About a hundred yards in, Lonnie's taillights abruptly disappeared. Cyn's heart did a little jump of surprise, but as she drew closer, she saw he'd actually turned, pulling up to the entrance of a heavy steel gate set into a thick stucco wall about ten feet high. Cynthia couldn't see much, but in the wash of her headlights, the wall looked more beige than white. Sandstone maybe. One of those designer color names for what was really plain old beige. Two guards approached Lonnie's car and she noticed two more standing at each side of the gate. All of the guards wore dark, SWAT style clothing and were armed with heavy automatic weapons. Tight security. Was it always like this, or had whatever happened caused the vamps to bring in the troops? Did she really want to know? Maybe not.

Lonnie said something to one of the guards, who glanced up at Cyn, studying her in the faint light. She swallowed a gasp when his eyes flashed almost yellow in the glow of her headlights, and she felt her heart beat a little bit faster. She'd met with plenty of vamps. Talked to even more of them on the phone. But this was the veritable lion's den. Raphael was old ... really old and really, really powerful. He had probably held this territory for longer than she'd been alive. Hell, longer than her grandparents had been alive. She wondered abruptly if there were any other humans here tonight. Would she be the only one? Not a pleasant thought.

Whatever Lonnie said to the guards, it worked. The big steel gate rolled back and the Porsche's engine revved noisily as it bumped over the threshold. Cynthia followed closely, careful to keep her eyes looking forward, but keenly aware of the vamp guards’ scrutiny as she went by. The big gate rumbled closed behind her, and she began to see some low-profile lighting, first along the drive and then throughout carefully landscaped and beautifully maintained grounds. She breathed a sigh of relief, only to suck it back in a silent “oh” when the big house came into view.

She'd expected something gothic, or maybe faux Southern with moss hanging from a columned front porch. Instead, Raphael's house was a modern architect's dream, with the sweet, clean lines of the southwest. It was modest by Malibu standards, the main house maybe 8000 square feet with two smaller outbuildings and a long, six bay garage. The structure was two-storied, with the second floor set far back, leaving a broad, high terrace open to the stars and sea. Cyn figured there was also a basement level she couldn't see, because, after all, vampires lived here.

In sharp contrast to the darkened approach from the highway, the house was almost saturated with light, carefully designed to display the architectural highlights, as well as the many smaller balconies and alcoves along its length. A full-sized infinity pool took up one entire side yard, with even more light shining up from within its depths. Cyn wondered if vampires took midnight swims. No umbrellas, she noticed. Which made sense if you thought about it.

The drive rolled down a slight hill to a simple entrance, with stairs leading up to a set of elegantly glassed double doors on a wide, covered porch. Vampire guards were visible here, all along the courtyard, and even more could be seen in constant movement in and around the various buildings. Now that she knew what to look for, Cyn spotted dark profiles on balconies and even hulking beneath the overhang along the pool.

Guards surrounded her vehicle as soon as she came to a stop. Cyn focused on breathing while she waited for Lonnie to pry himself out of his Porsche and make his way over to her SUV.

"Come on, Cyn.” He tried to open her car door, then knocked cheerfully on her window when he discovered it was locked. “They're just having some fun. The master's expecting you, don't worry."

Master. That was twice Lonnie had referred to Raphael as “master.” It was creepy in a Renfield, fly-eating sort of way and Cyn began to worry about what she'd find behind the bright lights and pretty architecture of the vampire's lair. She turned off the engine and gathered her backpack, along with her courage, then opened the door, only to have one of the guards hold out his hand for her keys.

She clutched them close, her gaze never leaving the guard.

"Think of it as valet parking,” Lonnie said in a soothing voice. He pried the keys from her hand and tossed them to the guard. “What? You think Lord Raphael does a business in chop-shop car parts or something? Relax, Cyn."

"Easy for you to say,” she muttered. She turned to follow him up the stairs, then stuttered to a halt as a suit-clad vampire came through the front doors, escorting two women and a man who were obviously out of it, either amazingly drunk ... or something else.

"Lonnie,” she murmured.

He followed her gaze to the stumbling trio and shrugged. “They're all volunteers, Cyn. You know about the beach house. People beg for the chance to come out here and ... uh...” He was plainly searching for a way of phrasing it that wouldn't offend. “You know,” he said, finally, shaking his head in exasperation.

Cynthia did know. She knew about the women, and men, who willingly, hell eagerly, offered themselves up for the experience of having a vampire feed from them. It was like a drug for some of them, supposedly a sexual high like no ordinary human could ever offer. And like any drug, it had its addicts. “How often do they come out here?” she asked.

"The same ones? Not often. But we bring volunteers out here a couple times a week. Men and women, Cyn. Not only for Lord Raphael, but his guards, too, the ones who can't leave the estate because they're on duty or whatever."

"How come no one knows about this estate?” she asked, changing the subject. “I mean, I drive by here every day and I never even suspected it was like command central for whatever you call Raphael ... King of the Vampires? Prince of the Blood?” She dragged out the last word, making it sound like Bela Lugosi's Dracula.

"Fuck!” Lonnie grabbed her arm and jerked her close, his eyes darting glances at the surrounding guards. “Don't say shit like that, Cyn,” he hissed. “Christ, you'll get us both killed, and I mean for good this time. Listen, you call him ‘my lord’ or ‘Lord Raphael,’ okay? That's it. Think of him as royalty."

"Yeah, well, he's not my lord, this is America, you know."

Lonnie laughed almost hysterically. “I can't believe this. I'm gonna die for sure.” He gave her a pleading look. “Raphael owns this territory, Cyn. Please don't insult him. I like living forever."

Cynthia rolled her eyes and blew out a disgusted breath. “You worry too much, Lonnie. Come on, let's get this over with."

Chapter Eight

As they stepped into Raphael's house, Lonnie grabbed her elbow again, but Cynthia pulled away with a sharp tug. She didn't like anyone grabbing her, and especially not in a situation like this.

The space inside the double doors was wide open and high ceilinged, with big sliding windows overlooking the brightly lit pool on one side. There was an enormous chandelier overhead, but it was unlit; the only light was whatever filtered in from the pool area, its lambent blue glow bouncing off the marble floors, casting random shadows and doing little to dispel the darkness.

"Cynthia,” Lonnie hissed in her ear. “Remember. Raphael's like royalty, so when you address him, you say ‘my lord’ or ‘my lord Raphael'."

Cynthia looked at him from the corner of her eye, distracted by the shadows which had begun to move. She jerked away from him, freeing her hand to rest on the gun under her jacket. “Give it a rest, Lonnie!” she snapped.

"Yes, Lonnie, do give it a rest."

Cynthia swung her head around at the light, feminine voice coming from directly in front of her. She took an involuntary step back, surprised—and worried—that the vampire had gotten so close without her realizing it. The woman smiled, slowly revealing long, white fangs pressed into a perfectly lipsticked lower lip. The lipstick was a deep, rich red, which Cyn thought was a bit of overkill, especially with the pasty white skin and icy blond hair. The suit was nice, though. Double breasted charcoal with slim trousers that looked good on her in spite of a body that had spent a little too much time in a gym somewhere.

"Elke! This is Cynthia Leighton. The master is expecting her.” Lonnie was striving for his usual easy manner, but Cynthia figured if she could smell his fear then the vampire sure as hell could smell it better.

"I know who she is,” Elke purred, closing the distance between them. She walked a small circle around Cynthia, ignoring Lonnie as he hustled out of her way. She was shorter than Cyn by several inches and had to look up to meet her eyes. “So, you're a private investigator."

"So, you're a vampire,” Cynthia responded dryly. “What's with the shadow games? Or is this the usual vampire greeting. You'll have to forgive me. I'm not up on your customs."

Elke froze, her pale gray eyes staring unblinking like some sort of robot whose power had been turned off. Cynthia watched, fascinated in spite of herself, wondering if she was supposed to be afraid. Well, okay, she was afraid, terrified actually, but she'd be damned if she was going to let this freaky chick know that. Of course, the vamp could probably hear Cyn's heart trying to break its way out of her chest, but, damn. Courage was standing your ground in spite of your fears, right? Only a fool wasn't afraid when faced with imminent and violent death. She choked back a laugh, knowing once she started, she might never stop.

Heavy footsteps thudded against the slick marble floor, and suddenly the chandeliers that had only moments before reflected nothing but moonlight were brightly lit, filling the foyer with a clear, white light. The new arrival must have flicked the switch. That was the logical explanation, but Cynthia glanced at Elke, who gave her a slow, knowing smile, before blinking once and taking two deliberate steps backward. There were rumors of vampire mind powers, rumors that frightened Cyn more than any threat of physical violence. Her mind was her own, the one place she was unassailable, secure. The possibility anyone could mess with her mind, could make her see and feel things that weren't real ... really pissed her off.

"Did you take her weapon?” Cynthia shifted her gaze from the treacherous Elke to the newcomer ... make that newcomers. Two Sumo-looking male vampires had joined the party, both pushing seven feet tall, with broad chests and arms twice as thick as Cyn's thighs. What was it with these guys anyway? What was the point of eternal life if you spent every hour in a fucking gym? These two looked enough alike to be brothers, maybe even twins, and both wore the male equivalent of Elke's elegant charcoal suit; even their long, black hair was tied in identical tails at the napes of their necks.