When Temptation Burns: A Shadow Keepers Novel (Shadow Keepers 6) (18 page)

“What do you mean?” Andy asked.

“Ashes. Just like in the movies.”

“And the other way?” Paul prompted.

“Well, that would be beheading. That does leave a body. A much messier business. I used a chain saw once. It wasn’t pretty.”

Andy was certain she’d gone as pale as Kevin, but neither Doyle nor Paul seemed to notice.

“I had a similar experience once,” Paul said. “I was in Argentina and trapped without a weapon in a closed hotel. I ended up stabbing the werewolf that attacked me, getting him through the heart with a steak knife. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that the utensils weren’t silver.”

“What did you do?” Doyle asked.

“Fortunately, the salt shaker was sterling. I snatched it
up and thrust it and my fist into the hole left by my knife. The werewolf died with my hand in his heart.”

“Well,” Andy said. “This has certainly been educational.” She felt like she needed to put a stop to it before they tugged down their flies and did some serious measuring. “I’m going to go freshen my drink.” She looked at Doyle. “Need a refill?”

For a moment, she thought he was going to accept, but in the end he shook his head. “I’m fine. I should probably go find Travis. He was kind enough to bring me here, and I’ve all but abandoned him.”

She hoped her disappointment didn’t show as he moved across the room away from her. She stayed with Kevin, and they spent the next hour sipping drinks—Kevin sipping a few too many—and mingling. The spotlight shone brightly on her cousin, and despite the bizarre circumstances, she couldn’t help but be delighted for him. He wasn’t used to being the center of attention, and tonight he was eating it up.

As the crowd started to thin, her father appeared by her side. “Have I done good?”

She looked up at him, confused. “What?”

“I’ve been giving you space. It’s what all the parenting books say you should do for children.”

“I’m pretty sure those books are referring to toddlers. But, yes, you’ve done good. And I did need space.”

“Did?”

“Do,” she admitted. She rose up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “I’m not shell-shocked anymore, but I’m still trying to wrap my head around all of this. It would be easier if the basic premise wasn’t so insane.” She gave her dad a hug. “I’ll come over tomorrow. Daylight and coffee will help. We can talk more then.”

“Good. I’m going to give Kevin a ride home. You came in his car?”

She nodded.

“It’ll be fine with the valet. He can get it tomorrow.” He pulled out his wallet and handed her a fifty. “Cab fare. Unless you’d like me to drive you home, too?”

Doyle drifted into view across the room, and she shook her head without thinking. “No thanks. I’m going to stay a little longer.”

She watched as her father left, his arm supporting Kevin. Wes, she realized, was already gone, as were most of the other guests. The ones who remained were gathering their things and saying their goodbyes. Paul was in a corner, his phone pressed to his ear.

She fingered the fifty-dollar bill in her pocket and took a step toward him, ready to say her own goodbyes. He hung up as she approached, looking stricken.

“What is it?” she asked, as Doyle and Travis joined her.

“That was Stu’s girlfriend,” Paul said. “He’s dead.”

The body sprawled on the back patio of the tiny Northridge apartment was so mangled that Doyle thought it could easily have been mistaken for raw meat. They were standing a few feet from the body, held back by the LAPD officers who’d responded to Stu’s girlfriend’s frantic call. Andy was standing next to Doyle. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her hands were pressed to her mouth. She was shivering.

He took off his jacket and pulled it over her shoulders. She looked up with stormy eyes, then slid her arms into
the sleeves before reaching out and clutching his hand. She squeezed tight, and he squeezed back, using her as an anchor to calm himself, knowing that she was using him as an anchor against her fear.

It was a werewolf attack—and a particularly brutal one. Despite the fact that this was one of the three kids who had killed Jordan, Doyle felt a cold surge of fury. There were laws, goddammit. There were
rules
. And this vigilante crap was nothing more than rage-filled bullshit.

He wanted to know who had done this, and it frustrated him almost more than he could stand that he couldn’t bend down, press his hand to that bloodied forehead, and try to get a look at the face of the weren or werens who’d so boldly crossed the line.

And Tucker. Dammit, he wanted his partner to be here with him. Wanted him working the damn case. Stu was a shit, but he didn’t deserve this. Nobody did. But that wasn’t part of the plan. Tucker was out on the street, waiting nearby in a black, unmarked van so that he and Doyle could pull off an elaborate sting—a sting designed to absolutely convince Paul of Doyle’s value to the Dark Warriors. They’d intended for it all to go down in the suite after Paul’s guests had departed, but that sure as shit wasn’t happening now.

Well, just add it to the list of things the werens had screwed up.

He thought of Luke’s remarks about a war that was brewing, and his gaze drifted toward Andy. He met her eyes and for a moment he felt comforted. Then he remembered where he was and what he was doing, and he knew there really wasn’t any comfort to be had.

“There’s nothing more we can do here,” Paul said, his
voice heavy with grief. He looked between Andy and Doyle. “Come on. I’ll give you both a ride home.”

Travis stayed behind as a representative of the district attorney’s office. Doyle and Andy followed Paul, the silence unbroken until they were seated inside his Mercedes.

“It’s so unreal,” Andy said. “So brutal.”

“I’m going to pull in somewhere. An all-night diner. I think we could all use a cup of coffee. Maybe some eggs.” He met Doyle’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Any problem with that?”

Doyle shook his head, then shifted in the seat and casually glanced out the back window. In the distance, he could see the van’s headlights as Tucker slid into traffic and followed them.

The night’s business wasn’t over yet.

He only wished that Andy wasn’t right in the thick of it with him.

Tucker parked the van at the far side of the mostly deserted parking lot. Doyle had already gone inside with Paul and that reporter from the prison—Tucker couldn’t wait to hear Doyle tell him about that—and now it was time to get busy.

He’d rather this went down without the girl, but there wasn’t any time to be picky. They might not have another opportunity as perfect as this one. Near-empty coffee shop. Deserted parking lot. Late at night. And there were other reasons why it needed to happen now.

With a frown, he glanced toward the back of the van where Rhys was bound in hematite. He had gotten into the vamp’s head, and deep. But Rhys was strong. If the compulsion faded, Tucker wasn’t sure he’d be able to go as deep a second time.

“Fucked up,” he said to himself. “This whole thing is completely fucked up.”

It wasn’t—not really. Hell, it was a brilliant plan, and he had to give Doyle kudos for coming up with it. The whole operation hinged on his partner earning Paul’s trust, and fast. And what better way to earn the trust of a self-professed monster hunter than by rescuing him from a monster that was trying to kill him?

When Doyle had suggested the plan back at Division, Bosch had initially been skeptical. But the need had outweighed his hesitations, including Sara’s protestations
that Rhys hadn’t yet been convicted. That little fact hadn’t bothered anyone else, though, and even Sara had come around when Luke reminded her that the shadower world operated differently than the human world. Under the Covenant, the Alliance Chairman had the authority to render judgment on suspected criminals. Usually, that power was delegated to the PEC, but it didn’t have to be.

That meant that Luke could be Rhys’s judge, jury, and executioner—and he’d swung the proverbial ax with gusto.

Now it was up to Doyle to put the plan into action. If he failed—if Rhys somehow managed to get away—they’d all be up shit creek.

Tucker got out of the van and pulled the panel door open. Time to set the scene.

Fucked up
, he thought again as he aimed his dart gun at the streetlamps, preparing to shoot out the bulbs.
Yeah, this is definitely some fucked-up shit
.

Andy’s coffee had gone cold, but she didn’t care. She’d sipped it once, yet despite the fact that she was a card-carrying coffee addict, she kept forgetting to drink it.

Her mind was too full of the bloodied mess that had once been a boy.

Doyle and Paul sat across the table from her. Doyle hadn’t touched his coffee either, and hadn’t had a bite to eat. Paul was the only one who’d managed that task—polishing off most of his scrambled eggs.

He took another bite, then looked up, his mouth curving
into a frown. He reached out and laid his hand over Andy’s. “It’s not easy.”

“It’s really not.” She felt Doyle’s eyes on her and she tugged her hand away, using it to lift the coffee to her lips. The liquid was cold and unappealing, but she took a long sip anyway, then looked at Paul. “My dad didn’t tell me about any of this, you know.”

“I gathered as much.”

“It all started because of Kevin. He told me about the werewolf. And I didn’t believe him. I thought he and the other guys were being mean. By attacking Jordan, I mean. That was his name, right? Jordan?”

Paul nodded.

“I thought it was just a case of guys with too much testosterone playing at being monster hunters. It seemed unfair and barbaric. Three against one. Knives against nothing.”

“Your reaction’s not atypical,” Paul said. He looked at Doyle. “Don’t you agree?”

Doyle nodded, his expression tight. “The monsters look human. It’s natural to think of them that way. They’re not.”

“But that’s exactly my point,” Andy said. “I didn’t think the monster looked human. I thought he
was
human. This whole thing—I couldn’t wrap my head around it.”

“It’s a difficult thing to grasp,” Paul said. “Some people never do.”

“I believe that,” she said. “Even at the party—even after Daddy told me about my mother—I still wasn’t sure what I believed.”

Doyle, she noticed, looked at her curiously when she mentioned her mom.

“And now?” Paul asked.

“Now I want to know what you’re doing about them. How you’re fighting them. These—these
things
that killed Stu.”

Doyle’s face was hard, but Paul chuckled. “That’s a big question you’re asking.”

“The whole thing’s pretty big,” she said. “Kevin said you’re well organized.”

“We are.”

She signaled for the waitress to top up their coffee. “No offense, but I didn’t exactly get a monster-hunter vibe at the hotel.”

“No. That was what we call a party.”

“Sorry. I don’t mean to sound critical. And I know I could just wait and ask my dad about all of this, but we’re here and what we saw …” She shivered.

“Are you okay?” Doyle asked.

She nodded, willing it to be true. “Yeah. I am. Or I will be.” She gave him a wavering smile, then shifted her gaze to Paul. “I’m genuinely curious, and I want to know what’s going on. What you’re doing.” She looked back at Doyle, hoping she was right in assuming that he was an ally. “Don’t you?”