D.B.Reynolds Amerikai vámpírok sorozat

D.B.Reynolds Amerikai vámpírok sorozat angol nyelven

 

Raphael 1

 

Chapter Seven

CYNTHIA FOLLOWED Lonnie down the coast, wondering if vampires ever got cold. She had the heat going against the damp night air, but there was Lonnie, top down on his Porsche 911, his too-long hair blowing back from his face as they drove along at well over the speed limit. They passed through Malibu’s downtown area and continued along the cliffs where the really expensive estates were tucked away behind discreet gates. If you didn’t know better, you could drive right by several multimillion dollar mansions and not even know they were there. Lonnie hit the brakes and made a sharp left turn off the highway and onto a private drive nearly hidden by a hedge of towering oleander bushes. Cynthia followed, curious. This estate was a sizable chunk of very expensive property. She passed it nearly every day on her way to and from the office and had never once considered it might be owned by vamps. Not that they put out signs or anything, but it made her wonder how many other vampires lived in the neighborhood with no one the wiser.

She slowed down as the narrow drive wound out towards the ocean, keeping an eye on Lonnie’s red taillights. The oleanders had given way to a dense grove of trees—torrey pines, live oaks, ironwood, even the sharp tang of eucalyptus scented the night air. Tangled undergrowth crowded the smoothly paved road, while the closely packed trees arched overhead to form an almost seamless canopy and seal out the night sky. There was no lighting along the road at all, only the random bits of moonlight that managed to make it through the thick foliage overhead. Vampires had excellent night vision; they’d have no trouble with the stygian lane. Humans on the other hand . . .

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.”