by Eileen Wilks
“So did I help?”
“Yes.” Not that everything had clicked into place. Lily didn’t have Cynna’s craving for family. She wasn’t convinced families were made only with official sanction, anyway. So Cynna’s reason wasn’t her reason, not exactly. But it gave her a line to tug on—just like with an investigation, really. She felt that little stirring that said she was headed in the right direction. “It did. I . . .” Her phone beeped. She glanced at the display. “Ida’s calling. I’d better take it.”
“Okay. If you need me to Find something, though—” Cynna interrupted herself with a yawn.
Lily chuckled. “Maybe later.” She accepted the call. “Lily Yu here.”
Ruben’s secretary was one of those people with a voice that didn’t match anything else about her. She spoke crisply, which fit, but the voice itself should have belonged to a torch singer or a longtime smoker. “Interpol is sending you information on a Chinese man who is suspected of performing multiple hits over at least a decade,” she said briskly. “There is no photo, but there is a composite sketch which is included as a JPEG file. Would you like me to send that to the state and local law enforcement agencies with a description, noting that he is a person of interest in this investigation?”
“Yes. Hot damn. Yes.”
“Very well. He is thought to have used various names, which will be listed in the file you receive. They believe he’s been using Johnny Chou most recently, though that was over a year ago. His preferred style is a single knife-thrust to the heart. Shall I contact Homeland Security to see if they have any record of him entering the country?”
“Absolutely. Though without a photo . . . will they have any way of checking records for him?”
“The facial recognition software won’t work with a sketch. You are correct that it’s a long shot, but they should be made aware.” She paused. “I apologize for not having extended your original search to include international agencies. You are new to this work. I should have offered you more direction.”
An apology from Scary Ida? Lily automatically responded with the kind of formality she might have used with Grandmother—had Grandmother ever done something as outrageous as apologize. “If you want me to accept your apology, I will, but I’m aware that the failure was mine. Thank you, Ida.”
Ida cleared her throat. “I would like to ask a favor.”
The mind just kept boggling. “Sure.”
“Agent Weaver was kind enough to allow me to be a hostess for her shower, even though I was unable to attend. And then this—this terrible thing happened. I’m reluctant to contact her myself when she must be terribly worried, but I am anxious for her. Would you let me know when you have news about her husband?”
So Lily got to share the good news first with, of all people, Ida.
Once she ended that call, she made another. To Rule. He picked up right away. “You heard?” she said.
“I did, and God and the Lady bless Sam for it.”
She laughed. “That’s very ecumenical of you. Cynna said Cullen used a spell Grandmother taught him.”
“Hmm. Yes, I think it was the spell Cullen traded his unlocking spell for, several months ago. This was when she told him about the Chimei.”
Lily contemplated that in silence for a moment. “No,” she said at last. “Grandmother is many things, but she isn’t pre-cognitive or prescient or any of that fortune-teller stuff. It has to be coincidence.”
“Madame Yu may not be prescient,” Rule said slowly, “but what about Sam?”
“Why does that creep me out? Ruben doesn’t creep me out.”
“Maybe because you know that Ruben doesn’t see specific, detailed events that are months or years in the future. He doesn’t manipulate the rest of us to meet those events in a specific way.”
“Oh, geez, yeah, that’s it. You think Sam could have known that much, that far ahead?”
“I have no idea. But the possibility creeps me out, too. I’ve decided not to think about it.”
Probably a good approach, she decided. “How’s Toby?”
“Busy. Excited. He and several others in his age group will be sleeping under the stars tonight. Supervised, of course. They left with Travis a couple hours ago.”
“He’s doing okay, then.” Toby had been through a lot, including being kidnapped by a nutcase who thought she could put her dead son into Toby’s body. He’d been in a drugged sleep during the rescue, so he hadn’t seen the woman killed—which was high on Lily’s list of things to be grateful for.
For a while, Toby had clung to Rule, feeling safe only when his father was near. Once they got to San Diego, though, he’d seemed to relax. “He’s felt safe at Clanhome. I hate to think that’s changed.”
Rule thought Toby was finding his footing, although, as he said, it was impossible to know what a nine-year-old was thinking. But he considered it a good sign that Toby was so keen on the hike and campout. “Though he’s annoyed that he can’t go visit Cullen yet. Ah . . . he hasn’t heard about the fire. You know what Clanhome’s like—people don’t have the news on 24/7. I . . .” Rule paused. “I feel guilty for not leveling with him.”
“Parenting seems to be mostly taking your best guess and going with it. Is your best guess that Toby’s better off not knowing anything about what’s going on? If so, can you be sure he won’t hear about it elsewhere? And when should he learn about it?”
“You ask damned uncomfortable questions sometimes.” Rule was silent a moment, then sighed. “I need to tell him some of it. I wanted him to have his campout without this hanging over him, but sparing him now makes problems for him later. Did you learn anything helpful at the hospital?”
“Not really, but . . .” And she told him about Ida’s call. “Interpol’s sending the file electronically, so I’ll be checking that as soon as I get to the apartment. What did you need to talk to Isen about, anyway?”
“You’re headed for our apartment?”
“I’m headed for the shower, which happens to be at the apartment. I can’t tell you how much I crave a shower. I’m sticky. Are you dodging my question about your father?”
“I spoke with him about the Chimei, of course. Also, Sam made a suggestion about my mantles that may be valuable, but he doesn’t . . . It’s like talking to a meteorologist who understands weather theoretically, but has never experienced snow. His insights are sound but limited. I wanted to talk to my father about Sam’s suggestion.”
“Which so far you haven’t repeated to me.”
“I lack words. If I understood Sam correctly, it has to do with . . . a way of listening. Or experiencing. I also spoke with the Rhej. The memories go back a long ways. I’d hoped there might be something in them about the Chimei, but apparently their race fought in a different corner of the Great War than we did. She couldn’t locate anything relevant.”
“Pity. She wouldn’t have been bound by the restrictions Grandmother and Sam have. And me,” she added, though it pissed her off to have to do that. “Ruben’s coming in tonight. Are you going to fill him in on the Chimei?”
“I haven’t decided yet. I considered asking your grandmother or Sam for advice, but on reflection decided that was likely to increase the weight on the treaty, if you see what I mean.”
“Not really.”
“Sam said that indirect actions have a cumulative effect on the treaty which can, potentially, break it. It seems likely that the more closely those bound by the treaty participate in an action—the more their words or acts affect or precipitate someone else’s action—the greater the chance that the treaty will be broken. Asking Sam’s advice would tie my decision to involve Ruben—and therefore, the government—more closely to Sam.”
She drummed the steering wheel with her fingers. “I almost understood that. You know what I want.”
“And that will factor in my decision.”
“Um . . . I just realized that I’m one of the ones affected by the treaty, so I must affect the treaty, too, so my
urging you to do it my way might add to that weight you mentioned.”
“That had occurred to me.”
“Shutting up now.”
“You don’t have to go that far.”
She smiled as she turned into the parking garage beneath the apartment building. “I might as well. I’m home, or as good as. You going to head back soon? I was hoping you’d get here in time for a kiss-and-run.”
“I’ll head up the mountain first and talk to Toby. It won’t take too long if I go four-footed. Who’s running?”
“Me.” Automatically she checked for anything out of place near her parking spot. Everything looked normal—no unfamiliar vehicles or odd shadows, nothing that didn’t belong. “I’ve got a meet at seven-thirty. With luck I can shower and change and eat before I go, assuming Harry hasn’t eaten all the ham.”
“There was plenty left this morning. Is this the possible lead you mentioned earlier?”
“No, that hasn’t panned out yet. The meet’s with Cody. Deputy Beck,” she added as she pulled into her spot and shut off the car.
“I remember the name. He has a lead?”
“He’s got an informant who claims to know something about an Asian dude who’s been doing some ‘really scary shit.’ I’m not optimistic. Seems like our lovebirds wouldn’t leave anyone wandering loose who knew about their scary shit. But Cody says this snitch is usually on the money, so it’s worth following up.”
“Hmm. I’d feel better if you waited so I could go with you.”
She removed the phone from its holder. “If you get here in time, fine, you can tag along. Otherwise, I’ll see you when I get back. ’Bye, now.”
Lily barely caught his “take care” before disconnecting. She slid the phone in her pocket, took off the headset and left it on the seat, grabbed her laptop, purse, and jacket, and got out of the car. A click locked the door. She turned—
“Miss Yu?”
The voice came from her left. She spun, grabbing her weapon.
RULE frowned at the phone in his hand.
“Problems?” his father said, strolling into the sprawling great room that comprised most of the lower level of his house.
“Horns of a dilemma,” Rule murmured, putting the phone in his pocket. “I need to talk to Toby. I should have leveled with him before he left for the campout. I was wrong to put off letting him know about Cullen and the fire.”
Isen nodded thoughtfully. “Did you notice that I didn’t tell you that earlier, though it was painfully obvious? I cleverly waited for you to figure it out yourself.”
Rule’s grin was fleeting. “I did, yes.”
“What’s the ‘but’ that makes this a dilemma?”
“Lily has a meeting with an informant. It’s connected to the two enemies I told you about. I’m uneasy with her going alone.” Except that she wouldn’t be alone. She’d be with Cody Beck.
That did nothing to ease Rule’s mind. Why should it? he told himself. Beck might be a wonderful fellow. Rule was reserving judgment there, though he’d read the preliminary report from the detective agency. Beck was second-generation cop; his father, retired now, had been one of the first to integrate the SDPD. The man had been in rehab for alcohol, but that was several years ago, and he had apparently stayed sober since. He went to AA regularly, church not at all, and had two citations on his record since joining the sheriff’s department.
All of which was beside the point. Beck was human. Rule could protect Lily better.
“You could send one of your bodyguards with her, or tagging along behind. Don’t have to mention it to her.”
“They could be deceived by this Chimei, if she’s near.”
“If your gut tells you to go, then go. I can talk to Toby for you.”
Rule hesitated only a second before giving a nod. “Thank you. You’ll not tell him too much—”
“Go.” Isen waved a hand, shooing him out. “You think I can’t choose the right things to say? Go.”
Rule did.
THIRTY-TWO
“WHO are you?” Lily asked, her SIG Sauer held steady in one hand. Carefully, keeping her eyes on her target, she bent to set her laptop down. Her purse and jacket had already fallen to the concrete.
The man who’d stepped out from behind one of the concrete pillars smiled. He was Chinese, probably under thirty, with a shaved head and the bulk of a bodybuilder on steroids. The suit jacket he wore was wholly inappropriate for the temperature and didn’t quite hide the bulge of his weapon.
But he held his hands out from his sides. “I am no one, but I bring you a message from Xing Zhou.”
“I’m listening.”
“The message is written. Will you allow me to come closer so I may give it to you?”
He was young and spoke without much accent, but he’d put Zhou’s surname ahead of the given name in the Chinese way. Maybe he was from Taiwan. Xing had connections there. “Please understand that I respect Mr. Xing’s intelligence too much to do that. I, ah . . . I do not wish to offend with a suggestion, but I would appreciate it if you put the message on the hood of that black SUV near you, then backed away.”
He nodded, smiling faintly as if he both understood and was amused by her caution. “I must reach inside my jacket to get it,” he said apologetically as he moved a few paces to the side, to the SUV.
“Keep your movements slow. I’d be terribly unhappy if I shot one of Mr. Xing’s people in error.”
Still smiling, he did as instructed, pulling out a white envelope. He laid it on the SUV’s hood, then gave her a small bow. “Mr. Xing wishes me to express his thanks for your warning. In the envelope is an additional expression of his gratitude.”
“I hope Mr. Xing knows what types of expressions would be offensive to me.”
“I was instructed not to open the envelope, and have not. Yet I am sure it does not contain money, if that concerns you.” He turned and walked away, heading up the ramp on foot.
Lily kept her weapon out and her senses sharp as she approached the SUV and the innocent white envelope. By the time she reached it, Xing’s smiling employee was out of sight.
Could be anthrax or something similar inside, she supposed, studying it. She touched it, using the back of her hand so as not to mess up any fingerprints. Xing’s man hadn’t worn gloves, and it might be interesting to see if his prints were on file.
No magic tingles.
Lily contemplated the envelope one more second, then decided to play it safe. She took out her phone and selected a number she hadn’t used yet. “This is Lily,” she said. “Code Three. I’m in the garage near my spot. I’d like an extra set of ears and eyes. Also a good nose.”
She put up her phone, retrieved her laptop and jacket, and went to stand with her back to the pillar where Xing’s man had waited for her—no doubt for the same reason she went there now. It was a good vantage point. Then she waited for one of Rule’s bodyguards to join her.
Caution made sense when dealing with Xing. The old snake appreciated Lily because she treated him with respect, and he respected—or feared—her grandmother. He was still a snake. If he felt a need for her to die, he’d do his best to arrange it.
The elevator dinged. The doors opened and two men leaped out—José and Jacob, both Nokolai—weapons ready.
Lily frowned. “Code Three means I’m requesting an escort. That’s one guard, not two, and no immediate threat.”
“Yes, ma’am.” José gestured for Jacob to move ahead, and Jacob—tall, dark hair and eyes, slim as a willow and just as supple—began circling the garage’s echoing expanse. “But you never call us. I figured you’d probably seen a hostile, or thought one was around.”
“And assumed your judgment was superior to mine?”
“Ah—”
“No, wait. Rule told you to go into emergency mode if I ever requested an escort, didn’t he?”
José grimaced. “I, uh, really don’t—”
“Never mind. I’ll take it up with Rule later. S
ince you’re both here, let’s pretend I’m in charge. Which of you has the best nose?”
“I do,” José said. “But I’d need to Change.”
“Okay. Jacob, unless you’ve found something you need to check out, pull in close and stay alert. I had a visit just now from . . . Well, he’s muscle, but muscle with brains. He works for an enemy of mine who might be acting as an ally at the moment. Or he might not. He left that for me.” She nodded at the envelope, still shiny white against the black SUV. “I thought you could sniff it and make sure it’s just paper.”
“Okay. I can’t Change back as fast as Rule does,” he added. “If I smell anything suspicious, I’ll growl.” José gave Jacob some kind of hand signal and set down his weapon. Then he Changed.
Lily never got tired of seeing that. Or not quite seeing it, but being present as reality took on a tilt her eyes couldn’t follow. The space where José stood folded both into and away from itself, and his shape tilted and folded with it—until a large black wolf stood on the collapsed pile of clothes, panting cheerfully.
Jacob joined them. He faced out, not watching José, who trotted up to the SUV, lifted up onto his hind legs, and planted his forefeet on either side of the envelope. He gave it a good sniffing, then dropped back on all fours. He wagged his tail.
“Smells kosher, huh? Okay, thanks. Let’s head upstairs.”
They rode up in the elevator together—a man, a woman, and a wolf. It was just as well that none of the building’s other inhabitants wanted to go anywhere right that moment.
Lily didn’t feel bad about calling out the troops when it turned out they hadn’t been needed. If you waited until you knew for sure you were up that shit creek before hunting for the paddle, it was probably too late.
The guards on the door were Leidolf, which surprised her. It wasn’t a weekend. She asked them how the weapons training was going, and got a grimace from one and a grin from the other. The grinner—his name was Mark—had won the last round at the shooting range.