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“I expected as much.”
“Leviathan. He’s got the power to release the device by remote.”
“And the judge?” Luke asked, thinking that perhaps Acquila had not yet outlived his usefulness.
“Nada. Once bail’s granted, he’s out of the loop.”
“So Leviathan is my only hope?”
“I didn’t say that,” Tariq said. “The system’s also tied in to the prosecutor and the lead investigator. On their command, Security System disables the device.”
Luke tensed, the possibilities dancing in front of him. “Say that again.”
“I know,” Tariq said almost giddily, and then repeated himself. “Sweet, huh?”
“Together?” Luke asked, ignoring the jinn. “Doyle and the prosecutor must be together?”
“Either one can do it,” he said. “Doyle, Constantine. But they can’t do it remotely. Gotta be in Division, in Security Section. Key in access to the primary system, then key in the abort code.”
“Interesting,” Luke said. He would take much pleasure in dragging Doyle’s sorry ass back inside Division and making the para-demon do that which would set Luke free.
But despite the pleasure he would undoubtedly derive from such an adventure, he had to admit that the risks were legion, as were any attempts to use Leviathan.
He frowned, not pleased by the possibilities. “Are there alternatives?” he asked Tariq. “Who installed the fail-safes?”
“Lucius,” Tariq said. “Take the easy route.”
“It’s none of it easy,” Luke answered. “We’ll speak again.” And then, before Tariq could protest, he turned and walked away, his thoughts on Sara.
At one time, he would have used her without hesitation, but that time was long gone.
He thought of Sara and her sense of rules, of justice. She would never agree to do this thing, and more than that, he knew that he could not ask her to.
There had to be another way, he thought, as he stood to leave, and somehow he would find it.
* * *
The security in Lucius’s Malibu home rivaled Buckingham Palace, but that was hardly a deterrent to a man like Serge. He slipped through the defenses in mere moments, then stepped inside among the shadows that roamed within his friend’s home.
The ocean, he told himself, eyeing the shadows with trepidation. Not the manifestation of nightmares.
The home perched on the beach, the west wall nothing but glass. And tonight, the moon reflected on stormy seas, the shadows cast inside the home were both beautiful and frightening.
He exhaled loudly, scoffing at his own foolishness. A man like him jumping at shadows. A man who could kill with hands or fangs, who had done exactly that many times over. The very thought shamed him.
No more.
First, he had to find Tasha. That much, he owed to Lucius.
He lifted his nose and breathed deep, finding her subtle smell in the air. But how long she had been gone he did not know. Days, perhaps. Or possibly only hours.
A flutter of hope danced in his chest, and he followed the scent, searching for her room, hoping in vain that she had returned to this place.
He found what he was looking for on the second floor. Not the girl herself, but the room that she had made. A child’s room, a girl’s room. White and pink, with porcelain-faced dolls on shelves that ran along the wall, a foot or so beneath the ceiling.
An innocent’s dolls, but she wasn’t innocent. Not anymore. He’d seen something new within her. But whether it had been there before, or whether Braddock corrupted her, he didn’t know.
All he did know was that he had to find her.
