"What's the deal with the money? The parents must have had a separate minor trust of some sort, in addition to the Hawthorn Trust. You can't turn over that kind of cash to kids."
"No, indeed, the parents were smart. I don't think they figured on Jabril Karim sticking his nose in, but they did what they could. The trust takes care of each girl ‘til she's eighteen; they get all of the income until then, but can't touch the principle. At eighteen, each inherits fifty percent straight out. In Mirabelle's case, that effectively puts all of her assets at Jabril's disposal since, as I understand it, those vampires are controlled by whoever creates them.” Cyn nodded and Hewitt continued. “The parents put in a little twist, something to help the girls grow up a bit before they started making their own decisions. If either of them dies before she turns twenty-five, her share of the trust goes right to the family's charitable foundation. No other heir can be named, not even the surviving sister."
"Which is probably the only reason Mirabelle is still alive."
"If you call it living. The law does, so I guess that's all that matters, but it's a crime what he did to that girl. A plain crime."
"And Liz ran because Jabril intends to do the same thing to her once she turns eighteen?"
"That's right. Oh, he'll claim it was her choice, exactly like he did Mirabelle, but it won't be. If there's one thing I know for certain it's that Elizabeth Hawthorn wants nothing to do with Jabril Karim or any other vampire. She's a perfectly lovely young woman who wants to grow up, get married and have babies like every other good American girl."
Cyn had to smile, wondering what Hewitt would think of the choices she'd made in her life. “This is—” She broke off as the waiter appeared again to slide a platter of Asian tapas onto their table, along with smaller plates, napkins and silverware.
"Another drink?” He nodded at Cyn's nearly empty glass.
"Not for me.” She glanced again at Hewitt's glass. “Another Scotch? Or something else?"
"I've got to drive home,” Hewitt said with real regret, shaking her head. “I'll stick with this one."
"Nothing more, then,” Cyn said to the waiter. He dashed off again, weaving his way through crowds grown even thicker while they'd been sitting there. Popping what she hoped was an egg roll into her mouth, Cyn chewed thoughtfully, then said, “Okay, so what you've told me so far is pretty much what I expected. But what I'd really like to know is if you have any idea how I can get Mirabelle away from him for even a couple of hours. Long enough to get her on a plane and on her way out of Texas."
Hewitt looked even more shocked than Kelli had. “This is not a creature to take lightly, Ms. Leighton."
"Cynthia,” Cyn suggested. “Or Cyn."
"Cynthia,” Hewitt amended. “If you cross him, I imagine Jabril can be quite ruthless. Not a few of his competitors have suffered setbacks over the years. He's been in this area quite a while, and from what I understand, he's had to change his habits somewhat, but I wouldn't count on his civility, if I were you. Those fancy manners are only skin deep."
"I believe you, but I have resources of my own. If I can get her out of Jabril's territory, his options are limited. And once we hit the Rockies, his hands are pretty much tied. Vamps are viciously territorial, and the boss out west even more than most."
"I'm afraid I can't help you there, but what about Elizabeth? If you leave Texas—"
"Liz is in California."
"California? But how—"
"A friend of hers. Any chance Liz would stay in touch with Mirabelle?"
"I don't know how. You've seen what it's like on that estate. I've tried to see Mirabelle a couple of times myself and been turned down flat. They wouldn't even get a message to her, telling me she didn't want to see anyone. Not that I ever believed it, but once she was over eighteen, I had no jurisdiction."
The waiter dropped the check folio on their table with a murmured, “Whenever you're ready.” Cyn looked it over quickly and charged it to her room.
"I'll think of something,” she said. “Anything else you can tell me?"
"Other than to be careful?” Hewitt shook her head and began gathering her things to leave. “Those are good girls, both of them. And their parents were good God-fearing people. They deserve better than what life gave them."
"Don't we all?” Cyn grabbed a couple of the egg roll-looking things and stood. There was an immediate shift in the human flow of the room as people positioned themselves to grab her table. “I probably won't talk to you again until I reach L.A., but I'll try to keep you up-to-date after that. And if anything pops here, you'll call me?"
"I will.” Hewitt stood and offered her hand in a firm but friendly handshake. “I wish you luck, Cynthia. I'll say a prayer for you and those girls."
Cyn watched Hewitt march through the lobby toward the front doors, watched her pull a puffy, brown winter coat on over her blue suit and take the time to stop and zip it closed before stepping out into the freezing wind. She waited until the valet brought the car around and Hewitt was on her way, and then she spun around and headed for the elevator. She had an idea for extracting Mirabelle from Jabril's clutches, but she'd need to be a lot sharper than she was right now. She was tired and even the one drink was slowing her down. A lot of coffee and a hot shower. That ought to do the trick. But she had to call a vampire first.
Chapter Twelve
It would be a couple of hours before sunset would catch up to the West Coast. Cyn spent the time with the fat yellow pages book, making notes, trying to think ahead to everything she might need in the hours to come. When it was finally time to make the call, her hands shook as she punched in the number. But she needed answers and this was the only place she knew to get them. She was relieved when an impersonal female voice answered.
"Raphael Enterprises."
"Duncan, please."
"May I say who's calling?"
She thought about lying, but this was Duncan, Raphael's number one guy, his lieutenant and closest advisor. He probably wouldn't come to the phone for someone he didn't know, so she told the truth. “Cynthia Leighton."
"One moment.” It was said a little too fast, as though the woman had expected her call. Cyn's stomach was bouncing with nerves as she waited, terrified of hearing a certain honeyed voice on the other end of the line. But it was the ever so polite, so proper Duncan who picked up the line.
"Ms. Leighton, a pleasure to hear from you."
There was a note of sincerity in his voice and Cyn actually believed he meant what he said. It brought the press of tears to her eyes, and she thrust the emotion away angrily. “Duncan. Thank you for speaking with me."
"But, of course. Why would I not?” Again, his puzzlement was genuine, but since that only confused Cyn, she ignored it and pressed on with her own reasons for calling.
"I have some questions. Questions you might not want to answer, but I really need the information. It's a matter of life and death, and I mean that literally."
"Are you in some danger?” he asked quickly.
"No, no. Well, no more than usual. You know me,” she joked lamely, then sobered. “If a young vampire, let's say five years reborn...” She used the vampire's own term for the transition. “...tries to leave her Sire's territory, will he sense it? Will he know?” She could almost hear Duncan's frown as he listened.
"How old is this young vampire? The actual age from birth."
"Twenty-three now, eighteen when turned, and barely that."
"Jabril Karim,” he said grimly. “Where are you calling from, Ms. Leighton?"
"Why does everyone keep asking me that? I have a job, Duncan. People hire me and I go where the job takes me."
"Ms. Leighton—"
She could hear the hesitation in his voice, hear the wheels turning. “If Raphael comes to the phone, I'm hanging up, Duncan. I mean that."
"You put me in a difficult position.” He sighed. “Why am I not surprised? Am I right? Are you in Texas? Tell me that much."
"Yes,” she admitted.
"I don't know what possessed you to deal with that one, but it no longer matters. You need to leave as soon as possible. I don't believe you quite understand what's at stake."
"You know, Duncan, forget it. I'm sorry I called. What is it with you guys? Fine, I fucked Raphael a couple of times. But he's the one who walked away. Not me. That does not give him, or any of you, the right to dictate the rest of my life. I will go—"
"Ms. Leighton—"
"—wherever I want—"
"Cynthia!"
Cyn stopped, drawing a deep breath. “Will you answer the fucking question or not? There's more at stake here than Raphael's dick."
Duncan choked back a laugh. “I have missed you, Cynthia. Against all odds, I have missed you. Very well. Again, I urge you to leave Texas immediately, but...” He overrode her burgeoning protest. “But, the young woman in question—and don't insult me by denying it—has been under Jabril's influence a very long time, from a very young age, and Jabril's methods are not kind. If he knows she is leaving, he will exert every effort to stop her, regardless of the cost to her, physical or otherwise. Do not expect her help in this, Cynthia. She will not be able to give it, even if she wants to. She will fight you."
"What if I do it in the daytime?"
"That would be best. She is young and the sun affects her much more strongly. But Jabril will never release her to you."
"Leave that to me. Once we cross out of his territory, will his hold weaken?"
"Certainly it will weaken. But it will not disappear until replaced by a stronger power."
