Jabril hissed at him in disbelief. “Does it appear that I am eager to speak on the telephone, Asim? Who could possibly be calling that I would speak to right now?"
Asim's eyes swung nervously from one side of the room to the other, as if checking for unseen listeners. He stepped very close and whispered a name.
Jabril's eyes widened in surprise. “Well, that is interesting. What does she want?"
Asim coughed. “Friendship. I persuaded her to speak to you directly."
"Friends? How quaint.” Jabril sat and reached for the phone, his mouth twisting with distaste at the sight of his blue-stained hands before he picked up the antique ivory and gold receiver.
"How delightful to hear from you, my dear,” he said, his smooth voice modulated to reflect none of his earlier anger. He listened, leaning back idly and crossing his legs at the knee. “Mmm. And why would you do this for me?” He laughed lightly. “No, no, I am interested, I'm just surprised. You can hardly blame me for that.” He listened to the soft, feminine voice. She was almost whispering, afraid of being overheard. And who could blame her? “And when would this be?” he asked. “So soon? Well, excellent. That might work out very nicely.” He listened further as his caller made a request.
"I see. Suddenly, it all becomes clear.” He laughed again, derisively this time. “Really, my dear. One learns a few things over the centuries. This changes nothing, however. Your purposes and mine happen to coincide. You are certain of the time?
"I will have someone waiting, then. Oh, and, my dear? It would not be wise to disappoint me.” He hung up and met Asim's questioning gaze. “That incompetent investigator of yours, what was his name again?"
"Windle, my lord. Patrick Windle."
"And he is still out there in Los Angeles, searching blindly for Elizabeth?"
"Yes, my lord. He assures me he will have her in custody shortly."
"Does he? What an optimist. Well, we may have done his work for him, a chance to seize not only our sweet Elizabeth, but Raphael's treacherous bitch as well. I have dreamed of getting my hands on that one again, Asim, and she is about to fall into my grasp."
Chapter Forty-five
After all the anticipation and worry, Mirabelle's appearance before Raphael was relatively straightforward. As Cyn had told Mirabelle, she'd expected something pompous and formal, but she should have known better. Raphael was far more of a CEO than a king. Granted, a CEO with the power to kill anyone who displeased him, but then who said corporate America didn't do the same? Raphael's methods were simply more direct.
Cyn arrived at Alexandra's an hour before the appointed time of eight o'clock. The manor was quiet, all the remodeling done, for now at least. The sound of classical piano drifted down the stairs, letting Cyn know it was Alexandra in the music room and not Mirabelle. She thought about stopping in to say hello, for courtesy's sake, but continued on to Mirabelle's room instead.
Cyn appreciated everything Alexandra had done—that she'd taken Mirabelle into her home, given her a place to belong. But she wasn't quite comfortable with Raphael's sister. There was something about Alexandra that made Cyn think the vampire female's thoughts rarely matched her words.
Mirabelle's door stood open, but Cyn tapped on it lightly before stepping inside to find her wrapped in a long robe of sapphire blue silk and standing in front of the mirror. She was staring pensively at her reflection, her thoughts seeming far away from whatever she was seeing there.
"Mirabelle?” Cyn said softly.
The young vampire looked slowly over her shoulder, not at all startled, so she must have heard Cyn enter after all. “Hello, Cynthia,” she said with a small smile.
"You ready for tonight?"
"Oh, yes,” she said. She wandered over to the old-fashioned dressing table, picked up a brush and began running it through her hair with smooth, long strokes. Her blond hair, grown dark after years out of the sun, had been lightened by a stylist and now gleamed honey gold.
Cyn looked around. The room was all white lace and linen. The four poster bed was piled high with frothy pillows of all shapes and sizes, the down comforter thick and plump beneath its embroidered lace duvet. Cyn had a passing thought about why a vampire would bother to decorate a bedroom she never slept in. Why not design it as a sitting room instead? The vampires all slept in the vault downstairs anyway. Although, at some point, the bed might have another use, she supposed. She glanced at Mirabelle, who was once again sunk deep in contemplation, her arm lifting to brush her hair almost automatically.
"You redecorated,” Cyn said.
Mirabelle looked around, as if surprised by the changes. “Alexandra did it."
Cyn cocked her head slightly, puzzled. “You don't like it?"
Mirabelle looked over her shoulder with a sad smile. “It's not really my taste, you know?"
"You okay, Mirabelle?” Cyn asked softly.
The girl's blue eyes focused on her, suddenly filled with tears. “I wanted to do the right thing, Cyn. Everything's been so messed up, and I..."
Cyn crossed the room and pulled the younger woman around, placing her hands on Mirabelle's shoulders. “You are doing the right thing, Mirabelle. You did do the right thing. It took guts to walk away from Jabril, to take your life back from him and make it your own. I'm proud of you. Your mom and dad would be proud of you. They would have hated what he did to you and to Elizabeth."
"Elizabeth,” Mirabelle repeated, straightening out of the embrace and drawing in a breath. “Right."