Death Magic

TWENTY-SEVEN

LILY got her shower. Then she slept.

She hadn’t planned to, but she walked out of the bathroom and the bed was right there and that was it. She figured it was okay to nap because she didn’t really have a plan. Not for the rest of the day, the week, her life.

When she woke up, she did. Sort of.

She lay quietly, blinking up at a ceiling grayed out by dusk and listening to rain on the roof. A faint, stretched feeling said that Rule was still far away to the north. The same thoughts she’d gone round and round with in that cell presented themselves to her again . . . only now they lined up better.

Had she been set up? Her gut said yes, and she was going to go with that assumption for now. But that only applied to what, not who or why. “Who” might be Sjorensen, but it was just as possible that Sjorensen had been used. And who better to do that than Special Agent Al Drummond?

She couldn’t be sure if she was letting the facts put Drummond at the top of her suspect list, or if she was leading with feelings. Because she wanted it to be him. She remembered the gloat in his eyes, the sheer delight he took in her downfall. But just because the guy hated her didn’t mean he’d framed her. Someone could’ve used his attitude to manipulate him, just as they might have used Sjorensen to tip Lily off. Drummond didn’t have magic of his own, and she hadn’t felt death magic on him. He could still be part of it. One of them.

Or not.

It was the “why,” though, that needed more thought. The last time one of Friar’s acolytes had tried to get her the plan had been wonderfully simple: kill her in a drive-by. They would have succeeded, too, if LeBron hadn’t given his life to save hers.

This time they’d gone for a complicated trick to destroy her as a cop. It didn’t jive. It was as if two different minds were coming up with “get Lily” schemes—one convoluted and subtle, the other brutal but straightforward.

Maybe it would help to look at what else Friar & Co. had done recently. They’d started by killing Bixton in a crazily complicated way, presumably so they could frame Ruben. That had to be the subtle mind. Then they’d firebombed Fagin’s house and nearly killed him. Straightforward.

Two minds. Well, Friar had two lieutenants, didn’t he? If she looked at results in order to determine her enemies’ goals, one thing was clear: they wanted Lily out of the Unit, not a cop anymore. Either dead or disgraced worked for that.

So she had to keep being a cop.

Her stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten much in lock-up, and she’d slept for . . . ye gods. It was four thirty in the afternoon. She sprang up from the bed, gave her hair a quick brushing, and double-timed it downstairs. The lights were on down there, holding back the early dusk brought on by the rain. Good smells and voices came from the kitchen, which turned out to be full of people sitting at the table . . . Isen, Pete, the Leidolf Rhej, José . . . and Deborah Brooks.

“Ah,” Lily said cleverly, stopping in the doorway as five pairs of eyes swung toward her. “Deborah.”

Deborah’s dimple winked. “You didn’t expect to see me.”

“No.” And she felt obscurely guilty now. “I guess you wanted to find out more about what happened to Ruben.”

Deborah nodded, sobering. “Isen and the sera have been telling me about being lupus. About being Rho. What it means, what it will mean. I’m . . . fairly boggled still.” She shrugged. “Also unemployed. Officially I’m on indefinite leave, but from what I’m hearing, I probably won’t be able to go back to teaching in Georgetown. Ruben’s going to have to stay at Wythe Clanhome.”

Lily crossed to the table and sat beside her. “I’m so sorry. Teaching means a lot to you.”

“I’ll teach again. It’s what I do, what I love. But not here, I guess.” She sounded sturdy, determined. Her eyes were sad. “And not soon, even though I can’t go to Ruben. That’s what I meant to do. I came here thinking someone would tell me how to find him, but I hadn’t thought it through. If I go to him, I’ll lead the—the authorities there.”

Isen patted Deborah’s hand. “It’s very strange to think of Ruben Brooks as apart from the authorities, isn’t it? We will work to repair that situation. José,” he said, turning his head, “perhaps you’d go ahead and make your corn bread.” He nodded at Lily. “I made some of my special chili. You like it, I recall, and it’s ready. We weren’t sure when you’d awake, though, so the corn bread isn’t. If you can wait a small bit longer ... but perhaps you don’t wish to. You missed lunch, and the gods only know what they fed you for breakfast in that place.”

Lily agreed that José’s jalapeño corn bread was worth waiting another “small bit” for. The Rhej pushed back her chair and stood. “May I?” the woman asked.

“May you—oh. You want to check me out. Sure.”

José went to the refrigerator and pulled out the milk. The Rhej moved behind her and rested her hands on Lily’s shoulders, humming “Amazing Grace.”

It took a while, though as usual Lily didn’t feel anything. José had time to mix the corn bread and slide two big pans into the oven before the Rhej spoke. “Your arm is completely healed, aside from a bit of scarring.”

Lily nodded. That much she knew.

“The microscopic damage in your brain is healed, too. And the circulation problems that led to it are gone.”

Grins sprang out around the table. José spun away from the stove with a huge grin. Even Deborah looked happy. Maybe they’d told her what the mantle had been up to before the Lady got it where she wanted it.

“But this is wonderful!” Isen cried. “Lily, you are no longer angry with our Lady? And not surprised at all to learn about this, I think.”

She was a great many things, too many to sort into words. But not surprised. “You’ll tell Rule.”

“Of course.”

The Rhej squeezed her shoulders before releasing her. She came around and sat next to Lily. She had a broad face, the skin a warm, friendly sort of brown, with beautifully arched brows above dark eyes with thick, stubby lashes, and the kind of smile that made you want to smile back. “You want to talk about it, honey? Because I’d surely like to hear.”

“About the Lady, you mean?”

“About her. About whatever you’d like to tell me, but I am always most interested in hearing about the Lady.”

“She spoke to me this time.” Lily paused, surprised that she’d said that. That she wanted to talk about it. “Not in words. I didn’t get words like you Rhejes do. Maybe she spoke the other time, too, but the part of me that . . . that can hear her doesn’t have words, so the rest of me didn’t know about it. But I remember her voice this time. It was a voice,” she added as if the Rhej had disputed this. “Not just a feeling or a knowing.”

“Her voice is beautiful, isn’t it? Like a purring kitten and a thunderstorm all wrapped up together.”

Small and vast, cuddly and shockingly powerful. Yes. All of that at once. A pang shot through her and she looked at Deborah. “She asked me to let her put the mantle into Ruben. She let me know what I was supposed to do for that to happen. So I knew what I was agreeing to. Not in words, I didn’t know anything in words, but I agreed. The Lady needed my permission to put the mantle into me. She needed my permission to take it out, too. So what’s happened to him is partly my fault.”

Deborah frowned. After a moment she said, “Maybe he had to agree, too. If you had to give permission, surely he would have, too.”

“If he did, there’s a good chance he doesn’t know it.” Lily shook her head. She didn’t want to talk about the Lady anymore, but there was one question she couldn’t keep back. “When I said she told me what she’d do, I don’t mean she gave details about the project. How could she turn Ruben into a lupus?”

“Ah. We’ve been discussing that,” Isen said, “at some length. I believe she first had to alter the mantle itself. Cullen said it was changing while you hosted it. I think she was—mapping human neurological paths, perhaps. Or other elements that differ from ours. Second . . . but this is your part of the story to tell.” He nodded at Deborah.

Deborah leaned forward slightly. “Arjenie Fox found something. I think I told you she’d been looking into Ruben’s genealogy for me? Well, after Ruben went through First Change, I guess everyone at Nokolai Clanhome was talking about it. At least Benedict and Arjenie were, and she got the idea to see if any of Ruben’s people could have been lupus. It seems lupi keep records. By combining her search with those records, she found . . . you have a term for it.” She looked at Isen, tossing the explanation back to him.

“A pernato. Yes. One of Ruben’s great-grandmothers on his mother’s side was the granddaughter of a Wythe Rho. One of his grandfathers on his father’s side was descended from a Wythe-Leidolf pernato, who was in turn descended from another Wythe Rho. He had the bloodline on both sides. Very thin, but it was present.”

Lily gave up trying to track the great-greats. “Pernato are the result of recessives on both sides. I get that. But why didn’t you know about him?”

“We knew about his grandfather on one side and his grandmother on the other. But beyond the fourth generation, no pernato are born, so we don’t track our descendents past that point. It’s a matter of magic as well as genealogy, you see. The recessive genes may continue to be passed down, but the power is too diluted for a lupus babe to be born. And, indeed, Ruben Brooks was not born lupus. But he possessed the bloodline.”

And the Lady, presumably, possessed the power.

Deborah chuckled suddenly. “All that fooling around on the side! Plus there’s an elf in the family tree somewhere. Ruben’s forebears were frisky folks. I’m looking forward to teasing him about that.”

The oven timer dinged. Isen pushed back from the table. “No, no, sit down,” he told José, who’d started to rise. “I’ll feed my daughter-to-be.”

Lily looked at Deborah, curious but cautious. “You seem pretty okay with all this. With Ruben turning into a lupus.”

Deborah met her eyes. “He was dying. Now he isn’t.”

“He . . . dying?” Ruben had said there was damage to his heart. That’s why he wasn’t going to head the Unit—the regular Unit—anymore. He hadn’t said dying.

Deborah smiled slightly. “He thinks I don’t know. As if he could keep something like that from me by simply not saying it out loud! But yes, he expected to die, and fairly soon, I think. Now he’s lupus. Lupi don’t get sick, don’t have heart trouble. That was the other reason I came here.” She nodded at Isen’s broad back, bent now to remove the pans of corn bread from the oven. “To find out if that was true. It is.” She rested her folded hands on the table. “ Am I okay with Ruben becoming lupus? There’s a lot about it that scares me, a lot I don’t like or don’t understand or both. But none of it matters as much as this: Ruben was dying. Now he isn’t.”

LILY was served homemade chili and corn bread by a barefoot multimillionaire with a dishtowel stuck in the waist of his jeans. Then Isen called all of the guards who were present but not on duty to join them. The kitchen got crowded. Some of them had to eat standing up, but that didn’t seem to bother them.

It was early for supper, but the food was ready, and lupi were almost always ready for food. Especially when it was steaming hot corn bread and crazy-good chili made with chunks of meaty chuck instead of ground beef.

Deborah seemed to have forgotten she was shy. Probably being immersed in an ongoing crisis helped, but mostly it was Isen. Lily was willing to bet Deborah had relaxed beneath the weight of that gentle, implacable charm within the first five minutes. He kept her talking throughout dinner.

Yesterday had been a rough day for Deborah. After watching her husband turn into a wolf and try to eat her, Drummond had taken her to Headquarters for questioning. When Deborah was finally allowed to return home, her parents had been lying in wait. They thought she should move in with them, and offered to help find a good divorce lawyer. There’d been a fight. No one was speaking to anyone else.

Lily made another mental note: call parents as soon as finished eating. “I hope you’re able to patch things up.”

“My family fights very politely,” Deborah said. “They didn’t actually say terrible things about Ruben, but everything they didn’t put into words shaped what they did say. I, on the other hand, wasn’t feeling polite. I’ll be expected to apologize. I don’t believe I will.”

Lily believed her. Could it be that Deborah’s parents had never noticed that beneath their daughter’s soft exterior lay solid, stubborn granite? If so, they were in for a rude awakening. “Where do you want to be?” she asked suddenly. “Is your home comforting right now, or too empty, or ... it may not be safe to stay there.”

“I have mentioned that possibility,” Isen said blandly. “She didn’t care for any of the alternatives I could suggest.”

“It’s my home,” Deborah said. “And yes, it feels empty without Ruben, but I’m not going to stay with my parents.”

“Understandable,” Lily said, “and not what I had in mind. You might consider that your decision affects the lupi who are guarding you.”

“But they were there for Ruben, not . . . oh.” Deborah was stubborn, not stupid. Lily watched her chew it over and realize that Ruben’s absence didn’t mean his enemies would give her a free pass. She was still a tool they could use against him. “I don’t see where I can go that would be better.”

“I was thinking of Fagin’s place.”

“I . . . that . . .” Deborah closed her mouth, thought it over. “If the elemental lets me in, you mean?”

“I’m playing a hunch here, but you can communicate with elementals pretty well, from what you said.”

“Oh, yes, that part’s easy enough. It’s worth trying. I wouldn’t need guards there, would I? I’d have to ask Fagin first, of course.”

Lily had a few things to ask him, too. “I’ll go with you, if that’s okay.”

“Tomorrow,” the Rhej said calmly as she pushed back her plate. “You need another eight, ten hours sleep. My, that was good, Isen, José. Thank you.”

Lily looked at her, surprised. “I’m healed now, remember? And I just got up from a four-hour nap.”

“And I’m guessin’ you didn’t sleep much last night.”

“No, but—”

“You’ll see.” The Rhej smiled in an annoyingly knowing way. “All that healing took a lot out of you. Stress kept you awake, I guess, at that jail, but your body wants more than the bit of sleep you gave it. You’ll crash again soon.”

She would not. There was too much to do.

“There’s something I’m wondering,” Deborah said in her soft voice. “Isen says Ruben won’t be trying to fight the Wythe wolves the way he did Scott. They’ll smell right to him, like friends.”

“They’ll smell like they’re his,” Isen corrected gently. “A wolf doesn’t smell clan and think friend. He thinks us. He feels a deep sense of belonging. This new wolf will feel that belonging, but because he is Rho, instead of us he will think mine.”

Deborah nodded seriously. “And you said Ruben is all wolf right now, so that’s how he’s thinking. Like a wolf who’s a Rho and so he’s in charge.” Her smile peeped out. “That part’s not such a change. Ruben always feels like he’s in charge. Not in a smothering way, but like he’s a shepherd with a really large flock who is also responsible for the landscape as a whole. Only he feels that even more now, being a Rho?”

Isen nodded. “Not in a smothering way, like you said. He feels responsible for those who are his clan.”

“Then why did he submit to Rule? You said earlier that Rule couldn’t use his mantle to make Ruben submit any more than Ruben could use his to make Rule submit. So it wasn’t the mantle that made Ruben submit. He did it on his own. That’s what I don’t understand. He’s not exactly submissive.”

“Ah.” Isen nodded. “I can see why that’s confusing. Humans do see submission and dominance differently than we do. Perhaps for now you could accept that submitting doesn’t make us submissive.”

“That’s for sure,” Lily said. “I’ve seen Rule submit, and it sure didn’t turn him submissive.” Isen had given her enough food for two people—or one lupus. She couldn’t finish it, but maybe one more bite of corn bread . . . she dabbed a bit of butter on a small chunk. “But there’s a whole language of submitting. They do it for lots of reasons other than establishing who’s in charge. It’s how they acknowledge a fault, settle a dispute, seal a deal between clans—all sorts of things.”

A slight frown lingered between Deborah’s eyebrows. “But Ruben didn’t know any of the—the cultural context about submitting, and he did it anyway. He agreed to let Rule be in charge.”

“He didn’t know much of anything at the time. That was the problem. But he knew Rule could beat him and he knew Rule would take care of him. That was enough.” She popped the bite in her mouth. She’d better stop now or . . . why were all the men in the room beaming at her that way? “What?”

Isen patted her hand. “You’ve learned a lot since you first came to us. We’re pleased. And now, I fear, it’s time for me to go. Pete, if you’d bring the car in front?”

Pete left. There was a bit of bustle as the rest of the lupi leaped to their feet and started bussing the dishes and Deborah tried to help. Lily took advantage of the noise to say to Isen, “I’ll walk you to the door.”

He slid her an opaque smile and told José to put on a little dish-washing music so he could have a private word with Lily. José plugged his phone into a player on the counter and they were all treated to Led Zeppelin.

Lily shook her head at Isen. “That was way less subtle and devious than I expect from you.”

“I’m a flexible man. Sometimes the straightforward way works best. You wished to escort me to the door?”

Together they headed for the front of the house. “Are you driving to New York State, then?”

“My route and means are complicated. The Mercedes has GPS, which is potentially trackable. That reminds me. Benedict tells me it’s possible to track my location through the GPS on my phone, so I’ll keep it turned off. Cullen has made sure Rule’s phone is off, also.”

She should have thought of that. Why hadn’t she thought of that?

Because she was used to being the one using government resources, not the one trying to dodge them. “How will I reach you?”

“Benedict keeps a stock of untraceable, prepaid phones on hand. I brought two with me. I’ m told these phones don’t roam well away from large cities, but having two networks to choose from may help. These are the numbers.” He stopped as they reached the parlor and handed Lily a slip of paper. “I’m glad you wanted a word with me. I wished to speak with you privately, also.”

“Oh?”

He smiled. “So wary—and rightfully. I’m offering advice, which is annoying of me, but I hope you’ll listen anyway. Has Rule seemed edgy lately? Unusually so?”

“That was a question, not advice.”

“And one you don’t care to answer, which of course is an answer of sorts. Lily, you know that we are protective of women. You’ve been in danger often since you and Rule mated. He has dealt with this so beautifully that you may not understand how powerful this instinct is for a lupus with a Chosen. I believe he’s been able to handle risk to you for two reasons. First, he knows and accepts that, being who and what you are, you will risk yourself when there is need. His wolf helps him with this,” he added. “Wolves don’t see their mates as pups to be cosseted and protected, but as partners—in the hunt, in a fight, they act together.”

She had to smile. “So it’s his wolf side, not the human one, I should thank?”

“Perhaps.” He smiled briefly. “But there is another reason. I suspect that on some level, whether he was aware of it or not, Rule has believed you would survive because the Lady would protect you.”

“That’s . . . not very reasonable.”

He sighed. “As a boy, Rule idealized the Lady. It comes of having been mothered by many, but abandoned by the woman who actually bore him. Young boys often feel a fervent love for their mothers. Rule loved the many women at Clanhome who helped raise him, but not that way. His mother-bond was with the Lady . . . or his boyish understanding of her.”

“So you’re saying he has mother issues.”

“That’s one way to put it, yes.”

And Lily was at risk now because of the Lady. Because of what Rule’s mother figure was doing with the mantle. “You haven’t gotten to the advice part.”

“Rule’s wolf still accepts and expects your need to be part of any necessary fights. But Rule the man grew out of that boy who idealized the Lady. He may not be reasonable about your safety. Be patient with him. You can’t fix this for him. You can’t be less than an equal partner. But you can be patient.”

It sounded like fortune cookie advice. That didn’t make it bad advice—just annoyingly vague. The rest of what he’d said, though . . . Isen knew people. He knew his son. She nodded slowly. “I’ll keep all that in mind.”

“Good.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Now, are you going to tell me what’s hurting you?”

“I’m not harboring any secret troubles. Just the obvious ones.”

“No?”

“I am curious about something.” It wasn’t what she’d meant to ask him about when she finagled this semiprivate moment, but... “When lupi hear moonsong, is it the Lady you hear? Her voice?”

He took his time answering. Finally he said, “This question is difficult for me to answer. We don’t usually speak of our personal experience of moonsong.”

“I’ve trespassed.”

“No.” He added a pat of his hand to his reassuring smile. “We don’t speak of it because the experience is intensely personal, so I don’t know if others would answer as I do. For me, it is not a voice, yet it is the Lady’s song. The moon is her instrument, or perhaps she is the moon’s instrument.”

“You don’t hear her in words.”

“No. If light were music, it might sound something like moonsong. One thing I know is common to all lupi. We don’t hear moonsong with our ears, yet it is very much heard, not sensed in some other way.”

Yes. Yes, that’s what it was like. Something ripped and words came spilling out. “I never wanted to be Rho. That would’ve made a mess of my life I don’t even want to think about. So I didn’t want to keep the mantle. I don’t need to turn into a wolf. I’m happy with who I am. Only I guess I’ll never hear her voice again, and that . . .” She blinked fast. Dammit. She was not going to cry. “I guess it’s pretty wonderful to hear moonsong all the time.”

Isen being Isen, he didn’t answer her with words. He folded her up in a hug, making it really hard for her to keep back the damn tears, which was stupid. Crying was just stupid. “It’s not like I’ve been longing to be lupus.”

“Mmm,” he said, and stroked her hair gently.

“It’s not like that,” she insisted. Her head rested on one broad, burly shoulder. He smelled like laundry soap and warmth. Somehow he just smelled warm. “But I wondered . . . I thought maybe that’s what the mantle was doing. Trying to turn me into a lupus. Not succeeding, and maybe damaging me in the attempt, but trying. And part of me . . . part of me thought . . .” A deep sigh shuddered out of her. “But it didn’t happen. I don’t have the bloodline, do I?” She straightened away from him. “You are not to tell Rule about me getting weepy about this.”

“Not if you don’t wish me to.”

“I don’t. And this wasn’t at all what I wanted to tell you.”

“No?” He waited, benign and patient. Buddha-wolf.

“I’m pretty sure you know about the other Unit. The Shadow Unit.”

He nodded.

“Last week Ruben asked me to join. I turned him down. I don’t know who to tell that I’ve changed my mind, but I have. I want in.”

Isen smiled slowly. “Ruben is incommunicado at the moment, of course. But he has a second-in-command. I’ll make sure Ruben’s second is aware of your offer.”