Lucas (Vampires in America #6)

Lucas (Vampires in America #6) Page 8

“Thank you,” Kathryn said politely. She buzzed her window up, more against the dust from the road than the cold, and continued toward the house. A glance in her rearview mirror showed the sphinx on a cell phone. Probably warning his boss that she was on her way. Good. If they were ready for her, she wouldn’t have to waste time waiting.

The road very quickly entered a patch of trees that combined pine trees and a bunch of others. Kathryn didn’t know trees. Anything that resembled a Christmas tree was pine, and everything else was just a tree. Good enough.

It was even darker once she passed under the thick branches. She was tempted to flip on her brights, but figured she’d only be turning them off soon enough. And she didn’t want to show any kind of weakness or fear, especially not of something as straightforward as a little bit of heavy shadow.

The trees thinned out, and the road straightened. A white rail fence appeared on her right, and she recognized the enclosure as a paddock. It was dark at this end, but there was a well-lit structure in the near distance with more white-fenced enclosures. And in the one closest to the barn, she could see . . . horses. She blinked, not quite believing her eyes.

“Oh, please,” she muttered. “A cowboy vampire? Like I believe that.”

As she drew closer, it was obvious the horses were well cared for and well-bred. These weren’t family pets but expensive animals. Was someone training them? Or maybe breeding? Was horse breeding profitable? She wouldn’t have thought so, but she’d have to look it up. She hadn’t found anything in her research to indicate Lucas Donlon was breeding livestock, but that didn’t mean anything. As far as she knew, she was the first federal agent of any kind who’d made it this far. She slowed slightly as she drew even with the paddock. The brightly-lit structure was a horse barn, with a long aisle down the middle and stalls on either side. It all looked very tidy . . . and very expensive.

Kathryn felt the weight of someone staring at her. She turned her head sharply toward the far end of the paddock and saw that it wasn’t one pair of eyes watching her, but several. Even the horses seemed to be studying her. She knew that was nothing more than a fanciful thought, but there was no mistaking the suspicion of the men. She frowned. Maybe they were all vampires like the gate guard. Did vampires ride horses? Wasn’t there some superstition about animals being more sensitive to vampires than humans were? She supposed it was unscientific of her to give any credence to that kind of superstition, not to mention it was probably politically incorrect. Vampires had fought and won several civil rights lawsuits which took into account their unique natures.

Not wanting to draw any more attention to herself, she sped up once again, following the road as it circled around the barn, slowing as it dipped alongside a small creek bed for what felt like a hundred yards, then circled around a grassy hill to finally reveal . . .

Oh. Now that was lovely. And not at all what she’d expected from a vampire’s residence. She hadn’t been foolish enough to imagine he lived in a creaky castle with bats circling around the turrets, but she hadn’t anticipated this, either. This was a beautiful house, built into the hillside and glowing a warm gold in the wash of landscape lights. It was a Craftsman style with a peaked roof and skylights, somewhere around 8000 square feet would be her guess. But there was probably a basement level she couldn’t see, and who knew how big that was? That was one thing the myths got right about vampires. They didn’t like sunlight, which made the skylights an unusual feature, but if the house had windows, why not skylights?

She drove up the short hill to the foot of the front steps, where a woman appeared to be waiting for her. She wore a severe black pants suit and a blindingly white, tailored blouse, with a short red tie. If not for the spiked heels, Kathryn would have thought she was trying to look like a man. But those heels gave it away. She was either a dominatrix or a lawyer. Kathryn was betting on the latter.

The woman walked over to the truck as Kathryn was climbing out. She pulled her briefcase off the passenger seat and slammed the door.

“Agent Hunter,” the woman said, holding out her hand. “I’m Magda Turkova, Lord Donlon’s attorney.”

Bull’s eye! Kathryn thought to herself and shook the other woman’s hand. “Special Agent Kathryn Hunter,” she said unnecessarily.

“Lord Donlon is expecting you,” Magda said, her attitude all business, but there was a slight edge of hostility beneath it all.

Kathryn followed the attorney up the stairs and into a slate-floored foyer that completely lived up to the promise of the golden exterior. The house was single story, but the ceilings were high, the walls raw stucco and painted a blend of warm hues. The décor was decidedly western, but elegant and reeking of wealth. Apparently, it paid to be a vampire, especially one with a title.

Magda continued through the entry, leading Kathryn around a handsome, double-sided fireplace and into a living room which had clearly been decorated with a male sensibility. Big couches and chairs were gathered around a huge slab of glass that was perched on a piece of rock and served as a coffee table. The room was nicely done, but there were no dainty designer accents, no carefully posed vases or works of art. Instead, there was a pile of magazines comprised of mostly sports and business, with a big screen monitor gracing the main wall. A bookshelf next to the monitor boasted a collection of videos and games and at least four separate gaming consoles. Next to that, a wall of windows looked out on the front of the house and down across the property, with its dark clusters of trees. Kathryn noted the slight distortion that told her the glass in the window was bulletproof. Apparently, all was not happy in the land of vampires.

The lawyer indicated the seating area. “Lord Donlon will be with you in a moment.” She walked over to a wet bar.

Of course, there was a wet bar. What else would there be in a man cave like this? Kathryn thought cynically.

“May I offer you a drink?” Turkova asked. “Or no, you probably can’t drink on duty, can you? We have water, or soft drinks?”

“Water would be nice. Thank you,” Kathryn said. Normally, she wouldn’t accept anything to eat or drink from a person she was about to question in relation to a crime. But first of all, she wasn’t certain a crime had been committed. Secondly, she had no evidence that Lucas Donlon was directly involved in her brother’s disappearance, and, in fact, doubted that he was. And finally, she was thirsty.

Magda retrieved a bottle of water from the under the counter refrigerator and grabbed a glass from the overhead rack. “Would you like ice?”

“No, thank you. And I don’t need a glass. Just the bottle will be fine.”

Magda gave a brief smile. “My own preference, as well. I can rarely drink one of these things—” She held up the bottle. “—in a single sitting. I like to take it with me rather than throw it away.”

Kathryn took the proffered water. It was icy cold, the bottle slightly wet with condensation. “So, Ms. Turkova,” she began, but the woman interrupted her.

“Magda, please. We don’t stand on ceremony.”

“But you do have guards.”

Turkova gave a dismissive shrug. “A necessary precaution for my lord’s security.”

Kathryn tipped her head to one side in curiosity. “You refer to him as lord. Is that a hereditary title of some sort?”

Magda laughed lightly, sounding genuinely amused. “No, not at all. Vampire society has a feudal structure, Agent Hunter. And Lord Donlon rules a substantial territory.”

“Feudal . . .” Kathryn repeated, thinking that if nothing else, she’d gain substantial knowledge about vampires from this visit. “Do his subjects—”

“Not subjects. His people. We have made some concessions to the modern age.”

“Of course. His people. But if the system is feudal, do they tithe to him?”

“Naturally. He protects them, defends them from both humans and other vampires. He also runs a considerable corporate empire, which I’m sure you know. Many of his people work for him directly, others he underwrites. Lord Donlon is a businessman, a very successful businessman.”

“I see.”

“And you, Agent Hunter, what brings you to South Dakota? I know for a fact that you are not based out of our jurisdictional field office, which is in Minneapolis.”

Kathryn chuckled, shivering intentionally. “Minnesota’s a little too cold for my bones. No, I work out of Quantico.”

“I see. And what does Quantico want with Lord Donlon?” Magda’s tone was just as casual as it had been, but her gaze was abruptly intent. The lawyer emerging at last.

“I’ve made no secret of the reason for my visit, Ms. Turkova. I’m investigating the disappearance of someone. A photographer from California who was here to shoot the Badlands. He’s an artist of some repute and has friends in high places. Hence, the FBI’s interest in what normally would be a matter for state or local authorities.”

“I see. And what is this photographer’s name?”

Kathryn smiled, knowing that Turkova almost certainly knew Daniel’s name already. “I’m here to interview your client,” she said mildly, but firmly, “not you, and not to be interviewed by you, either. Is Lucas Donlon available?”

Magda bared her teeth in an unfriendly smile. She wasn’t as blatant about it as the sphinx-like guard had been, but Kathryn clearly caught sight of two delicate white fangs. “It never hurts to try,” she said.

“Understood,” Kathryn agreed.

Magda pulled a cell phone from her pocket and hit a number. “Agent Hunter is here,” she told someone, then disconnected and slipped the phone back into her pocket. “Lord Donlon will see you now.”

Kathryn followed Magda Turkova out of the comfortable living room and down a long, tile-floored hallway. Turkova’s high heels tapped loudly on the hard surface, and all Kathryn could think of was how cold these floors must be in winter. This was South Dakota, after all. She’d never lived in any of the truly cold states, but she saw the weather reports like everyone else, and South Dakota was usually buried in snow for months at a time. The heating bill for this house must be cosmic. But she supposed if you could afford a place like this on a ranch this big, then you didn’t worry much about heating bills.