Jabril regarded him narrowly, knowing his eyes still shone with residual power. “I want Elizabeth found and I want her brought back under my control. Do you understand me, Asim? Hire whomever you require, spend whatever you require, but get her back here. Do not fail me in this."
"Yes, my lord,” Asim whispered.
"Now, get up,” Jabril ordered. “We have work to do."
"Yes, my lord.” Asim staggered to his feet, pulling the shreds of his torn clothing into some order and sweeping his good hand over the bloody gash on his forehead, which had already begun to heal. He stared at the blood on his fingers for a moment and then raised them to his mouth and licked them clean.
Jabril watched all of this with growing impatience. As if sensing his master's displeasure, Asim looked up and paled further as he hurried across the room. “How may I serve you, Master?"
"I will require your assistance with the accountants. I doubt Mirabelle will find the courage to remain in California, but we must be prepared for the possibility. Raphael is no fool; he will see the advantage of keeping her for himself. Fortunately, I still have access to much of her wealth, which is only proper, but I want every penny we can get our hands on transferred out of the country as soon as possible.
"Your will be done, my lord."
"Indeed, Asim. Indeed."
Chapter Twenty-six
Malibu, California
It was nearing midnight when Cyn pulled her Land Rover up to the front gate of Raphael's Malibu estate. The guard, one of six in obvious attendance, nodded to Elke and recognized Cyn, but he gave the truck a careful once over anyway, frowning when he saw Mirabelle sitting in the passenger seat. Raphael's guards were hypervigilant after last month's attack on the estate, and Cyn approved of their caution.
"Alexandra's expecting us,” Cyn assured him.
He glanced nervously at Elke who didn't say a word, just sat watching him with those pale gray eyes of hers looking almost white in the dim glow of the gate lights. The guard paused, then seemed to make a decision and waited until his partner got off the estate phone with Alexandra's guards before signaling the okay for the gate to open. Cyn heard Elke chuckling softly to herself as she drove onto the estate proper, and she realized the guard had been torn between following routine and giving them a pass because of Elke's presence. She took it as a good sign that the female vampire was amused. Although, come to think of it, if Elke had been offended, the guard probably would have been on his back and begging for his life. Elke wasn't a member of Raphael's inner security team for nothing.
She drove by the expansive main house with its clean Southwestern lines and infinity pool, passed beneath an overhanging canopy of eucalyptus trees and entered the small clearing where Alexandra maintained her own residence. It was a French manor right out of the 18th century, complete with ivy-covered walls and blue-tiled roof. The drive swung around the side of the house, delivering them to the kitchen door, which was the only one anybody ever used.
Cyn parked and one of Alexandra's security team approached the car as they got out. Elke walked over and conferred briefly with him before coming back to where Cyn and Mirabelle were waiting. “No more shopping tonight, right?” she asked. Cyn was taller than Elke by several inches and the female vampire was looking up at her with a forbidding scowl, as if daring her to suggest otherwise.
Cyn smiled. Elke had been a good sport, but she was in no danger of becoming a shopaholic. “Not tonight,” she agreed. “Mirabelle's staying on the estate, either here or the main house."
"Great,” Elke said, sighing in relief. “Mirabelle, we'll talk. Leighton...” She paused uncertainly, settling for, “Whatever.” She gave Alexandra's guard some sort of signal, and then she was gone, racing down the driveway and disappearing into the shadows beneath the trees faster than Cyn's human eye could follow.
Cyn gave her own sigh. That was a neat trick. She could think of more than a few times it would really have come in handy. She turned to Mirabelle with a grin. “Come on, Mirabelle, it's this way."
They went through the kitchen and down a long hallway to find Alexandra waiting for them, standing at the bottom of a wide staircase and obviously posed for dramatic effect. Cyn saw her and stuttered to a halt.
When Alexandra had been kidnapped last month, she'd been wearing the very highest fashion of pre-Revolutionary Paris—an elaborate satin gown with lace trim and a skirt that stuck out alarmingly to either side of her tiny waist. Her long hair had been carefully coifed and curled, hanging in thick ringlets down her back. Everything about her had screamed 18th century. She had even eschewed electric lights in the house in favor of candles, with every room decorated—or overdecorated, in Cyn's opinion—in the style of Louis XVI and his doomed court.
But things had changed. The Alexandra waiting to greet her this evening wore loose black trousers with a silk blouse tucked into that impossibly tiny waist and buttoned almost to her neck. The blouse was the deep red of a fine Cabernet and showed off the rich, lustrous black of her hair, which was still long, but hanging loose behind a black velvet headband. Alexandra was petite, a little over five feet tall in heels, and could easily have passed for a well-kept Beverly Hills wife ... extremely well-kept since her face was that of a sixteen-year-old girl. She smiled and held out both hands in greeting.
"Cynthia,” she said warmly. “I'm so happy you decided to visit. I've been asking Raphael when you would come."
For her part, Cyn was somewhat taken aback. She didn't know Alexandra that well, had exchanged no more than ten words with her in their single previous meeting. But having been tutored in courtesy at the finest prep schools California had to offer, Cyn rose to the occasion and took Alexandra's proffered hands, giving them the requisite polite squeeze, before stepping back to draw Mirabelle to her side.
"Alexandra, this is Mirabelle. Duncan probably told you something of her situation."
Alexandra's black eyes, so like her brother Raphael's, shifted to regard the younger vampire, taking in the neat khaki slacks and tailored blouse which had replaced the ill-fitting jeans and t-shirt. “Mirabelle,” she said graciously, if not with precisely the same warmth she had greeted Cyn. “Welcome to my home."
Mirabelle smiled shyly. “Thank you. I hope we're not intruding."
"Oh, no. I welcome the company. Now that I've rejoined the living, so to speak,” she added with a meaningful look in Cyn's direction. “I don't know why I didn't do it sooner. The clothes alone would have been worth the effort.” She stroked the soft fabric over her arm. “So much more comfortable ... and no corsets! I can actually breathe.” She drew a deep breath as if to prove the truth of her words.
"Come, let's go upstairs to the music room.” Alexandra placed a tiny foot on the stairs, pausing to tell Cyn, “It's still my favorite, though I have redecorated a bit."
She'd redecorated more than a bit and more than the music room, Cyn thought as she and Mirabelle followed her up the stairs. The most obvious difference was the brilliant light dancing off a huge crystal chandelier and casting shards of color against the pale walls. Gone was the pervasive scent and smoky tang of old candle wax. Ornate satin wall coverings had been stripped away, the walls resurfaced and painted in a delicate color that was little more than a blush of warm gold.
In the music room, the Steinway grand piano still stood in the place of honor, but the fragile antique tables and the satin and brocade upholstered settees and chairs that had so crowded even this spacious room were gone. In their place, a few well-chosen pieces accented a comfortable, overstuffed sofa and chairs. Fresh flowers graced the mantle and design magazines littered the low coffee table. Apparently Alexandra was still remodeling.