"So you say.” Luci beeped her car open, then threw her purse inside and slid onto the driver's seat. Starting the car, she gave a little wave through the open window and drove away.
Cyn returned the wave with a smile. She didn't make friends easily and rarely held onto them once she did. But the friends she kept were important to her. Benita had been important. Her death had been painful in part because she'd betrayed Cyn, but also because she was gone. Cyn missed her in spite of everything. Shielding her eyes against the sun, which had broken out of the cloud cover in time for a brilliant sunset, she watched until Luci's car made a turn that took it out of sight around the buildings. Then she pulled out her cell phone.
She waited through the automated greeting and said, “Duncan, it's Cynthia Leighton. You've got my number.” It wouldn't be long now. The vampires would be waking up soon, and Cyn had some bodies to visit.
Chapter Seventeen
When it got dark inside the hangar, Cyn located the main light box and flipped the heavy switches until both long banks of industrial lights far overhead were fully lit. Back inside the airplane, she turned on several more cabin lights and opened the door to Mirabelle's sleeping compartment to admit as much light as possible.
After that there was nothing to do but wait some more, so she paced back and forth in front of the airplane, stopping every once in a while when she thought she heard a noise, then continuing to pace. She was so intent on listening for Mirabelle that the trill of her cell phone startled her badly. With one hand over her pounding heart, she checked the display and flipped it open.
"Hello, Duncan."
"Ms. Leighton."
"I'm sorry it took so long to get back to you,” she said.
"You received my messages?” He managed to put a world of disapproval and disappointment into those four words.
"Um, yeah. Sort of. My cell's been acting weird."
"I see."
She signed loudly enough to be sure he'd hear. “I'm sorry, okay. I thought ... Never mind what I thought. What can I do for you?” she said in her most chipper, businesslike voice.
"Where are you?"
"Santa Monica Airport, actually.” Which reminded her. “Listen, I need to talk to you—"
"How long have you been back?” He sounded puzzled.
"Since this morning. I've been sitting here waiting for sunset."
"Sunset.” He was silent for too long. “Is someone with you, Cynthia?"
"Yes."
"Mirabelle Hawthorn."
"Yes. Don't say it, Duncan. She's here and she's staying. I couldn't leave her there."
"Jabril will not be happy to have lost her, Cynthia."
"Tough. He can't keep her prisoner, can he? I mean you guys must have some sort of procedure for vampires moving around. They don't have to stay in one place forever."
"No, indeed."
"Christ on a crutch, Duncan. Enough of the inscrutable vampire shit. What do I do now?"
"Where is Mirabelle?"
"Still out of it. I chartered a plane and paid extra to have it sit in the hangar until after dark—” Cyn broke off, thinking she heard movement inside the plane. “Sorry, Duncan,” she continued absently, still staring at the silent airplane. “I thought I heard Mirabelle moving around, but maybe not. Shouldn't she be awake by now? I mean you're—"
"Much older than she is,” he interjected. “It is likely she does not wake until well after sunset, although not much longer now, I would expect. Have you made arrangements for her to feed?"
"Feed? Oh, shit. I didn't even think about that. What do I ... Damn!” Cyn started pacing again, her mind racing through possibilities. “I suppose if it's desperate, I could—"
"Do not,” Duncan interrupted forcefully, “give her your own blood. Do you understand me, Cynthia? Under no circumstances."