"Not me. No, no, that's not what I mean,” he insisted at her skeptical look. “I did those things. You're right. I knew those men, knew their families and I...” He swallowed hard. “If I help you, if I tell you everything I know, can you save my family? Get them out of here, a fresh start? I've got life insurance, death benefits; I've earned that. If I tell you, will you help them?"
There was no madness in his eyes any longer, only a bleak acknowledgment of his own fate and a desperate hope for his family. Cynthia didn't want the burden of this man's hope. She was nobody's savior; she didn't want to be.
"Please,” he whispered. “You're human. You're like me."
I'm not like you, Cynthia wanted to scream. It's not me lying on the floor, stinking of my own piss and sweat and begging a total stranger to save my family because I f**ked up my life. She closed her eyes and looked away, opening them to find Raphael watching her. She matched gazes with him, then rubbed one hand over her face tiredly.
"I'll try,” she said finally. “Give me your wife's name and address, and I'll try. But you have to tell me everything you know. You have to give me something to work with."
"Okay,” Scott said, nodding eagerly. “Okay.” His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he started talking.
* * * *
The door closed behind Juro and Duncan, poor Scott Judkins held between them. He was right about one thing. He was a dead man and there was nothing she could do about that. He'd signed his own death warrant the minute he'd decided to betray a vampire. He could have gone to Steve Sipes, to Duncan, or even to Raphael himself, and told them he'd been approached. That would have been the smart move. But people never thought about the smart move. They simply reacted and then watched their lives go down the toilet and wondered why it was happening. And now six men were dead, their families grieving, and a little eight-year-old girl would never know what happened to her daddy.
Cynthia watched the door close, then turned away, sickened by the waste of human life. She walked over to the sliding window behind Raphael's desk and pulled it open, stepping out onto the balcony, into the cool, salty air. She raised her face to its freshness, wanting to wash away the last hour of her life.
"That was well done.” Raphael's silky voice blended perfectly with the dark night.
Cynthia closed her eyes. “He was terrified of you."
He didn't say anything, and she turned her head slightly, listening. She wanted to know where he was. “How did the other one die? Was it you who killed him?"
Raphael gave an elegant shrug. “I am Vampire, Cynthia. They betrayed me and murdered men who trusted them. Did you not say the same to Judkins?"
She gave him a bleak look. “So is this like a palace revolt or something?"
"Just so."
"I thought your own couldn't betray you."
Raphael turned to regard her, his dark eyes unreadable. “I said it was unlikely, but not impossible. In any event, this is most probably not one of my own children."
"How do you know she's still alive?” she asked suddenly, wanting to crack his ever present cool façade. “Bait doesn't have to be living."
He regarded her steadily, not saying a word, but she felt the reproach all the same. She met his gaze, refusing to look away. He smiled slightly and said, “We are ... linked, Alexandra and I, in more ways than one. I would sense her death in the instant it happened. Vampire bait does need to be living, sweet Cyn."
Cynthia blushed, ashamed at her lack of subtlety, though she'd never admit it to him. She raised her chin defiantly. “Do you know who has Alexandra, then?"
"A suspicion, nothing more. Someone who has sworn an oath of loyalty and is now reconsidering."
"Kind of like your buddy Albin."
"Does it please you to know I have enemies, Cyn?"
Cynthia thought about that. “No,” she said finally, knowing it was true. “No, it doesn't. Will you help them?"
He frowned. “Help whom?"
"I promised Judkins I'd try to help his wife and daughter. You bragged to me how fair you are to your men, how you help their families when they die for you. That man served you faithfully for ten years. He was stupid, not malicious. His family shouldn't suffer for that. They've already suffered enough, and only because he made the mistake of working for you."
"As you do.” His voice was smooth, but there was an underlying anger.
"As I do,” she agreed wearily. “So, will you give them his death benefits?"
He regarded her somberly, and then lifted one side of his mouth in a bare smile. “I will indeed, Cyn.” She breathed a sigh of relief. “If you deliver the benefits personally."
"What? No. I don't know these people. I don't want—"