Chapter Twenty-five

Houston, Texas

Jabril stepped out of the isolation chamber, feeling the slight displacement of air as the heavy door swung closed and shut out the stench of death filling the room behind him. The interrogation of his guards had been quite satisfying. Not that he'd learned anything new. But they'd been more than eager to answer his questions, and he had questioned them thoroughly. Yes, he remembered, with a contented sigh, he'd been most thorough. It hadn't saved them, of course. Their failure had been unforgivable, its cost almost incalculable to him personally—just the thought of it had his rage swelling in a bid to overtake him once more. But he disciplined himself, tamping it down, storing it for use later, when it would serve his purposes to better effect.

That bitch of Raphael's was the one responsible for all of this, interfering where she didn't belong. He hadn't needed the guards to tell him that much. He might have suspected the Western vampire lord of conspiring against him, but he was forced to admit the mistake had been his own. He'd invited her here, like bringing a snake into his nest, thinking to toy with Raphael, to prick that bubble of confidence the bastard wore like a second skin.

Well. He drew a calming breath. This wasn't over yet. He didn't care about Mirabelle. She was but a means to an end. The Hawthorn money belonged to him and him alone, even if it did come with two useless females attached. But he was getting ahead of himself. He smoothed his tie, tucking it beneath his jacket as he started down the hall. The first order of business was retrieving his property.

* * * *

Jabril settled himself behind his desk, taking a fortifying sip of red wine spiced with just enough blood to make it palatable. He considered his next move carefully. If he waited, Raphael would surely phone him directly. There was no doubt as to Mirabelle's whereabouts, or who was sheltering her. Raphael would know that as well as he did. And if the girl thought she was going to shift her allegiance permanently ... he took a longer drink of wine, swallowing his anger at even the thought of such a thing. But if she did, there were formalities to be observed.

He lifted the delicate ivory and gold handset of his antique desk phone and dialed a very private number.

Raphael answered himself. “Jabril,” he said.

"Raphael.” He heard the other vampire lord chuckle softly and gritted his teeth. “I believe you have something of mine,” he said finally, allowing none of his frustration to seep into his voice.

"It is my understanding she no longer wishes to be yours."

"I'm certain that is your understanding."

"You may, of course, send a witness."

Jabril stiffened in surprise, thankful that the vampire lord on the other end of the line couldn't see him. He hadn't expected Raphael to move this quickly, or Mirabelle to act so decisively. Raphael, at least, had to know the significance of the stupid girl to him. She was more than a simple minion. Far more.

"Did you have a date in mind?” he asked.

"Seven days, as is customary,” Raphael said. “The ceremony will be next Sunday."

"Hmm,” Jabril responded, leaning forward and flipping pages, as if checking a calendar, knowing the other vampire lord could hear every movement. “Yes, I can rearrange a few things and attend myself."

Jabril could feel Raphael's smug smile even before he said, “I think we both know that won't be happening."

"Really?” Jabril said, feigning surprise. “What happened to that vaunted confidence of yours?"

"I was thinking more of Mirabelle's comfort than my own. She was quite traumatized when she arrived."

"I'm sure that is so. It must have been quite a shock for her to wake and find that she'd been stolen away from her own home while she'd been helpless in sleep."

"Is that what happened?"

Jabril fought back his anger yet again. “Asim, then,” he said with perfect calm.

"No."

"Really, Raphael. If you care for the girl's feelings so highly, I'd think you'd want someone she trusts standing with her for this momentous decision."

"Indeed. Do you have one such?"

Jabril wanted to spit. “Very well.” He thought quickly, running through the list of his minions and finding no one of particular use to him in this matter. In truth, if he couldn't be there himself, whoever he selected would be nothing more than a witness in truth, so it hardly mattered. He picked a name almost at random. “Nasir, then."

"Have your people provide the details and my people will meet him at the airport."

"Done.” Jabril hung up without bothering to exchange pleasantries. He'd never liked Raphael, but then he didn't like any of his fellow Council members. He sent a mental order to Asim, who was waiting in the hallway outside. No doubt listening to every word, Jabril thought with disdain.

The door opened and his lieutenant stepped inside, ducking his head respectfully. “My lord?"

"Make the arrangements, Asim,” he said absently, thinking of his next move.

"Yes, my lord."

Asim turned to leave, but Jabril called him back. “Where's that investigator of yours, Asim? What's his name—Windle. Does he have anything useful to say about Elizabeth?” He didn't believe it would come to it, but if he lost Mirabelle, he would need to be certain of the younger one.

"He reported in this evening, my lord, while you were ... otherwise engaged. He's confident he will have her in custody within days."

"Excellent. Where does he believe she's hiding?"

"Ah,” Asim said, obviously reluctant to impart this bit of news. He swallowed hard. “In California, my lord."

Jabril rose from behind his desk, his rage breaking free at last. His power swept out in a torrent of fury, sweeping everything before it. Walls trembled, doors broke away from their moorings and flew down hallways, windows cracked and shattered, sending shards of glass flying to slice into every surface like slender, crystal stilettos. Vampires prostrated themselves on the floor, moaning in fear and begging for mercy. Across the compound, the servants’ quarters rattled as if an earthquake had struck, but the humans there knew better. They dropped to their knees, trembling, and prayed to whatever gods they had that they would survive this night.

Jabril stood, eyes blazing, arms stretched out to either side, feeling the terror of his minions, the distant horror of the humans. He drank it in like the sweetest nectar, feeling it seep into his bones and blood, giving him strength, giving him power. He was more than Vampire, he was their lord and they would damn well bow before his majesty.

He closed his eyes at last, bringing his arms together over his chest and hugging himself tightly, relishing the sense of fullness, the overwhelming rush of invincibility. He bared his fangs and opened his eyes to find Asim lying against a wall near the door, one arm obviously broken and blood seeping from a gash on his forehead.

Jabril regarded him narrowly, knowing his eyes still shone with residual power. “I want Elizabeth found and I want her brought back under my control. Do you understand me, Asim? Hire whomever you require, spend whatever you require, but get her back here. Do not fail me in this."

"Yes, my lord,” Asim whispered.

"Now, get up,” Jabril ordered. “We have work to do."

"Yes, my lord.” Asim staggered to his feet, pulling the shreds of his torn clothing into some order and sweeping his good hand over the bloody gash on his forehead, which had already begun to heal. He stared at the blood on his fingers for a moment and then raised them to his mouth and licked them clean.

Jabril watched all of this with growing impatience. As if sensing his master's displeasure, Asim looked up and paled further as he hurried across the room. “How may I serve you, Master?"

"I will require your assistance with the accountants. I doubt Mirabelle will find the courage to remain in California, but we must be prepared for the possibility. Raphael is no fool; he will see the advantage of keeping her for himself. Fortunately, I still have access to much of her wealth, which is only proper, but I want every penny we can get our hands on transferred out of the country as soon as possible.

"Your will be done, my lord."

"Indeed, Asim. Indeed."

Chapter Twenty-six

Malibu, California

It was nearing midnight when Cyn pulled her Land Rover up to the front gate of Raphael's Malibu estate. The guard, one of six in obvious attendance, nodded to Elke and recognized Cyn, but he gave the truck a careful once over anyway, frowning when he saw Mirabelle sitting in the passenger seat. Raphael's guards were hypervigilant after last month's attack on the estate, and Cyn approved of their caution.

"Alexandra's expecting us,” Cyn assured him.

He glanced nervously at Elke who didn't say a word, just sat watching him with those pale gray eyes of hers looking almost white in the dim glow of the gate lights. The guard paused, then seemed to make a decision and waited until his partner got off the estate phone with Alexandra's guards before signaling the okay for the gate to open. Cyn heard Elke chuckling softly to herself as she drove onto the estate proper, and she realized the guard had been torn between following routine and giving them a pass because of Elke's presence. She took it as a good sign that the female vampire was amused. Although, come to think of it, if Elke had been offended, the guard probably would have been on his back and begging for his life. Elke wasn't a member of Raphael's inner security team for nothing.

She drove by the expansive main house with its clean Southwestern lines and infinity pool, passed beneath an overhanging canopy of eucalyptus trees and entered the small clearing where Alexandra maintained her own residence. It was a French manor right out of the 18th century, complete with ivy-covered walls and blue-tiled roof. The drive swung around the side of the house, delivering them to the kitchen door, which was the only one anybody ever used.

Cyn parked and one of Alexandra's security team approached the car as they got out. Elke walked over and conferred briefly with him before coming back to where Cyn and Mirabelle were waiting. “No more shopping tonight, right?” she asked. Cyn was taller than Elke by several inches and the female vampire was looking up at her with a forbidding scowl, as if daring her to suggest otherwise.