* * * *

Los Angeles, California

Cyn jolted awake, her heart still hammering with terror. She fumbled with the unfamiliar seat controls, finally jerking the window shade open and letting daylight stream into the dark cabin. She closed her eyes in relief, feeling the nightmare fade away in the strength of that single beam of light.

The pilot's voice came over the intercom, soothingly normal as he announced their imminent arrival in the L.A. area. Cyn clicked on the small overhead light and finally found the right combination of buttons to bring the seat mostly upright. In deference to Mirabelle, she pulled the window shade back down, and then stood, stretching her arms to touch first the ceiling, then the floor. Someday soon she'd have to get a real night's sleep in a bed.

She made her way down the aisle to the small, dark room where Mirabelle slept. The young vampire was undisturbed, her blond hair a pale jumble in the faint light from the cabin. Cyn pulled the door closed again and stepped into the bathroom across the hall.

The seatbelt sign was flashing madly when she returned to the seating area. For variety's sake, she chose a different chair. Not that it mattered, they were all identical—big and comfortable and upholstered in soft, cream-colored leather. Designed to accommodate well-fed businessmen and women, she supposed. With a glance at the closed door in the back of the aircraft, she pulled up the window shade once again and watched the familiar sights of the L. A. basin rise up to meet her.

Cyn had landed at airports all over the world—some beautiful, some ugly, some green, some in the middle of the biggest cities on Earth—but there was a special feeling to landing at your home airport. It was knowing you would soon get in your own car and open your own front door, eat from your own refrigerator and take a shower in your own bathroom. And most blessedly of all, it was knowing you'd soon be sleeping in your own bed, beneath your own sheets. It was like no other feeling in the world. The plane came down with a gentle thump and she was home.

* * * *

Part of her deal with the charter company was use of the aircraft in the private hangar until after sunset. It was one of those vampire-friendly amenities, along with the windowless sleeping quarters now occupied by Mirabelle. It had sounded great at the time, precisely what she needed. But once on the ground, Cyn was faced with the reality of waiting several hours for Mirabelle to wake up. And it was not even noon.

Too wound up to sleep or even sit still, Cyn prowled down the aisle and checked once more on the sleeping vampire. She left the door to the bedroom open a crack, so if Mirabelle woke, she'd have at least a little light to see by. She'd seemed pretty out of it in Houston, and Cyn didn't want her to freak out when she woke up in a strange place.

Out in the hangar, Cyn could hear the steady buzz of small aircraft taking off and landing on the nearby runway, mixed with the occasional whine of a private jet. This airport handled only general aviation, so there was probably nothing bigger on the runways than her own chartered jet. The hangar itself was big enough for two, but the company had assured her the building would be empty except for her.

Cyn preferred to be certain, so she did a quick walk around of her own. There was a windowed office against one wall, with a couple of desks and the usual office paraphernalia, but the door was locked and the lights were off. A pair of restrooms and a maintenance room of some sort completed the grand tour. Once she'd checked the locks on all the exterior doors, she went back to the plane and sat on the stairs to rummage in her backpack for her cell phone.

There were several messages from Raphael's number, which she deleted without listening. It could have been Duncan calling, but she didn't want to chance it. Raphael was altogether too good at convincing her that whatever he wanted was reasonable. And besides, Cyn had her pride. He'd walked away from her weeks ago and now suddenly he was all hot to get ahold of her. Was it coincidence that she'd recently been in Texas with a rival vampire lord? Cyn didn't believe in coincidences. Especially not where vampires were concerned. They made Machiavelli look like a piker.

There were two other messages, one from Dean Eckhoff, her old training officer at the LAPD, and one from Lucia Shinn, her friend from college who ran the teenage shelter and whose name she'd given to both Ramona Hewitt and Liz's friend Kelli. She called Lucia first, hoping against hope that Elizabeth had gotten the number from Kelli and called in.

"Hello?” The teenager's voice held so much suspicion and resentment that Cyn wondered why the kid bothered to answer the phone at all. Not that she expected anything else. Luci gave “her” kids the run of the house as long as they observed some basic rules, which came down to no drugs, alcohol, or fighting. Other than that, they were encouraged to think of it as home—a concept which held few fond memories for most of them.

"Hey,” Cyn said. “Is Lucia around?"

"Maybe. Who's calling?"

She rolled her eyes, but swallowed her impatience. “Tell her it's Cynthia."

"Luci!” The kid yelled so loudly that Cyn winced away from the phone. “You got a call!"

Cyn heard Luci's voice as she approached the phone, soft and unhurried, as always. If Luci ever raised her voice, Cyn had never heard it. The self-appointed receptionist passed on her name, saying, “Some chick, says her name is Cynthia."

"Cyn! Where've you been?” Luci exclaimed a moment later.

"Hey, Luce, you rhyme."

Luci groaned. “So what took you so long?"

"I picked up your message two minutes ago; I've been a little busy. When did you call?"

"Two days ago. Where are you?"

"Sitting in an airplane hangar waiting for sunset."

"Waiting for...” Luci sighed. “Vampires, again? I thought you were in Texas. Someone from Child Services there called, Ramona Hewitt, and she said—"

"Yeah, she told me. We talked. Thanks. You haven't heard from my missing girl, have you? Elizabeth Hawthorn? Blond, blue-eyed, on the tall side, probably with a bit of a twang?"

"No,” Luci said slowly, as if running through a list in her head. “No.” More confidently. “What makes you think she's here?"

"She's the reason I was in Texas. Her guardian hired me to find her, and I'm pretty sure she took off for L.A. I gave your number to a friend of hers, hoping she'd get in touch."

"Okay, I'm confused. Is this teenager a vampire or what?"

"Not if I can help it,” Cyn said grimly. “It's a long story, but if the kid shows up, don't call anyone but me, okay? She does not want to end up back in Texas."

On the other end of the line, Lucia sighed. “If she says it's okay, you'll get a call, otherwise—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know the drill. Tell her Mirabelle's with me; she'll call."

"Who's Mirabelle?"

"Her older sister and the reason I'm sitting in an airplane hangar instead of on my way home. Like I said, long story. So you called, what's up?"

Lucia drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I need your help."

"Anything I can do, you know that."

"You might be the only one I can turn to for this. Listen...” Luci's voice became muffled, as if she was shielding the phone. “Can I come over there?” she asked. “I'd rather not discuss this on the phone."

Cyn drew back in surprise, but said, “Sure, if you don't mind baby-sitting a vamp. Hey, as long as you're coming, can you make a couple of stops for me? I'm kind of stuck here—"

* * * *

While she waited for Luci to show up with her requested supplies, Cyn called her friend Dean Eckhoff. Eckhoff had been assigned to Homicide not long after Cyn's rookie year, and they'd stayed in touch after she left the force. He'd help her track down a local Russian Mafia bigwig last month, when she'd first been hired by Raphael to find his kidnapped sister.

Eckhoff had also stuck by her in the aftermath when an undercover operative who'd been working the same crime organization turned up dead. There were plenty of people in the LAPD who were still convinced Cynthia was somehow responsible. The dead operative, Benita Carballo, had been a friend of Cyn's, or so she'd thought right up to the moment Benita betrayed her to one of Raphael's enemies—a vampire who'd intended to suck Cyn dry. Cyn had escaped, barely. Benita had not. Her bloodless body had been found two days later and Eckhoff was one of the very few who believed Cyn had nothing to do with it.

The phone finally picked up. “Eckhoff."

"It's Cynthia."

"Yeah. We gotta talk."

"I'm a popular girl today. Everyone wants to talk. Can you tell me what it's about?"

"Not right now.” He paused. “You're on your cell, right?"

"Yes."

"I'll call you in ten minutes.” He hung up.

Cyn flipped her phone closed with a frown. That was two weird calls too many. Something was definitely going on. She stood and stretched her legs, then walked around the empty hangar restlessly, waiting for her phone to ring. When it did, she answered immediately.

"Yes."

"We've got trouble and, like it or not, you're in the middle of it."

"I've told them everything I know about Benita."

"Not that. Or not only that, although it sure doesn't help. Someone's killing girls, teenage runaways most of them; we've got five vics so far. All done in by someone with sharp teeth and a taste for blood."

"Impossible. Raphael would never—"

"And that's your problem right there,” he cut in. “You're too close to the bloodsuckers, Cyn. People around here are remembering Carballo and your name's coming up again."

"Oh Christ, what now? I'm helping some creep kill little girls? Get a grip, for God's sake."

"I didn't say I believed it,” he said thinly, and Cyn could hear the anger under his words.