Blood Magic wotl-6

by Eileen Wilks

  Humans did amaze him sometimes.

  He waited with the other civilians while Lily and the man with her—he worked in Homicide, Rule remembered, though he couldn’t recall the man’s name—spoke with Dreyer and the fire department official. Lily wanted to confirm that the building was safe, to find out about casualties, and to outline the particular needs of an investigation which required evidence of the use of magic. She’d called in the FBI crime scene van, but it wasn’t here yet, and much of the work of managing the scene and locating witnesses would fall to—as she put it—the locals.

  Captain Dreyer was the epitome of cooperation. Rule thought he would have agreed if she’d suggested he go home and watch Sesame Street. It was disturbing. Pleasant, but disturbing. “How long will he be like that?” he murmured to Madame Yu.

  “A day, a week.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I will admit I used more power than was necessary. He has pig eyes.”

  In other words, she’d been pissed. Like her granddaughter. He smiled. “And did you use a similar method to get past the police barricades?”

  She looked at him sternly, but her eyes were twinkling. “This is a silly question.”

  “Here’s another one. What did you trade for with Cullen to get that unlock spell you used?” Cullen was like a dragon in one way. Dragons hoarded and occasionally bartered information; Cullen hoarded and occasionally bartered spells.

  “I was very generous. I told him one way of creating a wan chi spell, which is a carrier spell. You do not know what that means, but he did. I also told him about an out-realm being who has lived in China.”

  Startled, he said, “You told him about the Chimei? When was—”

  “Months ago. Hush.”

  The slightly scruffy older man who used to work with Lily ambled up to them. What was his . . . Oh, yes, Rule remembered now. He had what sounded like two first names—Thomas James. Lily called him by his initials. T.J.

  “Ma’am,” Thomas James said, “you can head inside now. But the elevators aren’t working yet, and I understand the patient you’re wanting to visit is on the fourth floor. Do you need—”

  Madame Yu awarded his concern a single snort and started for the hospital entry.

  “Guess not.” James glanced at Rule. “I met her once before. Did Lily tell you?”

  Rule shook his head, glanced over at Lily—who waved him on and kept talking to the fire department official—and started for the hospital entry. “What was it like?”

  “Embarrassed the hell out of Lily.” He fell into step beside Rule, grinning. “She’d just transferred to Homicide and I sort of took her under my wing. Habit of mine, with the young ones. I guess she said something about that to her grandmother, because a week later Lily turns up, all stiff and embarrassed, telling me her grandmother wants to have lunch with me. To check me out,” he added in case Rule, not being a cop, had overlooked the obvious. “Not that Lily said so, of course. But Mrs. Yu didn’t have a problem saying it.”

  “You must have checked out. You seem to be intact.”

  “That,” James said after a moment, “isn’t funny. She scared the shit out of me. I laughed it off—you know, made like it was the same as being interrogated by that fourth-grade teacher who terrified you as a kid. And it was, in a way. But in another way, it wasn’t the same at all.” His brow creased. “What did she do to Dreyer, anyway?”

  Rule considered various answers, but decided to keep it simple. “Nothing permanent. The, ah, skill is one she rarely uses.”

  James grunted, looking thoughtful.

  The ability to ensorcell with one’s gaze wasn’t a human talent. As far as Rule knew, dragons were the only beings who could do it. At some point, Madame Yu had been transformed into a dragon. At some point, she’d returned to her original form—but some of the dragon magic had remained. It must have become interwoven with her being so deeply that it couldn’t be separated. Deeply enough that she’d passed a version of it down through the blood.

  That part didn’t surprise Rule. Didn’t he enjoy some degree of his wolf’s gifts even in this form? Didn’t lupi pass their magic down through the blood, even though they mated in human form?

  No, the surprising part was Madame Yu’s other ability. That seemed to have little to do with dragon magic. Rule had never heard of anyone else who could turn into a—

  “You think she put a whammy on me like she did with Dreyer?” James asked suddenly. “Put the fear into me magically, I mean.”

  “Hmm? Oh, you mean Madame Yu. No, I don’t think so. She inspires a certain caution without resorting to magic. The, ah, unusual ability she used on Dreyer. . . that experience isn’t one you’d mistake for anything else.”

  “Yeah?” His eyebrows rose in surprised curiosity. “Pulled it on you, has she?”

  “Once.” It had been terrifying. Infuriating. Then he’d learned why she’d done it—in a misguided attempt to draw demon poison from his system into herself. The woman lacked sense sometimes, particularly if she was protecting those she cared about. Again, like her granddaughter. “I was angry, but it was an unusual situation, and her motives were selfless.”

  Another grunt, this one skeptical. “You like her.”

  “Enormously.” They reached the hospital doors. With the electricity back on, they opened automatically. The air inside was cooler, but not back to its usual air-conditioned chill.

  The lobby was a mess. Firefighters and mud did seem to go together. Even here, where there had been neither fire nor hoses, there were muddy footprints everywhere. Very few people, though. A trio who looked like clerical or administrative workers were clustered behind the admissions desk, talking intently with a firefighter. There was a cop—female, young, in uniform—standing at the door to the stairwell.

  No one else. Most notably, no Madame Yu. She must have headed straight upstairs.

  “Just as well you and the grandmother get along, I guess, considering you’re going to be family.” James thrust out a hand. “Congratulations.”

  Rule shook his hand—and discovered it was pleasing, satisfying in a way he hadn’t expected, to receive this man’s well wishes. “Thank you.”

  “I was going to warn you to treat Lily right and all that, but I’d forgotten about the grandmother. I figure you for a man with some sense. You won’t want her upset with you.”

  Rule grinned. “No, I won’t.”

  “Good.” James nodded firmly, then looked pained. “I’m going to have to go to the wedding, you know.”

  “Oh?”

  “Camille will expect it. Camille’s my wife. It’s going to be a big deal, isn’t it? Written up in the gossip rags, that sort of thing.”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  James shook his head mournfully. “Thought so. Tell Lily Camille will make my life hell if she doesn’t get to go.”

  “I’ll pass that on.” Rule looked back at the doors. Lily was hurrying their way, her stride as quick and energetic as if she weren’t wilting from the heat. “I’d like a private word with Lily before we go upstairs.”

  James’s eyebrows rose. “Sure. I’ll just head up and check out this mysterious wounded sorcerer.”

  Rule winced. “I’d appreciate it if you manage not to say that too loudly. Or at all.”

  “Heh. Don’t worry about that—I’m good with secrets. Ask Lily. As for heading upstairs, I was having you on. I’ve got to see a man about his dead brother. Tell Lily—no, I’ll tell her myself. Her stuff’s in my car, and her car’s back at Rosa’s. I need to have a word with her to sort that out.” He gave another nod and headed for the doors.

  Rule watched as James stopped Lily. They spoke briefly. Lily passed him her keys. Rule did not pace or fidget. But he wanted to.

  Patience was a skill he’d acquired. He was usually good at it, though he’d no more begun that way than a pup arrives prepared to wait calmly for its mother’s milk. But patience had its limits. Or rather, he had his limits, and he’d reached them. He wanted to s
peak with his nadia. Now.

  The moment she entered, he indicated this desire by grabbing her hand. The one with his ring on it. He traced it with one finger. “Why now?”

  “It’s a bone. Also an apology.”

  “It’s a what?”

  “T.J. said I should throw Dreyer a bone to distract him. So that’s part of the reason—to give Dreyer a way to get back at me that wouldn’t be as damned stupid as whatever else he might have come up with. He’s the type who has to bite back, so I aimed him where I wanted him to go.”

  “You expect him to tell others? To leak it to the press?”

  She shrugged. “That’s the idea.”

  “He may not. Madame Yu told him not to make trouble.”

  She looked appalled all over again. “I didn’t want her to do that.”

  “I know,” he said gently. Her conscience pricked her over things that seemed to him pointless, but her discomfort was real. “It will wear off, she said.”

  “And when it does, he’s really going to want a chunk of flesh. He won’t know what happened, but he’ll be scared, so he’ll come after me and you and anyone else he can. Rule . . .”

  He ran his thumb over her ring. “Yes?”

  She sighed and looked down at her hand resting in his. “I should have asked you first. Before I started with the ‘my fiancé’ talk, I mean. I know it matters, all that PR stuff. It annoys me, but you’re the public face for your people, so the image, the spin—they matter. We don’t have time to hold a damned press conference now, so the press will probably get Dreyer’s version first. That might make it harder to spin things the way you’d planned.”

  He studied her intently. “I’m flexible, and I’m good at spin. I’ll make it work. You just wanted to distract the captain?”

  “The bone was part of it,” she agreed, nodding at their clasped hands as if it were them she addressed, not him. “The other part was the apology. It seemed like the best way to apologize for my foot-dragging was to wear the ring. But you get the words, too.”

  Now she looked up. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was an idiot, and I’m sorry I got mad at you for pointing out what I was doing. Or not doing. You were right. Not a hundred percent, but mostly right. I do need to know the why, but I don’t have to . . . I can work on the dress and the wedding stuff while I’m figuring out the why. Because the why isn’t going to change anything. I just need to know it.”

  Naturally, he kissed her.

  Rule expected her to shove him back. They were in public. She was on duty. She grabbed his shirt in both hands and kissed him as if he were air and she’d been underwater way too long.

  Rule wasn’t sure which of them eased back. Probably her. He sure as hell didn’t remember telling his hands to turn loose. Of course, his brain had shut right off, what with all the blood in his body being otherwise occupied, so he might have done any number of things without noticing.

  “Me, too,” she said hoarsely. “Oh, God, me, too. But not here. Not for hours, dammit. You could have died.”

  He found a little breath, enough to say, “I didn’t.”

  “But you could have.”

  “A lot of people could have died today, and didn’t.”

  “Well, you saved them, didn’t you? And yourself.” She shoved her hair away from her flushed face. “I need to remember that. You’re good at taking care of yourself, even when you’re dealing with a kill-happy sorcerer-assassin who can look like anyone.”

  “He can’t. Look like anyone, that is. Not without the Chimei, and he was here without her today. At least that’s what I concluded, and Sam confirmed it.”

  “Well,” she said again, and nodded as if he’d handed her an important puzzle piece, “we’d better get upstairs and see what Grandmother has to say. She was hiding. Now she isn’t. We’d better find out why.”

  TWENTY-NINE

  THE stairwell was not air-conditioned. Or if it was, it was ducted very poorly. Lily gave up and took off her jacket. With all the cops around, the sight of her weapon was unlikely to upset anyone. And if it did, she didn’t care.

  “There were actually two fires,” she said as she started up. Rule was behind her. “One on three, one on four, both near the east stairwell. He didn’t want people using that one to escape, because that was his route in and out.”

  “I didn’t think there was a fire on the fourth floor. There wasn’t anywhere near as much smoke there as on the third.”

  “Hennessey thinks that one went out all by itself. I think our perp put it out once he’d scared people away from that set of stairs. He needed to use that hallway, and he didn’t want to singe his own skin. He didn’t bother to put out the one on three because it wasn’t a threat to him.” It was the one on three that had hurt people.

  “Were many killed?” Rule asked.

  “Three confirmed. One was on a ventilator when the tech went out. One was being operated on. The third breathed in too much toxic shit, they think. That’s what kills most people in a fire, you know—the smoke. Inhale too much and your airways just close up. Anyway, three more are in critical condition—one is burned badly—and at least a dozen others are being treated for smoke inhalation, but aren’t considered critical. They don’t have a count for how many were adversely affected by the power outage.”

  They hadn’t had to die. None of them had had to die today. The bastard was killing people on her watch. “The fire was a distraction. But why a bomb? Why didn’t he just put people to sleep, go in, and kill Cullen?”

  “He doesn’t know us. Lupi, I mean. He doesn’t know what will work on us, but a major explosion will kill pretty much anyone.”

  That made sense. “You said you saw the perp plant the bomb. Did you see his face?”

  “I didn’t actually see him plant it. I saw him emerge from the alcove. I couldn’t make out his features—visibility was very poor. He’s a small man, neither bulky nor tall. Dark hair. He wore scrubs.”

  “How did you know he was the perp?”

  “At the time, it was instinct. But he was awake. He ran when he saw me.”

  She nodded. “Tell me what happened.”

  He did. When she learned Rule’d been in an elevator when the power went out, her breath hitched. That had been bad for him. He’d coped, though. He’d gotten the candy striper out, and himself—then shimmied up the elevator cable.

  By the time he finished, Lily’s shirt was sticking to her back. She reminded herself that her three-hundred-and-some-odd-year-old grandmother had climbed these stairs in this heat. She could, too.

  That’s why you didn’t mind waiting, isn’t it? she thought at Sam. You knew Grandmother was coming here. You were waiting for her.

  Sam didn’t answer, but she caught a whiff of response that felt a lot like the way Grandmother snorted when you said something stupidly obvious.

  He didn’t tell her to vocalize. Did that mean she was thinking more clearly? Or was she doing something approaching real mindspeech? How could she tell? She half expected Sam to comment on that thought—something along the lines of, “If you would learn proper mindspeech . . .”

  “Sam wants me to learn mindspeech,” she said abruptly.

  Rule spoke from behind her. “Do you want to?”

  “I don’t know. It seems like I should. Mindspeech could come in handy in some situations, but what’s the downside? There’s always a downside. And how long would it take? I don’t have a lot of free time for adult education. I guess I don’t know enough about it. I’ll need to ask him some questions before I decide.” She grimaced at the stairs rising steeply ahead. “At least with mindspeech I wouldn’t have to worry about having a conversation when I’m out of breath.”

  “It’s only one more flight. I could carry you.”

  She heard him grinning, dammit. She didn’t have to look. “With an injured arm? No, just shut up before you get me in trouble. The heat’s making me grouchy.”

  He didn’t say a word. Just moved up beside her and too
k her hand. And it did help. Some of her tension and grouchi ness slid right out.

  It was still a relief to reach the fourth floor, open the door, and step into cooler air. A burned stink lingered, but otherwise . . . “Looks pretty calm,” she observed.

  “More so than when I was here last,” he said dryly. “About those casualties . . . do you know if any of them were named Maria?”

  She looked at him curiously. “Sorry, no. I didn’t get names. Do you want me to find out?”

  “No, it doesn’t matter.”

  She was sure it did, but didn’t press him. She’d find out about Maria later.

  “You’ve the look of a dozen questions ready to erupt.”

  “Oh, I’ve got questions.” Many of them jotted down in her notebook, dammit, which was in T.J.’s car. “Lots of whys. Why does the sorcerer want to kill Cullen so badly? Why did Grandmother come out of hiding? Why did the Chimei show up now instead of last year or ten years ago or next year?”

  “I’ve a guess about the last one. The Turning.”

  She nodded. She’d thought that herself, but it didn’t really explain anything. The Turning hit last December. Why had it taken the Chimei months to show up? Had she been in China? It might take time to get her lover out of that country, even with magic helping them along. Or had she been unready in some way until now? Could they do anything to make her unready again?

  Lily didn’t know enough. That’s why she was headed for Cullen’s room instead of managing the initial investigation. Grandmother was there, and Sam was near, and they had answers.

  They’d reached the alcove that led to the quarantine rooms. They’d dusted for fingerprints, Lily saw. Good. The sorcerer was probably too professional to have made that mistake, but he’d expected everything here to go boom. He might have been careless.

  Max was parked in front of Cullen’s door, arms crossed and glaring. “Do you have any idea how boring this is?”