It took the better part of two hours, and she had long since drained the last of her small water bottle, but eventually she made her way to the slope directly behind the overgrown white adobe. There was nothing here but scrublands, probably some sort of federal parkland or conservation area. Cyn dropped to her belly and pulled out her binoculars once again. It was a short drop to the estate on this side of the hill, with plenty of cover all the way down, wild oak mostly with branching trunks and full canopies, crowded by more of the tangled brush she'd fought through all the way here. The steep slant of the property would make it difficult for the watchers on the roof to see her, but a good security team would have people on the ground to make up for that. On the other hand, she hadn't seen a single guard outside the perimeter of the wall yet, not from her earlier observations and not now. Which only meant they were inside on the estate grounds instead.
She frowned and thought long and hard about what she was going to do. It was still daylight, so the guards would be human. She could handle human. They made noise and could be tracked like anyone else, and more importantly, they didn't have superhuman speed or fangs and claws. She lifted the binoculars once again. There was no break in the stone, not even a back gate of any kind, but the building she'd glimpsed from the hillside edged right up to the wall here. It would cover her if she wanted to climb over.
It was the memory of Raphael's voice telling her to be at the gate at eight sharp that got her moving. The vampire thought he could leave her behind, did he? She slithered down the hill, staying close to the ground and moving slowly, mindful of every sound. They'd cleared fifteen feet or so around the estate itself. It wasn't enough for an effective fire break, but it meant she'd have to cross a wide open space to reach the wall. She crouched beneath her last bit of cover and waited. After several minutes, during which she neither heard nor saw any indication of movement inside, she pulled flexible pads out of her thigh pockets and strapped them onto her knees. Then she stood and ran for the wall, flexing her knees and jumping at the last moment. Her hands caught the top edge and she pulled, using her feet and knees to gain traction on the rough surface, hitching herself higher until she could throw her upper body over the top. It was like climbing the rock wall at her gym. Or close enough. Once there, she froze in the lee of the outbuilding and listened. There had to be a guard presence in there somewhere, but damned if she could hear anyone, not even the shuffle of a boot or a grunt of movement gave them away. The wall of the outbuilding was very close, its peaked and tiled roof hiding her from anyone looking down from the main building. Below her was a cramped space filled with leaves, dirt and the usual detritus, reeking of animal feces and rot. She looked up. The roof was close, but those tiles were far more fragile than they looked, and they were hell to traverse. Was she really going to do this? Her stupid pride answered the question. Hell, yes!
Maneuvering the rest of her body onto the top of the thick wall, she used the roof edge for support and duck-walked to the far end where she peered around slowly. It looked like a guest house of some sort, or maybe an old converted storage room. She thought about it for ten seconds, then swung her legs over and dropped quickly to the ground inside the compound. Her heart was pounding with the adrenaline rush of danger, that chemical cocktail that made everything seem a little more alive, a little more intense. It was the rush that every extreme athlete, every fireman, every Navy SEAL understood. It was the reason they did what they did. For Cyn, it was that little edge that pushed her to take insane risks from time to time. She wasn't a junkie, but she sure did like the taste on occasion. It had made her question her own sanity more than once, like right now, when she was hunkered down in the lair of a known thug who happened to be a vampire and had already tried to kill her once. And if that wasn't enough, a quick glance at her watch told her sunset was less than an hour away. She'd checked the almanac this morning to be sure. Jesus, Cyn. If you needed a break from routine, couldn't you have taken a nice vacation?
Okay, so now she was inside and short on time. What to do next? She stood slowly, moving along the back of the guest house to peek around the corner. There were windows on this side, all boarded up from within. She frowned and looked around once again. She wished the damn guards would show themselves. At least she'd know what she was dealing with. It was dead as a cemetery in here, quiet as a grave. She covered her mouth against an insane giggle, almost choking when she heard voices ... and a door slam. Be careful what you wish for, little girl.
Any shred of humor fled, and she scurried back around the corner, tucking herself down close to the ground in the growing shadows. She had to get the f**k out of here. It was crazy enough to creep around a vampire's nest in the daytime, but to do so at night would be suicide. Besides, Raphael would be arriving soon after sundown, and she wanted to be there to greet his smug ass. Of course, it would be better if she had some sweet piece of intel to pass on, and she was already here...
The voices were drawing closer and Cyn realized with a sinking stomach that they were coming in her direction. She edged back toward the perimeter wall, crouching near the narrow, reeking space behind the cottage. If absolutely necessary, she could probably squeeze herself in there. If absolutely necessary.
"Come on, she can't be that bad.” It was a man's voice, lightly teasing.
"Oh hell, she whines constantly. Worse than a child. My ten-year-old granddaughter has more backbone than this one.” A woman this time.
"I don't know; she's a pretty little thing."
"She's a waste of good blood. I don't know why the master is bothering."
"Ssshhh! It's nearly dark; he could be awake already."
The woman blew out a disgusted breath, and Cyn could hear keys rattling, then the soft sound of a door opening. There was silence for a while, although she thought she heard movement inside the small house, then the door closed and there was the clear snick of a lock.
"You coming?” the woman asked.
"Nah, I'm supposed to be hanging around here. Something big's brewing. I'm not sure what. They don't tell us nothin'. Orders came down to guard this place ‘til a vamp replacement arrives. But a man's gotta piss and who's gonna know, huh?"
"I won't tell, sweetie. I gotta get back down the hill anyway. Have fun now."
"Yeah.” The guard sounded less than thrilled with his assignment. A sentiment Cyn sympathized with. If that jerk-off was going to stand there, how the hell was she going to get back over the wall and the hell out of Dodge?
"There a problem?"
Cyn jumped at the guard's shout, but he was still talking to the unseen woman who said something in response, something too low for Cyn to hear. “Here, let me look,” the guard continued, his voice fading slightly as he moved away.
Cyn didn't hesitate, but jumped for the wall and threw herself over, scraping the hell out of her stomach and hands on the rough surface as she slid down the other side. She hit with a loud thump, sending birds scattering out of the trees, and stayed huddled against the wall, fighting to bring her breathing under control, holding it tightly when she heard the heavy footsteps of the guard coming around the cottage to check out the noise. She could hear him shuffling in the dirt near the wall and wondered if she'd left foot prints of some kind, some sort of scuffle in the leaves or something. Shit, she wasn't a f**king tracker; she didn't know what he was looking for. But whatever it was, she hoped he wouldn't find it. She eased the 9mm out of her pocket and listened.
He moved away finally, muttering under his breath. Cyn waited ten more minutes, until the shadows were so long among the trees that there was barely any light to see by, and then she ran.
Chapter Forty-four
From her hiding place up in the hills, Cyn used a nightscope to watch as Raphael's vampires arrived. Finding them had been easy. Pushkin's house was on a dead-end street with only one access road, and there was an old mission down below at the turnoff. The mission grounds were wide and flat, with lots of trees and a picnic area for visitors. This late in the season, there was no one around after dark. Except the vampires.
There were a couple dozen of them in six big SUVs with black-tinted windows. Not exactly low profile. Although to give them credit, they did arrive separately, in ones and twos. And besides, in this part of the country, there were so many famous, or infamous, people that a security motorcade barely rated a second glance. She recognized a few of the vampires. Duncan, of course, and Juro and his brother, and Elke, and one or two others she'd seen but hadn't met. All of the guards had traded their charcoal suits for clothing much like Cyn's own form-fitting, black trousers with solid, lace-up boots, and a long-sleeved black t-shirt. She had added a Kevlar vest beneath her jacket, something the vamps down below clearly didn't feel necessary. But then, she was only a clumsy human, wasn't she? She saw Raphael slide gracefully out of the last vehicle and her stomach clenched. Almost unwillingly, her gaze followed him as he prowled among his men, his long, black coat flaring at his heels. No utilitarian clothes for the vampire lord. Clearly, appearances mattered in these things. She sighed. Of all the men she'd met, why'd she fall for this one? Sure he was beautiful, but she'd met beautiful men before. Rich, powerful ... a dime a dozen around here. So why this one? It was a question she'd probably never have an answer for, and one that didn't matter anyway since he'd made it perfectly clear that he didn't want her anymore. Asshole.
She watched unnoticed as two of the vamps peeled away, disappearing up the hill to check out the first house—the house they still assumed was Pushkin's hideout. Shifting her nightscope to the second house, she could see a lot more activity now that night had fallen, and all of it in the dark, not even the smallest flash of light gave away the purposeful, organized presence of Pushkin's troops. She waited until Raphael's scouts returned, then packed away her gear and headed silently down the hillside.
He scented her long before the others knew she was there. She saw his head come up and his gaze find her in the darkness between the trees. It was the blood. She'd washed away the dirt and grime from the scrapes on her arms and stomach, and none of the cuts were that serious, but a small amount of blood continued to ooze slowly from a few of the deeper scratches. It was enough that her t-shirt was sticking in places, and apparently enough for the vampire lord to smell her coming. Nice. Not.
He watched her steadily as she came into the light, his nostrils flaring, his eyes glimmering with silver like frost on a black pearl. The others noticed her belatedly, whether because of Raphael's attention or because they smelled her themselves, she didn't know. But they all stilled as she strolled into their midst.
"Cyn.” Raphael's voice was deep, humming with a sensuality that had desire racing along her nerve endings, raising her ni**les to hard points and sending a shiver along her skin. She cursed her traitorous body and fought to keep her face from showing what she was feeling.
"Raphael,” she said lightly. “I believe what we have here is a failure to communicate.” She said it mockingly, with an exaggerated Southern accent, and heard a movie buff back in the pack cough to cover a laugh. If Raphael got the joke, he didn't show it. He was in full glower mode.
"Duncan,” he said softly.