World of Lupi 10 - Ritual Magic

by Eileen Wilks

  He sounded like a nice man, though. Maybe that was why she felt a tiny bit better. She didn’t want a husband, nice or not, but Edward Yu seemed to know that.

  Still, she didn’t want to think about him. She folded the note up again and tucked it inside the Christmas photo album. She was not ready to look at the pictures in either album. She was glad she had them, but she wasn’t ready to see how faded and old those pictures looked. She picked up the Magic 8 Ball and thought hard: Will I get all of my memories back? And shook it.

  First it said, “Reply hazy, try again.” When she did, it said, “Better not tell you now.” That made her mad enough to throw it across the room, but she didn’t. She didn’t have many things from before. She wouldn’t break one just because it made her mad.

  Her bladder reminded her that she still needed to get dressed, so she opened the top drawer. Pajamas. Panties. Bras. She grimaced. She’d started wearing a bra this past summer, which was really a whole bunch of summers ago. She hadn’t especially needed one, but all the girls wore them, so she had to, too. But these bras were bigger than what she’d been wearing.

  Of course they were. She had boobs now. When she’d gone to the bathroom at the hospital she’d checked them out. They were not very good boobs, being kind of droopy. That made her mad. At some point she’d probably had great boobs, but now she didn’t remember it.

  Funny. She didn’t exactly like her body, but she didn’t hate it as much as she had at first. Maybe Sam had done something about that, too.

  A bra would help with the droopiness. She sighed and took one out.

  Even though she didn’t remember this body, it seemed to know what it was doing. It was taller than she remembered, but that didn’t make her trip over things. Muscle memory, one of the doctors had called it. Her muscles remembered how to walk, and it turned out they remembered how to put on a bra, too.

  The panties were not the plain white cotton she was used to. These were grown-lady panties, several of them with lace, a couple of them nothing but lace. She pulled out a pair of black ones and put them on the bed, then looked for stuff to wear on top of the bra and panties.

  The next drawer held shorts and tops. Good enough. She got out some khaki shorts and a green top.

  Someone knocked on her door. She jumped. “Yes?”

  “It’s Lily Yu,” a female voice said. “The FBI agent. Rule says you’re awake, and I . . . may I come in?”

  A little thrill of panic shot through her. “If he knows I’m awake, how come it’s you instead of—” She flushed. “I’m sorry. That was rude.”

  “It’s okay. I know you’re more comfortable with Rule, but I wanted to talk to you before I leave.”

  “I’m not dressed.”

  “There’s a robe in the closet.”

  Lily Yu wasn’t going to go away. She lived here. Reluctantly Julia went to the closet. It was small and full of clothes, but not like anything she’d ever worn. Grown-up clothes. They made her sad, so she was glad when she found the robe. That was pretty—lots of fuzzy watercolor flowers all over, and silky. Maybe it was real silk. She slipped it on and stroked the slinky fabric. Real silk was expensive. Was she rich? Or maybe her . . . maybe Edward was.

  Julia scowled. She was not going to think about him. “Okay,” she said to the stranger on the other side of the door.

  It opened. The woman who was supposed to be her daughter was wearing black slacks and a stretchy black shirt under a bright blue jacket. Her hair was long and shiny, but she’d pulled it back in a plain old ponytail. It didn’t look like she’d used any makeup. She really ought to. With a little effort she’d be gorgeous. Right now she mostly looked tired.

  She did not look anything like Julia. Julia had a heart-shaped face. Lily Yu’s face was more oval, plus she had a better chin. Julia hated her chin. “Hello,” Julia said cautiously.

  “Hi. I, ah . . . this is pretty weird, isn’t it?”

  “It is super weird! I mean, I’m supposed to be your—your—” She couldn’t even say it.

  “But you aren’t.” Miss Yu’s voice was matter-of-fact. “You look just like my mother, but you’re someone else. Someone named Julia Lin, who I never really had a chance to know. We both have to get to know each other, don’t we?”

  “I guess so.” Julia tucked her hair behind her ear and wished she’d had a chance to brush it. Lily Yu looked very pulled together, even if she wasn’t wearing any makeup. “Miss Yu—”

  The woman winced. “Could you call me Lily? I know that’s not what you’re used to, and I know we’re basically strangers, but it sets off my freak-o-meter for you to call me Miss Yu.”

  Freak-o-meter. Julia liked that. She repeated the phrase mentally so she’d remember it. “I’ll try, but you have to promise not to get mad if I forget.”

  “Deal.”

  “I asked Mr. Turner if I could stay here, but I didn’t ask you if that was okay. I should have.”

  “Don’t worry about it. You didn’t have a chance to ask me, did you?”

  “Because you’ve been working. Trying to find whoever did this to me.”

  She nodded. “And to some other people, and I have to leave pretty soon so I can keeping working on it. Rule will stay here today, unless something happens that changes things. I know you feel better when he’s around.”

  Julia nodded, feeling awkward.

  Miss Yu smiled a little bit. It was the kind of smile grown-ups use when something’s sort of funny, but mostly oh, geez. “I feel better when he’s around, too. Ah . . . I wanted to see you before I left, only now I’m not sure what to say. What to do.”

  That made two of them.

  Miss Yu—Lily—looked around the small room. Her gaze lingered a minute on the bed. “I see you found something to wear. The woman you grew up to be is . . . was a bit of a clotheshorse. Very stylish. But her clothes probably aren’t the sort of things you’re used to wearing.”

  “They’re pretty, but they aren’t . . . they just . . . I don’t know how to be an old woman!” All at once she felt horridly close to tears.

  “Then don’t try. You don’t have to make yourself fit what you think your body says about you.” This smile wasn’t oh, geez, but it wasn’t happy, either. “You may want to get some different clothes later. Are you hungry? The kitchen’s out of commission right now, but we’ve got—”

  A ridiculously loud noise interrupted her. “What’s that?” Julia had to raise her voice to be heard.

  “I think it’s the wet saw. They use it to cut tiles. Rule did tell you that the house is a disaster area, didn’t he? We’re having a lot of work done. Most of the work’s downstairs, but they’ll be up here, too, trying to get at least one of the bathrooms finished. That’s why you don’t get eggs this morning. No kitchen. But we’ve got croissants and fruit and cereal and bacon.”

  “How do you fix bacon if the kitchen isn’t working?”

  “In the microwave. Um . . . I guess microwaves are new to you.”

  “I’ve heard of them,” she said, indignant. “That’s another word for electronic oven, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know. Want to see how it works?”

  “I guess.” Some bacon would be good, too. Her stomach didn’t feel icky anymore, but it did feel empty. “I need to get dressed. There, uh, there seems to be a lot of people here.”

  “Grandmother is staying with us, too, and her companion, Li Qin. They’re still asleep. You met Grandmother.”

  Julia nodded. “She said to call her that, even though she isn’t my grandmother.”

  “Then you probably should.”

  “That’s okay. I kind of like her.” For one thing, Grandmother was really old—even older than Julia’s body, which made her feel less of a freak. Plus, she made Julia feel steadier. Not the way Mr. Turner did, but it was like you knew you could count on her. She’d boss y
ou around a lot, but you could count on her. “I thought I heard Mr. Turner talking to another man, too.”

  “That would probably be Scott. He’s one of the guards. Did he explain why we have guards?”

  Julia’s eyes were big. “Guards? Does it have something to do with him being . . . uh, I think I’m not supposed to say werewolf.”

  “They prefer to be called lupi. He told you about that?”

  “Sam did. He didn’t tell me about any guards, though.”

  “Rule is the Rho of one lupus clan. That means he’s their leader. He’s also sort of the assistant Rho for another clan. Rhos always have guards. You don’t seem upset about him being lupus.”

  Julia shook her head. When she thought about Mr. Turner being able to turn into a wolf it made her feel like when she stood in line for the roller coaster. As if something exciting was going to happen, even if she wasn’t sure if she’d like it. But it didn’t upset her.

  “I guess I’d better let you get dressed.” Miss Yu—Lily—moved to the door, but then stopped with her hand on the doorknob and looked at Julia. Her face said there was more she wanted to say, but instead she shook her head and smiled in that I’m-making-myself-smile way and left, closing the door behind her.

  Julia didn’t go to the bed and get her clothes. She grabbed the almost-empty glass, drank the last of the water, and went to the door. She put the glass on the door and her ear on the bottom of the glass. She used to do this at Mequi’s door when her sister and her friends were giggling about boys. You could learn a lot that way.

  On the other side of the door, Lily Yu dragged in a deep breath that broke in the middle, like when you’re trying not to cry. Then Mr. Turner said something quietly, but he was close enough that Julia heard him. “Was it as hard as you feared?”

  “Yes. How did you trick me into doing that, anyway?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “I was pretty fuzzy last night, but I remember enough. You tricked me.”

  “No, but I did expect you to change your mind. You’re not very good at refusing to deal with things, nadia. It took everything I had to persuade you to stop dealing with every damn thing long enough to get some sleep.”

  “That was the trick.”

  “Mmm,” he said, which was not an answer but seemed to satisfy Lily Yu, who didn’t sound mad when she said she had to go if she was going to stop by the hospital first to check on Nettie. They moved away from the door then, and though they were still talking, Julia couldn’t hear what they said.

  Julia straightened, feeling guilty for eavesdropping and angry for no reason she could tell. And alone. So horribly alone. There were people on the other side of that door, and some of them knew her and seemed to care about her. But she didn’t know them. She didn’t want them.

  The people she wanted didn’t exist anymore. Even the ones who were still alive—like Mequi, who looked so old—weren’t the people she remembered.

  Someone knocked on the door. “I’m not dressed,” she said crossly, but she grabbed the clothes again.

  “If you don’t let me in,” a young voice said, “Dad will be back upstairs in a minute and he’ll make me go away. He didn’t tell me I couldn’t talk to you, but that’s what he meant when he said it wouldn’t be a good idea. He thinks I’ll say something to upset you.”

  Everything upset her. Some dumb boy probably wasn’t going to make it any worse. Julia yanked up the khaki shorts. “Hold on a minute.”

  Shorts fastened, T-shirt tugged down, Julia opened the door. The boy who slipped inside was a lot shorter than her. How old had Mr. Turner said his son was? Nine, she thought.

  A big tomcat slinked in behind him. The cat was orange and missing part of one ear. He ignored her to stalk past and jump on her bed.

  “Is that your cat? Does he have fleas?”

  “Of course he doesn’t have fleas. Dirty Harry is really Lily’s cat, but he’s adopted me. That’s what Dad says, anyway.”

  She watched the cat making himself comfortable on her bed. Mama didn’t like cats, especially not in the house. Houses are for people, not livestock, she said . . . used to say. Julia frowned at the boy. “I’ve forgotten your name. Mr. Turner told me, but I forgot it.”

  “I’m Toby. And you’re . . . well, I used to call you Mrs. Yu, but now you’re just Julia, I guess.”

  Toby looked a lot like his father done up smaller, with a softer face. “How come you aren’t in school?”

  “It’s Saturday.”

  Saturday. Saturday was for cartoons. She still watched Tom and Jerry, anyway, with Deborah, who was little enough to watch a lot of cartoons. Saturday was also for getting together with Ellen and Ji after she’d done her chores, and . . . and Ellen and Ji were old ladies now.

  “Are you going to cry?”

  “Maybe.” But she jutted her chin out instead. “So what did you want? Curious about the freak?”

  “I thought you might like to hang out with another kid. Maybe you’re not sick of being around grown-ups every minute. I would be, but maybe you aren’t.”

  Her stomach loosened up a bit. “I guess I am. I haven’t even seen another kid since . . . since everything changed.”

  “I guess you’re all weirded out. Do you know about PS3? I really want a PS4, but Dad says not yet, which means wait for my birthday. I’ve got some cool games. You might like Ratchet and Clank or Lego Pirates or Skylanders. Skylanders is my favorite. Or we could play online stuff, though Dad won’t let me sign up for a lot of those games. He says no graphic bloodletting on-screen until I’m old enough to understand about bloodletting in real life, and then I probably won’t want the on-screen kind, which kind of sucks. But that’s what I do when I’m upset if I can’t go run or something.”

  Julia’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “What’s what you do?”

  “Play games on my PlayStation or computer.”

  Whatever that was. “Why did you say that about bloodletting?”

  “Did I upset you? Grandad says humans think about that sort of thing different than we do ’cause they sublimate their violence. Wolves don’t sublimate very well.”

  She blinked. “Are you a . . . I forget the word, but like your dad?”

  “Yeah, but I won’t turn wolf for another couple years. Do you want to play Skylanders?” He studied her a moment. “You don’t know what I’m talking about. C’mon. I’ll show you.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  “SHE’S what?” Lily wedged her phone precariously between her shoulder and her ear while she hit send. Another day, another damn report. This one was short because she didn’t have much to add to the one she’d sent last night, just a summary of the false lead she’d chased that morning.

  It was noon. She was in the conference room at the Bureau’s San Diego office, which shared a building with the ATF. The two organizations were a tad competitive. ATF was currently all-over smug because of a recent raid on a militia group that had netted them all kinds of illegal weapons, which made them harder than usual to get along with. But mostly the two agencies managed to cohabit reasonably well . . . except when it came to parking. They fought over the limited parking spaces like a pair of starving cats with a single mouse.

  Lily had a tiny office of her own, but it was downstairs in what was mostly ATF territory, so she preferred to commandeer the conference room in spite of certain drawbacks, like having the men’s restroom on the other side of one thin wall. She heard every flush. But the women’s restroom was close, too, which was handy, and so was the break room. And there was enough room to set up a murder board here.

  Through the closed door, Lily heard a phone ringing. She also heard Fielding’s iPod, which was playing “Hotel California” for the sixteen-thousandth time. In a minute it would change to “Dani California,” then Chuck Berry’s “California,” then “California Dreamin’.” Fielding—a recent transpla
nt from Massachusetts—had the office closest to the conference room, and he really liked songs about California. His playlist, however, was sadly limited. Lily didn’t understand why no one had accidentally spilled coffee on the man’s iPod.

  Eleven more people had been admitted to hospitals with some level of amnesia. Two of those already admitted had slid into coma. Two more were on life support. The database of their victims’ lives had finally provided a connection. Fourteen—including Lily’s mother—had gone to the same high school. One of them had been close friends with Julia for two of her high school years, though according to Aunt Mequi the friendship had soured the summer before their senior year. Something to do with a boy. Two agents were at that high school now, poring over records.

  The murder board for the ritual killing hung on the north wall of the conference room. They still didn’t know whose face starred in the crime scene photos, it being tricky to get an ID without a body. They did have the man’s fillings—two gold, two composite—and the scarf he’d been gagged with, but the scarf was a cheap import available by the thousands, and even the best forensic dentist couldn’t learn much from four fillings.

  That fit right in with the trend on this case. All they had were negatives. Their John Doe hadn’t been reported missing. He didn’t have a police record in California or those states participating in the NGI program, and Homeland Security was pretty sure he hadn’t been a terrorist. Either he hadn’t had much of an online presence, or what showed of his face above the gag wasn’t enough for facial recognition software to ID him using Google and Facebook. Although they’d turned up enough near misses that way to keep a couple of agents busy crossing those people off the list.

  “Playing Skylanders with Toby,” Rule repeated. “I had to drag her away to eat breakfast.”

  “That’s good, I guess. Surprising, but good.” Lily’s mother wasn’t a complete tech illiterate, but she didn’t much like it. Or didn’t approve of it, anyway. God knew she considered texting some kind of major social sin. “At least she isn’t, ah, quite so dependent on you.” Following him around in a moony, preadolescent way, that is.