by J. K. Beck
haven't done anything except protect its interest to the fullest extent of the law. Without, I might add, overstepping the bounds of that law."
She sat down calmly enough, but considering the firm hand that Bosch placed on her shoulder, she had a feeling that her irritation was showing. She hadn't crossed a line. Not really.
Yet she couldn't discount the fact that it felt as if she had.
"Your Honor," she said. "The prosecution calls Agent Ryan Doyle." Doyle would introduce the evidence, and through him, she could turn the court's attention to the fact that Luke fed on Annie.
Before Doyle could approach, though, Montegue stood again. "If it please the court, my client will testify to a Directive 27 violation and ask that the court entertain evidence on an affirmative defense at the close of the prosecution's case." The judge's head bobbed. "Directive 27?" he repeated as a murmur flowed across the gallery.
"Yes, sir. A human woman. Mr. Dragos both fed off the female, and fed his blood to her." He turned and flashed a bright white smile at Sara. "A stipulation, Counselor. Just to make sure we're out of here by the dinner hour."
"If you really want to be out by dinner," she said sweetly, "then drop the affirmative defense."
"We shall all dine in a timely fashion," the judge said, "as this court is ready to issue its ruling."
Sara glanced over at the defendant's table, caught Luke's eye, then ripped her gaze away. She stood with Bosch at her side and waited for the ruling.
"Bail is granted," he said, "in the amount of five million dollars." A murmur ran through the crowd.
"The defendant will be required to wear the standard mobile detention device," the judge continued. "And in light of the Directive 27 stipulation, the defendant will also be fitted with a bloodletting impediment." He slammed his gavel on the desk. "So ordered."
As soon as the judge had left the courtroom, Sara leaned toward Bosch.
"Bloodletting impediment?"
"A secondary detention device," Bosch explained. "This one will trigger if Dragos takes blood directly from a human again."
As she gathered up her papers, Bosch shifted beside her, and Sara thought she caught the subtle scent of cinnamon. "Under the circumstances, the possibility of Lucius staying in jail while the case came up was slim. But you gave them a hard battle, and proved yourself an asset to the team. Good work."
She pasted on a smile, accepting the compliment along with a smattering of "you did good" and "you'll nail his ass in trial" from well-meaning onlookers, some of whom she recognized as other prosecutors in her office.
When she finally did slip through the door and into the hall, she sighed. She may have lost her first hearing, but it was only one battle.
In the grand scheme of things, the battles meant nothing. The only thing that mattered was the war. But since the resolution of that war could see Luke staked, she had to admit, if only to herself, that for the first time in her career, she didn't relish the battles yet to come.
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Chapter 27
"Batorak metoin shrebat."
"If you're asking me if it's comfortable," Luke said in French, as the weight of the new mobile detention device once again pressed against his flesh, "the answer is a resounding no."
The daemon pressed a hand to his shoulder. "Bon chance," the daemon said, switching from Daemonic to a language Luke could understand.
"Merci." Luke inclined his head as his fingers manipulated the tiny white buttons, buttoning the shirt Nick had brought him to replace the T-shirt that had been shredded once in this very room. A black tray sat on the table in front of him, and he retrieved his wallet and cell phone, then carefully picked up the tiny gold serpent ring. Were it not so small, he would slip it onto his little finger. But Livia's hands had been tiny, and the ring didn't fit. As was his habit, he slipped it deep into his pocket, then reached in, checking to make sure it was in place.
Now ready, he turned to Nick. "Counselor, shall we depart this place?"
"It would be a pleasure," Nick said. They moved through corridors and down elevators, ignoring the stares and whispers of those who worked within Division. As they approached the elevator, Nick handed Luke a small memory card.
"Caris," he said. "Best we can tell, she's been holing up here. You've got the address on there. Known recent associates included, too. Standard encryption. Details in the file."
"Excellent."
"You really think Caris would align herself with a human?"
"If it serves Gunnolf's purpose--or her own--then yes."
"And it does," Nick said. "Tasha even fits Stemmons's profile. Young girls. Red hair, blue eyes. She's older than he took in the past, but she looks young."
"Caris won't care about that," Luke said. "But Stemmons will, and she'll want him cooperative."
"And if she brings Tasha into the mix, she serves Gunnolf's purpose even while cutting you like a knife."
"And Tasha has become both a pawn and a prize." He drew in a hard breath, certain Caris would not hesitate to take the opportunity to destroy Tasha. To use Stemmons and his blade to cut down the innocent child that Caris believed should never have been allowed to live.
"I'll go with you," Nick said as they stepped onto the elevator.
"No. She's mine." After battling back his daemon so hard and so often, letting the beast run free would be a pleasure.
Nick hesitated, his gaze dipping only momentarily to the device strapped to Luke's chest. "All right," he said. "But be careful. Caris isn't one to be trifled with."
"Neither am I," Luke said. "What word do you have from Tiberius? I'm not inclined to return to this place after we leave, and I'm less inclined to keep this device strapped to my chest."
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Nick's face shifted, going hard. "About that, we have a little problem." Luke turned, wary, the daemon starting to writhe within.
"Tiberius said to tell you that you did good work with Hasik, but that his hands are tied."
"Politics," Luke said, spitting out the word, forcing himself to keep his rage under control. "I need out of this contraption, Nick. And Tiberius needs me on his team."
"He does. But with his control over L.A. so strained, he's not willing to take chances. I'm sorry, Luke," Nick said. "You're on your own with this one." Luke gave a sharp nod, clinging to control.
"It's not over, Luke."
"I know." He ground out the words, then drew in a cleansing breath, forcing the daemon down. He thought of Sara, imagined her beside him, and felt the calm flow through him.
He shoved the daemon under with abrupt finality. "I'll find a way."
"I don't doubt it," Nick said as the doors slid open and he stepped out into the lower-level reception area.
"Mr. Dragos!"
He turned to face the reception desk, where a young woman with a blue braid wrapped into a cylinder upon her head waved frantically at him.
"I'm supposed to ask you to stay."
"I believe the court has spoken otherwise."
"Huh? Oh! No, gosh. Not for permanent. But Ms. Constantine wants a word with you and Mr. Montegue before you go."
"I see," Luke said, impressed by the calm in his voice despite the fact that the mere mention of her name made his blood flow warm.
Nick, he saw, was watching him. "Tell Ms. Constantine that my client has enjoyed the PEC's hospitality long enough. If she needs to speak to either of us, she has my contact information."
"Nick."
"I am still your advocate," Nick said. "And if you wish me to remain in that capacity, you will follow my advice." His expression softened along with his voice.
"Luke, the path you want to walk leads nowhere."
Luke knew that well enough, yet he refused to accept it. Impossible though it might seem, he would find a way to make Sara his.
"I will speak to her," he said, his tone broaching no argument.
"You need to back away." There was both warning and compassion in Nick's voice. "Leave it, and lea
ve her."
"She compels me," Lucius said. "I cannot shut her out any more than I could willingly harm her." He stood still, trying to conjure the words that would make his friend understand. "She soothes the daemon," he finally said. "Tell me that you do not understand. Tell me honestly that were you in my position you would walk away from her. That you could walk away."
He saw the pain pass over his friend's face. The memories of Lissa, the woman who had once soothed Nick beyond all others. Who had hurt him beyond all others, too.
"We will speak about this later," Nick said, but the edge had left his voice.
"I have no doubt," Luke said.
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The elevator opened, and Sara stepped out, her cheeks rosy from having rushed. Their eyes locked, and he felt it. A sensual tug he associated only with her. A hard jolt to his senses that had his body firing and his imagination traveling to forbidden destinations. She held his gaze. One moment. Another. And then she looked away, but not before he saw it on her face-- desire.
He saw it, and he cherished it.
Mine, he thought, and knew that no matter what else transpired between them, there was a truth in that one simple word.
She walked with exaggerated purpose toward him, sliding her palms along her skirt as if they were damp. "Mr. Dragos. Mr. Montegue. Thank you for waiting."
"My client is pleased to cooperate with any and all reasonable requests posed by the prosecution, Counselor. We hope, of course, that the favor will be reciprocated this time."
"I ... of course," she said, but her voice was distracted, and her eyes were on Luke.
"Oh, hell. I was hoping to speak to you. Privately," she added, glancing pointedly at Nick.
"Of course. Nick," he said. "A moment, please, with Ms. Constantine." Nick sighed, long and put-upon. "We've had this conversation, Luke. As long as I'm your advocate--"
"You're fired."
Nick's expression couldn't have been more startled if Luke had dropped his pants and mooned him. "What?"
"You're fired," he repeated. "It's a simple concept resulting in the termination of any business relationship between us."
"Don't do this, Luke."
"Don't fight me, Nicholas." He turned to the receptionist. "Do you have access to the relevant databases? Can you make a notation that Lucius Dragos is no longer represented by counsel, but is proceeding in pro per?"
"I ... um ... I ..." She glanced frantically toward Sara, who nodded.
"I'll take responsibility," Sara said, the laughter in her voice delighting him. "Go ahead. I expect you'll be adding Mr. Montegue back to the database after Mr. Dragos and I conclude our conversation."
Luke chuckled. "I like the way you think, but no. Mr. Montegue and I have reached the end of the line. Irreconcilable differences," he said, with a brief nod to his friend.
"This isn't over," Nick said, his voice a taut wire, ready to snap.
"I expect no less from you," Luke said. "But for now, it is." Nick tossed his car keys into the air, caught them. "Fair enough, my friend. But find your own ride home."
And with that, he slipped through the doors and into the PEC parking garage. Luke turned his attention to Sara. "I think he's upset."
"Imagine that.
"I wanted to say thank you. For the information about Caris."
"Have you found her?" He almost feared that Division had--he wanted the sweet pleasure of ending her himself.
"Not yet. The investigators are following a bunch of leads." Her mouth quirked 149
up. "I've been a little busy with a hearing, so I'm not completely up to date." He glanced over her shoulder, saw that the receptionist was trying to watch them without being obvious. "I must go," he said, fearful that Division would soon have the same information about Caris's whereabouts that he held in his pocket. "But I believe there is the matter of a wager between us. I will collect." She shook her head. "Luke, please. Don't. Don't press me."
"Why not?" He moved closer, drawn in by the heat of her, the desire that emanated from her. She was denying him, yes. But her heart wasn't in it.
"Because I want to," she admitted, her voice small but her words running through him like a song.
"Sara--"
"No." She shook her head, her voice firm, and he sensed the resolve within her.
"Whatever this is between us, Luke, I won't encourage it. I wish--Never mind. But we can't, and please don't push me on it."
"I cannot agree to that," he said, "but neither can I argue about it now." She tilted her head, her brow crinkling with worry. "Tasha?"
"I must go."
She reached for his hand, and the touch almost did him in. "I remembered what you told me, about having a daughter long ago. That's what Tasha is to you now, isn't she?"
"Sara ..." Her name came out raw, gravelly with need. He wanted to pull her close, to have her soothe his fears. To lose himself in the simple pleasure of having her beside him.
He could do none of that, and he hated the circumstances that had brought them to this impasse.
He reached into his pocket, his fingers finding Livia's ring. He wanted to draw comfort from it, but comfort didn't come. He feared that now that he'd met Sara, he would be soothed only by her touch.
"You'll find her," she said gently. "But Luke," she added, her voice now sharp with warning, "when you do, don't run. It will be worse for you if you run." Despite his better judgment, he cupped his hand to her cheek, enjoying the shocked expression on the receptionist's face. "My darling Sara," he said. "Considering the PEC would have me dead, I cannot imagine how it could be worse. But I appreciate your warning nonetheless."
He stepped away from her, moving toward the door. "We'll speak again."
"Ms. Constantine?" the receptionist called. "Mr. Bosch's assistant is on the line." She held the phone out for Sara, and Luke stayed put, listening.
"There's been another child found," a woman said, her smooth voice marred with regret. "The task force requests that you go immediately to the scene." When Sara hung up, Luke was by her side.
"I'm going with you."
"The hell you are."
But he would broach no argument. "You may work with me or against me, but I am going, and I'm going with you."
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"No way," Doyle shouted, his finger stretched out to point at Luke. A finger that was about to be broken if the para-daemon didn't get it the hell out of Luke's face. "No fucking way."
Sara stepped between them. "He stays. He helps."
"He's a murderer."
Sara stepped up, getting right in Doyle's face, a sight that warmed Luke's heart. She pointed to her left, toward the adolescent body, now splayed out in death, over which the techs were doing their job.
"Do you have any reason, Agent, to think that Dragos committed this crime or any crime related to this murder? Do you? Because I don't. But I damn sure want to find out who did, and if I think Dragos can help, then he stays. And he stays on my authority."
"You're on thin ice, Constantine."
"Then it's a good thing I know how to swim, isn't it?" The look Doyle shot Luke was one of pure hatred. Then he stalked away, leaving Sara seething. She looked up at Luke, her face flushed. "Dammit," she said. "All I want to do is find him before he kills the next victim. I don't need the rest of this bullshit."
"You said he kept all the victims caged? I need to get close to the body." He needed to see if the little girl had Tasha's scent on her. If they'd shared a cage. And he needed to search for another scent of Caris.
"All right," she said, looking at him sideways. "But I'm sticking my neck out on this, Luke. Don't prove Doyle right."
"Never."
By the time they reached the body, the Division staff had cleared out most of the county workers, and Severin Tucker and a few other agents that Luke didn't recognize were adjusting the thoughts of the few who remained. Sara spoke with Bosch, who turned, stared at Luke, and then gave one quick, curt nod. She cocked her head and Luke joined
her. "Two minutes."
"I won't need any more."
He bent over the naked body, focusing only on the smell, forcing himself not to think about the loss, the youth, the horror of this young life ripped away so brutally. The memory of another time and another place rose within him. Livia laughing, calling his name. He shoved it down. He couldn't go there. Not now. He needed to keep control. Needed to keep the daemon in check. Tasha's life hung in the balance. Lose control, and he could lose her.
He lifted his head, nostrils flaring, breathing in deep the scent of the night. Of raw earth. Of grass. Of the child herself, and the pungent odor of death taking hold. And just when he was about to give up, he caught it. A familiar fragrance like lavender in the fields. Innocence and beauty. Tasha.
He turned, finding Sara beside him. "Tasha."
Sara's eyes went wide with understanding, and she grabbed his arm, tugging him back away from the crowd. "Tasha?" she repeated. "You came here because Stemmons has Tasha?"
"I feared that Caris had taken her." He drew his hands through his hair, trying to think. So far he had no scent of Caris, and he began to walk the perimeter of the crime scene, searching the night for her woody scent.
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"And you didn't tell me? Dammit, Luke, how long have you suspected this?" He stopped, stared down at her. "Does it matter now? Your monster has Tasha, and unless I've missed my guess, Caris is with her."
She fell in step beside him. "I went out on a limb for you, and--" He held up a hand. "There."
"What?"
They were at least twenty yards from the crime scene, but there was no mistaking the scent. She'd been there. The vile bitch had stood on that exact spot, and not very long ago, either. "Caris." He turned to Sara. "I must go."
"Go?" she repeated, looking back toward the body. "Go where?"
"Silver Lake," he said, referring to the information on Caris's whereabouts that Nick had passed to him as they were leaving the courthouse.
She hurried to keep up with him as he rushed toward her car. "Why?"