time to stop stressing over the vampire and get to work. She needed to find Liz and get her securely into the fold before someone else snatched her up.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Mirabelle dropped the empty blood bag into the plastic bin and wiped her mouth delicately with the fine linen napkin. There was a bit of blood on one finger and she licked it off quickly, savoring the rich flavor of the thick liquid. She'd never known blood could taste so good. Lonnie said Jabril had probably been watering her blood supply all these years, keeping her weak, keeping her biddable. Long suppressed anger tightened her gut and she stood, stomping over to her small private bath to wash her hands and face.

  It made her sick to think what her life had been all these years, how completely cowed she'd been by the Texas vampire lord. She wanted to believe it had been the malnutrition or simple ignorance. But honesty compelled her to admit she'd been afraid. Terrified, really. Not that Jabril Karim hadn't given her plenty of reason to fear him, but she should have fought back somehow. Hell, she should have left him. Should have walked out the door, gone to her parents’ lawyer, to the cops, or even to Ramona Hewitt. Someone would have helped her, if only for the money. And gods knew there was enough of that. Cynthia had already talked to her about wresting control of the Hawthorn Trust back from Jabril. She'd put her in touch with some big time lawyers here in L.A., and they'd already come by the house to meet with her. Cynthia had been there too, but only briefly. She'd been eager to get back to the streets, to the search for Liz. Cyn hadn't said anything, but Mirabelle knew she was worried about how long it was taking to find her sister.

  Mirabelle was worried too. She'd left several messages in the chat room for Liz, each one essentially the same. Everything's okay, I'm safe. Where are you? Thoughts of Liz sent her over to the new desk which had been delivered yesterday. It was a beautiful piece, if not precisely what Mirabelle would have chosen. But, after all, this was Alexandra's house; Mirabelle was only a guest. Someday soon, after Cyn found Liz, the two sisters would find a place together and they'd decorate it any way they wanted. It made her a little sad to think about leaving the estate, though. All the vampires here were so nice, so seemingly ordinary. She'd even met several other female vamps, in addition to Elke who looked kind of scary, but who'd been really friendly, joking that Mirabelle needed some muscle and offering to help her work out in the gym.

  For the first time, she felt part of a community. She'd put on ten pound
s in the short time she'd been in L.A. and her skin was flushed with a pinkish color that was pale, but far healthier looking than she'd ever expected to be again. And ten pounds! Who'd have ever thought that would be a good thing. She laughed quietly. Maybe she'd take Elke up on that workout after all. She liked the female guard, even though Alexandra didn't approve. Alexandra had some pretty old ideas about how a woman should behave, and being a bodyguard wasn't one of them.

  But Mirabelle thought it was great that Elke was part of Raphael's inner security. It was an honor, a mark of his trust. Of course, everyone here took security very seriously. And not only at the gates. Every vampire on the estate slept through the day in the safety of the basements. Not just Raphael or Alexandra, but all of the guards and Mirabelle, too. Each of them had a private chamber in the specially constructed vaults, one beneath the main house and another at Alexandra's manor. They were like giant bank vaults, but once closed for the day, the door could only be opened from the inside. Mirabelle had never known that kind of safety as a vampire.

  She had yet to actually visit the main house, but she would soon. This weekend, she would present herself to Raphael and formally request his protection. Alexandra had drilled her in the proper words to say and how to act. She was afraid Mirabelle would embarrass herself, and by association, Alexandra, if she messed up. So they'd rehearsed the ritual nightly until Mirabelle was dreaming the words during her daytime rest. It wasn't complicated or anything, but it was important to Alexandra, so Mirabelle practiced because she definitely wanted to stay with Raphael.

  Back at her computer, she went first to the familiar chat room and logged in. The message waiting icon popped up immediately. She was so surprised that she stared stupidly at it for several minutes. When it finally dawned on her what it might mean, her eyes widened and her heart began to race; her hand was shaking so badly she had to try twice before she managed to maneuver the cursor and click the message open.