When Wicked Craves (27 page)

“He was being held,” Luke said.

Tiberius’s brow rose. “And you decided to simply let him go?” There was a hint of humor under his words despite the seriousness of the topic, and for that, Luke was glad. There would be retribution for him and for Nick, but perhaps the rift between them and Tiberius would not be permanent.

“Not exactly, Excellency.”

“And has it been confirmed that this is Serge’s handiwork?”

“I don’t know,” Luke said, searching the room until he found Doyle in a corner, his face pale and his muscles slack. His partner, Severin Tucker, held Doyle’s arm and began to urge him toward the door. Luke moved to intercept, with Tiberius beside him.

“A word,” Luke said.

“I’ll give you two,” Doyle said. “Fuck off.”

“What did you see?” Tiberius asked, apparently unperturbed by Doyle’s venom.

“Ask him,” Doyle said, lifting his chin toward Luke. “Goddamn selfish bastard, going and getting his woman involved in this mess. Getting Sara tossed in a cell. You don’t deserve her, you fucking bloodsucker.”

Luke stepped forward, hands clenched in fists of tight rage even as the daemon rose within. Only Tiberius’s hand upon Luke’s shoulder saved Doyle’s ugly face from becoming even uglier.

“I am asking you,
Agent
Doyle,” Tiberius said.

“Fine, goddammit.”

“You were able to get a clear vision from Chairman Dirque?”

“Yeah, we got lucky. The guard found him when he was still warm.” Luke knew that Doyle’s gift allowed him to take the last vision and emotion from a victim. To see it and process it. But once the death was cold and the aura faded, even Doyle’s gifts couldn’t coax out a vision. He looked between Luke and Tiberius. “I don’t think I’m telling either of you anything you didn’t already know, but in case you want to hear it all official-like, then yeah, our perp is Sergius.”

Tiberius’s nod was quick and sharp. “Thank you, Agent. That will be all.”

Doyle hesitated before succumbing to Tucker’s tug at his arm, and in that brief hesitation, Luke saw Doyle’s contempt for vampires painted all over his face, so clear he was certain Tiberius saw it as well. The governor, however, didn’t speak of it.

Instead, he railed on Luke.

“You did this for friendship?” he asked, leading Luke to a quiet corner where they would not be overheard. “Do you have any idea what horrors your friend can wreak?”

A cold rage snapped within Luke. “I saw my wife today for twenty minutes, Tiberius, in a goddamned cell.
A cell.
Tell me what you wish to tell me, and do so plainly. Or tell me nothing at all.”

Tiberius studied him, then nodded. “I told you earlier that it has been prophesied that Petra’s touch could bring the destruction of the Alliance.”

“You did.”

“It is through the monster that she creates.” He drew in a breath, and began to recite.
“From the touch of Eve, destruction shall rise—a third, powerful and changed, who emerges from the earth, and who will fell the piers upon which the shadows rule, and take back that which was stolen.”

Luke listened to the words … and feared he understood them. He turned, looking across the room at the wall covered with violent graffiti and the shape of the number three. “The third,” he said. “The third brother? You’re saying the third brother is manifest within Serge, and he will destroy the Alliance?”

“The piers upon which the shadows rule, yes.” Tiberius swept his arm over the room. “It has begun,” he said. “And now I must call upon the obligation of friendship and upon your oath as
kyne.
”

Luke tensed, listening. As
kyne
, he often undertook missions for Tiberius in his role as vampiric liaison to the Alliance, eradicating those who presented problems that the Preternatural Enforcement Coalition was unable to adequately resolve. Now he was afraid that Tiberius would send him after Serge. And even though he knew his friend existed no more, that was not an assignment he wanted.

Even so, he drew in a breath and asked, “What do you ask of me, Excellency?”

“You will serve as my bodyguard until this danger has passed.”

Luke let the words—and relief—flow around him. He knew that he should accept without hesitation, but he didn’t. Instead, he was examining the chance that
Tiberius’s request offered. A chance that Luke had been hoping for, but one full of risk.

It was worth the risk.

“I would be honored, Excellency,” he said. “Would you care to know the cost of such service?”

As he expected, Tiberius’s eyes widened with both surprise and anger. “Cost? Are you not
kyne
?”

“I am,” Luke said, keeping his speech formal and respectful. “And friend, too. But my wife is accused of treachery and even now sits in a prison. You can set her free.”

“She assisted a prison escape.”

“She was accused of such,” Luke acknowledged. “She was framed.”

Tiberius tilted his head to study Luke. “Was she? By whom?”

“Who can be certain?” Luke said. “But I do know that Tariq was charged with finding the person within Division who assisted Nick, a task he accomplished with remarkable swiftness considering the number of people on Division’s payroll. Ironic, isn’t it, that he arrests the wife of a man he despises.” He smiled thinly. “As you pointed out, there is great animosity between us. A shame it had to spill over onto Sara.”

Tiberius considered all of this, and Luke could see from his face that he was considering the true situation, and not simply the convenient lie that Luke was spinning. “I could insist that Sara go free. I can even urge Bosch to accept that she fell victim to a frame. I understand she has a promising career, and that should repair any damage to her reputation. But the evidence against
Tariq is all circumstantial. There would never be a sufficient case made to convict.”

“A pity,” Luke said, knowing that fact would ease Sara’s conscience. She would not be comfortable walking free while another paid for her crime. “Perhaps knowing that his attempt to frame her failed would be punishment enough.”

“And you will remain at my side until this matter with Sergius is resolved?”

“I will.”

Tiberius nodded. “Then you have my bond. See me safely through this crisis, and your Sara will walk free.”

Luke relaxed, careful not to let Tiberius see the depth of his relief. He had expected a more protracted battle and significantly more indignation on Tiberius’s part. That the master vampire conceded so easily was testament to the weight of his fear.

Luke ran a hand through his hair, trying to organize his thoughts. That meant that the situation with the monster was worse than he’d imagined, and yet …

He looked at Tiberius, voicing his thoughts as they became clear. “We agree that it is not Sergius who committed this crime, but the monster. The third.”

“That is so.”

“Then I tell you this as a friend. Nick is on a quest. He believes he can lift the curse and restore Sergius. If he does, will our friend walk free?”

“Nick is with the girl?”

Luke hesitated, weighing his options, and decided that truth was the moment’s best ploy. “He is.”

“Then tell him to kill her. The moment he does, Sergius will be restored.”

Luke and Tiberius stood unmoving inside Trylag’s temporary office within Division 6. The para-daemon liaison to the Alliance was pacing, his swarthy face red with frustration and anger and, Luke saw, with fear. Luke kept his position at Tiberius’s side, a massive tranquilizer gun strapped over his shoulder, an automatic pistol holstered at his side, and a knife sheathed at his thigh. Not his usual contingent of weapons, but necessary if he would have any hope of defeating Sergius. Even then, he was probably not well armed.

“You suggest I run?” Trylag demanded, getting into Tiberius’s face. “You suggest I hide?”

“I suggest that we do what we can to forestall this prophecy from coming to pass,” Tiberius said. “You are the governor of Australia and the Far Eastern territories, are you not? Go there, then, and lock yourself in someplace impenetrable until our agents can kill this monster.”

Trylag sneered. “And yet you walk free. Do you think I cannot smell a trick? Do you think I believe that the enmity that has passed between us has simply been erased?”

“You small-minded fool,” snarled Tiberius. “I speak not of petty disputes among the Alliance liaisons. We are
concerned now with the sanctity of the Alliance as a whole.”

Luke stepped forward. “Tiberius will be concealed somewhere that Sergius cannot find him.” That much was true. Rand and Lissa were preparing a hidden chamber in a warehouse recently acquired through a series of false names and companies. The concrete was thick, the locks were massive, and the security system state of the art. Even then, Luke intended to bring in Alliance guards to man the doors. He would take no chances guarding Tiberius. If the master vampire died, the deal to free Sara died with him.

Trylag ran his hand over his chin. “Narid has gone already?”

“He has.” The wraith liaison had needed no extra persuasion, a fact that had chilled Luke. Wraiths were notoriously difficult to destroy, and it was not brawn that did the trick. If the wraith liaison was indeed so scared, then there was much to fear from both the prophecy and Sergius.

He thought of the bloodbath he’d witnessed inside Dirque’s home, not to mention the mangled bodies of the guards found along the perimeter.
Yes. Much to fear.

He shifted the tranquilizer gun on his shoulder, hoping that he wouldn’t have to use any of his weapons, hoping that Nick could turn Serge around before Luke was forced to defend Tiberius. He had no desire to kill his friend. To save Sara, though, he wouldn’t hesitate. Tiberius was under Luke’s protection now.

Trylag’s eyes narrowed as he looked between Tiberius and Luke. “And you speak the truth? Tiberius will do the same? He will hide away like a scared rabbit?”

“There is no shame here, Excellency,” Luke said, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. “You have heard the prophecy. We are fighting the hand of fate with every trick in our arsenal.”

“You have not answered the question, vampire.”

“Yes,” Luke snapped. “Tiberius will be locked away as well. As I have already told you.”

“He speaks the truth,” Tiberius said. “We leave here to go to my cell.”

Trylag drew in a noisy breath. “Very well,” he said. “I will do as you say.” He inclined his head, his hands close to his body. He stood stiffly, his skin turning a burnished orange that seemed to collect at his fingertips.

He was gathering power, Luke knew. Soon, the para-daemon would reach out, and with his hand, he would rend the very fabric of the universe. That was a para-daemon’s special gift—the creation of a wormhole, and through it, Trylag could travel to his territory in almost the blink of an eye.

The door from the office to the Division 6 hallway opened, and Luke did a double take when he saw Nick walk in. A split second later he shoved Tiberius to the floor and had the tranq gun out and firing—because that wasn’t Nick. It was Serge, using the power of the jinn he’d taken from Dirque to throw a glamour—and using his own unique power to drain Tiberius, Luke, and Trylag.

The tranq darts didn’t even slow Serge down, though, and he dove for Trylag and began to rip off the para-daemon’s limbs, all while the doomed creature howled in pain.

Luke wanted to simply transform into mist and get
the hell out of there, but Serge had stolen that power. Luke had more strength than he’d had in the warehouse, though, and he had to assume that was because Serge was focused on Trylag, and the draining of power was only a prophylactic measure to protect himself as he attacked the para-daemon.

He considered firing the actual bullets, but it was obvious there was no hope for the para-daemon. And if he fired, he’d just draw attention to himself and to Tiberius.

With Sara filling his thoughts, he urged Tiberius out the door and then pulled it closed.

“Go!” he yelled to Tiberius, who ran down the hall as Luke moved into the next office and shoved aside a lanky weren female so he could get to her phone. “Security,” he said, then ordered that they gas Trylag’s office, instituting a fail-safe protective measure that existed throughout Division.

The female had watched him with wide eyes, and then pulled up the video feed for Trylag’s office, and they watched as the smoky gas poured in … and did absolutely nothing to Serge.

Trylag’s body lay on the ground, limbless and bleeding. And Serge stood over him, his head cocked, almost as if he was listening to someone calling his name.

Then he tilted his face up, and looked straight into the camera. Luke sucked in air, seeing the depth of dark purpose in the eyes of his friend.

And then Serge reached into the air just as Trylag had done earlier. He whipped his arm in a circle, swirling the air, and soon a hole opened, dark and black.

With one final glance upward toward the camera, Serge stepped inside—and was gone.

Petra curled up in one of the plane’s seats, looking out the window at the darkening city disappearing behind them, fighting a trembling that had started deep in her muscles. She wanted to sleep. To forget that Serge was on the loose. That he was some freakish creature who could steal a shadower’s power. That she had anything to do with creating this monster that was going to set loose a river of blood.