When Passion Lies: A Shadow Keepers Novel (6 page)

The truly hard choice would have been to kill her. But that was something he’d been unable to do.

“You’re right, of course,” he said, and his agreement seemed to surprise her. “But I will not relent. And it makes no difference to me if answers come easily or with great difficulty.”

“No difference? I don’t believe you.”

There was subtle lightening of her tone, and he matched it. This was a truce they were negotiating, and that at least was familiar territory. “You’re right, again. I’d much prefer the easy route.”

It took a moment, but she nodded. “Very well. London? I’d hate to deny you the home court advantage. And as at the moment I have no home, it seems the most logical choice.”

The words surprised him. Tiberius knew that Lihter had banished Gunnolf from Paris, but Tiberius had assumed Caris had traveled with the former weren leader to Scotland.

Now, however, was not the time for questions. “London,” he agreed.

“Fine. I’ll meet you there. Before dawn.” She looked at him, her expression unreadable. “You have my word.” And then she was gone, racing into the trees with incredible speed, then rising out of the canopy of leaves as a solid black raven.

Tiberius stood for a moment watching the sky. Then he heard movement behind him. He turned to see Luke emerging from the trees.

“You heard?”

Luke nodded. “But I feel I should have been issued a codebook before that conversation.”

“There is a lot of history between us.”

“Do you think it was wise to let her travel on her own?”

“Did you see the speed at which she left us? I’m not sure I had a choice.” More, he hadn’t wanted her around as he considered how to deal with the fallout from Reinholt’s death. He’d spoken truthfully when he said that she’d seriously inconvenienced him.

“She’s grown stronger in the last two decades,” Luke said. “You’re not surprised, are you? She has quite the reputation now.”

Tiberius nodded. He knew about Caris’s fieldwork, knew that her name incited fear. “She’s become a bit like you,” he said to Luke. It was the one thing she’d always wanted, to fight at his side. And at first she had. But then
he’d almost lost her, and after that, he’d prohibited it. How could he risk her in battle when to lose her would have destroyed him?

And then he’d been the one to destroy her. The world was full of ironies.

“Will she come?” Luke asked.

Tiberius nodded. “She will.”

Luke looked dubious, but Tiberius was certain. Despite her speed and strength, he wouldn’t have let her go if he hadn’t been certain. But he knew her well, despite everything. She wouldn’t want Tiberius or his men seeking her out. More important, when Caris gave her word, she didn’t break it.

“We should go,” Luke said.

Tiberius shook his head. “I’ll go. I need you to stay. Unless Caris merely stumbled upon him and decided to kill a perfect stranger, it’s safe to assume that Reinholt must have told someone of his plans to meet me.”

“Which means that your name will come up when the locals investigate.”

“And if I’m not here—or my representative—there will be even more questions. Go back to town, but return here after the body’s discovered. Learn what you can, tell them that Reinholt was going to provide me information about Lihter.”

“Throw the spotlight on the weren.”

Tiberius half smiled. “I see no reason not to make his life as difficult as possible. But say nothing about the kidnapping.” At that, he frowned. Reinholt was supposed to have relayed more details about that. Now the girl was at Lihter’s mercy, and the task of rescuing her had gotten that much harder.

“It’s possible that the blame you’re throwing toward Lihter isn’t the stuff of fiction,” Luke said.

“You think Caris is lying? That she really was sent by Lihter?”

“We can’t discount the possibility.”

“I can,” Tiberius said. As much as he now despised Gunnolf, the previous weren leader, that weren had a core of morality. Lihter, though, had always been dangerous. Caris would never align herself with him.

He could tell from Luke’s expression that his lieutenant didn’t share his certainty.

“Keep your eyes and ears open,” Tiberius said. “I want to know if they have any reason to suspect Caris.” He clapped his friend on the shoulder. “I’ll see you in London.”

“Good luck,” Luke said, which was not his usual parting comment. Under the circumstances, though, Tiberius appreciated it. More, he had a feeling he’d need it.

Gabriel Casavetes looked down as the American tourist beneath him—Sally? Jenny?—moaned and writhed and dug her fingernails into his back.

“Harder, baby. I’m so close.”

He dutifully pumped harder, trying to erase everything in his head, trying to just simply
enjoy
it. She was young, she was beautiful, she was responsive.

And all he was doing was going through the motions.

Beneath him, she arched up, her muscles contracting and pumping him as she screamed and cried and basically
shook the whole damn room with her orgasm. Then she collapsed back down, her arm over her eyes, her breathing wet and heavy. “Oh, yeah, that was amazing.” The arm shifted and she looked at him. “It was amazing, wasn’t it?”

“The earth moved,” he said. He rolled off her and headed for the bathroom.

“Oh, come back. Baby wants to snuggle.”

He hesitated, glad his back was to her, because the hesitation gave him the chance to roll his eyes and wonder what the hell he’d been thinking inviting her up to his room. It was not because he was tempted to return and snuggle.

He continued, shutting the bathroom door behind him. With any luck, he’d come out in a minute and find she’d gotten the hint, gotten dressed, and gotten gone.

Instead, he pulled the door open and got an eyeful of naked tourist, the coverlet tossed aside, curled up on his dark green sheets. She patted the spot beside her. “Round two.”

“Tempting,” he said, wondering what was on the television.

“Get your cute little Swiss ass over here.”

“Actually, I’m from Texas.”

Her brow lifted at that, and her surprise knocked his estimation of her down a notch, which put it deep in negative numbers. He said
y’all
for Christ’s sake. Did she really think he’d been raised in the shadow of the Matterhorn?

If she was embarrassed, though, she covered well. She sat up, ample breasts bobbing. “Well, that makes us neighbors. I’m from Phoenix!”

“I think you forgot about New Mexico,” he said, but she just brushed it away, basic geography apparently beneath her.

Note to self, he thought, no more talking to women while drinking.

Then again, he’d moved to this iceberg of a town to get away. Because he wanted a dull life, an easy existence. And this woman was both dull and easy.

What was that saying? Be careful what you wish for?

“Do you hear that?” she said, as a sharp ping filled the room. He said a silent thank-you to whoever was calling him, then snatched his cellphone from the bedside table. The caller ID showed Everil, and Gabriel didn’t think he’d ever been happier to hear from his smarmy excuse for a partner. “I’m here. What’s up?”

“Humans caught one,” Everil said, his high, nasal voice grating on Gabriel’s already worn nerves. “An actual, bona fide homicide.”

The little fae sounded excited by the prospect. Gabriel didn’t share his enthusiasm.

“I assume there’s a reason you’re telling me this?”

“Humans caught it, but it’s our jurisdiction. Victim’s a werewolf. Looks like he’s been dead a couple of hours. Apparently someone heard shots, but didn’t report it. Didn’t realize what they’d heard, I guess, until some teenagers decided to go out for a late-night hike and make-out session. They found the body, and then our earwitness came forward when they saw the cops.” He was talking a mile a minute, obviously thrilled as shit to be in the middle of an actual homicide investigation. “I’m heading to the scene now. Koller’s gonna do his liaison
thing and work it out with the human big shots at the Polizei,” he added, referring to Benjamin Koller, the subdirector of Division 12’s violent crimes unit.

“Remember what we talked about. Make sure the scene is preserved. These guys don’t have a lot of experience with homicide. I don’t want someone’s rookie mistake destroying evidence.”

“You got it, partner,” he said, then trilled, “Damn, but this is exciting.”

Gabriel snapped the phone shut with a shake of his head.
Exciting
wouldn’t be his choice of words. But as he looked at the woman on the bed, he had to admit that
fortuitous
and
convenient
fit quite well.

Moonlight spilled from the sky, the snow on the mountains magnifying it and painting the scene in shades of gray and white. It was a breathtakingly beautiful sight.

Gabriel barely noticed.

He found the scene easily enough. Even without Everil’s overly detailed directions, the path to the picnic area was obvious enough, having been well trampled by the authorities, both human and shadower. With a frown, he hurried forward, afraid the clods had mucked up the crime scene. He was pleased to discover that the area around the victim had been cordoned off with crime-scene tape. Gabriel would have preferred a wider perimeter, but it was too late now. That’s what happened when homicide came to paradise—mistakes were made and evidence was lost.

He approached the scene, breathing in deep. Half hellhound
on his mother’s side, his sense of smell was as well attuned as any shadow creature’s. But if the perp had left a distinctive scent, it had been masked by all the activity. More than that, unless he was familiar with the suspect’s smell, catching a scent would hardly matter.

He paused outside the tape and peered down at the victim. Male. Thin. Reasonably tall. Appeared to be in his late forties, though if he was weren he could just as easily be in his late four hundreds. The same biology that altered and then repaired their cellular structure every month also healed their cells as they aged. A neat trick, actually.

A single bullet hole had penetrated the victim’s skull, and another had breached his chest. Now the snow around his head and torso was stained red, giving the odd impression of a fallen angel with crimson wings and halo.

He saw Everil to one side, talking with a tall man who smelled human. Gabriel lifted his hand, signaling to his partner, who scurried over, his face prissy and his manner self-important.

“I’ve got everything under control.”

“Then why are the humans still here?”

It was hard to imagine Everil’s already pinched face squeezing any tighter, but somehow the fae managed it. “There are procedures. They take time.”

“Time we don’t have,” Gabriel said. “The images only last so long.”

Everil blinked, his expression blank. Gabriel bit back a curse and tried to draw from his rapidly depleting supply of patience. He hadn’t asked to be partnered with Everil, he begged a new assignment every chance he had, and yet they were still stuck together like glue.

“A percipient daemon,” Gabriel said. “Get the images. Solve the crime. Ring any bells?”

Two blinks of those oversized black eyes. “We have no percipient daemon on staff.”

One. Two. Three
. Gabriel didn’t bother counting to ten. “Then you request a loan from another division. Never mind,” he snapped. “I’ll handle it.”

“You do that,” Everil said with an officious nod. As if summoning a percipient was all his idea.

He scurried away and Gabriel pulled out his phone. It took him all of three seconds to contact Koller and have him put the request in motion. With luck, the percipient would quickly conjure a wormhole and arrive within ten minutes. He knew of two currently working for the PEC: Armand Ylexi, who was stationed in Berlin, and Ryan Doyle, from Division 6 in L.A.

By the time he ended the call, Everil was back, this time accompanied by a tall vampire with a scar cutting across his right cheek.

“Says he came to Zermatt for a meeting with the victim,” Everil said. “Hasn’t told me his name yet, though.”

“Lucius Dragos,” Gabriel said. Everil’s eyes went wide, and he took a step back. Dragos, Gabriel was happy to see, looked amused. “If you had a meeting planned, I’m guessing you can identify our victim? Save us a little time?”