by Eileen Wilks
A year ago he would have pounced on those questions, wrestled with them, stuck doggedly to their trail. The balance between wolf and man had shifted since then . . . a forced shift, perhaps, and acceptance had not come easily. But the new balance worked. His wolf was more present these days. If that made some situations—like hospitals—harder to navigate, it steadied him in others.
Like now. His wolf understood waiting. They didn’t know enough. Some shapes were emerging, but the murk was too thick to guess what those shapes portended. It wasn’t yet time to act, or even to choose an action.
He glanced at Lily. There was a small crease between her brows, and though she seemed to look at the cup she held, he doubted she noticed it at all. He would leave the first action to her, he decided. Soon she would begin to ask questions. The shapes would grow clearer.
For now, Rule relaxed into the moment. The air was almost painfully dry, which muted the scents it carried, but those scents were delightful—creosote, cypress and sumac, wild mustard and cholla, all overlaid with the lush moistness of the reservoir. San Miguel Mountain smelled like home to him, only without much wolf-scent. And with a good deal of dragon.
Most wolves wouldn’t care for that, and not because the smell was unpleasant. Sam’s scent was as compelling as his sinewy form, but it bore the meaty whiff of predator among its notes of metal and spice and mystery. The smell awoke the crouched beast in the back-brain, stirring the hackles, making feet twitch with the need to escape something much larger and more dangerous than any wolf could be.
Rule’s beast was calm. He knew this scent, this dragon.
The air was growing warm, perhaps unpleasantly so for humans. Rule asked Li Qin if she were comfortable here, if she required anything. She assured him it was much cooler inside Sam’s lair. He’d dug her a small “room” inside and enchanted it to remain cool. Something to do with moving the heat elsewhere, she said, through the rocks.
Rule smiled. Even the black dragon was not immune to Li Qin.
Lily asked what she could bring Li Qin. Food? An air mattress? Books? Rule’s thoughts drifted back to wolves and dragons.
Wolves prefer to run away if faced with an impossible battle—a more helpful attitude than human machismo, in his view. But Rule’s wolf knew this particular dragon. Knowledge did not make him unwary, but it settled his hackles. They weren’t friends, he and Sam, but there was respect and honor between them. Sam was deeply honorable, by his lights.
Deeply tricky, too. Rule contemplated that as he sipped.
This time, the consumption of tea seemed to settle Lily, though she hadn’t quite emptied her cup when the first question emerged, shaped as a statement. “I wish I knew where Sam went. What he’s up to.”
Li Qin spread one hand gracefully. “Perhaps he is up to something, as you say, at this moment. Perhaps he left simply so he would not be tempted to steer our conversation.”
“He did advise us to confer among ourselves. He thinks we can stir up enough answers to get started that way.” Lily frowned at her almost empty cup. “Do you know where Grandmother is? What she’s up to?”
“I do not. Sam said she is hidden.”
“That doesn’t mean she isn’t up to something.” Lily took a final sip of tea and put down her cup. “Maybe we could start the conferring by you telling us the rest of the story about Grandmother and the Chimei. You said that Sam—Sun Mzao—hoped she would stop the demon somehow. How?”
“The Chimei had taken as lover a young sorcerer, who had in turn taken control of the city. While Li Lei was in the mountains, studying with Sam, this sorcerer caused the deaths of her entire family.”
“Bloody—” Rule stopped himself from finishing the oath. “Excuse me. But . . . she was only seventeen, you said.”
“Seventeen when she went to Sam. Nineteen when her family was slain.”
“She killed the sorcerer?” Rule asked.
Li Qin nodded. “Though I do not know the details, I know Li Lei returned to Luan with that intention, and she succeeded.” She put her own cup down. “I have heard pieces of this story over many years. The questions I now wish to ask were not what seemed most important in earlier days. Li Lei never spoke easily of that time, so I did not press her.”
Lily’s fingers tapped once on the table. “She didn’t explain when she asked you to take refuge with Sam?”
“She said she was unable to. She was clearly frustrated by this.”
“This treaty Sam talked about stopped her from talking about it now, but it didn’t stop her before.”
“So I assume. I do not know.”
Rule said, “Sam spoke of intent as a factor.”
Lily’s gaze flicked to him. “He did, didn’t he?”
“I cannot claim to know another’s full intent,” Li Qin said placidly. “However, I do not think she told me anything so I would be able to act against the Chimei, should the need arise. I would say her motives were quite personal.”
“Hmm.” Lily’s fingers drummed on the table again. “But Grandmother did kill the sorcerer who killed her family. You’re sure of that.”
“Li Lei is certain of it.”
“The thing is, it looks like the Chimei . . . Does she have a name?”
Li Qin turned her palms up. “I do not know it. Could any being not possess a name?”
“I don’t know. Dammit, I left my notebook in the car. Never mind,” she said to Rule when he started to rise. “I’ll take notes later. What I mean to say, Li Qin, is that it looks like our Chimei has hooked up with a sorcerer again. That’s not definite, but it’s a strong possibility.”
“Ah. No, I do not believe this could be the same sorcerer. However, many folktales speak of men who unknowingly take a demon or spirit as wife or concubine. This is a common theme. I mentioned this to Li Lei recently, thinking it was funny to assume a spirit would wish for a human wife. She said she didn’t know about spirits, but for a demon, mating with a human was the only way to be in flesh.”
“In flesh?”
Li Qin tilted her head, considering that. “No, I believe ‘in body’ would be closer. Her words were zài shen ti. It’s an odd phrase, which is why it stayed with me. At the time, I thought she made a naughty play on words—to be in a body, to be in a woman. Now I wonder if she meant this physicality Sam spoke of.”
Lily glanced at Rule. “Shen ti is like body or health. Zài sort of means in, but not exactly. You’d use it to say you were in a location, or in the middle of doing something. Or if you use it a different way, it just means to be, to exist. So that fits. It works.”
He nodded. “You think the Chimei’s bond with her lover is necessary for her to . . . How did Sam put it? To reconstitute her physical portion.”
“Sure sounds possible. Sex magic is an old tradition, and if she always picks a sorcerer for a mate, it may be she needs him to do a ritual or something. We can ask Cullen what he thinks later.” She looked at Li Qin again. “Do you know if, when Grandmother killed the . . . Shit.” Her phone had chimed. “I’m surprised I’ve got reception out here.”
Li Qin smiled. “Oh, Sam arranged for me to have bars here. He did not want me to feel isolated. I think, too, he is curious about technology and wished to see if he could do this.”
Lily flung her a startled glance, but whatever number she saw on the phone’s display had her answering crisply, “Lily Yu.”
“Sam is able to boost coverage for a cell phone?” Rule asked Li Qin. He didn’t precisely listen to Lily’s conversation while he spoke to Li Qin, but he didn’t precisely not listen, either. He felt a frisson of displeasure when her caller turned out to be Deputy Cody Beck—and felt annoyed with himself for the annoyance.
“I do not know how it works—but then, I do not know how cell phones work, either.” She smiled. “I believe Sam understands it better than I.”
“There would be a huge commercial potential, if what he does could be duplicated.”
“I do not think Sam approves of mone
y. Not for dragons, at least. He says he does not want his promises scattered all over, nor does he accept promises promiscuously.”
Money as a collective promise? It was an interesting take on the subject. “Still, if he’s found a way to make magic and technology coexist, or even work together . . . hmm.” It gave him something to consider for the favor Nokolai would eventually claim, once they finished negotiating.
Lily disconnected. “We’ve got to go.”
“What’s up?”
“Cody’s found a body for me.”
THE body, it turned out, was already at the Medical Examiner’s.
“So this victim was killed by a single thrust to the heart.” Rule started the car, put it in reverse, and twisted around. He needed to get the vehicle turned around here, where Sam’s landing pad gave him room to maneuver.
Lily clicked her seat belt into place. “Looks like. The responding officers didn’t spot it, but no shame to them. The body was found yesterday, but the victim had been dead awhile. In this heat . . .” She shrugged.
Rule’s nose twitched in sympathy. “They know anything about the victim yet?”
“If so, Cody didn’t have it. Just that the man had been stabbed from behind by a thin blade that penetrated the heart. No suggestion magic was involved, but there wouldn’t be. Um . . . you don’t have to go in with me.”
“I’m perfectly capable of controlling myself.”
“Sure, but you hate that place.”
Rule disliked morgues with both of his natures, but it was the wolf who truly hated them. Rule wasn’t sure why. Wolves weren’t upset by the deaths of strangers, but for some reason, the presence of all those bodies made his wolf anxious. Cemeteries didn’t affect him that way. Just morgues. “I’m not fond of waiting in the car, either.”
“Okay. What about your bodyguards? Going to have them meet us there?”
“They won’t be much help against a killer who could make them think no one was around. Or that you were attacking me.”
“True.” She pulled out her phone. “I’m going to call my mother.”
His eyebrows rose. “Voluntarily?”
“I just want to make sure . . . rats. It went to voice mail. Ah—Mother, this is Lily. I need to talk to you about something important. Give me a call, okay?”
“You want to make sure she’s okay,” Rule said as she disconnected.
“I want to make sure she actually wears that charm. Mother tends to discount what Grandmother says, which I guess I can understand, because Grandmother doesn’t ask—she commands. And she seldom explains. But telling Mother to wear a dragon scale charm doesn’t mean she’ll do it.”
True. “Madame Yu must be aware of that.”
“She ought to be, but there’s this dynamic in our family where Mother usually agrees with Grandmother, then does things the way she wants. So she might have nodded and agreed to wear the charm, but—” Her phone interrupted with the opening bars of “The Star Spangled Banner.”
That particular ring tone meant her boss, Ruben Brooks. She answered right away. “Hi, Ruben. You must be psychic or something. I was just going to call.”
Since Brooks was, indeed, psychic—his Gift was precognition, or awareness of events before they occurred—that was meant as a joke. But Brooks didn’t laugh. Rule had no trouble hearing his response. His hearing might not be as acute in this form as in his other one, but with Lily’s phone so close it would be hard to not overhear.
“Lily, I had a disturbing dream last night. Or a series of dreams, rather, centered on San Diego.”
“I didn’t think you did dreams.”
“Normally my Gift doesn’t manifest that way, no. On the rare occasions that it does, it generally means there’s the possibility of a massive loss of life. I have a feeling it would be unwise to bring in troops at this point, but I’m unsure what steps I should take.”
TWENTY-ONE
RULE saw Lily jolt. He felt the same shock in himself, a nasty, crawling certainty that things were about to go spinning out of control.
“Troops?” Lily repeated. “Like the Army? You’re thinking of calling in the Army?”
“No, I’ve decided I’d better not. I’ll explain. I dreamed of a series of possible scenarios. Many of them involved widespread arson, rioting, violent mobs—the complete breakdown of civil authority in San Diego. However, in some of the dream sequences, this breakdown wasn’t limited to San Diego. I don’t wish to alarm you, but there is a possibility the upcoming crisis could infect the entire nation. Maybe several nations.”
“We just got warned about something like that,” Lily said slowly. “Really bad shit that could happen all over the world.”
Ruben’s faint sigh suggested relief rather than increased tension. “Then I called the right person. Good. For some reason I doubted . . . Never mind.”
“Do you have any feel for how close the crisis is?”
“Hmm. I can’t answer that precisely. I’ll try to frame this better. That I dreamed of so many sequences suggests there are many decision points that could lead to what I saw. Some of those decision points may be fairly immediate. I believe my first impulse—which was to ask the president to put the National Guard on standby alert—was one such decision point. I decided that bringing in the military would increase rather than ameliorate the potential disaster. Do you know why that might be?”
“Shit. Shit. Maybe. Let me pull my thoughts together. We’ve just been to see Sam—Rule’s with me—and what we learned has to explain those dreams. He said . . .” Her voice trailed off. A strange look spread over her face, as if she’d bitten into a steak only to have her teeth grind against steel. “He told us about this being, this . . . He said that I . . . There’s . . . Oh, hell.”
Lily thrust her phone at Rule. “I can’t. I can’t say any of it.”
He took the phone, thinking fast. Lily had been able to discuss the Chimei with Li Qin, so why . . . but Li Qin already knew about the Chimei. Ruben didn’t. That must be the difference. “Ruben, this is Rule. I’ll have to brief you. Lily has just discovered she’s unable to speak to you about this. There’s a geas—an inherited binding—that’s tied to Lily’s Gift rather than being repelled by it. This geas prevents her from saying more.”
“Hello, Rule.” Ruben’s voice was polite with a hint of wary. “What in the world is going on out there?”
Lily watched him, intent and furious. He wished he could take her hand, but both of his were occupied. “I need to ask you something. It’s after noon, your time. Clearly you waited several hours to call Lily. Earlier, you said you had doubts, but didn’t explain. Were you uneasy about speaking with Lily?”
“Yes, I thought our conversation might be or might precipitate one of the decision points.”
“Do you have that feeling about speaking with me?”
Ruben was silent a moment. “Actually, it’s stronger than before.”
“All right. Let me think a moment.”
Lily spoke very low. “Rule, you have to tell Ruben.”
“Do I? It seems that the treaty considers Ruben pivotal, or it wouldn’t have stopped you. Ruben has an uneasy feeling about talking with me. This—my revealing information—could be one of those indirect actions Sam spoke of which can break the treaty.”
“Or it could be exactly why Sam brought you in—so you could pass on information I can’t!”
That was what had his mind spinning, trying to guess at ramifications that were essentially unguessable. Sam had included Rule in his briefing. That had been choice, not necessity, so it meant something, but what? “He made me part of this, though the treaty’s geas can’t act on me, and the treaty didn’t stop him. Therefore it must be possible, even probable, for me to act in ways that don’t break the treaty.”
“I’m finding my end of this conversation interesting, yet frustrating,” Ruben said.
“Sorry. I was speaking to Lily. I should have put you on mute. There are ramifications to your learning
too much right now.”
“There are also ramifications from my knowing too little, which is where I am right now.”
“I’m sorry,” Rule repeated, “but I have to put you on mute for a moment.” He touched the screen.
Lily was ready to erupt. “Dammit, Rule, we can’t just sit on this!”
“Before we act, we have to figure out why Sam brought me into this—and why the treaty let him.”
“He did it so you could speak of all the things I am so damned not able to!”
“That’s one possibility.” Rule trusted Ruben as much as he did any non-clan human, but telling the man about the Chimei and the treaty would hugely increase the variables. “Here’s another one. What if Ruben decides he can’t rely on you, since you’re being affected by an outside agency?”
“He wouldn’t pull me. Someone else wouldn’t have the geas getting in the way, but the Chimei or her lover could affect them.” Her voice was crisp. She was thinking again, not just reacting.
“But Ruben might not accept my word for that. And it would be my word, not yours, since you can’t speak to him about this.”
“Shit.”
“Yes.” And that was only one of a half dozen ways this could go wrong. A half dozen he could glimpse—how many more was he missing?
He couldn’t afford to bring Ruben in. He couldn’t control the decisions Ruben or those he informed might make. Maybe Ruben wouldn’t bring in troops, but the president could overrule him. Adding Ruben to the mix meant adding a spiraling number of decision points.
No, that wasn’t quite accurate . . . Withholding information didn’t mean Ruben wouldn’t act. He’d simply do so in the dark. “Bloody blast it all. Does Sam expect me to figure out what he thinks I’d do, then do it? How do I know what a dragon thinks I would do?”
Grudgingly, Lily said, “Sam knows you best as a wolf. He’d predict your actions based on the wolf, not the man.”
Yes. Yes, that made sense. He flashed her a smile, then fell silent, letting himself slip partway into wolf . . . and gradually, many of the difficulties dropped away. His choices were fewer and clearer.