"Cynthia,” Hewitt amended. “If you cross him, I imagine Jabril can be quite ruthless. Not a few of his competitors have suffered setbacks over the years. He's been in this area quite a while, and from what I understand, he's had to change his habits somewhat, but I wouldn't count on his civility, if I were you. Those fancy manners are only skin deep."
"I believe you, but I have resources of my own. If I can get her out of Jabril's territory, his options are limited. And once we hit the Rockies, his hands are pretty much tied. Vamps are viciously territorial, and the boss out west even more than most."
"I'm afraid I can't help you there, but what about Elizabeth? If you leave Texas—"
"Liz is in California."
"California? But how—"
"A friend of hers. Any chance Liz would stay in touch with Mirabelle?"
"I don't know how. You've seen what it's like on that estate. I've tried to see Mirabelle a couple of times myself and been turned down flat. They wouldn't even get a message to her, telling me she didn't want to see anyone. Not that I ever believed it, but once she was over eighteen, I had no jurisdiction."
The waiter dropped the check folio on their table with a murmured, “Whenever you're ready.” Cyn looked it over quickly and charged it to her room.
"I'll think of something,” she said. “Anything else you can tell me?"
"Other than to be careful?” Hewitt shook her head and began gathering her things to leave. “Those are good girls, both of them. And their parents were good God-fearing people. They deserve better than what life gave them."
"Don't we all?” Cyn grabbed a couple of the egg roll-looking things and stood. There was an immediate shift in the human flow of the room as people positioned themselves to grab her table. “I probably won't talk to you again until I reach L.A., but I'll try to keep you up-to-date after that. And if anything pops here, you'll call me?"
"I will.” Hewitt stood and offered her hand in a firm but friendly handshake. “I wish you luck, Cynthia. I'll say a prayer for you and those girls."
Cyn watched Hewitt march through the lobby toward the front doors, watched her pull a puffy, brown winter coat on over her blue suit and take the time to stop and zip it closed before stepping out into the freezing wind. She waited until the valet brought the car around and Hewitt was on her way, and then she spun around and headed for the elevator. She had an idea for extracting Mirabelle from Jabril's clutches, but she'd need to be a lot sharper than she was right now. She was tired and even the one drink was slowing her down. A lot of coffee and a hot shower. That ought to do the trick. But she had to call a vampire first.
Chapter Twelve
It would be a couple of hours before sunset would catch up to the West Coast. Cyn spent the time with the fat yellow pages book, making notes, trying to think ahead to everything she might need in the hours to come. When it was finally time to make the call, her hands shook as she punched in the number. But she needed answers and this was the only place she knew to get them. She was relieved when an impersonal female voice answered.
"Raphael Enterprises."
"Duncan, please."
"May I say who's calling?"
She thought about lying, but this was Duncan, Raphael's number one guy, his lieutenant and closest advisor. He probably wouldn't come to the phone for someone he didn't know, so she told the truth. “Cynthia Leighton."
"One moment.” It was said a little too fast, as though the woman had expected her call. Cyn's stomach was bouncing with nerves as she waited, terrified of hearing a certain honeyed voice on the other end of the line. But it was the ever so polite, so proper Duncan who picked up the line.
"Ms. Leighton, a pleasure to hear from you."
There was a note of sincerity in his voice and Cyn actually believed he meant what he said. It brought the press of tears to her eyes, and she thrust the emotion away angrily. “Duncan. Thank you for speaking with me."
"But, of course. Why would I not?” Again, his puzzlement was genuine, but since that only confused Cyn, she ignored it and pressed on with her own reasons for calling.
"I have some questions. Questions you might not want to answer, but I really need the information. It's a matter of life and death, and I mean that literally."
"Are you in some danger?” he asked quickly.
"No, no. Well, no more than usual. You know me,” she joked lamely, then sobered. “If a young vampire, let's say five years reborn...” She used the vampire's own term for the transition. “...tries to leave her Sire's territory, will he sense it? Will he know?” She could almost hear Duncan's frown as he listened.
"How old is this young vampire? The actual age from birth."
"Twenty-three now, eighteen when turned, and barely that."
"Jabril Karim,” he said grimly. “Where are you calling from, Ms. Leighton?"
"Why does everyone keep asking me that? I have a job, Duncan. People hire me and I go where the job takes me."