Masked By Danger by Christa Wick

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Iris letthe words sink in before driving in a new barbed hook. "Esme is over the moon, of course. She won't risk the cub for your sorry ass. She knows you'd let Quentin kill her in a heartbeat…I mean, can you imagine the level of power inside her now that she's carrying a cub?"

Camille shook her head, eyes glaring, teeth grit as she hissed out, "You're still lying—bitch. And Quentin would never hurt her."

Iris's jaw dropped open. "So everyone's been lying to me about how Quentin broke her hands, strapped her to an altar and powered up some mad scientist crystal structure to drain her power for himself?” She scoffed. “That's a lot of bullshit for you to have swallowed for so long, Camille. You want a breath mint for that?"

The witch closed her eyes, her jaw working.

Worried that the woman was tonguing a spell, Iris jammed her thumb into Camille's mouth and yanked her bottom jaw down.

"Look," Iris barked. "My mate has an itchy trigger finger. Don't give him an excuse."

She had to pause as Cade pushed his wolf at her, the energy so warm and sweet Iris felt like she might explode.

She reciprocated in kind, the sensation she sent him both a quick hug and a light, admonishing tap for interrupting her work flow.

Releasing Camille's jaw, Iris wiped her thumb on her pants, her face twisting in a grimace.

"I don't know why I'm wasting time talking to you, witch. The wolves have it right. You're just some rancid bitch who would sacrifice her child to…what, a lover? He seems too young for you."

Camille's eyes drifted shut. "He was born before your grandmother and before her mother. When our work together is finished, he'll have more than enough power to make me young—"

Iris snorted, the sound snapping Camille out of the reverie she'd fallen into.

"You really bought those magic beans," Iris laughed, her face pushed close to Camille's so that the woman had to look at her. "You mutilated your child when she was just a little baby, let him put the crystals inside her. You worked with the healer Gordon to have Esme kidnapped and her magic drained, and now, after he tried to drain you, you're still brainwashed. I bet you have a ready-made excuse for everything he's done, but it's all bullshit, babe. And I don't want to hear it."

Iris turned and walked toward the opposite wall, shaking her head as if she'd already given up on the witch telling her anything. Reaching the other side of the room, she leaned against the wall.

Camille had drifted into a trance of the addicted. Cocaine, alcohol, or an abusive lover—one cause was often indistinguishable from the other when they fell into that state, a beatific smile announcing they had reached their destination.

"The crystals are so we always know she is safe," Camille murmured. "He only took some of my magic so he could rescue us both, and why would he kill his own child? His firstborn…his little princess?"

Iris wanted to gag with every sentence that came out of the witch. With the energy rolling off Cade, she knew he felt the same way. But nothing could be allowed to interrupt Camille's flow.

Never shut a suspect up once they start talking. Wait for them to stop, then give them a prompt to see if you can restart the confession engine.

"Just how does that work?" Iris asked, her tone that of a fawning student in the presence of her favorite professor.

Arrogance lifted the right side of Camille's nose and the corner of the lip beneath it.

"Two witches fucking," she answered, her gaze rolling in Cade's direction before she returned her attention to Iris. "I would have thought you understood the mechanics by now."

"Right." Iris's hand did a little dance of understanding. "That explains Esme's birth—but not her twin's. You remember her twin, right? The wolf he keeps tied down to a gurney, perpetually pregnant judging by the number of cubs the clan has rescued in the last six months."

For the first time since she had lost most of her fingers on one hand from Iris's bite, Camille looked shocked.

"Yeah," Iris poked. "We know about that. We know all about the piece of shit you keep protecting even after he tried to kill the daughter you claim you love."

Camille turned her head, her gaze scanning the room for the camera she knew had to be in there. With nothing but two other chairs and a wall clock, she stared at the clock as she spoke.

"We only took you to make sure you would be able to find the cubs, honey." Camille cooed. "It was all a charade to get the papers in your hands. Only that false friend Lana was in danger."

"Lie," Iris whispered, then repeated the word, her volume growing each time. "Lie, lie, lie."

"Tell me the real reason he put the crystals in Esme?" Iris said, her voice falling soft again. "He didn't put them along her spine like he did with the cubs."

Reaching down, Iris placed her open palms against Camille's lower stomach. She had been ready to make a point about the crystals working to make Esme infertile, but the words froze in her mouth.

"There are crystals in you, too."

Camille dipped her head. Her tongue looked, for a second, like Q might have spelled it from working if she started to reveal too much. Lips twisting like a possessed demon, the old witch pushed out a strangled grunt, but no words.

Camille blinked. The release of tears that came with the motion surprised Iris.

"It's to save us from birthing any monsters!"

Iris took a step back, stomach roiling as nausea made her dizzy.

Camille began to cry, but the tears of the guilty had never effected Iris. Her instincts, fueled by her magic and her wolf, had accelerated her career in the police force.

She was the youngest cop in Syracuse to make the rank of detective, and again when she joined the homicide squad. She had years of experience sitting across from someone who had killed a person they claimed to love. Infants, toddlers, teens, girlfriends and wives—victim after victim.

Every killer had a rationale, no matter how ridiculous, that absolved him or her in their own mind, that let them believe they had been a loving spouse, parent, or child.

"Wow, you're a crazy bitch," Iris said, grabbing the gag from where she had tossed it on the floor.

"You helped murder babies to put crystals in your daughter and the cubs."

Camille slowly swung her head from side to side. "No babies murdered, just cubs—"

Growling, Cade jammed the tip of his 9mm harder against the witch's head.

Iris pushed her wolf at him in warning.

Control yourself or get the hell out of my interrogation room!

Jaw clenched, he relaxed his grip on the weapon.

"You killed your own grandchildren to put crystals in the cubs," Iris continued.

Struggling against her bindings, Camille dismissed the accusation. "Don't think of it like that."

"You murdered your grandchildren. You let Quentin rip them from Esme's twin."

"No," Camille shook her head, a smug expression stretching her face. "That one is afterbirth, a placenta made to grow a head and a trunk with just enough of a brain to keep the blood flowing. I only have one child. There have been no grandchildren."

She paused, her expression growing more cruel as her gaze returned to the clock with its hidden camera.

"There never will be."