"Sure!” Mirabelle flicked off the set and a few minutes later the three of them were cruising down Pacific Coast Highway, with Elke a silent presence in the back seat.
"We'll hit Third Street,” Cyn told Mirabelle as they passed the Malibu Pier. “It's a little cold for outside shopping, but we won't take long this time. Just some stuff to get you by for a few days.” She glanced sideways, appraising Mirabelle's figure, still pretty much concealed by the jeans and loose t-shirt which were all she had to wear. “You're a size eight or so, I think. Maybe a ten when you're properly nourished, but I bet you've lost some weight."
Mirabelle shrugged. “I haven't bought any clothes since my mother died. Jabril always insisted I wear what he picked out. Liz too, but she snuck around and bought stuff for herself. She'd figured out a way to get ahold of some of our money, but she never told me how. It didn't matter anyway. I never had the guts to go against him. My big rebellion was wearing an old silk nightgown of my mother's."
"Yeah, well, that's history. Off the rack will do for now, but once we find Liz, we're going to do some serious shopping."
"You think you'll find her?"
"Hell, yeah,” Cyn said, hoping it was true.
Silence filled the car for a few minutes. “Is there something I can tell Liz when I find her, to let her know you're with me? Something only the two of you would know?” Cyn caught Elke's look of surprise in the rearview mirror and gave her a dirty look back. What? Did the vampire think Cyn didn't know her own business?
Unaware of the silent exchange, Mirabelle thought for a moment. “Tell her I said we cows have to stick together."
Cyn glanced over, eyebrows raised skeptically.
"It's a joke thing from when we were kids. Liz'll understand."
Cyn shrugged. “Whatever you say. Listen, like I said, after shopping, I'm taking you by the estate to meet Raphael's sister, Alexandra. She's a lot older than you are now, but she was even younger than you when she was vamped. I don't know all the details, but she had kind of a rough time of it before Raphael found her, and then last month someone kidnapped her, trying to blackmail him. We got her back, but another vampire, a guy named Matias, died trying to protect her and they were pretty close. Duncan thinks the two of you might have a lot in common, that you might be able to help each other get through all of this."
"Okay.” Mirabelle was doubtful. “Are we staying there then? At her house?"
"Uh, no. Well, you are and, of course, Elke will stay too. But I need to look for Liz."
"Why can't I come with you?"
Cyn sighed. “Look, I know you want to help, but the places I need to go, the people I need to talk to ... they'll be reluctant to talk to me, much less someone they don't know. Plus...” Cyn scowled, trying to think of a nice way to say it and coming up with nothing. “I work alone, Mirabelle,” she said simply. “I'm sorry, but that's the way it is."
"But she's my sister."
"I know that, and I know you want me to find her as quickly as possible. So you need to let me do my job, okay?"
"Right.” The young woman sighed and looked out the window. “What do you think Lord Raphael will do?” she said finally. “I mean, when I go see him?"
"I don't know. Something formal and pretentious, I suppose.” She heard Elke snort a laugh from the back seat. “Those guys seem to love stuffy ceremonies,” she continued. “Besides you're the one who said he was a nice guy."
"Yeah, but he's also really scary."
Cyn laughed. “Well, we agree on that much anyway.” She slid into a lucky vacant spot on the first level of the parking structure and turned off the engine. “Let's go shopping."
Chapter Twenty-five
Houston, Texas
Jabril stepped out of the isolation chamber, feeling the slight displacement of air as the heavy door swung closed and shut out the stench of death filling the room behind him. The interrogation of his guards had been quite satisfying. Not that he'd learned anything new. But they'd been more than eager to answer his questions, and he had questioned them thoroughly. Yes, he remembered, with a contented sigh, he'd been most thorough. It hadn't saved them, of course. Their failure had been unforgivable, its cost almost incalculable to him personally—just the thought of it had his rage swelling in a bid to overtake him once more. But he disciplined himself, tamping it down, storing it for use later, when it would serve his purposes to better effect.
That bitch of Raphael's was the one responsible for all of this, interfering where she didn't belong. He hadn't needed the guards to tell him that much. He might have suspected the Western vampire lord of conspiring against him, but he was forced to admit the mistake had been his own. He'd invited her here, like bringing a snake into his nest, thinking to toy with Raphael, to prick that bubble of confidence the bastard wore like a second skin.
Well. He drew a calming breath. This wasn't over yet. He didn't care about Mirabelle. She was but a means to an end. The Hawthorn money belonged to him and him alone, even if it did come with two useless females attached. But he was getting ahead of himself. He smoothed his tie, tucking it beneath his jacket as he started down the hall. The first order of business was retrieving his property.
* * * *
Jabril settled himself behind his desk, taking a fortifying sip of red wine spiced with just enough blood to make it palatable. He considered his next move carefully. If he waited, Raphael would surely phone him directly. There was no doubt as to Mirabelle's whereabouts, or who was sheltering her. Raphael would know that as well as he did. And if the girl thought she was going to shift her allegiance permanently ... he took a longer drink of wine, swallowing his anger at even the thought of such a thing. But if she did, there were formalities to be observed.
He lifted the delicate ivory and gold handset of his antique desk phone and dialed a very private number.
Raphael answered himself. “Jabril,” he said.