by Eileen Wilks
Paul perked up much as the wolf had, if not quite so obviously. He had an important position in hospital administration—Lily could never remember the exact title, but he made a lot of purchasing decisions and loved to talk about the technology of medicine.
She hid a smile and let Rule do his thing. His flattery worked because it was sincere. He probably was considering that stock—he maintained a diverse portfolio for Nokolai—and he did appreciate hearing Paul’s opinion of the company. And before Paul left Clanhome tonight, he would be convinced Rule Turner was an unusually astute and sensible man. One with an odd ability, maybe, but his occasional furriness would no longer seem important.
The drumming had started up again. After a moment the fiddles joined in. The regular dancing would begin soon. Lily let her attention drift away, looking for Benedict or Cullen. She wanted a word with the former, and she needed to give Cullen the . . . Wait. Was that who Beth had seen earlier?
The man she’d seen moving through the crowd was certainly Asian, but he didn’t look like Freddie. He was shorter, for one thing, and his face was rounder than Freddie’s. She thought he was older, too. She’d gotten only a quick glimpse, but he’d looked older. Plus he’d been wearing a T-shirt and baseball cap. Stuffy Freddie didn’t own a baseball cap. She wasn’t sure he owned a T-shirt.
She touched Rule’s arm. “I need to find Cullen and give him his present.”
He gave her the kind of smile he ought to reserve for when they were alone, brought her hand to his lips, and kissed it. “You’ll save me a dance.”
“Maybe two.” One dance here. One when they were alone. Lily smiled at that thought and left him to his business talk.
Ten minutes later she gave up on finding the Asian man. She couldn’t even find anyone who’d seen him. In this sea of Caucasian faces and bare chests, he ought to stand out, dammit. Any human male ought to stand out here, but the few who’d noticed an Asian man apparently meant Paul, based on what they remembered about height and clothing. No one remembered seeing anyone in a baseball cap.
Of course, that proved nothing. Lily had interviewed too many witnesses to have much confidence in human memory and attention to detail, and she had no reason to think lupi did any better.
But some of them did. Some, she realized, would have been paying attention. She nodded and started looking for a man no one would overlook.
Sure enough, Benedict was easy to find.
The fiddlers had launched into a lively song and people were making room for dancing—square dancing, she thought, from the sound of the music. Or maybe it would be Western swing. That was another thing about lupus gatherings—there was always music and almost always dancing, but you never knew what kind. It depended on who showed up and what they wanted to play.
Lily knew one of the men fiddling for them tonight. In his other life, he was first violinist at the San Diego Symphony—and no one he worked with knew he was lupus. Which was reason enough to track down Benedict. Nokolai might have gone public, but some of its members hadn’t. With the Species Citizenship Bill still bogged down in committee, some couldn’t afford to. It was legal to fire a lupus for being a lupus, and plenty of places would do just that.
Benedict was at the north end of the field near the tubs of drinks, talking to a man she didn’t know. Lily raised her voice slightly. “Benedict.”
He turned and waited, giving her a nod when she reached him. Benedict was in charge of Clanhome’s security. Now that the dance was over, he’d added some of his usual accessories to his cutoffs—a large sword sheathed on his back, a hol stered .357 at his hip, and an earbud. His phone was fastened to his belt opposite the .357.
The combination of low-tech and high-tech weaponry, bare skin, and impressive musculature gave him the look of an animated gaming character, with a whiff of Secret Service from the earbud. She smiled. “No machine gun?”
“No. I’m not expecting trouble.”
He was serious. At least she thought he was—with Benedict it was hard to tell. “That dance was really something. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
He nodded, agreeing. Maybe pleased.
“Does it mean—”
“I won’t discuss my relationship with my brother with you.”
Her eyebrows climbed. Good guess, even if he was wrong about the outcome. Sooner or later, they would discuss it. “I’ll table that for now. I have a security concern.”
He didn’t move. His expression didn’t change. Yet everything about him sharpened. “Yes?”
“I’ve seen an Asian man here I can’t account for. Not Paul—you’ve seen Paul Liu, my brother-in-law? This man is shorter than Paul and possibly older. I only got one glimpse, so I can’t give much of a description, but he was wearing a dark baseball cap and a pale T-shirt with short sleeves.”
“I haven’t seen him or received a report of him, and my people are tracking all the ospi currently at Clanhome.”
Lily blinked. Ospi meant out-clan friend or guest. “My sisters? You’re tracking my sisters?”
He smiled slightly. “I keep track of any out-clan who enter Clanhome.”
Had she been mistaken? Lily drummed her fingers on her thigh. No, she decided. “There aren’t any Asian Nokolai, are there?”
“Two,” Benedict said promptly. “Half-Asian, of course. One has a Korean mother and lives with her in Los Angeles. He’s ten years old. The other is an adult whose mother was Japanese. John Ino is fifty-seven and lives in Seattle, and I doubt he’s here today. But it’s possible.”
“Find out. I saw an Asian man in a baseball cap. He’s not a guest, and it sounds like he isn’t Nokolai.” Maybe he’d worn the cap for only a short time. Maybe he’d seen her looking for him and faded away from the crowd. Maybe he’d left altogether, in which case they were too late, but it was worth finding out. “This party would be one hell of an opportunity for paparazzi, and they make cameras really small these days.”
Benedict considered her for a moment, then nodded. “All right. Whoever he is, this man didn’t come in either of the gates. It’s possible to enter elsewhere, but only on foot. Which means he’s left a scent trail.” He pulled out his phone and hit a number. “Saul. I need you. I’m by the soft drinks.”
He put up the phone. “Saul’s got the best nose of any of my people. He’ll Change and you’ll show him where you saw the man. With so many trampling over the ground, he may not be able to pick up the scent there, but it’s a place to start.”
“Good. Why did you participate in the dance tonight?”
“To impress the youngsters so they’ll try harder.”
“That’s not the only reason. Rule danced, too, and neither of you usually does.”
His mouth curved up a fraction. “You’re perceptive. It’s annoying at times. Very well. I also sent a message. I’m not speaking to my brother, but I fully support my Lu Nuncio. It was best everyone understood that.”
So his problem with Rule was personal, not a “good of the clan” thing. “You think they’ll get that message from the dance?”
His eyebrows lifted about a millimeter. “Of course.”
Hmm. “Well, it made for a fantastic show. But how in the world did you end it that way? Even if you’re strong enough to just stop Cullen one-handed, it seems like you’d break a few bones—his, yours, both.”
“For someone who isn’t combat-trained, Seabourne’s a—”
Half the mage lights bobbing overhead went out.
Benedict’s head whipped up. Without a gesture or word or a single damned clue what was wrong, he took off running.
When Benedict moved, people got out of his way. Fast. She couldn’t come close to keeping up, but by putting everything she had into her sprint she managed to catch the openings in the crowd he created.
People called out. The music died. She lost the Benedict-driven opening and was faced with a wall of bare backs. She resorted to shoving. This crowd wouldn’t care about her badge, and she had to get through.
Rule was ahead. She felt him. Something had happened, something had gone wrong—
“Nokolai!” Isen’s deep voice bellowed. “If you are not a guard, sit down! Now!”
All over the field, they dropped. Men and women alike—even children—they all sat on the grass as their Rho had commanded. No questions, no hesitation.
Except Lily. She was Nokolai and technically not a guard, but it didn’t occur to her to sit. Not when the way was suddenly clear. Not when she could see over the heads of those in front of her.
Several hadn’t dropped to the ground. Guards. Benedict, of course, wasn’t sitting. He stood beside Isen, his eyes busy and his Glock in his hand. But he had nothing to shoot.
And Rule. He wasn’t standing, but kneeling, kneeling next to a man stretched out in the grass. At first all she saw of that man were the legs, bare like most legs tonight. The rest of him was hidden by Cynna’s crimson-clad back, bent over him, and by the woman kneeling beside her, whom Lily recognized by the hair—long, dusty gray mixed with brown, a frizzy, flya way mane trailing to her waist.
Nettie, the clan’s healer.
Lily’s feet carried her two more steps at an angle, and she saw the rest. Saw Cullen Seabourne’s body lying peacefully in the grass, his still, empty face staring up at the starry sky.
SIX
“YOU are not dead,” Cynna was saying fiercely, her hands digging into Cullen’s shoulders. “You are not. You are not dead. Dammit, Cullen, you—”
“I’ve got him,” Nettie said crisply. She’d flattened her hands on Cullen’s chest. “Cynna, get back. You’re leaking. It interferes.”
Lily couldn’t feel her feet. She was standing, so they must still be there at the end of her legs, but she couldn’t feel them. Her last breath had pulled something bad inside her, unreality spreading like poison through her body, paralyzing her. No, she wanted to say along with Cynna. No, he can’t be dead. Cullen can’t be—
Cullen’s chest quivered. It lifted, ever so slightly, then fell. His eyelids drifted closed.
Lily sucked in a breath, too. This one dispelled the poison and she hurried to Cynna. “Come on, Cynna. Move back. Let Nettie work. You’re right. You’re right, he isn’t dead, but you have to move back.”
He wasn’t dead now. Seconds ago, he had been. Or at least he hadn’t been breathing. An atavistic shiver threw goose bumps along Lily’s arms. She pulled on Cynna, who allowed it, lurching to her feet with Lily’s arm around her waist.
“He’s not dead.” Cynna’s face was dry but oddly slack, as if shock had cut the muscles.
“No, he isn’t. Look at his chest. Look at his eyes, Cynna. He closed them. Nettie did her thing and Cullen’s breathing.”
A shudder traveled through Cynna like a minor earthquake. Lily tightened her arm as the woman’s knees went soft, bracing her legs so they didn’t both tumble to the ground.
A second later Cynna stiffened, taking most of her weight again. “I’m fine,” she said. “I’m good. Cullen—”
“Nettie’s got him. She isn’t letting him go.”
As if agreeing, Nettie spoke. “Helicopter.” Her head was upright, her eyes closed, the frizzy waves of her hair hanging down on either side of her face like half-drawn drapes. “Medevac.”
“Nettie—” Isen began.
“Now.” There was no give in her voice. Iron couldn’t be harder or more certain. “Stabbed in the heart. There’s poison. It’s interfering.”
“I sent for the Rhej,” Benedict said.
“Good.” With that, Nettie shut the rest of them out, beginning a low chant.
Poison? Lily twitched, wanting to check for herself. To see if the poison had a magical component, because there were precious damned few things that poisoned a lupus.
But Cynna was leaning on her, and she didn’t want to interfere with Nettie. Who was keeping Cullen alive.
Rule already had his phone out and was speaking into it. “. . . need a medevac helicopter at Nokolai Clanhome. Stabbing victim, a heart wound, and there’s some sort of poison involved.” A pause. “That’s not acceptable. We have a doctor on scene, and she says she needs a helicopter.”
Lily glanced around. “Here,” she said to one of the men still on his feet. Shannon was a freckled, redheaded guard who looked about twenty. He was probably twice that. “Keep her on her feet.”
Cynna scowled. “I don’t need to be passed around like—”
“Yes, you do.” Lily waited until Shannon slid an arm around Cynna, then hurried to Rule, who was speaking with controlled fury to the person at the other end. She held out her hand. “Let me.”
He broke off in midsentence and put his phone in her hand. His pupils had swollen, black overtaking color in his eyes but not swallowing the whites. Yet. The edges of that black quivered as he fought back the need to Change.
He wanted to hunt and catch and kill. She understood.
Lily took his hand so the mate bond could help him hold on to his control and spoke into the phone. “This is FBI Special Unit Agent Lily Yu. I need a medevac helicopter at this location. Immediately.”
The 911 operator told her all the copters were out on other calls, but she’d send an ambulance. Lily had to let go of Rule’s hand to retrieve her own phone from her pocket . . . not the pocket that held Cullen’s present.
And she was not going to think about that. “I need a copter. You can divert one of yours, or you can call the Navy.” Naval Base San Diego was the largest in the country. They kept fully equipped medevac copters standing by. “Priority authorization for that—be quiet. This is an order, not a request. Call this number”—she read it off her own phone’s directory—“with authorization code Elder, Elder, M as in Mary, S as in Susan, six-one-one-five. Got that?” She listened. “Right. I’ll stand by while you confirm.”
While the operator made the call, Lily took in the scene.
Nettie chanted. Her expression was serene, but beneath the natural coppery pigment of her skin she looked strained. How long could she keep pouring energy into Cullen? He was pale. Shock? Could a lupus go into shock? She didn’t see any blood, not a mark on him anywhere.
Stabbed from behind, then. No sign of the weapon. Did the perp still have it, whoever he was?
An assumption there, but the odds favored a male assailant. It took strength and a great deal of skill to hit the heart with a single strike.
Was Cullen still breathing? He must be. Nettie hadn’t given up. Lily took a breath herself, as if that would help. Her palms were damp. She wiped one absently on her dress, switching hands with the phone so she could wipe the other one, too.
One of the faces in the seated crowd snagged her attention. Her sister sat beside Jason, holding his hand, about twenty feet away. Beth looked shocky, her gaze jumping all over as if she expected the next knife to come straight at her.
Lily took a single step, then stopped. Beth would have to wait.
Benedict was speaking urgently to Isen. Rule had moved away when she released his hand, and now he replaced Shannon, folding Cynna up in his arms. Several men had formed a perimeter around them, facing out—the guards, watching for another attack.
What the hell had happened?
Finally the operator came back on the line. “A naval medevac copter is taking off now. ETA ten minutes. Please stay on the line while I—”
“No,” Lily said. She disconnected and went to Rule.
“You’ve called out the Navy,” he said, raised eyebrows making a question of it.
“A naval helicopter.” For the first time, she’d used the code Unit agents were allowed to use in an emergency, one that let them call on federal forces, including the military. There might be trouble over that later. “They’ll be here in about ten minutes. We need to clear the field, make a place for them to land. When we do, I want to separate my witnesses.”
“Your witnesses?”
“For now.” She had no reason to think she had jurisdiction, but . . . but dammit to hel
l, that was Cullen lying on the ground. Someone had nearly killed him. “The nine-one-one operator will have notified the sheriff’s department, of course, but I can get things started.” Movement at the end of the field snagged her attention.
A burly man with brown hair was running flat-out toward them carrying roughly two hundred pounds of little old lady. She wore an unfitted cotton dress with an embroidered yoke and yards and yards of crinkly apple green that would have reached her ankles if she’d been standing. Lily knew how long the dress was because she’d seen the woman standing earlier. Her hair was short and white as milk. Her eyes were milky, too.
The Nokolai Rhej was entirely blind. It didn’t slow her down much, but her age did. Enough, at least, that she put up with what had to be a bumpy ride.
“Damn, boy,” the Rhej said when he stopped, his chest heaving, his body shiny with sweat. Even a lupus could tire after a three-mile run while carrying so many lumpy extra pounds. “One of us is out of shape, huh?” She chuckled as he put her down. Her face turned toward Cynna, those blind eyes seeming to pick her out easily. “You’re not crying. Good. Don’t, not yet.”
She waddled forward. The Rhej couldn’t see, no—but she didn’t have to. She was the strongest physical empath Lily had ever met. She knew her surroundings in a way most people couldn’t.
Cynna met her and put a hand on her shoulder, bending to say something Lily couldn’t catch. The Rhej shook her head, spoke quietly, then patted Cynna and moved up to stand behind Nettie. Cynna circled Cullen. As she started to lower herself to the ground, Benedict moved quickly to help her.
“Hannah,” Isen said.
That was the Rhej’s name, but normally no one used it. Even if you’d been given permission, you didn’t use a Rhej’s name in public. Apparently the Rho could, though. Lily felt a familiar frustration. No matter how much she learned about Rule’s people, there always seemed to be more she didn’t know.
“Isen.” The Rhej gave him a nod. “How much?”
“I want him alive, and we’re not in combat.”