Raphael's smile widened. He touched the blond's shoulder. The other vampire gave her a single threatening glare and stepped aside. “My lieutenant, Duncan,” Raphael said to Cynthia by way of introduction.
"Why?” Cynthia asked.
He gave an elegant little shrug. “A test, if you will.” He sat in the recently vacated chair in front of her desk, while Duncan took up position behind his left shoulder. Raphael looked up at her, and in the brighter light, she could see his eyes were not simply dark, but truly black.
"Please,” he gestured. “Sit, Ms. Leighton."
Cynthia regarded the pair of them suspiciously, then gave Lonnie a poisonous stare before once again pulling her chair over and sitting down.
"How did you know?” Raphael asked. He had a warm, rich voice that flowed like sweet honey, a voice she could not only hear with her ears, but taste with her tongue, feel its heat against her lips. She licked those lips self-consciously and wondered if he was using some sort of magical vampire influence on her. Focus, Cynthia.
"Two things,” she said finally, clearing her throat to speak more clearly. “When you first came through the door and I pulled my gun ... he moved in front of you. And you let him. If you were his bodyguard, and if you were any good, he would never have been in my sights, which he most definitely was. For all the good it would have done,” she muttered to herself.
Raphael nodded, his eyes lit with humor. “And the other?"
"He has a Southern accent. From the American South. It's hardly there, but if you listen, you can hear it. That makes him no more than three hundred years old, and probably quite a bit less. From everything I've heard about the lot of you, age equals power and that's not old enough to run an empire the size of which I'm told you control."
All humor gone, his eyes were cold, onyx pits in an emotionless face. “And what have you heard about my so-called empire?"
Cynthia forced herself to relax, scoot back in her chair and cross her legs casually. “Nothing, really. Hints here and there. I put them together. It's what I do."
"Indeed.” He studied her quietly, then lifted his head slightly to the left. “Duncan?"
"Yes, my lord.” He said it in answer to an unvoiced question.
"Ms. Leighton, I have a job for you."
Cynthia gave a short nod. She'd assumed as much from Lonnie's cryptic comments. Why else would he have come here, after all? She only waited for the bloodsucker to get on with it so she could get him out of her office and hopefully never see him again. Hell, she might even sell the whole damn building and move somewhere far away.
Raphael's lips twitched in brief amusement, and Cynthia wondered again about the vampire's extraordinary powers. Could he read her mind? Or maybe he was just good at reading people's faces.
His expression hardened. “Someone,” he said. “Someone important to me, has been kidnapped. I want you to help me find her."
Cynthia sat up, suddenly very interested in what this particular bloodsucker had to say. “Kidnapped? Are you certain? I mean she didn't—"
"Run away?” Raphael laughed out loud. His laugh had a harsh, artificial quality. It was especially jarring in contrast to his mellow voice. “No, Ms. Leighton. You can be assured Alexandra did not run away. She would never willingly leave me,” he finished softly.
Cynthia took his word for it, although she'd heard the same thing from the family of virtually every runaway she'd ever investigated on the job. “How do you know it was a kidnapping, then? Have they contacted you? Wait, when was this?” she asked abruptly, remembering Sergeant Linville and the report about “machine gun” fire.
"Before sunrise on Sunday, more than two days now."
"You didn't call the police?"
"No, nor will I be doing so. Tell me, Ms. Leighton, why did you save Lonnie's life?"
Cynthia did a little double take at the sudden switch in conversation, but she answered without hesitation. “I don't understand the question. He hadn't done anything wrong. I wasn't going to stand there and let him be murdered because some a**hole was a bigot."
"But he isn't one of your own, not human. Why did he matter to you?"
Cynthia snorted indelicately. “I don't consider a lot of humans to be my own, either, but I'm not going to stand by and watch them die."
Raphael gave her a curious look. “Indeed. Well. Nonetheless we try to ... minimize our contacts with human law enforcement. Given your rather unique history with Lonnie, I'm sure you can understand our reasons."
"Unfortunately,” she agreed, although she felt compelled to add, “Not all cops are like that. Most of them aren't."
"I'm sure that's true,” Raphael said absently, then looked directly at her. “As to how I know my Alexandra was taken, I have quite convincing evidence which you will see for yourself should you agree to work for me."
Cynthia knew she should decline the job. Just walk away from this one and go back to tracking down wayward spouses and old bank accounts. Kidnapping was out of her league, out of any PI's league. Standard procedure in a kidnapping of any kind was a round the clock watch on the family, with phones tapped and all contacts vetted. Alone, she couldn't come anywhere close to that kind of operation, and she had no one to call for help, especially not in a case like this. On the other hand, there was nothing standard or conventional about this case. And who was this Alexandra anyway? Did she want to be found? Was she his lover maybe? His wife? Did vampires marry? Talk about ‘til death do us part. Fifty years was one thing, five hundred was a whole new level of commitment.