When Darkness Hungers: A Shadow Keepers Novel (Shadow Keepers 5) (28 page)

The scream of dying zombies filled the living room of Luke and Sara’s Malibu house, and it wasn’t any less noisy in the hallway. Luke gave his friend Nicholas Montague a helpless shrug as he stepped over the threshold into his wood-paneled office. “The girl was thrilled when she learned we owned an Xbox, and after what she’s been through I could hardly deny her. If course, I didn’t expect her to be at it quite so much,” he added with a wry grin.

“You don’t fool me,” Nick said. “You’re enjoying having her around.”

“I am,” Luke admitted. “Though I wish the circumstances were different.”

When Sara had told him about CeeCee, Luke had been afraid that coming home and seeing her would hurt. Despite the centuries that had passed, the loss of his own daughter still ached. And recently he’d lost his ward, a vampire who, like CeeCee, had been turned in her teens. It was strange having a young woman in the house again, but all in all it was easier than Luke had expected.

Nick followed Luke into the office and shut the door behind him. Nick was Luke’s friend and advocate, and Luke had asked him over to discuss his growing suspicions about Serge. He’d told Sara the truth when he said that he didn’t believe that Serge was involved in the
death of Penny Martinez. Now, though … now he was beginning to fear that his friend might have had a hand in the death of the poor girl’s killer.

“The girl’s doing okay, though?” Nick asked.

“All things considered, she’s doing amazing. A remarkable kid, actually. Sara’s already in love with her. Of course, she has her moments. She’s pissed as hell at Serge, and she’s let it rip a couple of times.” The temper Luke had been able to handle. The tears had just about melted him. “For the most part, though, she’s happy to hang with Sara or play video games. We took a walk on the beach as the moon was rising. She loved how well she could see in the dark.” He grinned. “Remember those days? When everything about being what we are was shiny and new.”

“I do,” Nicholas said. “Then the daemon hit.”

“Indeed.” Luke nodded, then sighed. “We keep waiting. Watching. So far nothing.”

Nick settled into a chair as Luke took the one opposite. “Interesting,” Nick said. “Serge has been through a lot. Maybe the fact that he made her has affected her? Kept her daemon suppressed? Possibly even nonexistent?”

“We can hope for it. The girl’s an innocent. If she can be spared the horror of facing her own inner evil …” Luke trailed off with a shudder. Unlike Nick, who’d had a relatively easy time controlling his daemon, Luke fought a constant battle with his.

“So about Serge,” Nick began. “You said he just told Sara to take her? How did he look?”

“Ripped, she said. Horrible. She said it was like his daemon was coming out, but somehow different, too. And he was in a hurry. That much was very clear.”

“How did he end up turning the girl?”

“He told Sara that the girl was attacked by a rogue. He fought it—killed it. But not in time to save her.”

“Let her die, or turn her,” Nick said.

“Exactly.”

“Is this what you wanted to see me about? Or is there more?”

“That’s part of it,” Luke said. “The truth is, I’m concerned he might be in trouble. Worse, I’m concerned he might be involved in the recent attacks.”

“The humans?”

“No. The desiccated vampires.”

Nick dropped into one of Luke’s chairs and put his feet up. “You’ve mentioned this to Sara?”

“The prosecutor? No, I haven’t. We did speak about Serge—I caught his scent at the Penny Martinez crime scene and told her as much.”

“But you don’t believe he attacked her?”

“The scent was near the scene, but not the body. He was there for some other purpose, but I didn’t know what. That was what I told Sara, and it was true at the time.”

“But something’s changed.”

“Penny Martinez’s killer was desiccated.”

“Mitre,” Nick said, then nodded. “And you’re thinking that maybe Serge visited the scene in order to catch Mitre’s scent and track him.”

“It’s a possibility I have to consider. Especially since CeeCee was camped out on Venice Beach, and Mitre just happened to be killed there.”

Nick nodded slowly. “The pieces fit together, except for one thing. How is he supposedly drying out the rogues?”

“He was able to consume a shadower’s life force while he was cursed,” Luke said.

“True. But he didn’t leave them desiccated. More than that, the curse was lifted—Petra’s certain of that,” he added, referring to his wife, who also happened to be the witch who’d cursed Serge in the first place. Though she’d placed the curse, it had been controlled by someone else—a madman whose death had freed Serge from the torment.

“Does she still have a connection to him?” While the curse had been in effect, Petra had often found herself inside Serge’s head. It wasn’t a place she had liked to be.

“A very vague one. But even though the curse has been lifted, we can’t avoid the simple fact that he’s like no one else. There is no creature that has lived to see that curse removed. We have no idea what the ramifications are. And considering how vile Serge’s daemon has always been, the ramifications could be horrible.”

“I know,” Luke admitted. “That’s at the heart of my concern, especially since Sara said that he looked so wretched. And damn him for not coming to me for help. He’s been like a brother to me, and yet he stays away now?”

“If he is behind the deaths, can you blame him? With your position, he might think your loyalty would be skewed.”

“He would be wrong,” Luke said firmly. “If it takes a formal pardon to prove that to him, then so be it.”

Nick whistled through his teeth. “What does Orion say about the desiccations?”

“He’s at a loss. Doyle and Tucker have managed to chase down a few leads, though. They found solid connections between two of the dead humans and two of
our mummified vamps. Security camera footage putting them at the same locations within the same time frame.”

“That supports your theory,” Nick said, frowning. “That Serge was at the crime scene waiting to catch the scent of a rogue.”

“I know,” Luke said.

“But a rogue hunter? I wouldn’t have guessed that of Serge.”

“No?” Luke frowned. “I’m not so sure. I know the very idea of a rogue disgusts him. He sees too much of his own torment there.”

“Destroying his own sins by proxy.”

“Something like that,” Luke agreed.

There was a soft tap at the door, and then Sara opened it and stuck her head in. “It’s Doyle.”

“Must be important,” Nick said, and Luke understood the deeper meaning. Luke and Doyle weren’t exactly buddies. If Doyle was stopping by Luke’s house, there was definitely a reason.

“Have him come in,” Luke told Sara. “You might want to stay, too.”

“Oh, I will,” she said, then disappeared, only to reappear a moment later with Doyle in tow.

“What happened?” Luke asked.

“I’m coming here first as a courtesy,” Doyle said. “Because I know he’s your friend.”

Luke caught Nick’s eye, saw his own trepidation reflected there. “Who?”

“Sergius.”

“What about him?” Luke asked.

“I’ve seen him,” Doyle said, then tapped his skull. “In here.”

“A victim,” Luke said, his blood running cold. Doyle
wasn’t getting any images from the desiccated vamps. If he’d seen Serge, it was in the head of one of the dead humans.
Shit
.

That complicated things. Luke was now in a position to help Serge, who was technically a wanted man for the murders he’d committed while cursed. Luke had no qualms about pardoning those crimes since Serge had not been himself.

Nor did he have an issue with pardoning the desiccation of the rogues if it had indeed been done by his friend. The rogues killed humans, which was an offense punishable by death under the Fifth International Covenant. Why should Luke care if that punishment came after trial or by Serge’s hand?

But if Serge was the one killing the humans …

It wasn’t something Luke liked to think about, and he hoped to hell Doyle was wrong, even though he feared Doyle was right.

“What did you see?” Luke asked.

“A cop was killed today,” Doyle said. “Vampire attack. I got called to the scene, and the death was recent enough that I was able to get in. Got a good image, too.”

“He was killed today? And you suspect Serge?” Only young vampires could maneuver through the sun. There were ways to travel, of course—cars with specially treated glass, for example. But it was still a point worth raising.

“Not in this death, no,” Doyle said.

“Then what the hell are you talking about? You just told me you saw him.”

“I saw a woman. I haven’t been able to identify her yet, but she’s the one that took out the cop.”

“And Serge?”

“He was all over the guy’s thoughts. That Serge was dangerous. That he had to warn
‘her’
—I don’t know who. But his impression was that Serge was a killer.”

“And yet Serge didn’t kill the cop.”

“No,” Doyle agreed, “he didn’t. But Tucker and I have been working this for a while, and other than the deaths, the one consistent thing we’re hearing is that the rogues are organized. That they have a leader.”

“You’re thinking it’s Serge.”

“And I’m thinking this cop somehow found out. So Serge sent one of his soldiers to kill him. Now, what I want to know is what you’re going to do,” Doyle demanded. “You two used to be attached at the hip. You gonna help us track him down, or are you going to sit back and watch the show unfold, hoping like hell your friend gets away with murder?”

Luke kept his face casually blank, though his thoughts were raging. “I’ll do what I have to do, Ryan. Just as I always have.”

Serge found Alexis sitting at the bar in her kitchen, a cup of coffee forgotten in her hand. He went to her, wanting to touch her, and pressed his hand gently onto her shoulder. He’d awakened to find her gone, and an unreasonable sense of dread had rocketed through him. Now, touching her, he felt calm, and that feeling only intensified when she tilted her head back and gave him a watery smile.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.

“I keep thinking about Edgar. He was so innocent before he met me.”

She’d told him a bit about the detective last night, and now Serge knelt in front of her and took her hands. “He knew about the shadow world. You told me that he knew about it long before you even had an inkling.”

“Knowledge and action are two different things.”

“You can’t blame yourself.”

“Oh, believe me, I can. I’m doing a remarkably good job of it.” She managed a smile. He reached out to brush a lock of hair off her cheek, wishing that he could offer her real comfort, not just words. “It’s almost light,” she said.

He glanced at the door and the gray sky that would soon burst into orange and purple. “I should go,” he said, hoping that she would beg him not to.

“Right,” she said. She pushed her chair back and stood. “Before you can’t. And I need to get in touch with Leena. The busy life of a guilt-ridden vampire hunter.”

He took her hand. “Don’t.”

She closed her eyes, and he could sense her gathering herself, strengthening her resolve. “Sorry. My head knows I shouldn’t feel guilty. My heart will catch up soon. In the meantime …” She shrugged. “I guess I really should keep busy. It’ll keep my mind off it.” She leaned forward and pressed an awkward kiss to his cheek. “I—well, last night—thank you. It was hard, learning about Edgar. Then that vampire. Everything. You made it—well, thank you.”

He swallowed, hoping his disappointment didn’t show. She’d needed comfort, and he’d given it. He was a fool to think that anything more would grow out of it. To think he could have anything more than that. He
was what he was, and Alexis deserved more than a monster in a man’s body. Considering the way she was pulling away from him now, she’d figured that much out as well.

“The sun,” he said, as regret weighed on him like lead. “I must go.” And he did, moving faster than she could see to her door, then out to the pool, where he transformed into mist and rose into the fast-brightening sky.