When Passion Lies: A Shadow Keepers Novel (27 page)

But there was also love. Pure and simple and reaching out to embrace her.

Lihter flipped the intercom switch on the console, allowing him and Naomi to have a lovely little chat.

“You realize you’re making things very difficult for me?”

“Not … really … caring …”

The girl’s voice was low and raspy, and Lihter had to strain to hear her. “Speak up, girl. This is a conversation, not a pity party.”

“Fuck. You.”

“What’s that? You want some more of this?” He stood and walked along the console. He saw her eyes widen. Just like a little lab rat, she’d figured out where the juice came from.

“No,” she said, and this time there was more punch to her voice. Good girl.

“So tell me about your father. He was a very bad man to turn you.”

“Turn me?”

“You’re a hybrid, are you not?”

“Yes. But—”

“But, exactly. Why do you not carry the infection?”

“I—I don’t know.”

He was alone in the lab, and for a moment he considered calling the doctor down. But this was an intimate moment. Just him and the girl. She could still be his
weapon. He hadn’t given up on her yet. And he was enjoying this quiet moment with her.

“You’re saying your father didn’t transform you into a hybrid?”

“Not me.”

“Then how did you—”

“I was born this way.”

He stood. “Born? Your mother?”

“Please—please let me go.”

He put his hand on the switch. “Do you remember the electricity? Do you remember how it feels?”

She swallowed, her face slack. Her spirit was waning, which was a bit of a pity. But as she was useless to him now, he was quickly sliding beyond caring.

“Now tell me,” he said. “Was your mother a hybrid?”

“I—She … Yes.”

This was getting better and better. “And where is Mommy?”

“She died when I was born.”

Lihter clenched his hand so tight he almost broke the joystick controller off the console. Why did his luck continue to be so miserable?

“And how did your mother become a hybrid?”

“My father—he … he turned her.”

“Did he? And do you know how?”

“No.” The word was a whisper. Even so, it cut right through him.

“Bitch!” he said. “You’re not helping! Are you trying to die? Do you want me to kill you?”

Big tears rolled out of her eyes. “No. Please. All I know is he did experiments. They wanted a child, but she was a vampire, and so they experimented.”

“He could have killed her.”

“He used other girls. And—and I guess he finally figured out how it worked.”

“He did,” Lihter said. “Of course he did. And then you were born. A wonderful circle of life.” He peered hard at her. “The names of these experiments?”

“I don’t know. I swear, I don’t know.”

He believed her. But just to be on the safe side, he cranked up the voltage and asked again. Then again.

He stopped asking when she passed out.

A hybrid. Probably created about nineteen years ago, right before Naomi was conceived. A female.

A vampire originally. Captured and changed.

Dangerous.

And probably very pissed off.

He stood, his sudden realization thrusting him to his feet.

He pounded his finger on the intercom button and yelled for Rico and the doctor to get down there.

“Caris,” he said when they arrived. “
Caris
. They say she killed Reinholt.
This
is why.”

Behar looked at him blankly.

“Don’t you see? It’s so obvious. About twenty years ago she leaves Tiberius and cozies up to the weren. She’s strong as shit, or so the stories go. And she’s suspected of killing a man who experimented on female vamps in an effort to turn them into hybrids.”

He looked at Behar. “Eh? Eh?”

Behar frowned slightly, obviously turning the information over in his head. “It sounds possible …”

“Possible? Like hell. It makes perfect sense.”

“How are we supposed to get her?” Rico asked. “She’s with Tiberius. And like you said, she’s strong as shit.”

“That’s not a problem.” Lihter put a hand on Rico’s shoulder and leaned in close. “Let me tell you exactly what to do …”

“The sun’s going to be up soon,” Caris said. Tiberius nodded. He knew well they were running out of time.

They were in a rented car, twining through dusty streets in the countryside outside of Munich toward the address they’d found for Duggin. But they were both tense, on edge, pushing forward against time. Afraid for the girl. Hell, afraid for the whole world.

“What if he doesn’t know where Lihter is?” she asked.

“He’ll know something,” Tiberius said. “And we’ll follow that lead and then the next and the next.”

He looked at her, and he knew what she was thinking: Following leads could take too damn long.

“We’ll have another lead soon.” He’d ordered all of the PEC divisions on it, and analysts were combing through cellphone chatter for any and all keywords that might relate to Lihter. He was hopeful he’d have a hit soon. “We’ll find him,” he said. “And we’ll stop him.”

A few more twists and turns, and they reached their destination. He pulled over and killed the engine. “Here, this is the address.”

The house in question was set back far from the street, a ramshackle stone house hidden behind tall shrubs and tucked in behind an iron security fence.

“Let’s move,” she said and slipped out of the car.

He followed quickly. With the night wearing away, they needed to either stay in the house—ideally because this place just happened to be Lihter’s secret lair and
they were kicking the crap out of him—or get back to the car and steer it to an underground parking garage. Either way, the clock was ticking.

Getting in was easy enough—they both changed to mist to get through the fence, then kept that form as they traveled down the vent hood into the kitchen.

Not the most elegant of entry points but it had the advantage of being quiet and effective.

“Nice kitchen,” Caris said. “Stainless steel. Stone countertops. Roomy.”

“Too dark,” Tiberius countered, glancing sideways at her.

She grinned. “That’s what Home Depot’s for.”

He stayed close to her as they checked out the rest of the house, passing through a huge living area that had two walls entirely of glass. A great view of the hills below, but hardly vampire friendly.

They continued into the back halls, then down the stairs into a basement. For a moment Tiberius was hopeful, but as far as they could tell it was completely empty.

And nowhere in the place did they catch a scent of human. Even the weren scent was so faint as to be almost undetectable.

“Perhaps I killed Cody too quickly,” Tiberius said. “I think the little worm lied to us.”

“His story checked out, though. This place is owned by a Mazin Duggin.”

“Who unfortunately isn’t home, and who left no convenient clues scribbled on napkins and sitting in plain sight.”

“I hate it when the bad guys are uncooperative that way.”

He held out his hand. “Shall we check the upstairs again?”

They were heading back upstairs when a slight vibration shook the house. Tiberius pressed his hand flat against the wall. Footsteps. He caught Caris’s eye, saw her nod in acknowledgment. She’d felt it, too.

They continued up the stairs, stopping just outside the basement door. They waited, listening as the weren moved about inside. And then, when there was only silence, they slowly opened the door and stepped into the long hallway. They split up, moving in unspoken understanding, just as they had for centuries. Centuries when they’d been so close they would finish each other’s sentences and read each other’s thoughts.

He’d missed that. Hell, he’d missed her.

“Found him,” Caris called.

He hurried toward her voice and found the two of them in a simple kitchen. Caris might be one hell of a fighter, but Duggin’s attacks and parries proved to Tiberius that Lihter had gone the extra mile to train his men.

Even so, Duggin was no match for Caris. She dodged his blows, handily twisting his arm behind him, then locking it in place by jamming it against the kitchen counter, his body pressed back against his twisted limb. Any thought of moving was erased by the foot she kept pressed against his chest and the knife she held out toward him with her one free hand.

Her other hand held on to the island, ensuring her balance as she stayed in position.

He couldn’t help but smile. She really was a remarkable woman.

“Lihter,” she was saying as he approached. “Where is he?”

“What the fuck makes you think I know?” Duggin growled.

Tiberius punched the weren in the chest, shattering a few ribs. “I’m afraid that’s the wrong answer.”

“Fuck you,” the weren retorted, which wasn’t particularly polite, but under the circumstances was to be expected.

Tiberius punched him again, this time in the temple. The weren howled with pain.

“Where?” Tiberius demanded. He’d moved in front and Caris had shifted back. Tiberius had filled the gap, and now he held Caris’s knife at the bastard’s throat, his own body pressed so close to the stinking werewolf that Duggin had nowhere to go. He inched closer, and watched as the werewolf grimaced in pain as his wrist pressed harder against the granite countertop.

A shove, and the bone shattered. The weren’s howl of pain filled the house, and Tiberius smiled, slow and easy. “Where’s Lihter?” he said.

This time, Duggin spat in his face. And that, frankly, was the last straw.

Suddenly Tiberius was no longer seeing Duggin but Claudius. Not a weren in jeans and a T-shirt, but a monster in the garb of a nobleman. A vile bastard armed with a bronze rod and a whip. Lashing out. Cutting flesh. Slamming down. Shattering bones.

His body was breaking, burning. Pain came in red-hot waves of black and red, knocking him back, drawing him into the abyss. He lashed out against it. Pounding. Fighting.

“Tiberius!”

Bone shattered beneath his fist as he came back to
himself. The weren in front of him was Duggin again, Claudius lost to the mists of memories.

“He can’t tell us anything if you kill him.”

Duggin’s face was almost unrecognizable. Swollen and broken and oozing with blood.

“Come on,” she said, her hand on his shoulder. Gently, she eased him back. “Lay back a little.”

He relaxed—and that was a mistake.

Duggin burst away from the granite, using the moment to snatch a wooden stake from the windowsill. He thrust it forward, catching Tiberius right in the chest—

Right in the heart.

Tiberius fell, the world turning gray around him. He could watch, but he couldn’t move. He could only lay there, body dead, the stake protruding, and the world going on around him.

Caris screamed and leaped for Duggin, who had a knife in his other hand. He lashed out, slashing Caris across the palm as he did.

“Bitch!” Duggin cried out. “Your boyfriend’s fucking dead!” And that was his second mistake, because even as Caris winced with pain, she leaped toward the weren and pressed her bloody hand against his face.

Acid
.