Personal Demon (Otherworld 8)

"But you can control it. You've never--"

"Three times. Twice in my teens, and I couldn't even tell you who I killed. All I know is that I Changed and I woke stained with human blood. The third time, I was twenty, and I came to standing over the body of a man. Eating. Yes, most of the time, we can control it. It's like you with chaos. You can resist the urge to do something you consider wrong. My father did what he could to teach me that, but he never had the chance to finish the lessons. There's the instinct and it must be fed, and to the wolf there is no difference between a deer and a man. Both are prey. The wolf doesn't feel sorry for the man, doesn't consider the life he's taking, doesn't think of his wife and children, his mother and father. That's the human's job, and it's the werewolf's job to make sure the humanity in him doesn't disappear. When I came to my senses that day, and saw what I'd done, I knew I had to make a choice."

He shifted in the bed, turning onto his side, head propped up on his hand. "What happened to me happens to most werewolves at some point. They can decide that killing an innocent person proves they're a monster who must die. Or they can keep killing, blaming it on the wolf. Or they can understand the urge and avoid temptation. Don't Change in inhabited areas. Don't Change when you're too hungry. Don't Change when you've been drinking. And, just as important, sublimate the urge, that need to hunt, by going after rabbits or deer...or diamonds.

"That's what you need to do, Hope. Avoid temptation. Avoid situations where it may be too much for you--like signing up to spy for a Cabal. And sublimate the hunger with chaos you can enjoy without guilt. I can help with that, but only to a degree. There are jobs I know you'd enjoy more than the little ones I offer. But I won't take you on them because later, you'd feel guilty. And, as you saw, sometimes I take risks myself. I have to, for the same reason you need to chase chaos. I can't ever bring you on a job like that and put you in that danger. Not after my father."

"I understand."

He studied me to be sure I did. Then he nodded. "I'll find more for you. Ones you can enjoy, guilt-free. The rest, you'll have to make do with secondhand."

I smiled. "I can live with that."

"Good." He sobered. "But remember, you'll never be perfect. With a werewolf, there's always the chance it can happen again. We cannot control every variable. I haven't killed a human in thirty years, but I have to accept that I could. And you need to accept that you could too. And, if you do, as horrible as you'll feel about it, and as much as you'll suffer for it, if you've done what you could to avoid it, it isn't your fault. You didn't choose to be half-demon any more than I chose to be a werewolf."

Silence fell.

After a moment, he said, "Have I put you to sleep yet?"

"No, not yet." I reached up and kissed him. "Thank you, Karl."

He pulled me closer, then turned out the light.

LUCAS

13

PAIGE RETURNED WITH COFFEES in hand, Griffin at her heels and a pained expression on her face.

"Your dad wants me to go with you," Griffin said.

I shook my head. "He needs you. Someone has already tried to kill him tonight."

"Yeah, but they failed, and no one's tried to kill you...yet."

I took the coffee from Paige. "I cannot imagine I'd warrant a place on anyone's hit list--anyone outside a Cabal, that is. I'd like you to stay with him."

"I know you would, but his orders trump yours."

I hesitated, and contemplated the possibility of giving him the slip. Paige shook her head, as if reading my mind, then glanced at her watch. She was right, of course. We were wasting time. So we set out, bodyguard in tow.

WE MET THE team searching for Carlos and compared notes to construct a timeline. After I'd seen him at the office, he'd visited the restaurant, then arrived at Hector's at nine-forty-five. Apparently, he'd been at the office shortly before nine-thirty, when he'd gone with William down to the fourth floor. Bella and the butler could easily be off by fifteen minutes, which would make the timeline tight, but plausible.

We needed to know exactly when Carlos had been at the office. A quick question to the guards had proved fruitless--they hadn't seen him--but querying the security system would reveal whether his access card had been used. That still wouldn't prove anything unless he'd gone to one of the top floors, which required his thumbprint.

I sent two of the six-member team to the office to check that. A further two would search and then stake out Carlos's apartment. The final two were to review the security tapes at my father's house.

When I finished outlining their assignments, the men looked at one another.

"Is there a problem?" I asked.

"No, sir," the leader--Carpaccio--replied in a tone that belied his denial.

I pushed back a stab of impatience. "Two of my brothers are dead. The third is missing and may be in the same danger. If you have a better idea for finding him, please say so."

The youngest--a half-demon named Pratt--spoke up. "Carlos--I mean, Mr. Cortez--"

"His given name is fine tonight, for clarity." The Cabal tradition on referring to all men of the inner family as "Mr. Cortez" was a ridiculously confusing conceit that annoyed me at the best of times.