"Mirabelle.” Cyn spoke sharply, alarmed by the girl's extreme emotional state. She needed her thinking clearly if this plan was going to work. “What happens when I leave here this morning? Will Jabril expect to see you again, or are you on your own until night falls?"
"What?” she asked, clearly thrown by the turn the conversation had taken. “Why?"
"Answer the question,” Cyn demanded.
"No! I mean, no, he won't want to see me. He had some big deal earlier. I don't know what it was, but he didn't get a chance to eat much. So he's hungry. That's why he freaked out so badly when you walked in. You're human and female, and his control was slipping. This close to sunrise, he'll go right to his quarters and have a little blood orgy before he goes to sleep."
"So you'll be expected to go back to your room alone? And no one else will be there?"
"No. There's no one, but why—"
"What if I said I could get you out of Texas tonight?"
Mirabelle's eyes popped wide with fear before she all but collapsed to the ground at Cyn's feet. “No, no. You mustn't. You mustn't talk about such things. He'll know and he'll hurt me. He can't touch you. He's afraid of you or something, but he'll hurt me so bad.” She was sobbing openly, sitting on the ground and hugging herself tightly.
Cyn crouched next to her, speaking directly into her ear. “Listen to me, Mirabelle. This is your chance. Do you understand? I can't give back what he took from you. I can't give you a husband and children and a white picket fence, but I can give you a chance for a real life. Something better than huddling in fear and waiting for Jabril to decide he doesn't need you alive anymore. There are better lords than Jabril, better places for you than Texas. This is your chance, Mirabelle. Take it."
"He'll know,” she whispered miserably. “He won't let me go."
"That's right,” Cyn agreed. “He'll know. But sunrise is in...” She checked her watch. “Less than an hour. I figure by now old Jabril is too busy seeing to his own comforts to worry about yours. You walk away with me and climb into my truck, and I'll do the rest."
"But where will I ... the sun ... I've never..."
"Trust me. Two minutes ago you told me you'd rather burn to ash than live this way. So, what've you got to lose? Besides, think of the mess if I let that happen. How in hell would I explain it to the rental car company?"
Mirabelle gave a strangled sort of laugh. “Do you really think I can?"
"I know you can.” Cyn stood and held out her hand. “Now, let's get the hell out of here before the sun comes up."
Mirabelle stared first at her face, then at the proffered hand. Trembling all over, she reached out and placed her fingers in Cyn's, finally grasping firmly. Cyn tugged her to her feet and gave her a quick hug. “Let's make tracks, babe. The night is old."
Chapter Fourteen
In the shadow of the big house, Cyn helped Mirabelle climb into the cargo area of the SUV and drew the retractable cover over her. The young vampire was already growing weak as the sun nibbled at the horizon, and Cyn only hoped she hadn't miscalculated. Mirabelle needed to be at least semiconscious when they reached the small, private airport. There was no way in hell Cyn could get her out of the SUV and into the airplane by herself. With a final, careful look around, she turned the ignition key.
Human guards had already joined their vampire counterparts at the gate and Cyn remembered Raphael telling her—it seemed like a hundred years ago—that the closer it got to dawn, the more distracted and less reliable the vampire guards would be. She was counting on that distraction now and was relieved when the same vamp guard who'd admitted her before stepped out to block her way. She gave him a friendly smile, which he ignored, but he gave her only a cursory glance before stepping back to wave her through impatiently.
Cyn didn't draw a full breath until she hit the beltway. She'd taken time earlier to map her escape route, using the SUV's in-dash navigation system. She'd considered avoiding the highways altogether, sticking to the side roads, but in this case the most direct route was also the safest. Besides, being a California girl, she was most comfortable on a freeway and it was too early for the morning rush, so the route should be wide open. She checked her position and hit the gas, racing toward Ellington Field.
"You still with me, Mirabelle?” Cyn called back, glancing at the review mirror automatically, although there was nothing to be seen except the black cargo cover. She got a muffled groan in response, which worried her, but there was nothing she could do about it now. She had to make that plane, had to get them off the ground and heading for California. But what if she didn't? What if she was too late? Jesus, what then? She thought hard. If she missed the plane, she'd have to keep going on the ground. Between the tinted windows and the cargo cover, Mirabelle would be safe enough from the sun. But how long it would take to reach the Arizona border and Raphael's territory? And how fast could Jabril find her in the meantime? He'd know where she was, even if her only logical destination hadn't been Arizona, he had a blood link to Mirabelle and could track them better than any GPS device made. And in the meantime, Cyn would be trapped in a gas guzzling SUV with what was probably going to be a crazed vampire once dark descended.
A pair of headlights appeared in her rearview mirror out of nowhere, coming up fast. Oh God, she thought. Was it him, had he gone looking for Mirabelle and found her gone? She drove frantically, her gaze dancing between the road and her mirror, watching doom approach in the form of a low-slung sedan. He rode right up on her tail, so close she couldn't see his headlights, so close she was convinced he meant to ram her, to drive her off the road. She jerked the SUV into the next lane, swerving dangerously, and watched in stunned disbelief as the other car raced past, its driver not even glancing her way.
She sucked in a deep breath and kept going, shivering with chill as the adrenaline drained out of her body.
When the airport came into view, she used her cell phone to call a prearranged number and the pilot of her chartered jet guided her to the hangar. This particular airline offered certain amenities to the vampire community; their ads were subtle but obvious if you knew what to look for. As Cyn pulled into the relative safety of the private hangar, the sunrise was already a promise—or a threat—on the horizon. By the time the doors began to close behind her, the thinnest ribbon of light was visible. Remembering what Duncan had said about Mirabelle's greater susceptibility to the sun's influence, Cyn skidded to a halt as close to the small jet as she could get, then threw herself from the truck and around the back. The airplane cabin was open, interior lights beaming a welcome above the short stairway. It was only a few stairs, but Cyn gave it an almost despairing glance as she ran by. The airline might invite vampires, but they'd made it clear that passengers had to board the aircraft under their own power.
"Please let Mirabelle be awake enough to walk.” She whispered the prayer to whatever gods protected vampires and their foolish human friends.
"Mirabelle,” she called as the hatch swung up silently. “You still awake in there?” She checked the area before releasing the cargo cover.
* * * *
Mirabelle curled herself into a tight ball, eyes closed. The sun was nearly up, her brain knew it; it was like hot lava lapping against her skull. She was nearly crazed with fear, bombarded by sensations she'd never felt before. She should be home in her closet by now, hidden beneath her comforting blankets, shielded by walls, curtains and doors. When the heavy back hatch suddenly flew upward, she screamed incoherently and stared terrified at the woman who stood framed in the artificial light of an unfamiliar building.
"Mirabelle?” the woman said. Mirabelle blinked, trying to concentrate on something besides the steadily diminishing beat of her own heart. “Mirabelle, you've got to move, hon. There's not much time."
"Move?” Mirabelle rasped. She stared at the strange woman, struggling to see, to distinguish details against the thick fog that had rolled in from somewhere, hiding everything behind a veil of gray. She remembered fog. Her parents had taken them to a beach once in winter, her and Elizabeth. The puffy, gray clouds had been sitting on the sand like a wall of dirty cotton balls. It had been strange to walk through them, to feel the clinging, damp fingers of mist on her skin and hair.