Jabril

by D. B. Reynolds

  Liz! It was from Liz! Tears of combined happiness and relief filled her eyes, and she grabbed a tissue before they could spill over onto the computer. She read through the message quickly, her elation quickly shifting to concern. Her sister was happy to hear from her, amazed that Mirabelle had escaped Jabril and was here in L.A. But all of Liz's belongings had been stolen on her second day in the city, leaving her with nothing except her small purse and, thankfully, the little bit of money she'd managed to put together before running. It had been rough for awhile, but she was safe now, she said. She'd met a guy, someone older, who was letting her crash in his spare bedroom until she figured out what to do. The guy had even offered to help her get a lawyer or something once she'd turned eighteen and could legally claim her inheritance.

  Don't worry, she wrote, correctly anticipating Mirabelle's reaction. He's not a pervert and he's not a creep. He's someone who knows what I'm going through, because he had to run away from home when he was sixteen. His stepfather was abusing him. Can you believe that? Disgusting. He doesn't like to talk about it, but I think it was pretty rough. Once I get Mom and Dad's money, I'm going to help him set up his own business. It's the least I can do.

  Mirabelle stared at her sister's message, the blood she'd so enjoyed a short time ago sitting heavily in a queasy stomach. God knew she certainly wasn't a woman of the world, not like Cynthia who was always so confident, so brave. She sighed. But even Mirabelle knew this guy was using Liz. It made her sick to think what games he might be playing with her little sister even now. She hit reply.

  Cow baby! She stuck a big grinning smiley after the words. I've got a place you can stay. Somewhere safe, with ME! Call me. She inserted her temporary cell phone number. Or meet me in chat. I'll be waiting for you. She paused in her typing, trying to think of the best time, when she knew she'd be awake and already sitting at her computer. She shrugged and typed, Every night. Tick tock, tick tock. I'm waaaaaaaaaaaiiiting. She finished with a vampire smiley, tiny fangs and a widow's peak hairline framed by a high-neck cape.

  * * * *

  The human guards had begun to arrive for the day shift, and still Mirabelle hadn't gotten a response from her sister. She shouldn't have expected one right away, she supposed. That guy was letting Liz use his computer, but maybe not all the time. Still, Mirabelle been in and out of the chat room all night as she wandered through the manor house, laptop in tow, trying to avoid the latest group of craftsmen Alexandra had hired in her dogged search for remodeling perfection. Apparently, once the woman started something, she pursued it with a vengeance.

  Mirabelle glanced at her watch. Before long, she'd have to start downstairs to her small room in the vault. The human workmen had begun to pack up, tools clattering, talking amongst themselves in loud voices. The vampire guards watched the visitors closely, aware of the coming sunrise, anxious for them to be gone.

  Looking for a quiet place, Mirabelle hurried through the kitchen and outside, down the drive and across to the pathway between the two houses. It was peaceful out here, the noisy workmen and worried guards far behind her. After living as Jabril's prisoner for so many years, she relished the freedom to walk in the earthy silence beneath the thick trees and breathe the fresh air. The pale moon, low on the horizon, barely intruded, but her vampire sight easily followed the graveled path. Benches were dotted at regular intervals, small concrete constructions with fanciful gargoyles cavorting all around the backs and seats. Some sat boldly out in the open, others peered from behind or below. They'd made her laugh out loud the first time she'd seen them and now she thought of them as her own. She came out here almost every night before dawn and had never seen anyone other than the occasional guard patrol.

  When she'd gone far enough that Alexandra's house was no longer visible through the trees, she sat on one of the concrete benches and logged on to do a quick survey of websites. Still nothing and there wasn't much more time tonight, less than an hour before she'd have to be downstairs and tucked into her bed, although the others would come later. She leaned back and tilted her head toward the manor, listening. Doors slammed amidst the sounds of engines, so the workers must finally be leaving. She stood, ready to head back, but a rush of noise drew her in the other direction, toward the elegant and expansive mansion where Raphael and his vampires lived and conducted the business known as Raphael Enterprises. She hesitated, torn between curiosity and the instinctive desire to get down to the safety of the vault beneath the manor.

  Curiosity won, of course. She often sat in the evenings and watched the comings and goings at the main house. Most nights, there was a busy parade of vampires and humans. Some were there to do business with Raphael. Others, and Mirabelle recognized them easily, were there to offer themselves to the vampires as blood donors. Both men and women, they were ferried from blood houses maintained throughout the city, closely guarded by Raphael's vampires, escorted in for the evening and always gone before morning. Unlike Jabril, Raphael didn't keep any slaves, blood or otherwise.

  She approached the final curve in the path. The main house wasn't quite visible yet. It sat several feet below the pathway here, right on the edge of the cliff. But she could see lights flashing against the dark sky. Red and blue in a rotating pattern. It seemed familiar for some reason, and she hurried forward only to duck quickly behind the trees.

  Two police vehicles sat in the driveway below, one black and white, its light bar flashing silently, the other a late model American sedan with one of those portable red lights pulsing on the roof. Standing next to the cruiser were a couple of uniformed officers, their hands resting nervously on their weapons as they stared at the several large and very pissed off vampires surrounding them. The sedan stood with both doors open, the interior lights on, but no one inside.

  As she watched, the double glass doors to the main house opened and Duncan emerged, followed by the two huge Asian vampires who seemed to go everywhere with Raphael. Duncan appeared to be furious. He was moving stiffly and she could see the tip of his fangs protruding below his upper lip. He jerked his head at the vampires surrounding the police vehicles and they backed away, forming a semicircle around the bodyguards and the two humans who followed them with ... Mirabelle gasped. Raphael!

  A low growl of anger rose from the assembled vampires as Raphael emerged, hands cuffed behind his back, held between two human men, probably the policemen from the unmarked car. They halted at the foot of the stairs and the blocky, dark-haired policeman next to Raphael said something.

  The powerful vampire lord rotated his head slowly to stare down at the man. His black eyes were flashing silver with rage and he turned that lambent gaze on his vampires, scanning them slowly, touching every one of them, drawing them into a singular, focused entity, utterly under his control, awaiting his command.

  Up on her little overlook, Mirabelle too felt the irresistible pull of his will. She trembled with the strength of it, knowing with absolute certainty that she would race down the hill to his rescue, even to her own death, if he desired it. She tensed, ready to launch herself at his command, but a wave of calm reassurance flooded her senses instead. She felt suddenly as if she stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the vampires gathered below as they stepped back in a single, unified movement to permit the humans to pass with their prisoner. Raphael spoke in a low voice to Duncan, who gave a sharp nod and stood aside, his face a mask of something close to despair, watching as his Sire slid gracefully into the back seat of the unmarked car.

  With a chaotic flurry of slammed doors and spinning wheels, the police vehicles spun around the drive and gunned back toward the main gate. Almost immediately two heavy SUVs roared up and vampire bodyguards piled inside, Duncan among them. The big SUVs peeled away with a scream of rubber, hard on the heels of Raphael and his police captors.

  The silence in their wake was deafening. Vampires stood frozen, staring down the drive after their master, unable or unwilling to leave. Finally, one of the vamps who had followed Raphael from the house gave an
order and everyone moved at once. Mirabelle shook herself. She had to get back to the house, had to tell Alexandra and the others at the manor, if they didn't know already. She hurried back down the path, laptop tucked under her arm nearly forgotten. She had to ... she had to call Cynthia!

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Cyn snapped her cell phone closed with a curse, all but running from the homeless shelter where she'd been following a lead on Elizabeth. She hit the street and stormed down the two blocks to her Land Rover, popping the locks and sliding behind the wheel in a single motion. The blaring horns of outraged drivers were ignored as she sped away from the curb, flipping her phone open again to speed dial Eckhoff. It rang several times before his voice mail picked up.

  "Thanks for the heads up, Eckhoff,” she snarled. “You tell that piece of shit Santillo he can kiss his ass good-bye when this is over, because he's got the wrong fucking guy.” She disconnected and immediately called Duncan.

  The vampire's voice was little more than a growl.

  "I'm on my way,” she said.

  "Do you know where?” The words were thick, forced past his anger.

  "Olympic and Twentieth. I'll be there.” She snapped the phone closed and made a squealing right hand turn onto the freeway. To hell with the speed limit. It was nearly daylight. Was the para facility equipped to handle a sleeping vampire? And what about Duncan and the others, their need to protect Raphael would outweigh even the instinct to retreat from the rising sun. She pounded the steering wheel angrily. Fucking Santillo. She could hardly wait to tell him how wrong he was. She just hoped the vampires didn't get to him first.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Duncan was waiting out front when she arrived, pacing up and down the narrow sidewalk. He looked up as she slammed her truck into park and all but threw herself from the driver's seat, his eyes glowing dimly in the glare of the security lights around the holding facility.

  "Where is he?” she asked tersely.

  He eyed her silently, his scrutiny unusually intense, even for Duncan. “Inside,” he said finally. “They wouldn't let me stay with him, but his lawyers are there."

  Cyn kept walking and Duncan fell into step next to her. “Where's everyone else?” she asked. “Mirabelle said there were a whole bunch of you that followed."

  "It's nearly daylight. I sent the others home. There was no point in everyone standing out here.” Duncan's cell phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID and took the call. “She's here,” he said and disconnected almost immediately.

  Cyn looked at him. “Who was that?"

  "Lord Raphael's attorney. She's on her way out to talk to you."

  "Me? Why?"

  Duncan had the grace to look uncomfortable. “You've heard of Obaker?"

  "Of course, I've heard of Obaker, but what—"

  "Obaker vs. Oklahoma,” a woman's voice intruded. “Any vampire taken into custody has the right to designate a custodial presence in order to ensure his, or her, safety if held outside the precincts of a specifically mandated federal facility. And, fortunately for us, this delightful structure is definitely not such a federal facility."

  Cyn turned to see a willowy female vampire coming down the walkway. Long white hair shone in the faint light, contrasting sharply with golden skin and Asian features to give her an exotic look that fit perfectly with the delicate fangs bared in a vicious grin. As she approached, she held out a shapely hand. “Kimiko Lorick,” she said. “Lord Raphael has entrusted me with his defense. Not that he'll need much of one since these charges are patently absurd and completely without merit.” She eyed Cyn critically. “Are you ready?"

  "Ready for what?” Cyn asked, although she had a pretty good idea and didn't like it one bit.

  "Duncan didn't explain?” Kimiko glanced at Raphael's lieutenant who shook his head.

  "Ms. Leighton only just arrived, Kimiko. I was about to discuss the matter—"

  "The sun is nearly risen, Duncan. There is no time for diplomacy.” She swung her gaze back to Cyn. “Lord Raphael has asserted his Obaker rights and designated you, Cynthia Leighton. If you will not serve, I need to know now while I can still persuade him to accept someone else. I will not leave him unprotected. If necessary—"

  "Why?” Cyn demanded, swinging on Duncan. “Why would he do that?"

  "Because he trusts you, Cynthia."

  "Why not his lawyers?” She turned back to Kimiko. “One of you must be human, right?"

  Kimiko nodded. “My husband, Boyd. And he would be honored to remain, but he will be better used in court, securing Lord Raphael's release. He cannot be locked away here. Besides, my master has chosen you."

  "And if I say no?"

  Kimiko gave Cyn a baleful glare. “Then I will attempt to make other arrangements in time. If I fail, Lord Raphael will sleep unsecured, vulnerable to whatever the humans plan. And I do not doubt for one moment that this entire farce has been orchestrated toward that end. The timing of the arrest was too convenient for my taste."

  Cyn glanced at Duncan. “Don't look at me like that,” she snapped. “I'll do it. So what happens now?"

  Kimiko gave her a very pleased grin, as if the whole thing had been her idea. “Are you carrying a gun?"

  "Of course. Why?"

  "Give it to me.” Kimiko held up a hand to forestall Cyn's automatic protest. “They'll search you once you're inside.” She paused, taking the proffered Glock from Cyn and tucking it inside her leather jacket. “But they won't search me. Make sure you stay close afterwards. They'll expect us to consult and, of course, we won't want to be overheard, so we'll huddle. I'll give the weapon back to you then. Can you handle that?"

  "Yes,” Cyn said, insulted at being asked.

  Kimiko took her arm. “Duncan,” she said over her shoulder. “It's going to be close. Boyd will drive back to the estate, but be ready to roll as soon as we're out of there."

  As if to punctuate her warning, the security lights clicked off on their automatic timer and Cyn looked eastward to see the first watery light of sunrise. They hurried toward the door and she asked quickly, “Have you seen the bodies?” Next to her Kimiko did a double take.

  "No,” she said, somewhat puzzled. “I did request copies of—"

  "The victims were drained with puncture wounds to the carotid artery."

  "Shit. No wonder they've been holding back on those coroner's reports. Dammit.” She jabbed the door buzzer so hard the button jammed and began emitting an anemic zapping noise.

  Cyn handed Kimiko her backpack. “There's a file in here that Boyd needs to see. Be careful with it. Some of it, hell most of it, is stuff I shouldn't have."

  Kimiko threw the backpack to Duncan and pounded her fist on the door impatiently. “Bastards know we're out here; they're jerking my chain. I'm gonna sue their asses off when—” The door finally gave a harsh buzz and inched open slightly. Kimiko shoved it the rest of the way, ignoring the rookie cop who was hurrying down the hall toward them. They headed down the hall, past the stairway, all the way to the back of the building. As she walked, she talked quickly.

  "Okay, listen, these are the rules. No one enters the cell unless you specifically request it. Once you're inside, the door will be locked behind you. There is to be no surveillance of any kind inside the cell, another Obaker mandate, and boy did they hate—"

  There was a flash of white and suddenly Ian Hartzler barreled out of one of the offices, holding a stack of files in front of his chest. He ran right into Cyn, hitting her hard enough to throw them both off balance, sending the files tumbling to the floor. “Ms. Leighton,” he said. “I'm so sorry.” He crouched to gather the scattered files, and Cyn automatically bent down to help, her face only inches away from the flustered technician. “Cameras,” he whispered urgently. Cyn gave him a confused look. He met her gaze intently and hissed, “There are cameras in the cell!"

  Cyn quickly handed back the folders she'd retrieved as Kimiko grabbed her by the elbow and began hustling her toward the back hallway. “
Do you have any chewing gum?” Cyn asked. Kimiko gave her a distracted look. Cyn stopped abruptly, halting their forward progress. “Kimiko. I would really like some gum. They must have a vending machine here somewhere."

  "Jesus, Cynthia, couldn't this wait? Do you have any idea—” Her eyes widened in sudden understanding. “Gum. Right.” She looked around wildly, then urged Cyn forward again. “I'll take care of it. You've got to get back there."

  The corridor outside the holding cell was three deep with blue uniforms who gave way grudgingly when Cyn and Kimiko pushed through. Santillo stood outside a closed door, yelling at a tall man with thick black hair hanging in a perfectly straight fall down the back of a nicely tailored blue suit. Boyd Lorick, Cyn assumed, and was proven correct when Kimiko stormed over and joined the argument. Cyn found a wall, planning to wait while the three of them had it out. She glanced at her watch and thought about Duncan waiting outside as the sun rose higher.

  "Assume the position, Leighton."

  Cyn looked up and found Santillo's unnamed partner glowering at her. A young woman in a blue uniform stood next to him, looking distinctly uncomfortable. Cyn acquiesced with a negligent shrug, standing away from the wall and holding her arms out to either side as the female cop did a quick but thorough pat-down.

  "She's clean,” the woman said and disappeared into the crowd. Cyn watched her go and spied a bank of vending machines at the end of the hallway. She nodded in that direction. “You mind? I didn't have dinner."

  The partner gave her a skeptical look and followed when she strolled over to the two machines. One was cold drinks, but the other ... She dug a wrinkled five dollar bill out of her jeans pocket, smoothed it out and slid it into the reader. The machine mulled over the quality of her money for a while, decided it was okay and informed her in bright red numbers of her good fortune. Cyn bought a package of cookies she didn't want, waited while they dropped into the bin, and then added a light green package of Doublemint gum. Not exactly her favorite flavor, but then she wasn't buying it for the taste.