Death Magic

ELEVEN

AT eight twenty that night Rule heard a car in the alley, followed by the sound of the garage door opening out back. He was in the kitchen, his laptop on the table, his ass in one chair, his feet in another, wearing his headset. “Okay, Andor, thanks. I appreciate your not asking us to wait for the All-Clan.”

“Chad is unemployed at the moment. It is no difficulty for him to fly to D.C.”

“He’ll stay here, of course, and Wythe will pay his airfare.” The Rho of Szøs clan snorted. “You speak for Wythe now as well as Leidolf and Nokolai?”

“My father speaks for Nokolai,” Rule said mildly. He listened to the car pull into the garage, glad that Lily hadn’t worked too late. She’d texted him a couple hours ago not to wait supper on her, which could have meant she’d be home at eight or at midnight. Or later. “No one speaks for Wythe at the moment, but my nadia and the Wythe Council agree that the clan will reimburse others for expenses incurred in this search. Let Walt know how much and who the check should go to—you or your young man—and he’ll send it immediately. You have Walt’s number?”

“Szøs will pay Chad’s expenses,” Andor said gruffly. “It is not good for a clan to be without a Rho. This would be true at any time, but in time of war, we do not bicker over a few dollars.” Andor paused. “Of course, if Chad does turn out to be capable of holding the Wythe mantle, he will no longer be Szøs. Wythe will owe us reparation for the loss of a clan member.”

Rule’s mouth twisted in wry amusement. “A matter you can discuss with the new Rho, if that happens.”

“So I can. T’eius ven, Rule.”

“T’eius ven.” Rule removed the headset and went to unlock the back door for Lily. He swung it open.

She had her key out—because, of course, she never let the guards unlock the door for her. She claimed this was so they’d be free to do their job. He suspected she preferred to pretend they weren’t there. She looked up at him, her eyes narrowed. “You are not a suspect.”

Amusement lifted his eyebrows. “I don’t think so, no.”

“Even if Croft were willing to put me on an investigation where you were a suspect, Drummond wouldn’t let that stand. But I’d really like to know if it was Dennis Parrott who alibied you.”

“It is, though it seems, since you are part of the investigation, that you should know this already. Come in. I saved you some supper.” He turned to get it. “Shepherd’s pie. It’s keeping warm in the oven.”

“I’m probably hungry, but I’m too tired to tell.” She followed, closing the door behind her. He heard the dead bolt click. Lily cultivated useful habits such as locking doors automatically, squeezing the toothpaste tube from the bottom, and cleaning her weapon every time she used it.

“Wine first, then.” He’d opened a nice Syrah to go with his own supper, so he retrieved the bottle from the cooler.

“Wine sounds good, but I’d better follow it with coffee after the meal or I’ll fall asleep.” She set her laptop on the table next to his and sat down. “I didn’t ask Drummond about your status in the investigation and he didn’t volunteer anything. He isn’t completely shutting me out, but he isn’t treating me like a colleague, either.”

“Drummond is the one in charge of the investigation into Bixton’s death?” He set the glass he’d poured near her elbow. She nodded and sipped without, he thought, noticing the bouquet at all. “Special Agent Al Drummond considers me an unfortunate necessity. He has to have someone from the Unit on his team, given the nature of the crime. But that’s a problem, given the identity of his chief suspect.” She slid him a glance. “Funny, you don’t look at all curious about who that is.”

“It’s difficult to keep secrets from a dragon.”

“Mika did hear me, then? I mindspoke to him, but didn’t know if he’d peeked inside my head to find out what I couldn’t tell him.” She sighed. “I shouldn’t have done that, but—”

“Lily.” He rested a hand on her shoulder. “You didn’t violate your orders or do any damage to the investigation. Unless you’ve decided there really is a chance that Ruben is guilty?”

She snorted. “Of killing Bixton after making abso-damn-lutely sure he’d be IDed as the senator’s only visitor? Not hardly.”

“Well, then.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze and went to get the shepherd’s pie from the oven. “What do you think of Special Agent Drummond?”

“Intense, angry, irritating. A control freak, but that’s not unusual in a good cop. I called Steve Timms.”

“Oh?”

“Looking for gossip. Steve’s MCD, which isn’t exactly regular Bureau, but he knows the people on that side of things a lot better than I do. Turns out Drummond’s sort of a rock star, but with a rep as a maverick. Steve says he’d have advanced a lot further, but he kept getting held back because he slithers around the rules so often. Which makes it damned odd that he’s using the rules to block me, doesn’t it?”

“How so?” He set the warm casserole on a place mat on the table and sat across from her.

“Maybe he’s not really blocking me. We’ll see. He’s sure slowing me down. I had to send him a request in writing to consult with Cullen. In writing.” She shook her head and scooped out a serving of the meaty stew topped by mashed potatoes. “His minion can’t stand me. That’s Doug Mullins,” she added, taking a bite. She paused, looked at her plate. “This is pretty good.”

“I thought so. I was talking to Andor just before you arrived.”

“Andor? Oh, you mean the Szøs Rho.”

“He’s got a possible candidate for the position you’re longing to see filled.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Someone with Wythe founder’s blood?”

“His mother was Edgar’s granddaughter.”

It took her a moment to unpack the genealogy of that statement—proof, if she’d needed it, that she was tired. Edgar had been Rho before Brian. “I guess his father was Szøs. What’s he like?”

“He’s a dominant, of course. Andor says he’s bright, self-assured, and cocky as only a very young man can be. Unemployed at the moment, but he has a degree in telecommunications. He’ll be here Saturday. Tell me about the minion.”

She grimaced. “At first I thought Mullins was pissed because I didn’t kowtow properly to the boss—he thinks the sun shines out of Drummond’s ass—but I think it’s mostly because I’m Unit. Mullins is one of those who are deeply, personally offended by magic.”

“A religious zealot?”

“You could say that. A devout atheist.”

“Atheism and the magic aren’t antithetical.”

“You missed the devout part. With Mullins it’s a creed: thou shalt not partake of the irrational, with irrational defined as anything he can’t sense directly. Magic screws with his worldview. Aren’t you going to have some wine?”

“In a moment.” He’d poured himself a glass, but left it on the counter to breathe. Lily didn’t object to red wine straight from the wine cooler, but Lily had very little nose.

Silence fell for a few minutes. Lily ate. Rule thought about how foolish he’d been. He’d thought that once Lily knew about the Shadow Unit, he wouldn’t have to hide things from her anymore.

Being wrong was a bitch.

Mika was not Sam. He couldn’t screen hundreds of minds simultaneously, looking for a particular one, nor could he read the minds of those distant from him. Even those close to him were difficult for him to decipher. He could, however, pick up and understand Lily’s thoughts better than most. He’d flown close enough to do that several times today so he could keep Rule and Ruben informed. He’d also passed word back and forth between Rule and Ruben.

Ruben had spent a wearying afternoon being questioned. He’d denied leaving his house that morning. Deborah confirmed that, but neither prosecutors nor juries took a wife’s word as gospel. At the moment, Ruben’s best defense was the sheer stupidity it would have required for him to commit murder in such a way.

He had one more defense. At the moment, he didn’t intend to use it. Rule wasn’t sure that was wise, but it wasn’t his call.

Lily was nearly finished eating. He stood and retrieved his glass of wine, holding it close to savor the rich, complex scents of the wine before sipping. Time to probe a bit. “I’m wondering if I should tell you something, or if it will just complicate the dilemma you find yourself in.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

He sat across from her once more. “You’ve talked about your superior on this case. About this Mullins person. You haven’t said anything about the investigation itself. Were you told not to discuss it with me, or is there some question in your mind about whether you can, given my connection to the Shadow Unit?”

She put her fork down. “I hope to hell this place isn’t bugged.”

“It isn’t. You’d know better than I if someone could eavesdrop with one of those long-distance devices.”

She glanced at the kitchen window. “Probably not. They’d have to park in the alley, and I suspect José would notice that and check them out.”

“He would.”

She sighed. “I was told not to discuss the investigation with anyone not on the team. That came from Croft, not Drummond. It’s a reasonable order, under the circumstances.” She drummed her fingers once on the table. “I’m going to violate it.”

“I don’t have to—”

“This is about what I need. What the investigation needs. I don’t know what the deal is with Drummond. Maybe he’s obstructing me because he doesn’t trust me, given my connection to Ruben. Maybe he’s going all regulation because it’s such a high-profile case and he’s nervous. Maybe he’s the damn traitor in the Bureau. Although,” she added with a sigh, possibly regretful, “that’s unlikely.”

“Oh?”

“I talked to Croft, too. He says Drummond was in D.C. on the day of the attempt on Ruben’s life, but not in Headquarters, and I’m to take that as definite. So unless Drummond’s part of a greater conspiracy within the Bureau, he’s out as a suspect. Most likely he’s a control freak who doesn’t trust me.” Her fingers drummed again. “Do you know what he had me doing most of the day?”

“Mika didn’t go into that kind of detail.”

“Knocking on doors. And it’s not that I think I’m too important for that sort of—”

“Was it Mullins who said that or Drummond?”

“Mullins.” She grimaced. “I know, I know. I shouldn’t let the little shit get to me. He was in Wyoming when someone dosed Ruben with that potion. Never mind. What happened today was that I followed the perp’s trail—”

“There was a trail?”

“That’s one of the things I need to discuss with Cullen. The perp seems to have leaked quite a bit of magic on his or her way into the house. The trail stops at Bixton’s body. I traced it the other direction and ended up at the little park across the street. The trail went right up to a bench, then stopped. That doesn’t make sense. If the perp was loaded up so much he leaked, why would he only start leaking at that bench? Anyway, Drummond decided that once I’d done that, I’d served my main function. He had me knock on doors the rest of the damn day. It’s not like finding wits isn’t important, but it’s a poor use of my time. He doesn’t have anyone other than me who knows shit about tracking down a death magic coven—”

Rule’s eyebrows shot up. “A coven?”

“Not a Wiccan coven. A group of practitioners who used ritual killing to create death magic. Um. The ‘death magic’ part should be news to you, but I guess it isn’t. I should ask what you know from Mika.”

“I know Senator Bixton was killed sometime after 9:30 with a dagger imbued with death magic. His maid believes she admitted Ruben at that time. Ruben says he never left his house. Ah . . . that’s the detail I was considering telling you. Ruben has a witness who can testify to that. Two, actually.”

“What? Why hasn’t he said so? Or has he, and Drummond didn’t tell me?”

“Ruben is holding them in reserve. They’re lupi.”

Her mouth opened. Closed. Then thinned. “I should’ve guessed. He’s been attacked once. When that failed, he should’ve had bodyguards at home as well as at Headquarters. I wasn’t thinking. But why lupi instead of Bureau bodyguards?”

“Budgetary constraints,” Rule said dryly. “Croft had guards at Ruben’s house at first, but he was told by the director to remove them two weeks ago. Given how important our Lady considers Ruben, the clans were willing to share the duty of protecting him and Deborah. Today’s team was Cynyr.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “From Wales. They came all the way from Wales. You couldn’t handle it among the U.S. clans?”

“The Lady named Ruben our ally. Guarding him is an honored duty. No one could be left out without giving offense.”

“So why hasn’t Ruben mentioned his alibi?”

“He doesn’t want to draw attention to his unique relationship with the clans. Had today’s guards been Nokolai or Leidolf, we could say I sent them out of concern for a friend. It’s more difficult to explain why a Welsh clan would send bodyguards to protect a man they’ve never met and shouldn’t even know exists. We can’t explain it, not without speaking of the Lady’s instructions to us. And we do not want to make that public.”

“I suppose not.” Her frown deepened. “Besides, lupi don’t make the best witnesses. No offense, but everyone assumes a lupus will say whatever his Rho wants him to say, so all the prosecution would have to do is establish some reason their Rho might have told them to alibi Ruben. Given that most lupi could be expected to hate Bixton, that shouldn’t be hard.”

“I gather Ruben thought much the same thing. How much danger is he in?” Rule asked quietly.

“The only reason he hasn’t been arrested yet is that Drummond’s annoying, but he’s not an idiot. Hard to believe Ruben could be stupid enough to give his name to the maid, then walk in and kill Bixton.” Her jaw tightened. “She’s behind this. Her first attempt failed, so she’s coming after Ruben a different way. I have to call Cullen. I’ve got questions I need answered.”

“I thought Drummond hadn’t approved that.”

“And I thought you might lean on Cullen for some pro bono work.”

“Actually, I already spoke with him. He’ll be here . . .” The sudden wincing around her eyes, the draining of blood from her face, had him on his feet. “Lily.”

“It’s that damn headache again.”

“That’s twice today,” he said grimly.

“Yeah. This one doesn’t seem to be going away as fast as the other two.” Her voice was thin. She touched the air near the back of her head. “Is this what a migraine feels like? I swear I’m never going to . . .” Her eyes closed.

“That’s it. You’re getting checked out by—” He leaped and caught her as she toppled out of the chair.

He went to the floor with her spread across his lap, his heart pounding in fear. Her eyes were rolled back in her head. Her pulse was rapid when he pressed his fingers to her throat. She was so damn pale. “You’ve got five seconds to wake up, then I call the ambulance. One—”

“Didn’t faint,” she whispered, her eyes still closed.

His own eyes closed briefly in relief. “You gave a damn fine impression of it.”

“I’m okay. Headache’s gone.” He could see the effort it took to force her eyes open. “When the pain shut off, I went dizzy. Now . . . just tired. No ambulance.”

“You’ve got to be checked out.”

“No doctors. They’d look at my arm, figure out something was going on with it. Can’t tell ‘em what, so better not provoke them.”

He wasn’t sure a regular doctor would be much help, or he’d bundle her in the car over her objections and take her to the ER right now. Fortunately, there was an alternative. “The Leidolf Rhej will be here tomorrow.”

She blinked. “Oh. Mika told you.”

“Mika? What does he . . .” He scowled. “If you suffered a reaction at your mindspeech lesson and didn’t tell me—”

“No, no.” Her hand flopped vaguely in denial. “He wants to watch a healer work. He wanted you to bring him one.” Her eyes closed. “Rhejes don’t jump when their Rho says hop.”

“She’ll come. For this, she’ll come.”

“’Kay. I’m so damn tired. Did you make coffee?”

He gathered her in his arms and stood. “I’ll put some on. You might as well rest while it’s brewing.”

She was asleep before he was halfway up the stairs.