Raphael (Vampires in America #1)

Raphael (Vampires in America #1) Page 9

The grounds between the two houses were much more cultivated than the dense forest outside the walls. The undergrowth had been cleared out to create a maze of elegant tree trunks of all shapes and sizes. There was room to walk among them if one chose, and if one wasn't wearing six hundred dollars boots with metal studded heels. Cyn sighed. At least there was a pathway, she thought, even if it was completely unlit and paved in gravel. Besides, the great Raphael had deigned to provide her with a flashlight to augment her meager human sight. She'd flicked it on as soon as they left the house. Much to the amusement of that bitch Elke. But Cynthia had gotten some amusement of her own when Elke discovered she wasn't invited on this little midnight stroll. Juro hadn't been too thrilled either, but he was much better at concealing his emotions than the volatile Elke. Her rage had been blatant ... and quickly cooled by a single glance from Raphael.

"It's not far now,” Raphael commented. She jumped as his silky voice seemed to come from nowhere, then sighed in irritation when he appeared from the trees on her right side. She would have sworn he was walking several feet behind with the Southern boy, but here he was gliding along next to her with an uncanny grace, his dark eyes flecked with moonlight. She looked away, wondering how anyone could ever mistake him for human. Duncan could have passed easily, but Raphael was just too ... something. Too everything. Too gorgeous, too smooth, too graceful, too predatory. That's what it was. There was a predatory quality that surrounded him like an invisible cloak. That's what her hind brain had been trying to tell her earlier, screaming at her to run, run for her life! She imagined herself running down Raphael's elegant hallways, screaming like a lunatic, and chuckled softly.

"Something amuses you, Ms. Leighton?"

It was said gently enough, but it triggered a little thrill of fear. She didn't know how to explain what she'd been laughing about without looking foolish, or maybe even insulting, so she said instead, “Call me Cynthia. Or Cyn. If we're going to be working together, you can't keep up with the Ms. Leighton. We'll both get sick of it."

"Cyn,” Raphael repeated thoughtfully. “Interesting choice."

"C. y. n,” she spelled.

"Of course,” he agreed. “Ah, here we are."

Cynthia looked up and finally saw white light filtering through the tree trunks. The path curved sharply up ahead, winding around a particularly thick stand of leafy trees before emerging into a clearing bordered by a lush privet hedge. She stopped short, uncertain how to react to the “guest house.” There was nothing about Alexandra's house, not the design, the color, or even the landscaping, that was remotely similar to Raphael's Southwestern style mansion. It was a two-story French manor house, plucked whole from the 18th century, with whitewashed walls and blue peaked roofs, dormer windows and climbing ivy. It reminded her of the old houses she'd seen in Europe during her college days, albeit a hell of a lot better kept than most of those. It was even attractive, in an old country sort of way. Except for a black and white checkered courtyard occupying the entire frontage like some sort of bizarre ice skating rink. That didn't belong in front of this house or any other to Cynthia's mind.

She blinked at it a few times, then gave Raphael a doubtful sideways glance. He caught the look. “Alexandra saw it in a magazine. Quite by chance.” He gave a minute shrug.

Cynthia let her raised eyebrows speak for her and turned back to the house, trying to see it as a crime scene. From where they stood she could tell there was a separate entrance on the far side, with a driveway running directly in front of it, probably so they wouldn't have to use the courtyard much. That made sense. Why mar the garish perfection of the black and white squares with regular wear and tear. Of course, why pave the front of the damn house with the things in the first place? But hey, not her house, not her decision. She walked to the edge of the courtyard, then hesitated before stepping onto it. “May I?” she asked formally.

"Of course, Cyn,” Raphael responded smoothly, seeming quite entertained by the whole thing.

Cynthia crossed the squares carefully, very aware of the smooth surface beneath the leather soles of her boots. There was no point in lingering here. It was a certainty the kidnappers hadn't come in this way. If they had, Alexandra would never have been kidnapped. She would have been too busy laughing as they slid around on the slippery marble. Instead, Cyn went directly to the side door, and looked up the concrete paved driveway. “This road connects to the main drive?"

"It does. In fact, this is the terminus of the main drive. It was only extended to reach this far when I built the cottage for Alexandra."

"And that was?” She didn't really need to know; she was just curious.

Raphael gave her a bemused glance. “Roughly ten years ago, wasn't it, Duncan? Shortly after we built the new main house."

"Ten years last month, Sire,” Duncan said, popping up out of nowhere, which was something vampires seemed to excel at. Although Cynthia was pretty sure she'd seen him moving around the outside of the privet hedge earlier. Raphael was much slicker about it. Great, Cyn, what are we, in junior high school now? She walked past the doorway and along the side of the house, mostly to distract herself from Raphael's disturbing presence. Trees closed in all around, coming right up to the walls of the house itself in the back. She looked up beneath the eaves and spotted the gleam of a security camera. This had to have been an inside job. There was too much security around this place for someone to have made it all the way to the guest house and back out again without getting caught.

"Video?” she asked, tilting her head to gaze at the camera. “Does it archive?"

"Digital video and audio direct to a server in the basement of the house,” Duncan answered.

"You have the night in question?"

"Certainly."

"Do I get to see it?” she asked, somewhat exasperated by the vampire's less than forthcoming responses.

"Indeed, you do,” Raphael interjected easily. “That's one of the reasons we're here."

"And what's the other reason?"

"So you can see the crime scene, of course. That's what you humans do, is it not, Cyn?"

Cynthia sighed. It was going to be a long night. “Yes, it is, Lord Raphael,” she said, remembering Lonnie's advice. “I don't know any other way to run an investigation."

"Excellent. Then, come, Cyn.” Every time he said her name, he separated it out from the words around it, as if savoring the taste. Sin. “I think things will be much clearer to you after you've seen the security footage,” he continued, taking her arm gently and steering her back toward the doorway. “And do call me Raphael. After all, you're human. You've no allegiance to me ... as yet,” he added softly.

Cynthia turned and stared at him, uncertain she'd really heard those final words. Raphael seemed not to notice, guiding her down the side of the house in the dark, then pulling open the heavy wooden door with ease. As they went through, she saw the door had a double-keyed deadbolt, in addition to a keypad lockout inside. Which meant she'd been right in her earlier assessment. Whoever had taken this Alexandra, for whatever reason, had at least one accomplice on the inside. A thought occurred to her. “What time did you say it was when your ... when Alexandra was abducted?"

"It was nearly sunrise. She would have already been feeling the pressure of dawn. It would have made her, and her guards, slower, less alert."

Duncan stared at his Sire in alarm, and Cynthia wondered if this was one of those secrets vampires usually didn't share. And then it occurred to her to wonder why Raphael was being so free with this information. She pushed aside that worrisome thought and considered what he'd told her. “Humans,” she said.

Raphael smiled. Beautiful and deadly.

"It was humans who took her,” she repeated, breathless and a little aggravated he hadn't just told her.

"Very good, Cyn. This is why I believe you, a human, will be best able to find her."

"But if she was still awake, some of the other vampires must have been also. You wouldn't have left her here with only human guards, especially not at night."

Raphael's expression quickly turned blacker than a moonless night, his eyes pits of darkness that sucked in the light and gave back nothing. “No, indeed, not. But the traitor will be my concern.” She watched the fury roll out of his expression just as quickly, watched the moonlight sparkle come back to his eyes. “Your job,” he continued, “will be catching the human puppets, who will in turn lead me to their vampire masters."

"Okay,” she breathed, shaking herself slightly. “Let's uh, let's—"

He gestured toward a dimly lit hallway. “It's all set up for us."

Chapter Eleven

The house was dark inside, with only a faint light coming from the hallway. There was a slight smell of bleach in the air, like a cleaning solution. She looked at Raphael in question.

"Human guards patrol the house and grounds during daylight hours. They were murdered, their bodies dragged into the kitchen. My staff has already cleaned."

Cyn nodded. If this had been a regular forensic investigation, valuable evidence would have been destroyed by that cleaning. But there was little “regular” about this whole case. They continued on through the large French provincial kitchen, and Cynthia couldn't help noticing the big side by side subzero refrigerator/freezer. She didn't want to think about what was stored in that one. Ugh.

The hallway was brighter than the kitchen, though not by much, with some low wattage lights recessed into the crown molding along the ceiling. She noticed bracket-mounted candleholders all along the wall and shone her flashlight on one of them curiously. It was the real thing. Although the candles currently stuck in the fixture were fresh, she could smell the paraffin from previous burnings. Raphael had gone ahead of her, but he came back down the hall to see what she was looking at.