* * * *
Cyn woke abruptly to the familiar darkness of her own bedroom, her fingers stroking thoughtfully along the path Raphael's mouth had taken in her dream. She sat up, checked the clock and discovered she'd slept through the day. It had been nearly light already when she'd finally fallen asleep, and this time of year the sun set early which meant the vampires would already be stirring with the night. Which was good, because she had a question only a vampire could answer. Reaching for her cell phone, she flipped it open and was scrolling through her numbers, trying to decide whom to call when the doorbell rang downstairs. A full minute passed while she thought about not answering, but then she decided it was at least worth taking a look. She stood, pulled on her wrinkled jeans from the day before, yanked an old sweatshirt over her head and edged onto the balcony to sneak a look down at the front porch.
The vampire at her front door looked up immediately, her stealthy movements no match for his acute hearing in the quiet night.
"Ms. Leighton?” The dim moonlight gleamed yellow in his eyes.
"Um. Yes."
Fangs flashed as he grinned and held up the small cooler in his arms. “Lonnie sent me. He says it's for Mirabelle."
"Oh! Okay. I'll be right down."
Cyn stepped back inside, leaving the sliding door open. It was cold, but the steady motion of the waves was a familiar sound and the fresh air a welcome intruder. The condo was quiet around her as she made her way downstairs, not a stir yet from Mirabelle.
It took a few minutes to slide all the locks back, but the vamp was waiting patiently when she finally pulled the door open. He gave her an expectant look, but Cyn had no intention of inviting him in. She'd learned the hard way that once invited, there was no uninviting. It was irritating enough to have Raphael lurking around her house at will, much less some vamp she didn't even know.
She reached out and took the cooler from his arms. “Thanks. Hey,” she said, remembering the question that had been waiting for her when she woke up. “Is Lonnie around?"
He shrugged. “At the beach house."
"Do you have his cell number handy?"
He gave her a slightly suspicious glance, but pulled a phone from his pocket and read the number off quickly. With a flash of irritation, Cyn repeated it to herself as she hurried across the room and deposited the cooler on the island countertop. She grabbed a pen and wrote the number quickly, then turned back to the door, but the vamp was already gone. “Guess, he didn't expect a tip,” she said to no one.
When the door was once again closed and all the locks secured, she frowned at the cooler, wondering what to do with it. She finally settled on shoving the whole thing into her refrigerator which, as usual, was almost empty, so there was plenty of room. If it turned out Mirabelle preferred her blood room temperature, they could always warm it up somehow. A somehow that didn't include the microwave. Cyn didn't relish the idea of a bag of blood bursting inside her favorite cooking device. Maybe they could use boiling water. She vaguely remembered some acquaintance or other heating a baby's bottle in a cup of hot water. She shrugged. They'd figure something out.
Coffee came next, a process so automatic she had no memory of even doing it until she was cradling the first cup in grateful hands. She took a few life-giving sips, topped off the cup and climbed back upstairs, going to her office. The door was locked as always, which is what had foiled her sister Holly's attempted thievery not long ago. Cyn had caught the two would-be burglars trying to pick the lock. They hadn't succeeded, but she'd changed the lock anyway. She took no chances when it came to her client's confidentiality.
Coffee cup in one hand, she tapped in a code on the newly installed keypad, listened as the heavy bolt disengaged, then pushed the door open and walked over to her desk, flicking on the low desk light and logging onto her computer.
A quick check of her e-mail produced a jam-packed spam folder and not much else. There was one e-mail from Duncan—Alexandra had agreed to meet Cyn and Mirabelle at midnight tonight. How quaint. He also noted that Mirabelle's appointment with Raphael was set for—she checked the date against her calendar—one week from today. She frowned and punched up Duncan's number.
"Good evening, Cynthia,” Duncan answered in his usual calm voice.
"Why so long?"
"I'm well, thank you for asking."
"Yeah, yeah. Good evening, Duncan. I trust everything is well and blah, blah, blah. So how come so long?"
"Until?"
"Mirabelle's meeting with Raphael. Why wait until next Sunday? Won't she be safer if we do it sooner?"
"Indeed, but there are formalities which must be observed. Jabril must be informed, although I think we can assume that part, at least, truly is a formality by now. However, he is also entitled to have a witness present to verify that Mirabelle's decision is freely made and not under duress. Once properly informed of her intent, Jabril has one week in which to provide a witness acceptable to both parties. Which means she cannot pledge to Lord Raphael before that time."
"Wait, are you saying that Mirabelle has to call Jabril? I don't think—"
"Of course, not. This is a matter between the two vampire lords. Raphael will be calling Jabril this evening."
"What about this witness?"
"What about him?"
"Can Jabril himself—"
"Indeed not. Council members may travel within each other's territory only by express permission, which permission is rarely given except for the annual meeting of the full Vampire Council which rotates among the members."
"So who will the witness be?"
"I don't know."
"Not Asim."
"Ah, that's right, you've met Asim. Charming man. No, it will not be Asim. Raphael would never accept him. No, it will be someone minor, someone Jabril won't mind losing if he steps out of line."
"Yeesh."
Duncan laughed. “Don't worry, Cynthia. There will be no mayhem. At least not in your presence."
"Good to know. Okay. I'll put it on my calendar then."
"I look forward to seeing you."
"Mmmhmm. Wait,” Cyn said. “Is Mirabelle in any danger until then? I mean, is Jabril likely to try and snatch her back?"
"It would be foolish on his part, but he might be desperate enough to try, yes. Mirabelle's fortune is considerable and Jabril has treated it as his own for many years now. She will be much safer once she is within the estate, whether with Alexandra or here at the main house. You will be bringing her by tonight?"
"We'd planned to do some shopping first. Your note said midnight."
"I'll send someone over to accompany you, then. Perhaps Mirabelle would enjoy meeting Elke. I don't believe Jabril has a single female among his minions."
"You really think there's any danger?"
"No. Not this soon, but why take the chance?"
"Okay. Elke it is. Should we pick her up?"
"No, she'll be at your door within the hour. Wait for her, Cynthia."
"Like I wouldn't."
He was still laughing when he hung up. Cyn smiled. She liked Duncan. Too bad his boss was such a bastard.
A whole week, she thought. She would have preferred to have everything settled sooner than that, but maybe it was better this way. Mirabelle could recover a little from her traumatic break with Jabril, plus she'd have time to find something beautiful to wear on the big day—nothing like a gorgeous outfit to make a person feel good about herself.
Cyn entered the date on her computer calendar, and then wrote it in big red letters on a sticky note for her refrigerator door.
She quickly scanned the rest of her e-mails, dashing off quick responses to two inquiries from potential new clients—vampires both of them. She attached a list of her standard fees and terms, and then switched over to Google and typed in the search she was really interested in.
As she paged through the results, she stroked the side of her neck, once again retracing the path Raphael's mouth had taken in her dream. The search finally produced the image she was looking for, and she studied it carefully before printing off a couple of pages. The Internet was a wonderful thing. As she waited on the printer, a loud growl from the vicinity of her stomach reminded her she hadn't eaten in awhile—sandwiches with Luci. Delicious, but long ago.
Grabbing up the pages as they came out of the printer, she picked up her now empty coffee cup and clambered back downstairs. After a quick perusal of the offerings in her freezer, she decided to reward herself with a muffin. And not just any muffin, but a giant pouf of calories and sugar specifically designed to fatten Cyn up and help her get a husband. They were the creation of her housekeeper Anna, who was distressed by Cyn's continued singlehood and determined to do something about it. Cyn didn't exactly endorse the woman's marital crusade, but she was happy to eat the muffins ... sparingly. She'd never had one tested, but there was little doubt in her mind that each of the golden treasures was packed with tasty calories. She popped one in the microwave and flipped open her cell phone to call Lonnie.
"Cyn!” he answered. “This is a surprise. Did you get the blood I sent over?"
"Yeah, thanks, Lonnie, listen—"
"You saw my note about making sure she drinks all of it?"
"Note?"
"I left a note in the cooler. Make sure Mirabelle drinks both pints; she won't want to, you'll have to push her, and she can do one now and one later if it's too much all at once."
"Um, yuck, but okay. I've got a question for you."
"Shoot."
"You guys were talking yesterday about Mirabelle drinking from a bag, rather than from the vein. That's what you said, “from the vein."
"Yeah.” Lonnie dragged the word out as if wondering where she was going with it.
"Right, so, do you ever drink from an artery? You know like the ones in the neck that—"
