In Death 05 - Ceremony in Death

relentless. Each jab, each blow, each kick given or received sang through her body with icy, primitive rage. Her eyes were flat with violence now, her fists merciless as she concentrated on the head, working the droid back, back.
    Frowning, Roarke straightened. Her breath was wheezing out now, all but sobbing, yet she didn't stop. When the droid staggered, went down on its knees, she crouched for the kill.
    "End program," Roarke ordered, and caught his wife's rigid arm before she could kick the droid's lolling head. "You're going to damage the unit," he said mildly. "It isn't designed for to the death."
    She bent over, resting her hands on her knees, to catch her breath. Her mind was full of red now, red rage, and she needed to clear it. "Sorry, I guess I got carried away." She eyed the droid, who remained slumped on his knees, mouth slack, eyes blank as a doll's. "I'll run a diagnostic on it."
    "Don't worry about it." He started to turn her to face him, but she broke away, moved across the room for a towel. "In the mood for a fight?"
    "I guess I wanted to pound something."
    "Should I suit up?" He was smiling a little. Until she lowered the towel. The rage had drained from her face. All that was left in her eyes was misery. "What is it, Eve? What happened?"
    "Nothing. Just a rough day." She tossed the towel aside, moved to the cold box unit for a bottle of mineral water. "So far, Wineburg's house is a bust. Nothing there to help us. Sweepers didn't find anything in the garage, either. Didn't expect them to. I jabbed some at Cross again, and at Alban the Magnificent. Had a consult with Mira. Her daughter's a Wiccan. Can you beat that?"
    It wasn't work, he thought, that put that painful unhappiness in her eyes. "What is it?''
    "Isn't that enough? It's going to be tough to get an objective consult from Mira when her daughter's into spell-casting. Then there's Peabody. She's caught a damn cold, and her head's so full of snot I have to say everything twice before it gets through."
    She was talking too fast, Eve realized. Words were tumbling out of her mouth and she couldn't seem to stop them. "A hell of a lot of good she's going to be to me hacking and sneezing all goddamn day. The media picked up on Wineburg, and the fact that you and I were on scene when it went down. My 'link's jammed with fucking reporters. Leaks everywhere. Fucking leaks everywhere. Feeney found out I've been holding back on him."
    Ah, Roarke thought, there we are. "He was hard on you?"
    "Why shouldn't he be?" Her voice rose as she whirled and searched for temper to cover the hurt. "He should've been able to trust me. I lied to him, right to his face."
    "What choice did you have?"
    "There's always a choice." She bit the words off, heaved the half-empty bottle at the wall, where it bounced and spewed out bubbling water. "There's always a choice," she repeated. "I made mine. I knew how he felt about Frank, about Alice, but I blocked him out. I followed orders. I walked the line."
    She could feel the pain rising, straining to spew as the water had spewed out of the bottle. She fought to block it back. "He was right, everything he said to me. Everything. I could have gone to him on the side."
    "Is that what you were trained to do? Is that what he trained you to do?"
    "He made me," she said fiercely. "I owe him. I should have told him how it was going down."
    "No." He stepped to her, took her by the shoulders. "No, you couldn't."
    "I could have." She shouted it. "I should have. I wish to God I had." And broke. Covered her face with her hands and broke. "Oh God, what am I going to do?"
    Roarke gathered her close. She cried rarely, a last resort, and always when the tears finally came they were vicious. "He needs time. He's a cop, Eve. Part of him already understands. The rest just needs to catch up."
    "No." Her hands fisted in his shirt, held on. "The way he looked at me... I've lost him, Roarke. I've lost him. I swear I'd rather lose my badge."
    He waited while the tears stormed out, while her body shook with them. There was such strong emotions in her, he thought, rocking as her hands clenched and unclenched against his back. Emotions she'd spent a lifetime bottling up, so they were only the more potent when they broke free.
    "Damn it." She let out a breath, long and shaky. Her head felt achy, muffled, her throat raw. "I hate doing that. It doesn't help."
    "More than you think." He stroked a hand over her hair, then tipped it under her chin to lift her