When Passion Lies: A Shadow Keepers Novel (24 page)

How the
fuck
could she not be toxic?

How the
hell
could her blood be acid and yet her pores not leak the plague?

The bitch was still unconscious—apparently the level of electricity had done a number on her—so he couldn’t even ask her his questions.

He needed Reinholt. He needed her father, dammit, and even though he’d put feelers out to all his PEC contacts before he’d gotten the bright idea to snatch the girl, he still hadn’t heard a goddamned thing.

“Sir.”
This time it got through.

Lihter turned and railed on his lieutenant.
“What?”

Rico held up the phone. “Division 12, sir. Your contact.”

Lihter almost didn’t take the call. The fae from Division 12 was a disgrace to the weren population. A half weren with not even one characteristic to show for it. No ability to shift. No strength. No brawn. And the creature was damned annoying, too.

But he was determined to earn his way into the château, and Lihter was equally determined to use him as long as the little cretin allowed himself to be used.

“Everett, isn’t it?”

“Everil, sir,” came the high, nasal response. “You circulated a request recently. You were trying to locate Cyrus Reinholt. I—I have news.”

Lihter tilted his head back and looked up at the heavens. He’d long ago stopped believing in any god but himself, but the universe? Well, she could be a cruel bitch. Today, the bitch was smiling.

“Where is he?”

“Uh, well, actually, he’s dead.”

Lihter’s blood ran cold. “You want to repeat that?”

“He’s dead, sir. Homicide. In Zermatt. I’m stationed there. Remember? At least until you can get me transferred to Division 18 in Paris.”

“Dead.” The man who knew how to make a goddamned hybrid was
dead
. He picked up a chair and hurled it across the room, shattering it into thin metal splinters. “Who? Who the fuck did this?”

“That’s why I’m calling. It’s—well, we’re still working on it. I didn’t want to call earlier, because if we were wrong, but now it looks pretty certain, and—”

“Who?”

“Caris, sir. You know, from—”

“I know Caris,” Lihter said, barely able to get the words out past his gritted teeth. “Tell me.”

“Tell you? Tell you what, sir?”

“Tell me why the fuck you think she killed him. What evidence do you have?”

“Oh, well, a lot of reasons.” And he started to rattle them off. She’d been in Zermatt. She’d been looking for someone. And for years, she’d been systematically searching for werewolves. She’d found dozens, but this
one was apparently the only one she killed. “We’re still gathering evidence.”

“What about motive?”

“Um, well, no idea yet, sir.” He cleared his throat. “Do you—do you want me to keep you in the loop?”

“I do,” Lihter said, thinking how much he’d like to crush the life from the vampire bitch for fucking with his plans. “I’d like that very much.”

Café Chirac looked like your average Rive Gauche coffee shop, with dozens of students usually littering the small tables outside. Tonight a light rain was falling and those students were inside, where the atmosphere was damp and noisy and smoke-filled.

Caris pushed easily past the humans until she reached the last seat of the bar that surrounded the barista area. A skinny American student sat there, his foreignness obvious in the beret he wore just a little too jauntily, the clove cigarette he’d lit but hadn’t smoked, and the way he scribbled in a journal, looking up every minute or so to soak in a bit more atmosphere.

“Move,” Caris said.

He twisted in his seat, looked up at her, and smiled. “For you? I think I’d rather stay,” the human said, his accent pure Brooklyn.

Tiberius stepped up behind him. “Move.”

This time the guy turned, looked, and was out of there so fast he caused a breeze.

Caris scowled up at Tiberius. “I was handling it.”

He chuckled. “We make a good team.”

Caris didn’t bother responding. She just slid into the
guy’s vacated seat. After a moment, she saw one of the baristas—a tall twenty-something guy with a goatee—tap the svelte blonde beside him. She finished spooning foam onto a latte, then turned, saw Caris, and gave Goatee a nod. Then she slipped out from behind the bar and disappeared into the crowd. A moment later, a bit of wood paneling from the wall behind Caris opened, and Caris stepped inside, Tiberius at her heels.

The café, for all its legitimate front as an average establishment, also happened to be a backroom shadower bar, a dive of a place where the local shadow population came for drinks and smokes and the occasional fight. And since this was Paris, the locals tended to be werens. Which was probably why heads turned as the two vamps moved through the packed room. Either that or they were admiring Tiberius’s good looks and winning smile.

“Do you see him?” Tiberius asked.

“Not yet,” Caris said as she looked around, trying to catch a glimpse of the werewolf they’d seen on the mall security footage. After they’d seen Naomi get on the elevator, Tiberius had the security chief pull up the parking garage footage. Two werewolves had grabbed her, but Caris had recognized only one. Cody. A sniveling little weren who used to hang out at the château, willing to do anything for anybody.

She heard the beep of Tiberius’s phone, and saw him step to one side to take the call as she continued to scour the room for Cody.

“Knew you was nothing more than an opportunistic bitch.” The insult, in colorful French, came from a scrawny weren nursing a beer at a nearby table. She stopped, then turned to look him dead in the eye. He
didn’t flinch, but his two buddies—who obviously had higher IQs—each scooted their chairs back.

“You have something to say to my face?”

“Damn right, bitch.” The weren stood, wobbling a little. “You’re all warm and cozy with Gunnolf when he’s riding high. But now that Lihter’s taken over, you go running back to the fang gang. Always knew you were nothing but an opportunistic whore.” He spat, and a glob of it landed on her cheek. Her body tightened, fury rising.

“If I was opportunistic,” she said, “then why the fuck aren’t I in Lihter’s bed?”

“ ’Cause he don’t want filthy vampire whores. He ain’t a traitor to our kind like Gunnolf.” He took an unsteady step toward her. “You think it was Gunnolf’s leg that brought him down? It weren’t. It was
you
.”

That was it. She lashed out, her punch hitting him in the gut, and when he doubled over to gasp for air, she brought her knee up and nailed him in the balls. He howled, started to fall, and she grabbed the back of his shirt, ready to toss the impudent bastard across the room—except another weren had stepped up and was blocking her way.

Dammit
. Didn’t people have any manners these days?

The new boy in the fight had brought toys, and he held his knife out toward her, his mouth cut into a leer. “I’ll enjoy this, vampire. You should have known you weren’t welcome here no more.”

“Sorry,” she said. “Didn’t get the memo.”

He lunged, and she swung around, keeping her hold on the first weren and using him as a battering ram to knock the second guy back. He went tumbling, crashing into a table and spilling pitchers of beer. The two weren
sitting there pushed their chairs back and stood as her second attacker slid on the now-slick floor and fell on his worthless ass.

Her first nemesis picked that time to get all superior on her, and he came out of his cringe with a knife in his hand, his face still contorted in pain.

“Don’t be stupid,” she said. But he was. They always were.

He rushed her, and she moved with vampiric speed, disarming him even as she circled behind him.

His knife was now at his throat, and she pressed the blade firmly against his skin. “You sharpen this thing lately? Think I could gut you if I flick my wrist?”

He stiffened in her arms, but apparently he’d gained a few IQ points, because he was smart enough not to say anything. She pushed the knife tighter—just enough to leave a thin line of blood rising—and then yanked it away even as she shoved him forward. “Go,” she said. “Now.”

Again to the credit of his growing intellect, he did as he was told, hurrying out the door with his buddy, and pausing only long enough to shoot her a murderous glance from the doorway.

“Love you, too,” she said, then wiggled her fingers good-bye. A few feet away, Tiberius stood casually leaning against the side of an empty booth, his phone back in his pocket.

“Thanks for the help,” she said.

“Did you need help? You looked perfectly capable from where I stood.”

She looked at him hard. “I always was.”

She saw the old argument spark in his eyes, and silently cursed herself. Now really wasn’t the time. She
shrugged. “Where I come from it’s just good manners to help a girl take down her enemy,” she said lightly.

He nodded slowly, accepting her truce. “Shall we try again?” He did a slow turn around the pub, glancing at all the weren faces that were staring back at them with expressions that suggested they’d really rather be somewhere else. “Perhaps a signal? Like a safe word to tell me when you want me to jump in?”

“Good idea. How about bastard?”

He pressed a finger to his chin as if considering. “Catchy, but I’m not sure it captures the essence of me.”

She laughed, then quickly turned away, not wanting him to see her face. Not wanting him to realize that even for a second she let him get in through the cracks.

Behind her, he moved forward, his steps firm and even on the wooden floor. “Our boy?” he asked, thankfully all business.

“Still haven’t seen him.”

She took a step, intending to go. This wasn’t the only bar the locals hung out in. Then she stopped. Because there he was, sitting at the bar. A skinny, bespectacled weren. She pointed her finger at him, then cocked her head toward the hall that led to the back door and alley.

“Shit, Caris,” he said.

“Don’t whine, Cody. It’s not flattering.”

“What did I ever do to you?”

“I’m sure I can think of something.” She moved closer. “We can do this inside or outside. Choose.”

“They’ll fucking kill me if I talk to you. You think I want everyone to think I’m loyal to Gunnolf? Or worse,” he added, glancing up at Tiberius, “to
him
?”

She made a fist and punched him hard in the face, shattering his nose.

“Fuck!”

She grabbed his arm and tugged him away from the bar. “Now they’ll know you don’t like me,” she said, then dragged him to the hall.

As soon as they reached the alley, Caris slammed Cody up against the brick wall. “Where is he?” she demanded. “Where’s Lihter?”

“Well, gosh and golly, Caris. When he and I were having tea at the mansion the other day, he gave me a copy of his weekly agenda. Let me just check it for you.”

She got right in his face, working hard to hold tight to control. The moon was waxing, and inside, the wolf was rising. And right then, she wanted to take it out on somebody. She really, really did. “Don’t play stupid with me.”

“Shit, I’m not. I don’t know where he is. I swear!”

“Where did you take the girl?”

“What girl?”

“Frankfurt. Zeilgalerie. Ringing any bells?”

“That snatch was for
Lihter
? Holy shit.”

“So where is she?”

“Honest, I don’t know. I was just hired. Me and Jacob.”

“Fine. Where’s Jacob?”

Cody’s eyes went wide. “He’s dead. Holy fucking shit, she killed him.”

Caris shot a questioning glance toward Tiberius. “Naomi killed your partner?”

“He wasn’t my partner. We were both hired, you know? Never worked together before. Supposed to be a simple snatch and grab. Look what the bitch did to me!” He ripped up his shirt, and Caris saw the ugly scar on his abdomen, as if his flesh had been burned away.

She took a step back, fear mixing with the rising power of the wolf.
No
. It couldn’t be …

“How did you get that?” she asked, her voice tight.

“Bitch’s blood,” he said. “It fucking burned.”

Beside her, Tiberius stiffened. She did the same. This was bad. All of a sudden, this had gotten really, really bad.

“Why?” Caris asked.

“How the fuck should I know? Some sort of daemon species I never met before. Maybe she was taking some funky-ass drugs. All I know is that she slit her own wrist and burned Jacob’s face away, then managed to get him through the heart with a silver stake. Got a chunk out of me, too, before I managed to tranq her.”

He didn’t know what she was
. But Caris knew. Holy shit, Caris knew exactly what Naomi was.

“Where is she now?”

“I—I dunno.”

“Goddammit, Cody, you are really trying my patience!”

“I really don’t!”

“Enough.”
Tiberius grabbed the weren and spun him around even as he dropped to a crouch. He had Cody splayed across his leg, and he was pressing down at shoulders and hips. “How much do you value your spine, weren?” he asked.

“Please, please,” Cody squealed. “I was just the hired gun. What? You think Lihter calls me up to share the scoop? I didn’t even know the bitch burned!”