When Passion Lies: A Shadow Keepers Novel (25 page)

“Who hired you?” Caris asked.

“I don’t remember—I mean I do! Yes!” he said as Tiberius applied pressure. “His name’s Duggin. I delivered the girl to him.”

“Where?” Tiberius asked.

“Outside of Munich. He’s got a house. I don’t know what he did with her after. I swear I don’t.”

She looked at his face, then at Tiberius, who nodded. “Fine. Appreciate the intel.”

Tiberius met her eyes, then snapped the weren’s spine. He stood, and Cody’s lifeless body fell to the ground.

“He didn’t know what she was,” Caris said.

“But it’s too good a story not to spread. A woman with acid for blood? Someone would hear. And someone smarter than him would know.”

“And there’d be panic,” she said harshly. “Believe me. I get it. How could I not?” She met his eyes. “I’m the thing that frightens the world. Hell, I’m the thing that frightened even you.”

“You’re a weapon, Caris,” Tiberius said. “Or you could be used as one.”

She peered at him, not sure where he was going with this. “Yes, sure. I guess. A walking tool of biological warfare. But—”

“Slater called,” Tiberius said. “He tracked down Bovil’s lieutenant. The buzz on the street is that Lihter’s acquired a weapon.”

The words shot through her, their effect almost painful. “Naomi,” she whispered. “He’s going to loose the plague upon the world.”

A hybrid. The plague
.

Dear God, how could this be true?

Inside her, the daemon and the wolf fought for power, both of them battled down by the will that was Caris—just Caris.

She stalked the alleyway, unconcerned that Tiberius was watching her. She had to focus. Had to tighten.

It had been years since she’d come this close to letting the wolf out when there wasn’t a full moon—on a full moon, she didn’t have any goddamned choice.

But Gunnolf had taught her.
Dammit
, she knew what to do.

She kicked a trash can and sent it flying.

Fight. Beat. Hit
.

Battle it down
.

But there wasn’t anything to fight, and there wasn’t anyone to hit. Not except Tiberius, and oh, God …

“Caris—” He was right in front of her.

“Don’t,” she said. “I have to—I have to—”

Go the other way. A place of peace. Calm them, don’t feed your rage
.

“I can’t. I can’t,” she said to the voices in her head. She was walking in a circle, well aware that Tiberius was watching her. Well aware that she must seem like a freak, and he was going to run. That he’d leave her here. That he’d fucking abandon her one more time.

“Caris,”
he said again, this time grabbing her shoulder. “What do you need?”

“I need to fight,” she said. “No. No.” That wasn’t right. If she fought, it would only grow bigger. This time was different, the worry about more than herself. “No. I need to calm it.”

“How? How can I help?”

“Help?”

That one single word stopped her feet.

“Yes. Help. What can I do?”

She looked at his face through the haze of her battle. Past the snapping wolf and the snarling daemon. There was no revulsion in his eyes. No recrimination. No fear.

There was just warmth.
For her
.

Inside, the daemon shifted, calming ever so slightly.

“I—I need to focus. Can you sit with me?”

She didn’t wait for an answer. Of course he’d do what she needed. She dropped to the ground, then sat Lotus style on the hard asphalt. He sat across from her. He held out his hands, and she took them.

And then she closed her eyes and focused, moving her thoughts inward. Finding those parts of her she despised, but could never cut out—the wolf, the daemon. She spoke to them. Whispered to them. Told them to calm. Told them she was in charge.

And through it all, Tiberius held her hands and gave her his strength.

She didn’t know how long it would take, but she knew it didn’t matter. He’d help her through this.

And he’d stay with her until the end.

As the rented limo sped toward the private airfield, Tiberius barked orders into his phone at Luke and Slater, both of whom he’d conferenced in. He had the privacy screen up so the driver couldn’t hear, but he’d put the phone on speaker, and Caris was leaning forward, hanging on to every word.

She was back to herself again, the wolf battled down, her daemon under control. He’d been terrified when he’d seen her like that, his own daemon rising with the fear.

And not the fear of infection. No, his concern was purely for her. That after having kept such tight control for so many years, losing it so violently and quickly would mess with her head, her confidence.

That it might make her run from him and back to Gunnolf for the kind of help that Tiberius simply wasn’t able to give.

He didn’t want her to leave, he realized. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that revelation, so for the time being he tucked it away and simply enjoyed the fact that her departure wasn’t an issue. She wouldn’t need to race off to Gunnolf. She’d battled it down herself. “Fighting,” she’d said afterward. “Fighting is the only way to win. That’s one of the reasons I did so much fieldwork for Gunnolf. Because the battles kept the wolf in check.”

“You didn’t fight in the alley.”

“You’ve studied enough philosophy to know that not all fights are with fists.”

He had to acknowledge the point.

She’d taken his hand then and squeezed it. “I couldn’t have done it without your strength. Thank you.”

“There is no need,” he said. “But you’re welcome.”

She hadn’t released his hand, and he hadn’t wanted to tug it free. So he’d awkwardly used his left hand to call the car.

Once in the limo, he’d called Luke and Slater.

He’d spoken to them both only a few minutes before, when he and Caris were in the bar. At that time, Slater’s news of Lihter’s weapon had overshadowed Luke’s report about Reinholt’s house with the hematite shackles and the odd news about Reinholt’s vampire mate. News of the weapon remained top priority.

“I want the
kyne
, I want Alliance security, and I want every division of the PEC searching for that son of a bitch. We’ve confirmed the rumor that he’s acquired a weapon. It’s armed, it’s ready, and he could use it at any time. We don’t have the luxury of time on this one. But we do need to work under the table. Reduce the chance of Lihter learning what we know. We move silently but fast, and maybe we’ll get lucky.”

“You got it,” Luke said over the speaker. “We’ll keep the werens out of the loop, at least for as long as possible.”

“Good. And although we believe he’s in Europe, we can’t be certain. The search needs to be global.”

“Understood,” Slater said.

“What weapon has he acquired?” Luke asked.

Tiberius hesitated. “A hybrid.”

He heard Slater whistle.

Tiberius glanced at Caris, who was sitting stiffly, her hands clenched at her side. “That information is for your ears only. Word gets out that a hybrid is out there, and there will be panic.”

“Understood.”

“Presumably he’s developed some system to deliver
the toxin,” Tiberius said. “Maybe he has captive humans he’ll infect and release in populated places. Maybe he’s figured out how to shove it into fucking aerosol cans. We don’t know.”

“He could release it at any time,” Luke said.

“But he won’t,” Caris said. “Not yet.”

“Why the hell not?” Luke asked.

“Because every story about hybrids makes one thing clear: The virus is at its most infectious during a full moon.”

“So he’s probably waiting,” Slater said.

“It’s a good bet,” Caris said. “Although we can’t count on it.”

“Three days,” Luke said. “There’s a full moon in three days.”

Caris met Tiberius’s eyes. “Yeah,” she said. “I know.”

The limo entered the airfield and they ended the call. The plane was a private, Alliance-owned jet, and Tiberius had already called in a flight plan. It was just shy of 2
A.M
. With a decent tailwind, they’d arrive in Munich about four, and would have a couple of hours of darkness in which to locate Duggin before they’d need to find shelter for the day.

It was times like this when Tiberius felt the weakness of his species. The damn sun. The trade-off for strength and transformative power. He’d lived with the reality for thousands of years. Today he realized what a burden it could be.

“What I find so unbelievable,” he said as they settled into their seats on the small jet, “is that he turned his own daughter into a hybrid.”

Caris shook her head slowly. “Maybe he didn’t.”

Tiberius watched her face. It was tight, as if she was
holding back an explosion. “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t think he turned his daughter into a hybrid,” she said. “I think he turned his wife.”

“I’m not following,” Tiberius said.

Caris ran her fingers through her hair. “Luke said the records of the wife disappeared, right? About—what?—twenty years ago? Eighteen?”

Tiberius had relayed this information to Caris as they waited for the limo. “Right. So?”

“That’s about when I was captured and experimented on. And his experiment worked. That meant he was ready to turn theory into practice.”

“You think he turned the wife eighteen years ago?”

“I do. When he had me—when he held me—he said he had to get it right. That I was helping him. That he did it for love.” She shivered, as if something vile was crawling up her spine.

“So how did Naomi become a hybrid?” He had a feeling he knew her answer, and the thought reviled him.

“I think she was born that way.”

Tiberius cocked his head. “I follow you,” he admitted. “But there’s one problem. Vampire women can’t get pregnant.”

“No,” Caris said. “They can’t.” She held out her hand. “I have an idea about that, too. Pass me your phone.”

He did, and she dialed, then pushed the button to put the phone on speaker. After a moment, a voice Tiberius recognized answered: Orion. A human in Caris’s family tree. A descendant of Horatius. The last human descendant, actually.

“I’m with Tiberius,” Caris said. “We need your help.”

“Sure. Right. Hang on.” A heavy bass sound echoed through the phone, along with garbled voices. A club of some sort. There was a pause, and shuffling, and then the background noise cleared up. “Sorry. I’m outside now. Quieter. What’s up?”

“Reinholt,” Caris said. “I have a theory. I need your help shaping it.”

“Uh. Okay.”

“Can I have children?”

Tiberius gaped at her. From the silence at the other end of the phone, he assumed Orion was doing the same.

“Can you—huh?”

“It’s a simple question. Can I have a kid?”

“Oh. Well, wow. Is, uh, there something I should know?”

“Orion.”

“Right. Right. Well, I’ve tested your blood, Caris, but I’ve never done that kind of exam. But let’s think about it. When you were vamped, you died. And that meant your eggs died, too.”

“That’s why vampires can’t get pregnant.”

“Exactly,” he said.

“But vampire men can father a child,” Tiberius said. “I know several who have impregnated human women. Their children are dhampires, possessed of strength, but without the immortality or the allergy to the sun.”