When Passion Lies: A Shadow Keepers Novel (34 page)

He squealed. “No! No! I’ll turn myself in!”

“Good boy,” she said. “You made the right choice.”

She waited a beat, savoring the thought of him in a PEC cell, but it just wasn’t enough. Not for the wolf. Not for the daemon.

“Sorry,” she said, as she punched through his rib cage. “But I really want you dead.”

With Tiberius’s head cradled in her lap, Caris looked out through the glass wall of her cell, watching as Luke examined the knobs and dials on the huge console.

“Now,” he said. “The air’s clean.”

Thank God
.

She’d been in until moonset, holding him, her chest tight with fear that she was wrong—that he’d been wrong.

Her hands trembled as she reached for the stake still embedded in his chest.

“Please,” she whispered as she pulled the stake free.

It was silly, she knew. He was still there—not ash, not
gone—so the stake couldn’t have completely penetrated his heart. And yet he had been dead—if not, the plague would have taken him.

What if death kept him?

“Tiberius.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Tiberius, please. Please wake up.”

He didn’t stir.

She looked up at Luke, frantic. “Could it be the virus? Did it infect him after all?”

“I don’t know,” Luke said.

“Then get Orion on the phone!” she snapped, and immediately regretted it. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m just so—”

He stirred
.

“Tiberius!”

He shifted in her arms, and she blinked back tears of relief. “Damn you,” she said. “Do you have any idea how scared I was? Don’t ever do something like that again. If it had gone wrong, I’d—” She trembled. “You could have been wrong. The vampire in Orion’s story died
while human
. What if that had been the crucial difference?”

“I know,” he admitted. “But I had to take the risk.”

“Why?”

“For you,” Tiberius said. He looked sideways at the now-empty cell. “You couldn’t have handled it if you’d infected the others. If you’d infected the world.”

A wave of love overwhelmed her. “It wouldn’t have been my fault,” she whispered. “It would have been Lihter’s.” And that was true, and she knew it was true. But at the same time, Tiberius was right. She couldn’t have handled any more. The burden she had was hard
enough to carry. At least she didn’t have to carry it alone.

She clutched his hands tight in hers. “Thank you.”

His smile was all the answer she needed.

“Is it clean? Can we leave?”

From outside the cell, Luke nodded. “You’re good. Come on out.”

They stood, then started to walk to the air lock. She froze, though, when she saw the laboratory door open and two men walk in. One short, with the gangly gait of a fairy. The other tall and handsome with a dark complexion and intelligent eyes. Two uniformed officers walked by their side, their faces terse and unreadable.

She glanced up at Tiberius and saw that he’d clenched his jaw. Apparently he didn’t like this development any more than she did.

The tall man stepped forward, then pulled out a badge and flashed it. “I’m Agent Gabriel Casavetes, and by the power vested in me by Division 12, I’m here to arrest you, Caris de Soranzo, for violation of the Fifth International Covenant by and through the murder of Cyrus Reinholt. Do you understand?”

She glanced at Tiberius, who looked downright murderous himself. “The murder of Cyrus Reinholt is an Alliance matter,” he said. “I thought I made it very clear that a task force had been appointed.”

“And we’re happy to share our evidence,” Casavetes said. “But as I’m sure you know, where murder is involved, dual jurisdiction can be claimed.”

Beside her, Tiberius tensed, and Caris could sense an explosion. She reached for his hand and held it tight.
She’d known when she shot Reinholt that it could come to this, and while she wasn’t particularly keen on the thought of being executed—of leaving this world and Tiberius forever—she’d done what she had to do. She’d killed the man who’d destroyed her.

And no matter how dire the price she now had to pay, she wouldn’t take it back even if she could.

“I don’t give a fuck if he’s on the goddamned moon,” Tiberius shouted into the phone. “Find Nicholas Montegue and get him back here now.”

He was in a conference room at Division 12’s headquarters in Zurich, pacing while Everil watched him. The fae’s partner, Gabriel, was there, too, but he hadn’t said a word. Just hung his head as if he didn’t have a goddamned thing to do with any of the bullshit that was going down in that room.

“Goddammit!”
Tiberius howled, and then smacked the table so hard he cracked the wood.

Not one of his better days or one of his more diplomatic moments.

He didn’t care. All he cared about right then was Caris. Nicholas was his advocate, his legal council, and Tiberius needed him there right then. But even with Nick on the case, it wasn’t enough. Dammit, she shouldn’t have been arrested in the first place.

“How the fuck could you do this?” he asked Everil, getting right in his face, letting the daemon play out as far as he dared.

The fairy took a step back, but when he spoke, his words were strong and measured. “She murdered a man. She killed him in cold blood.”

“Cold blood?”

“She hunted him down. Met him in a dark forest. Put
a bullet through his head.” The fairy nodded vigorously. “We have the evidence. It all adds up.”

“The evidence,” Tiberius repeated. “To prove she did it, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How about the evidence that proves why?”

The fairy’s eyes cut toward Gabriel, but the hellhound didn’t look up. “We—we don’t need evidence of motive. It’s not an element of the crime. She killed. She pays. That’s the way it works. That’s the foundation of the entire system!”

“Is there a brain in your head, or just a tape recorder? Don’t spout platitudes at me or theories or lines from the detective handbook. This is a real woman you arrested. A woman with a past. A woman with motives. Are you really telling me you didn’t even examine those motives before tossing her into a cell?”

“We intend to explore that question further during the interview,” Everil said. “That’s a perfectly appropriate method for further interrogation.” He swallowed loudly. “But our investigation suggests that it ties back to her status as a hybrid—”

Tiberius kicked a chair over—this time because the fairy’s speech reminded him that word about Caris’s hybrid status had already leaked outside of the PEC. It had spread like wildfire, and there was no way to contain it. No way he could save her from it. From what people were going to think about her.

But if he couldn’t save her from that, he could still save her from a trial. And he would. Even if he had to make sure these two lost their fucking jobs in the process.

“Ah,” Everil said, eyeing the chair.

Tiberius turned to him calmly. “Go on.”

“Right. Well, we believe that further investigation will prove that Reinholt intended to expose Caris as a hybrid. Caris obviously was not pleased with that idea.”

“You guys worked that out all by yourselves?”

Everil pursed his lips. Gabriel continued to stare at the tabletop.

“You’re both idiots,” Tiberius said. “Reinholt’s the one who
made
her a hybrid.” He let the announcement hang there for a moment. “He captured her. He tortured her. All so that he could figure out how to make a hybrid. Do you have any idea what she went through? In case you forgot, a werewolf bite usually kills a vampire. What must he have done to her in order to weaken her daemon so much that she survived?”

Everil stood openmouthed, contemplating this new truth. Gabriel, on the other hand, lifted his head. His skin had gone completely pale, and Tiberius was certain the hellhound was about to throw up. The door opened and Luke stepped in.

“It’s over,” Luke said.

A stranglehold of fear clutched at Tiberius. “Caris?”

“No, no, the election.” He looked up, and for the first time Tiberius could see his expression—confused, but also elated. “In light of Lihter’s death, the Alliance convened an emergency meeting. They held the election early.”

“Dammit,” Tiberius said. “I wasn’t told.”

Luke went on, ignoring him. “Congratulations, Mr. Chairman. You won.”

Tiberius let the words seep in, expecting a deep flush of pleasure. But it didn’t come—how could it when all he could think about was his fear for Caris?

“But—but—” Everil’s mouth continued to move even though he stopped making sound.

“What?” Luke demanded.

“Those are just excuses. She did the crime.” He looked from Gabriel to Tiberius. “She killed him. She has to pay. That’s the way it works.”

Across the room, Gabriel rose to his feet. “Pardon her.”

“What?” Everil asked, voicing the very question on Tiberius’s tongue.

Gabriel stood up straighter and tried again. “You’re right,” he said. “She doesn’t deserve to be tried for this. She doesn’t deserve to be executed for it. Not after he took her. Not after he tortured her.”

“Perhaps you should have thought of that before you arrested her,” Tiberius said coldly. “It’s a Division 12 matter. That’s not my jurisdiction. It’s out of my hands.”

“No,” Gabriel said, “It’s not. The Alliance chairman can issue a pardon. Tiberius—
Mr. Chairman
—you can set her free.”

The battle of the century raged inside of Caris. Fear, anxiety, guilt. Love and nobility. Even loneliness. All bits and pieces rattling around inside of her.

All making her daemon crazy. Making the wolf snap and rise.

She wouldn’t lose control
.

Her cell was small and glass, and beyond those walls she could hear her cellmates. Their taunts and jeers.
Die, hybrid! Filthy, stinking half-breed! Death-bringer!

She could hear them, but she couldn’t see them. Her
eyes were closed, looking inward. She had the wolf leashed, the daemon, too, and she was using all her concentration to pull them apart. To keep them from snapping and biting and tormenting each other.

Let one get loose, and that would be the end of it. She’d lose control. She’d change.