by Eileen Wilks
Had she been craving the stuff more than usual? Maybe. Probably, she admitted as she counted up the cups she’d drunk today. The Rhej had asked her that. She thought Lily had been unconsciously reaching for something that helped.
The Rhej and Cullen were in the living room, banished ever so politely because Rule needed to talk to her. So far, he wasn’t saying much. Lily walked up to him, set her mug on the counter, and slid her arms around his waist. “I know you’d rather that the mantles were invulnerable, but I’d just as soon believe the Rhej is right.”
His mug joined hers on the counter. He put his arms around her and rested his cheek on the top of her head. “I want coffee to work. To help. I want that so badly I don’t dare believe it.” He paused. His breath was warm on her hair. “I asked Sam to remove the mantle from you.”
She jerked her head up. “You what? You did what? Sam couldn’t . . . could he?”
“He can’t. Or won’t. I’m not sure which. He called me a fool and said it was as well that he wasn’t one, also. I asked if he could help you in some other way. That’s when he said he doesn’t tamper in the plans of Old Ones. Lily.” He ran both hands into her hair. “I understand better now why it’s so hard for you to consider joining the Shadow Unit.”
His eyes were dark and focused intensely on her. She rested a hand on his chest. His heart beat steady and slow. “Okay. Why?”
“You don’t know who you are if you aren’t first a cop. I knew that, but I didn’t . . .” He sifted her hair with his fingers as if he might find words there. “I didn’t understand in my gut. Now I do. I learned that I’m not . . . I’m no longer the Lady’s first. I still serve her, but she’s not first. If I must choose between you and her—”
“Don’t. Don’t try to choose.”
He placed his hand over hers. “Too late. I already have.”
EIGHTEEN
LILY bent over the young man sitting in one of the kitchen chairs and breathed into his mouth.
Nothing. Stupid damn mantle. She sighed and straightened. “That was awkward.”
“Hey, I enjoyed it.” Chad Emerson of Szøs had light brown hair, baby blue eyes, and a brash grin he knew very well was charming. “Maybe we should try a kiss.”
“It wouldn’t help, and it would annoy me.”
“That’s not the usual reaction.”
She could believe that. Chad looked a bit like Harrison Ford circa Han Solo. “Let me rephrase that. It would annoy me if you kept flirting with me.”
“That’s also not the usual—”
“Chad,” Rule said, “did Andor tell you why we asked you to fly here sooner than we’d originally planned?”
“He said something had come up. He didn’t say what.”
“The mantle is affecting Lily’s health. It’s become urgent that we find a lupus who can carry it.”
“Shit, I’m sorry.” He drooped like a scolded puppy. “I didn’t mean . . . to tell the truth, I don’t really want to leave Szøs. Nothing against Wythe, but I’ve been Szøs all my life. I’m not sure about becoming a Rho, either. It’s a huge responsibility, and being Rho to a clan other than mine . . . I know it would become mine, but it isn’t now. I’m not sure I’m up to it. But, well, I gave permission before like you said I should, but maybe my doubts kept me from meaning it all the way.” He leaned forward. “I’d mean it now. Maybe we should start over with the permission part.”
Lily glanced at Rule. He shrugged—why not?—so they tried again. Chad agreed very sincerely to accept the mantle, should the Lady be willing to bestow it on him.
The results didn’t change. The mantle never twitched.
Chad was troubled. Lily was tired—drinking umpteen cups of coffee did not make for a restful night’s sleep. Rule was impassive. He thanked the young man and took out his phone to call a cab. Between Cullen and the Rhej, they were out of bedrooms, so Rule had booked Chad into a hotel. Lily thanked Chad, too, and Rule walked him to the door. She could hear Rule assuring him he could linger in D.C. a day or two on Nokolai’s dime, if he wished.
Lily refilled her coffee, then stood quietly, frowning at her mug.
Chad was young and cocky. More to the point, he was a dominant. Lily was still working out exactly what that term meant to lupi, but the dominant package definitely included a take-charge attitude. Chad was also bright enough to realize that there was a huge dose of sacrifice that came with the status and power of being Rho, and honest enough to be unsure he was ready for the responsibility. He was also generous enough to “mean it all the way” once he knew Lily was being harmed by her stewardship of Wythe’s mantle.
If he wasn’t good enough for the mantle, who would be?
She sipped her coffee and moved to look out the back window. It was early still. Last night’s rain hadn’t cleared out the cloud cover; whatever nudges the sun might be making toward rising hadn’t yet penetrated the gloom. She couldn’t see whoever had guard duty . . . but then, she seldom did.
Overhead, the pipes rattled as someone turned on the shower. The Leidolf Rhej was up. Lily knew it must be her because Cullen had woken a couple hours ago. He’d picked Chad up at the airport, fed him breakfast someplace, then dropped him off here before leaving on some mysterious errand.
Maybe something to do with the dagger? He’d been awfully quiet about what he’d seen after inspecting it with Sherry last night. Lily shook her head, trying to shake her thoughts back on track.
The thing was, Lily had never met Chad before today. He didn’t know her, but he’d been ready to upend his life to help her. Maybe that was, in part, a sense of fairness, of responsibility; the mantle belonged with a lupus, not an all-too-human Chosen. It also arose from the lupi’s deep-seated need to protect women . . . and, she thought, from his personal need to do the right thing.
She understood that need. Rule said he understood now why joining the Shadow Unit would be hard for her. He was right, but there was more to it.
If she wasn’t a cop first, how would she know the right thing to do? What metric would she use? When you were up against such powerful forces, when the stakes were so ungodly high, it could seem downright immoral to choose ethics over expediency. “Whatever works” becomes the default if you don’t have clear and compelling reasons to handle things otherwise.
Lily was pretty sure that was the answer the Great Bitch had come up with a couple eons ago: whatever works.
Yet that hadn’t really worked for the Great Bitch, had it? She’d been defeated once, forced to withdraw from this realm and lick her wounds. Whatever she’d been doing for the last three thousand years, she’d had to do it because “whatever works” hadn’t worked.
Did the lupi’s Lady understand that “whatever works” was a failed metric?
The front door closed. Lily didn’t hear Rule heading back to the kitchen, but she felt him moving her way. She turned away from the window. They had to hope the Lady understood, or they were all screwed—Lily in an immediate way, but everyone else, too. If the Old One on their side was as “anything goes” as the one they opposed, they were in deep shit.
“We haven’t exhausted the possibilities,” Rule said as he entered the kitchen. “I called my father while Chad and I waited for the cab. He’ll be urging the other Rhos to step up the pace in their search.”
She nodded. They were doing all they could. They had to hope it would be enough . . . and in the meantime, she’d be drinking a lot of coffee. And the Wythe Rhej, presumably, would continue to keep the mantle turned down to “low.” “I haven’t had a pain bolt since yesterday afternoon.”
“True.” His smile looked effortless. It would be easy to think he was as unworried as he looked. Wrong, but easy.
It was a gift, that smile. He wanted her not to worry, to be confident, so he suppressed everything he was feeling to project that confidence. Lily knew what he was doing, and still it helped. “I love you.”
He blinked. “Ah . . . yes?”
She laughed. It was ra
re for him to be flustered. “Just that. I love you. You’re doing everything possible, and so are others, and we’re going to kick this thing’s ass.” Might as well believe that. What was the good in thinking otherwise? She went to him, put a hand on his shoulder, and went up on tiptoe so she could touch his lips with hers. “No, don’t grab me. I need to get my weapon and get going.”
“It’s barely seven.”
“I need to get to Headquarters early.” She started for the stairs. Her shoulder harness was in their bedroom.
He followed. “You haven’t eaten.”
“I’ll eat in the car. Since I have to be chauffeured, that’ll be easy. I want one of those enormous muffins from that bakery on Jefferson.”
The argument that followed was brief and mild and comfortingly familiar. Rule might know in his head that she couldn’t eat the way a lupus did, but the irrational underneath part of his mind couldn’t believe a muffin was a meal for anyone.
“The muffin will be plenty,” she repeated as she buckled her shoulder harness. “What’s your schedule like today? Are you up for a change of plans?”
“I could be. Why?”
“I thought you might go with me.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You want me to meet the minion?”
“I’m going to talk to Croft. It’s Saturday, but he’ll be there. I checked. I ought to tell Drummond myself,” she admitted, “but I can’t bring myself to do it. Besides, Croft will accept the ‘clan secrets’ deal and not press me for more than I can tell him.”
“Lily, you haven’t explained anything.”
She sighed. Sometimes doing the right thing was a bitch. “I’m not dependable right now. I’ve gone sixteen hours without an episode, but I could get zapped again at any time. Right in the middle of an interview, maybe. Or shit, who knows—in the middle of an arrest, or a chase, or . . . I can’t even say what the next pain bolt will do. Make me drop things or drool or fall down or all of the above. Or something new. I have to tell Croft so he can have someone else from the Unit take over.”
“You’re removing yourself from the investigation.”
“Officially, yeah.”
He was silent for several heartbeats. “And unofficially?”
“That’s why I’d like you along. Rule . . .” She moved closer so she could take his hand. “Chad knew the mantle wouldn’t go to him unless the Lady wanted him to have it, right?”
“Yes, we explained that the Lady may have to move the mantle herself. This isn’t the normal way of transferring it.”
Lily nodded. “So Chad knew that if the mantle did come to him, that would be the Lady’s doing. And he wanted to be willing to accept the Lady’s decision. He wanted to . . . but he didn’t become wholly willing until he knew I needed it to happen. That I was being endangered by hosting the mantle.”
“Yes.” His eyes were puzzled. “Of course he wanted to help you.”
“Because I’m a woman.” She smiled wryly. “That’s how you’re all wired—protect the woman. Your Lady knows you pretty well. I guess she made you that way. That choice you said you made? She can’t be upset about it. She knew you’d choose to protect me. It may take a while for you to come to terms with what it means, but don’t think your Lady is surprised or disappointed.”
“Lily.”
She tipped her head.
He lifted the hand she’d clasped his with to his lips and kissed it. “I love you.”
RULE had been to FBI Headquarters many times. In the past, the man seated at the large, scuffed desk in this windowless office had been Ruben Brooks. Today it was a lean man with skin the color of the coffee in Lily’s thermos.
Martin Croft looked more like a Harvard don than a cop. His gray-spattered hair was staging a strategic withdrawal from his high forehead, and he dressed too well to fit any cop stereotype. His shirt was impeccably pressed, his tie silk, and while his suit might be off the rack, it was of excellent quality and fit. Rule suspected he’d had it tailored. All in all, Croft didn’t look like a man who’d wrestled many a suspect to the ground.
In that much, appearances were deceiving. But he was every bit as bright as he looked—and completely unGifted, though he knew more about magic than most practicing witches.
Croft listened gravely as Lily told him why she’d needed to see him so early and so urgently. She looked tired.
No surprise. She’d had an attack—a TIA—as soon as they left the house. It had lasted longer than the other one he’d witnessed, which was supposed to be a good thing, indicating the healing was being slowed. He wasn’t able to see it that way.
Rule had taken her home, of course. And of course she’d protested. The Leidolf Rhej had checked her out, but there was nothing more she could do save assure them both that so far there was no lasting brain damage.
Lily finished her highly edited explanation. Croft said, “How serious is your condition?”
“Potentially serious, but we have a healer staying with us. She’s confident she can help. She already has, but my condition is still, ah, unresolved.”
“And your condition is related in some way you can’t specify to a clan matter you’re unable to discuss.”
“That’s right.”
“And you’re certain that conventional medicine can’t help.”
“Quite certain.”
“Why did you bring Rule with you?”
“You’re aware of the mate bond.”
He nodded. Croft knew about the mate bond because he was ospi to Wythe. His mother was the daughter of a Wythe lupus, and either she or his grandfather had passed on a bit more about clan secrets than they should have.
“We believe it mitigates my symptoms if Rule stays close to me.”
“Hmm.” He steepled his fingers together in a way that was disconcertingly like Ruben. Had he consciously copied his boss, or was it unconscious mimicry? “You need to be pulled from active duty.”
She sighed. “I’m afraid so.”
“Very well. I’ll contact Drummond.”
“Who will you replace me—”
But he was shaking his head. “If you aren’t part of the investigation, you aren’t privy to anything about it anymore. I certainly can’t speak of it in front of Rule. I’m sorry.”
Lily’s lips tightened, but she didn’t argue. Rule wanted to take her hand, to assure her she’d done the right thing, but he knew better. No hand-holding in front of her boss. She would consider it unprofessional. Rule understood, though he’d put it differently. Being professional in this sense meant “don’t show your belly.”
“I’ll tell Drummond this is related to your wound,” Croft said. “There’s little point in telling him it’s due to something I’m unable to discuss because you can’t discuss it. The man’s got an attitude where magic’s concerned as it is. No point in raising his hackles.”
“What kind of an attitude? Is it magic itself he dislikes or—”
“Enough.” But Croft grinned. It was a tired grin but real enough, the first sign Rule had seen of the man rather than the man’s position this morning. Professionalism again. “I’m not going to gossip with you. Lily, you’re worrying me. Off the record, can you tell me anything else?”
She couldn’t, of course. Croft’s mother or grandfather might have shared more than was strictly allowed, but hadn’t gone so far as to speak about mantles. So Lily refused as tactfully as possible and stood. “I won’t take any more of your time. I know you’re jammed.”
Croft rose as well, which should have signified the end to a meeting Rule knew had been hard on Lily. But he walked around his desk and touched Lily’s arm. “I’ll see that you have the leave you need. Take care of yourself.” His dark eyes were worried. He turned to Rule. “I’m sure I can count on you to see that she gets all the help possible.”
“You can.” Rule decided to step them all back from all this careful professionalism. “You look tired, Martin.”
Croft shrugged. “I’m hoping Ruben can come
back soon. For his sake, of course, but also selfishly. I miss fieldwork.”
“You’re very much needed here.”
“I’m a decent administrator, but I was a damn good investigator. I want to get back to what I’m best at, but . . .”
“But if you weren’t doing this job, someone with less understanding of the Unit would be. Or one of the Gifted agents would be promoted to a desk, and they’re needed in the field.”
“Exactly.” He ran a hand over his hair. “With your people, Rhos face the same problem, don’t you? There has to be distance between the Rho and everyone else, plus they have to stay denned up at their clanhomes. Except that you don’t. Stay denned up, I mean. How do you pull that off?”
“Two clans,” Rule said. “Two sets of duties. And I can’t be the public face for my people if I never leave Clanhome.”
“Hmm. Rule, I won’t ask if Lily has told you anything about the investigation she’s been on. I do need to make it clear that the order for silence on this one came from the director himself.”
“I see.” That was a clear enough signal for him to stay out of it . . . which wasn’t what Lily had in mind. “If one of my people just happened to be in the park across the street from the senator’s house, would you be interested in hearing about any unusual smells that he notices?”
Martin shook his head. “You’re as stubborn as she is, but more diplomatic. Hypothetically speaking, yes, I would.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. I hope to see you again soon, Martin, when things are less difficult for all of us.”
Croft walked out with them, stopping at Ida’s desk to give her instructions for the form he needed to sign concerning Lily’s leave.
Rule and Lily started down the long hall. “That’s a good idea,” she said, “having someone sniff along that trail I followed.”
“I thought of it while we were headed here.” He glanced at her. “You look relieved. Glad to get that over with?”