by Eileen Wilks
She nodded. “Here at Clanhome you’re Lu Nuncio to Nokolai, not Rho to Leidolf.”
“I haven’t had a problem holding to that agreement—until now.” His shoulders lifted in a small shrug. “Now the genie is out of the bottle, and I can’t get it to go back in.”
“He means,” Isen said softly, “that he can no longer step outside of his role as Rho to Leidolf. Not because he used the mantle. Because it’s no longer a role.”
A role happened in your head, not your heart, didn’t it? Somehow, tonight Rule became Leidolf in his heart or his gut or wherever identity is born. Somehow, that meant he was Rho all the time. She looked at him. “Does that mean that when you were out on the field and you ducked your head and said you were answering your Rho, you were only pretending to submit?”
Rule snorted, but he didn’t look amused. “Pretense is the wrong word. I can no more pretend to submit than I can pretend to walk. Either I do it or I don’t. I’m still Nokolai, still Lu Nuncio, so I still submit to my Rho, but it was…I can no longer stop being Rho.”
“And that’s a problem because of your agreement with Isen.”
“Yes, though agreements can be renegotiated if both parties are willing. The real problem arises from one of the reasons for that agreement.” He ran both hands through his hair, then glanced at his father. “I don’t know what it feels like to you, but I feel as if I’m surrounded by a repeller field.”
“Rather like having something lodged in my teeth that I can’t, for all sorts of excellent reasons, even try to dislodge.”
Lily took a sip of her coffee, puzzling through what they’d said. “The Nokolai and Leidolf mantles don’t like each other.”
Isen gave her that tired smile that wasn’t like him. “Nothing so personal, nor is it proximity that’s the problem. The Nokolai and Leidolf mantles exist in very tight proximity in Rule, after all. But something about the link between mantle and clanhome makes it uncomfortable for one Rho to be in another’s demesne. Some believe the Lady did this on purpose, to discourage clans from settling too near each other, which would lead to fighting. Others think it’s an accidental byproduct. I lean toward the latter opinion. Had the Lady meant to discourage fighting in this way, the discomfort would be more general. As it is, only a Rho experiences it.”
A brief silence fell. Lily sipped her cooling coffee and followed the logic until she arrived at…“Do we move back into your apartment, or will it take too long to break the sublease?”
His brows flew up, then drew down in a scowl. “The apartment isn’t safe.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
“I’m not going to—” He broke off, looking toward the front of the house.
“Ah, Seabourne is back,” Isen said. “I wonder why?”
Lily didn’t know what they’d heard that she hadn’t, but she was used to that. A moment later a perfunctory knock landed on the front door. She heard it open. Quick footsteps pattered down the hall, then Cullen stood in the entry, scowling. He looked directly at Isen. “I figured it out. I don’t know if you want me to say anything in front of them.” A graceful wave identified Rule and Lily as “them.”
Isen sighed and took a sip of coffee. “Indeed, I’m far from at my best. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I know why the second ward didn’t activate.” Cullen paused for a long, significant moment…then sighed. “I was hoping this was one of your convoluted schemes. I guess not. There was only one possibility, really. It doesn’t make sense, but it’s the only thing that does make sense.”
“Which you aren’t yet doing, I’m afraid.”
Cullen walked into the room and plopped down on the hassock near the window. He spoke directly to Isen. “I told you when I was setting the wards I’d make sure you were exempt. I can’t lock out my Rho or my Lu Nuncio. Or Cynna, for that matter, and I didn’t want to be bothered putting the wards up and taking them down every time I went in and out. So when I created them I built in permissions. You, Rule, Cynna, and I are permitted to cross without triggering the wards.”
Lily sat up straight. “Wait a minute. Are you saying Rule or Isen stole your thingee? Or Cynna?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Isen would’ve stopped me if he’d been behind this, and there’s no way Rule would run a deal behind Isen’s back. The thing is, there’s only two ways to build permissions into wards. You can set patterns into them that represent the people who are permitted to cross, but that’s harder than it sounds. Cynna could do it,” he added. “She’s fantastic at patterns. But it would be a big job, and at the time she was absorbing so many of the memories of the clan…I didn’t want to bother her, so I used the second option. I asked Rule and Isen for a bit of their blood.”
“Yes,” Isen said. “I remember.”
“So do I,” Rule said. “But I don’t see what this has to do with the thief, since you’ve graciously stricken us from your list of suspects.”
“It means that those of your blood can probably cross, too.”
Those of their blood…the list was pretty damn short. Toby and Benedict. That’s all Lily knew about for either Rule or Isen. As for Cynna, she didn’t have any siblings, and her mother was dead. Her father was alive, but he was in Edge. “Those of your blood, too, I assume,” she said to Cullen.
“Presumably. But a cousin wouldn’t be close enough. At least I don’t think so. Besides, Stephen is lupi, and the thief was human.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Hell. I guess we’ll have to ask—”
Isen’s phone sounded.
Rule’s father had never set up individual ring tones for his callers, so the twittery music didn’t tell her who was calling. But it had to be the Laban Rho. Who else would call at this hour?
Isen picked up his phone, but then he just looked at it as if he’d forgotten what it was, or how to operate it, or why he might want to. Before Lily could entertain any serious worries about incipient senility—which lupi didn’t suffer from—he thumbed the button. “Hello.”
Not for the first time, Lily wished for lupi hearing. No doubt Rule could hear the caller just fine. Maybe Cullen could, too, though he was farther away. All she had to go on was the peculiar look on Isen’s face—and the way Rule suddenly went rigid beside her.
Isen was very polite to his caller. “Yes, I am. Ah. Yes, my brain is almost beginning to function again. I can’t say I was expecting your call, but it isn’t the surprise it might have been.” There was a long pause as the other person spoke. “No, I assure you I did not. You won’t know what my word means, but you have it.” A short pause. “You do? Interesting…ah. You do realize that he…Perhaps so. Rule?” He held his phone out.
Rule didn’t move. “What’s going on?”
“You heard,” Isen said gently. “He wishes to speak with you.”
Still Rule didn’t move. He spoke slowly. “He said his name is Jasper.”
“Jasper Machek.”
“And he’s…” The sentence drifted off as if Rule had no idea how to finish it.
“Yes.” Isen confirmed that the way a kindly doctor might say, Yes, the biopsy did test positive for cancer. “He is.”
Rule took the phone. “This is Rule.” A pause. “We won’t discuss that now, I think. You told Isen you wished to make a deal…ah.” Rather a long pause, then, “That complicates matters.” He listened some more, then glanced at Lily, gesturing with his free hand as if he were writing. “Yes,” he said, “just a moment,” as Lily pulled her notebook and a pen from her purse and handed them to him. He jotted something down. “In the Marina District? I’ll find it…No. I can’t agree to that.” Another pause. “I don’t believe I will explain at this time. I will bring another with me who may be able to help…No, that’s not negotiable.” A longer pause. “Very well. I can reach you at this number, if necessary? Until later, then.”
He returned the phone to Isen and stood as if he were about to do something. But he didn’t. He just stood there. “That was t
he thief. He wishes our assistance.”
Cullen’s eyebrows flew up. “Our assistance?”
“He didn’t make it far with your prototype before someone in turn stole it from him. A remarkably popular item, for something that doesn’t work correctly. He lives in San Francisco,” Rule added. “We’re to meet him there at one thirty tomorrow. He wanted Cynna to come—he’s aware of her Gift—but of course that wouldn’t be safe.”
“Rule.” Lily stood and put her hand on his arm. “Why are we going to help this thief?”
“Is that what we’re going to do? I don’t know…but we’ll go.” He didn’t say anything for a long moment. “It seems he’s my brother.”
THIRTEEN
LILY drew in crisp, chilly air through her nose as her feet slapped the asphalt in an easy rhythm. In the eastern sky behind her, stacked layers of cloud smoldered in crimsons and purples that stained the bulging shoulders of the humped earth. Lower down, Isen’s home sprawled almost invisible in the early morning darkness.
One of the perks of living at Clanhome was all the options for where to run. One of the downsides was that the long commute into the city meant Lily was mostly stuck with using the road. The sun arrived late to land cradled by mountains, and Lily usually had to run early.
Not alone, however. Just over a month ago Cynna had asked if Lily would mind company a couple of times a week on her runs. Lily had said sure, though she hadn’t expected Cynna to keep it up. For one thing, Cynna was a new mother. For another, she hated running. Or so she’d always claimed.
But so far Cynna had stuck with it. The little house she shared with Cullen and their new daughter lay about half a mile west of Isen’s place, so Lily had that first half mile on her own to warm up, and the last half mile to push herself. She and Cynna ran together for two miles, total, which was Cynna’s target. Not that Cynna been able to run the whole way right off the bat. At first she’d made it to the turnaround point huffing and puffing and waving for Lily to keep going while she walked back, but she ran both ways now. Good progress for such a short time. Of course, Cynna was a tad competitive. She hadn’t liked it when Lily kept going and she couldn’t…which was one reason she’d wanted to join Lily. Motivation.
Sometimes Rule or Cullen joined them. And sometimes Rule started out with Lily, but didn’t get beyond that first half mile. The chance to stop and see Ryder for a few minutes, even if she was sound asleep, was too good to pass up. Cullen had no trouble finding someone to stay with Ryder if he wanted to run, not when they were surrounded by baby-crazy lupi. Lupi loved kids—all kids—but babies just lit them up. Give one of them a chance to spend time with a three-month-old bundle of drool, stinky diapers, and adorable little gurgles, and he’d rearrange his whole week if that’s what it took.
Baby-craving was so universal that custom forbade anyone actually offering to babysit. This was to keep new parents from being pestered to death. Cynna said that every new mother ought to get to spend the first few months at a clanhome. The only tricky part was making sure she didn’t leave anyone out. She kept a list.
Rule and Lily were exempt from the counting and listing. Everyone assumed that close friends got extra baby time, so they didn’t take offense. Isen was exempt, too. Who could be upset when the Rho spent time with his newest clan member? So Lily had seen a fair amount of little Ryder lately. She’d gotten pretty good at diapers. Burping was still not her strong point, but she could clean a teeny tiny baby butt with the best of them.
Ryder did have some adorable little gurgles.
This morning, though, she was alone as she neared the path that led to Cynna and Cullen’s place. The lights were off in the stucco cottage, which could mean everyone was asleep, but she doubted it. Probably Cullen was awake, even if Ryder wasn’t. Possibly he hadn’t gone to bed at all. Rule hadn’t.
Cynna was up. Lily hadn’t been sure she would be, not with everything that had happened last night, but she was waiting where she usually did at the edge of the road, her pale blond hair almost glowing in the dim light. Lily was surprised by the lift of relief she felt.
“Hey,” Cynna said as she fell into step alongside Lily.
“Hey, yourself. I wasn’t sure you’d be here this morning.”
“Of course I’m here. Who knows when I’ll get another chance to pump you?”
“Um.” Good Lord. Was that why she was relieved—because she knew Cynna would pump her? Did she actually want to talk about stuff? She never talked about stuff. Well, sometimes with Rule, who was a sneaky bastard and could wriggle her around into saying things.
“I guess you’re going to San Fran, huh?”
“Rule’s going, so I am.” The mate bond limited how far apart they could be. It was not consistent about this, but San Francisco was five hundred miles away, well beyond what they could expect to be okay. “Ruben thinks I should go.”
“Yeah?”
“He’s got a hunch.” Lily had called her boss last night. Ruben Brooks had a precognitive Gift that was off-the-charts accurate. When he had a hunch, everyone—up to and including the president—paid attention.
“That’s handy, since you have to go anyway. How’s Rule dealing with his surprise sibling?”
And that answered her question. Her stuff this morning was all about Rule, and Rule wasn’t talking. “He’s not. At least that’s what it looks like. You know how I don’t talk about stuff? He’s doing that times ten. Times ten on the logarithmic scale.”
“Is that a math word? Don’t talk math. He’s all shut down?”
“Not exactly.” Rule closed down when he didn’t want to talk about something. Usually Lily understood and respected that…well, she tried, anyway. But this was different. “He didn’t ask any questions. Did Cullen tell you that? This Jasper Machek calls and says he wants us to come to San Francisco and help him out, and Rule didn’t ask one question.”
“Not everyone deals with a shock by asking questions.”
“I know, but he still isn’t asking questions. He’s avoiding them. Did you know that Isen knew about this Jasper guy? Not a lot, maybe.” Lily had run a check on Machek. It turned up plenty that Isen hadn’t mentioned. “But he knew Rule’s mother had had another child a few years after she handed Rule over. He knew Rule had a brother, and he never told him. And Rule’s cool with that. So cool he left the room when I started asking Isen questions about Jasper.”
“Just walked out?”
“Not in a rude way. Suddenly he had things to do.”
“Huh.” Cynna fell silent.
Rule had said he needed to arrange their trip, including the security. A nice, valid activity, only there was no reason for him to go outside to do it. Lily had just started on her questions when Isen’s phone rang again.
That time it was the Laban Rho. Isen had told Leo that he was busy at the moment. No, he didn’t want Leo to call back. He was to wait on hold until Isen was ready to speak with him.
“I can leave,” Lily had said.
“No, I want him to wait. First he’ll be patient. That won’t last long. Leo has never mastered patience. Then he’ll be increasingly angry. That will last longer, but eventually he’ll move from anger into dread. That’s when I’ll talk to him.”
Isen had kept the other Rho waiting on hold a full thirty minutes while he talked to Lily about Jasper…and Jasper’s mother. When Isen deemed Leo sufficiently steeped in dread, he’d dismissed Lily. “If you can find Rule, tell him I want him. If you can’t, have someone track him down. He may be running.”
She hadn’t found Rule. She hadn’t found out what Leo’s fate was, either. When she came back inside, Isen had retreated to his study, and when he closed that door no one was supposed to disturb him for anything short of an emergency. Badly as she wanted to know things, she couldn’t call it an emergency. She’d gone to bed.
Cynna broke the silence. “Lupi have a word for them, you know. For their half siblings on the mothers’ side.”
Lily snorted. “Huma
n?”
Cynna flashed her a grin. “Yeah, but this word is just for that relationship. For out-clan siblings. They call them alius kin.”
“I’ve seen that word somewhere. Maybe in one of those journals the Rhej—I mean Hannah—had me read.” Before Hannah died, Lily wasn’t supposed to use her name. Now she was, because “the Rhej” meant Cynna. Thank God Cynna had told her to ignore all that no-naming-the-Rhej business. Bad enough, she’d said, that the lupi mostly wouldn’t use her name anymore. She didn’t want to stop hearing it entirely. “I thought it just meant kin.”
“I don’t know what alius kin would mean to someone who knows real Latin, but lupi translate it as otherkin.”
Kin who are other. Not us, not clan. “Like they aren’t real siblings.”
“It makes sense, if you look at the history. It used to be rare for lupi to be raised by their mothers. If the mother was married, it wasn’t to the baby’s father, and if she wasn’t, out-of-wedlock babies were a BFD for centuries. So it was normal for lupi to grow up not knowing their mothers’ families at all, and only natural they didn’t feel a close bond. Kin, not clan, you know? Chances were good their human half siblings didn’t even want to know about them, much less call them ‘brother,’ so it went both ways.” She shrugged. “A lot of lupi are raised by their moms now, at least part of the time, but the attitude has held on.”
Lily thought that over. Rule had never wanted to know if he had any alius kin, had he? He’d never asked. And yet they were going to San Francisco. Jasper called, and she and Rule were headed for San Francisco. She didn’t think it was just about the prototype. “That’s part of it, maybe.”
“But not all?”
Lily was pretty sure some of it—maybe most of it—had to do with the mother this Jasper Machek shared with Rule. The one who’d handed a two-week-old baby to Isen and walked away, uninterested in whether her son lived or died. Learning about Jasper meant learning something about that woman, didn’t it? “Her name was Celeste Babineaux. Rule’s mother, I mean. She was twenty-nine when she had Rule.”