“What the f**k?” Snarled from Piers as he lunged forward.
Lucas’s hand shoved against Piers’s chest as he held him back. “What?” His hand was on Piers but his stare had turned to Caleb. “Did you really think you were so damn special? That you were the only hybrid wolf running around out there?”
No, Sarah had learned of others like him while she’d been at the FBI. There had been one incredibly powerful wolf/ demon hybrid in Atlanta who’d almost taken the city to hell a while back.
Caleb’s skin paled even more. As she watched, the gray bled away from his eyes until only demon black remained. No more pretending. No more glamour. “You . . . let me in . . . pack . . .”
“So you had demon blood.” Lucas shrugged. “At the core, you’re wolf.” A pause. “Or you were.”
Until he’d betrayed the pack.
A demon. That would explain why she hadn’t been able to get into Caleb’s head. Demons, even the low-level ones, had psychic powers. In the Other world, demons were gifted with many powers. Low-level demons, those who ranged on the scale from one to three, could barely work most magic. They could do glamour spells, but little else. But the higher end demons, those with a power scale of seven or higher, those were the guys that humans truly needed to fear. They could make the phrase, “hell on earth” come true.
But was Caleb a low-level demon? Or was he something much, much more powerful?
“Why would you help Rafe?” Sarah asked. “What did he have on you?” Because she knew the way Rafe worked. He loved to go after his prey’s weaknesses.
“Not a . . . damn . . . thing . . .” Blood spilled from his lips.
“Why hasn’t he shifted?” Sarah pushed back her hair as she glanced at Lucas. “Why hasn’t he healed by now?”
“He can’t shift,” Michael said, stepping forward. “He’s tried. Several damn times, but he can’t get a full shift.”
Caleb screamed them, bucking in the bed as his body twisted and the veins bulged on his arms and chest.
Lucas braced his legs apart. “You’re dying.”
Caleb’s face contorted. “Fucking . . . know . . .” Caleb’s claws burst from his fingertips, then vanished in an instant, leaving only bloody fingers behind.
“What the hell is this?” Michael grabbed him and pinned him against the bed. Caleb was thrashing, screaming, snarling as he kicked out and arched on the bed.
The guy was acting like he was possessed. Just like she’d seen in an old movie once with . . .
Oh, shit.
“Poison.” Her whisper had all eyes on her. All eyes but Caleb’s. His black eyes had squeezed closed and bloody tears leaked down his cheeks.
“What?” Lucas crossed to her. “You know what’s happening?”
Sarah swallowed. Thanks to the extermination list, she had a very good idea. “He dosed you, didn’t he?” There’d been rumors about this particular mix back at the Bureau. And as she’d learned, every rumor held some truth.
Caleb didn’t answer. At this point, she wasn’t sure he could. His vocal cords would be closing soon. “Body control, vision, speech . . .” That was the order of loss. If the dose was in his body too long . . .
“What the hell is happening, Sarah?” Lucas caught her arms and pulled her close.
“He’s dying.” That was obvious enough.
“How?”
“Poison. I-I think a special batch made just for demons.” All the supernaturals turned on each other at some point. Some feuds went past the skin, down through the bone and the magic. “At the Bureau, there was talk . . . an agent heard that some shifters created a brew a few years back. A mix that could destroy a demon,” she swallowed, “from the inside out.”
But each demon reacted a little differently to the drug. Demons always reacted differently to drugs. With this brew, if the story was true, some had died instantly. Some had become comatose. Some had hung on, fighting for weeks, slowly wasting away. Others . . .
They’d just had a few days.
“What is it?”
She licked her lips. “I think it’s Angel’s Dust.”
“Angel Dust?” Piers echoed. “What—PCP? You’re telling us that Caleb’s strung out on—”
“Here’s a little demon lesson for you.” Her gaze darted down Caleb’s twisting body. His skin was mottling, flashing bright red, then turning pale white. “Demons don’t react so well to drugs. Some of them get hooked with one taste, others can OD immediately. Demons and drugs don’t mix.” Which is why drugs were their deadliest weakness.
Some smart shifters had known that.
“He’s not strung out on PCP,” she told them slowly, clearly. “It’s Angel’s Dust, a poison made for demons. The first batch . . . I heard it came from the blood of an angel.”
“Bullshit,” Dane said instantly.
“Right, werewolf.” She didn’t glance at him. “Talk about angels and demons has to be bullshit, right? I mean, it’s not like you’re staring at a demon or that you’re a werewolf.”
Lucas curled his fingers around her arms and lifted her onto her toes. “How do I fix him?”
Here was the tricky part. “Is that what you want? I thought you were going to let him die. Pack justice and all.” Yes, her words had bite. Couldn’t control that—not when she was so scared and so damn angry. He’d really let his pack turn on me?
Lucas’s hold tightened a bit. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to let her know his control was thinner than it looked.
“If he dies, he can’t tell me what I need to know.”
No, and the guy was beyond talking right then. No words were coming from his lips, just blood.
“If it’s poison, then there’s an antidote, right?” Michael asked, his body rocking forward.
Not always. “He doesn’t have a lot of time left.”
“Then I need the cure right now.”
She shook her head. “It’s not that easy. If it’s Angel’s Dust—”
“You just said it was,” Piers fired, voice rough.
Sarah glanced over her shoulder at him. “I said I thought it was. It looks like what I’ve heard about an Angel’s Dust poisoning.” She didn’t want to look back at Caleb, but she forced herself to. Damn. Agony etched deep lines into his face. “Never seen a poisoning up close,” she admitted.