When Temptation Burns: A Shadow Keepers Novel (Shadow Keepers 6) (12 page)

Slowly, Kevin nodded.

“Seems pretty strange that he didn’t call the cops if you three got into it with him.”

“A werewolf isn’t going to call the cops.”

“Kevin …”

“If he’s alive, he’s gonna kill me,” he said, running his hands through his hair. “He’s gonna rip my head off.”

Andy wasn’t at all sure what was going on, but at least it didn’t sound like Kevin had really harmed anyone. He truly believed the kid was a werewolf, and although she’d like to think that it was all a silly prank organized by Wes and Stu, she didn’t really believe it. They’d all ganged up on some guy. Some guy they really believed changed into a wolf during the full moon.

And she had to assume that the rest of the Dark Watchers believed the same thing. Not only believed it, but were acting on it. Chasing after shadows, maybe, but that didn’t make it less of a story. It just made it more of a freak show.

“You have to get me in with these people, Kevin.”

He looked at her, confused. “But you’re already in.”

“Oh, please. You have me going to meet-ups with guys who just want to meet Sarah Michelle Gellar. It’s nothing.”

“But—”

“Kevin, this story is huge.” She started to tell him about how the world needed to know about an organized group of violent whackjobs, then realized that her cousin counted himself as one of them. She backpedaled quickly. “Think about it, Kevin. If there are werewolves, the world needs to know.”

“I don’t think they’d like it. Having a reporter on the inside, I mean.”

“They don’t need to like it because they don’t need to know.” Years ago, when she wrote her first entertainment piece, she’d decided to write under a pen name so that she wouldn’t get hit up for free movie tickets or introductions to celebrities. As it turned out, she didn’t get many of those perks anyway, but she still liked the anonymity, and when she started to write darker investigative pieces—like the article she did on a local pedophile and her coverage of Creevey’s trial—she’d kept the pen name. Now only her closest friends and family knew that Andrea Tarrent was the reporter Allison Stahl. Even Creevey himself thought her name was Allison.

His teeth dragged over his bottom lip. “Don’t make me, Andy.”

“This is what I do, Kev. And like it or not, you brought me a potentially great story.”

He sighed. “You’re not gonna write bad stuff about them, are you?”

“I’ll write the story as it is,” she said vaguely.

Kevin was frowning. “Maybe you
should
write a story. You should praise the Warriors as heroes. That was scary stuff last night, Andy. I mean, seriously scary.”

“I know. You must have been terrified.” She chose her words carefully. “But Kevin, even if the kid you chased really was a werewolf, he sure didn’t sound all powerful. I mean, three college kids brought him down with knives and a drugged drink. That doesn’t sound too heroic to me.”

She could tell by his expression that she’d pushed too far. “I’m sorry, Kev. Really. And I want to understand. Help me in, Kevin. Help me see the story the way you do.”

He shook his head. “I’m not up there. I haven’t even met Paul.”

“I bet you will, though,” she said. “After what happened last night, I bet he’ll want to talk to you.” She tried not to look too eager. “When he does, will you think about helping me? Kevin, it’s the story of a lifetime. And I swear, they’ll never know I’m a reporter.”

Kevin stood up, his teeth raking over his lower lip. She shifted on the chair, sitting on her fingers so that she wouldn’t fidget.

“Kev?”

Finally, he nodded, and her entire body went limp with relief.

“I don’t know what I can do,” he said. “But I’ll try.”

“You wanna tell me what the hell is going on?” Doyle demanded, his hackles rising. They were at PEC headquarters now, a subterranean series of floors hidden beneath the Los Angeles County Criminal Justice Building. Ten of them were settled around a huge conference table. Luke, of course, though he didn’t technically work for the PEC, sat across the table from Doyle. His wife, Advocate Sara Constantine Dragos, who was another vampire, sat next to him. Doyle liked Sara, though he didn’t understand what a smart girl like Constantine saw in Dragos. Rand was there, too, along with Tucker and a few of the support staff—some vamps and jinns and weren—that Doyle didn’t know as well.

At the head of the table sat Nostramo Bosch, the head of the violent crimes division.

“What was Jordan into? Who are the Dark Warriors, what are they up to, and how can I make them pay for killing my CI?”

Bosch and Luke exchanged a quick glance, then Luke nodded. Bosch lifted a finger, and the lights dimmed. An image popped up on the projection screen. A lean, muscular man with a rugged, sunbaked face and a broad forehead below a receding hairline. He looked like he had a stick up his ass, and Doyle was certain the guy had to be part of the human military.

“Paul Vassalo,” Bosch said.

“Marine?” Doyle asked.

“Former SEAL team leader. Been retired for over a decade now. Came to our attention about seven months ago.”

“Seven months?” Tucker asked. “Does this have anything to do with that incident in Australia?”

“Australia?” Doyle asked.

“Remember? A group of humans bombed a bar in Sydney. Possibly a random terrorist attack, but the inside scoop was that the humans knew the bar was frequented by vampires.”

“Right. I remember. But Division Two never brought in any suspects.”

“Because there were none,” Bosch said. “But at about that time, Paul flew from Australia to California. And a week or so later—”

“Two werens were killed in Griffith Park,” Doyle finished. “Silver bullets.”

“That’s right.”

“And Paul was behind it?” Tucker asked.

“At the time, we didn’t know. Jordan confirmed it.”

“How?” Doyle asked.

“We began to hear rumors of cells. Humans who know about shadowers. Or about vampires and werewolves, anyway. There are more who believe the stories than who know the actual truth. That works to our advantage.”

“There’ve been stories for centuries,” Doyle said. “How is this different?”

“The attacks, for one,” Bosch said. “Australia and Griffith Park weren’t the only incidents. There have been several across the globe.”

Doyle frowned. “Why haven’t I heard about it?”

“The PEC has chosen to keep the incidents confidential.
They’ve been revealed to shadowers—including our own agents—only on a need-to-know basis.”

“Why?”

Luke aimed a hard stare at him. “Come on, Ryan. You know why.”

Doyle bristled. “It’s not as bad as all that.”

“It’s getting bad,” Sara put in. “I don’t spend much time with humans anymore, but I’m in a position to hear things on both sides. More humans believe. And more shadowers disdain humans. Or,” she added, correcting herself, “if not more, then the ones who think humans are beneath us are becoming a much more vocal group.”

“And if the attacks by the humans were made public, the PEC is afraid that those human-hating shadowers would retaliate?” Doyle said.

“In a word, yes.” Bosch stood. At the same time, the lights came up.

“Is Paul Vassalo really such a threat?” he asked, although he already knew the answer. He’d seen Jordan’s fear. And Doyle knew that Jordan hadn’t been the kind to overreact.

“It’s our belief he’s not yet an international player. But he wants to be. He sees himself as leading the charge.”

“His military background has made him organized,” Rand added. “So far, all the human attacks on shadowers have been limited in scope. Small clubs. Personal attacks like the werens in the park.”

Luke took up the thread. “With the exception of those werens, we don’t have any proof that the violence was organized. But based on what Jordan learned, we can assume that at least forty percent of the attacks across the globe were in fact the acts of human terrorists against shadowers. The cells are only loosely organized, though.”

“And you think Paul wants to step up as the big man in charge who can pull the cells together and increase the number of attacks?”

“That sums it up nicely,” Bosch said.

“And how do I get assigned to this case? It’s because of this Paul asshole that Jordan’s dead. Whatever I can do to make life miserable for him, I’m in.”

“Glad to hear it,” Luke said. “We need you on the inside.”

Not
what Doyle had been expecting to hear. “What? Undercover? I haven’t been undercover in ages.” He aimed his thumb at Rand. “Why not him? Or Sergius?” he added, referring to another vampire—a friend of Luke’s who’d recently joined the PEC as an undercover agent.

“Serge is on assignment in London, and it wouldn’t be prudent to pull him out. As for Rand—”

“I’d do it in a heartbeat,” Rand said. “I’ve had a few beers with Jordan. A good man, and he didn’t deserve to die that way.” He hitched a thumb toward Luke and Bosch. “But these two said no.”

“You’re the best man for the job,” Luke told Doyle. “Like you said, you’re motivated. More than that, though, you’re half-human. They’ve already spotted a weren in their midst, so we don’t want to risk sending in another. And vamps are out of the question. Daylight.”

“Send in a young fang-banger. They’re not sensitive to the sun.”

Luke smirked. “Not enough experience, and you know it.”

“You’re telling me that Jordan was our only man inside this organization?”

“One of three, actually,” Bosch said. “Keep in mind
that on a local scale, it’s a small group. They recruit from local meet-up groups, Comic-Con, that sort of thing. Paul’s inner circle pays attention, gets a feel for whether someone has the right sensibility. If so, he brings them in. Jordan was the only one who got tagged. The other two were ignored. We had to reassign them.”

“Screw that,” Doyle said. “I was in Jordan’s head. We don’t have time for me to go running around at Comic-Con. The boy was freaked. Something big is in the works. We need to move in, and fast.”

He glanced sideways at Tucker. “Shit, just let my partner here get close and have a little chat with Paul. Get Paul to spill his plans. For that matter, get him to change his plans. Have Tucker take him to his happy place.”

“Don’t think we haven’t considered it,” Bosch said, an answer that confirmed for Doyle just how serious this was. Using influence over humans was standard operating procedure to keep gathering crowds or local law enforcement from remembering an active Division 6 crime scene. But the use of influence in other situations—such as to change the way a human acted or thought—was officially sanctioned only in the most dire of circumstances.

“But?” Doyle pressed.

“Jordan confirmed what we feared—Paul isn’t susceptible to influence. We’re not sure if he trained himself to withstand it or is naturally immune. Besides, our ultimate goal is to stop whatever Paul has planned. To do that, we need a better sense of how he’s organized. Does he have a second in command? How many men does he have working for him? Where are they based, and how organized are they? In other words, we need answers. Answers and evidence sufficient to support prosecution.”

Doyle shifted his attention to Sara. “Can we do that? Prosecute humans?”

“It’s not done often, but we can. As you know, the PEC doesn’t have jurisdiction over a human who decides to become a vampire hunter or a werewolf slayer. That lack of jurisdiction stems from the long-standing presumption that if the human is setting out to, for example, stake a vampire, it’s probably because that vampire has caused him or his family harm. And the PEC will look the other way.”

“Law of the jungle instead of civilized law?” Tucker asked.

“Something like that,” Sara agreed.

“But?” Doyle pressed.

“But in a situation where humans are organizing to seek out and attack shadowers—especially if they’re targeting shadowers who’ve done them no harm—the humans are stepping over that jurisdictional line and into PEC territory. We’ll have to make sure the evidence is solid and sparkling, but there are grounds for prosecution.”

“So let’s nail the bastards.”

“Evidence,” she repeated. “We need lots of it. And we need someone to gather it.” She looked firmly at him. “We need you, Doyle.”

He hesitated only briefly. “I’ll do it. But I need to know what I’m walking into. Did Jordan compromise the operation? Are they going to see me coming?”

“We don’t think so,” Luke said. “But we can’t be sure.”

Doyle nodded slowly; it was the answer he’d expected. “But you still haven’t addressed the biggest problem. Time. We don’t have time for me to climb the ladder. Considering
how freaked Jordan was, I’d say we’re lucky if we have a week.”

Bosch grimaced. “Hopefully we have longer than that. But your point is well-taken. Fortunately,” he added with a thin smile, “we’ve come up with a way to get you in.” Once again, the lights dimmed and an image flashed onto the screen. “Meet Assistant District Attorney Travis Sullivan. His office is several floors above ours. It’s quite possible you’ve passed each other in the lobby.”

“I recognize him,” Doyle said. “Hasn’t he been making noises about running for the State Senate?”

“That’s the one. And he’s well placed to succeed. Not only does he come from a political family, but he made a splash when he prosecuted Kyle Creevey. That case was a career maker and it got his name out to the voters.”