by Eileen Wilks
She didn’t have to be. The fact of her presence at Ruben’s house was enough to get her kicked out of the Bureau.
She wasn’t a cop anymore.
Lily walked down the hall a few steps ahead of the heavyset guard, her head light with exhaustion, and felt no relief at all. She tried to at least be curious about her release, but it didn’t seem important. In a minute she’d meet with whatever lawyer had arranged it and he or she would tell her what the situation was.
She emerged into a small, bare room where another guard waited . . . and another man. The one she’d called, but she’d never expected him to come here. A burly man in dark slacks, a pressed shirt, no tie. With his beard, rusty brown hair, and blacksmith’s chest and shoulders, he looked like a minor forest god in disguise.
Isen Turner. Rule’s father. The Nokolai Rho. Isen, who almost never left Nokolai Clanhome, and absolutely never left California. Yet here he was, crossing the ugly little room to grab her up in a hug.
“Lily.” He squeezed her firmly, patted her back, then pulled back enough to smile at her, still holding her arms. “You smell awful. Come. Let’s get out of here.”
A fondness for Mercedes-Benz must run in the family. That’s what Isen had waiting for them in the parking lot. Waiting right outside the courthouse door was a stringy, six-foot-eight-inch giant named Pete Murkowski, second-in-command of security at Clanhome. Pete had baby-fine hair the color of old ivory and long, ropy muscles. He looked funny in clothes, Lily thought. She was used to seeing him in cutoffs.
“Rule,” she said to Rule’s father. “Have you heard from him? Where is he?”
“He’s remaining wolf, so no. I have talked to Cullen, who’s with Rule and the new wolf. They’re doing well and have arrived at Wythe Clanhome. We’ll discuss that later, when there’s no chance of anyone eavesdropping. It’s unlikely here, but not impossible. You have a nine o’clock appointment tomorrow with your lawyer.”
“The arraignment.” Lily’s stomach knotted.
“That’s tomorrow afternoon.” They’d reached the car. Pete gave Lily a nod and a smile as he opened the door for them. “Your lawyer is Miriam Stockard. Perhaps you’ve heard of her? She regrets that she was unable to meet you this morning, but she had to be in court. Still, her associate seems to have done well by us.”
“Stockard. Yeah, I’ve heard of her. Hi, Pete.” Lily felt a bit dazed as she slid into the backseat. Miriam Stockard was one of the top defense attorneys in the country, the bane of prosecutors on both coasts.
Automatically she scooted over so Isen could slide in beside her. He did. Pete went around to the driver’s side, climbed in, and got them moving. Lily fastened her seatbelt, turned to Isen, and let the question erupt. “What are you doing here?”
Isen’s bushy eyebrows rose. He was relaxed, pleased with himself, as if he’d had a wonderful day so far and anticipated plenty of treats to come. “Aside from getting you out of jail, you mean?”
“The lawyer did that. I mean . . . I appreciate you hiring her. I really do. And I’d like to find out how she got me sprung before the arraignment, but she didn’t do anything differently because you flew across the country.” Lily paused. “I hate to think about what she’s costing.”
Isen squeezed Lily’s shoulder. “Nokolai can afford it.”
“I didn’t mean for Nokolai to—”
“You called on your Rho for help. Of course Nokolai is paying Ms. Stockard’s bill.”
Lily fell silent. Naturally Isen would think of it that way. But had she? When she called him, who had she called? Rule’s father or ...
It was disconcerting as hell, but Isen was right. Given one phone call and knowing she couldn’t reach Rule, she’d picked Isen. Not because he was Rule’s father. Because she trusted him. She trusted him not just to get her a lawyer, but to know what to do, how to do it, who should be told, what the repercussions might be, how to minimize them. She’d trusted him because he was wily and wise, cynical and kind, underhanded and openhanded. Most of all, she’d trusted him to handle things because that’s what he did. Because he was Rho. “I guess you’ve had experience getting your people out of jails.”
He chuckled. “That I have, though we prefer to avoid it.”
“I’m surprised Stockard took the case. It’s small potatoes for her.”
“Ah, well, she owed one of the clan a rather large favor. We called it in. Our opponents need to be aware that we can pull out the big guns if they force the issue.”
She exchanged a long look with him. Isen had realized the same thing she had—the arrest might ruin her in other ways, but there was a good chance she’d never go to trial. Especially now that the prosecutor knew he’d be dealing with Ms. Miriam Stockard. “Have you ever practiced law?”
“That would create a conflict of interest.”
Because he couldn’t be sworn in as an officer of the court without lying? Probably. Isen didn’t share her respect for the law, but he considered his word binding. He wouldn’t want to swear to something he didn’t intend to back up. Even now he avoided speaking a deliberate untruth, didn’t he? “I guess you called my parents.”
“I regret that I didn’t follow your request precisely. I called your grandmother. Such news might come best from her, I thought.”
“What did she say?”
“She was very angry.” He patted Lily’s hand. “Not with you. I can’t repeat what she said at first. Chinese is not one of my languages. But I do believe our enemies have been well and truly cursed. After we spoke a bit more—in English, for my sake—she gave me instructions for you. You are not to act precipitously, particularly when it comes to killing people.”
Lily choked on a laugh. “It’s not a habit of mine.”
“She may have been projecting, as I believe they call it, based on her own urgent desire to rip certain people apart. You are also not to worry about your parents. She will handle them.”
It was one bright, warm kernel to cling to. Grandmother was on her side. But even Grandmother couldn’t make the news less than devastating to Lily’s parents. By now her mother knew she was disgraced and would be unemployed once the Bureau got around to the paperwork. Her father, too. Croft would have to fire her. He had no choice.
Suddenly weary beyond words, Lily leaned her head back. She closed her eyes and tried not to think.
Unfortunately, she’d never been good at that. Questions pushed at her until their pressure had her eyes popping open again. “You never answered my first question. Why are you here? For that matter, why are you here with Pete instead of Benedict? Who’s taking care of Toby?”
“Toby’s fine. Benedict and Arjenie are there. And Pete is well able to see to my safety.”
“I’m sure he is, but on those rare times you leave Clanhome, Benedict always goes with you.” Pete was good—Lily had seen him in practice bouts—but Benedict wasn’t just better. He was the best.
“Oh, Benedict objected at first, but he’s too sensible to insist on coming with me, under the circumstances. It would not be wise for me and both of my sons to be out and about for a protracted period.”
Because of the mantle. Because if Isen and both his sons were killed, Nokolai’s mantle would be lost. “And yet you’re here.” It was a huge risk, and not just to Isen. To the clan.
“And will soon be at Wythe Clanhome. Wythe doesn’t have Benedict, so their security isn’t up to our standards, but it would still be extremely difficult for our enemies to penetrate. The danger is much less than you’re thinking.” He patted her hand again. “You were alarmed for the clan, weren’t you? I’m pleased.”
She blinked, confused. “You’re going to Wythe Clanhome?”
“Of course. That’s where Rule and the new wolf are. Rule says that the new wolf—”
“You mean Ruben. Why do you avoid using his name?”
His eyes twinkled with unimpaired good humor. “Do you know, I don’t believe anyone had interrupted me for years before you joined the cl
an? Yes, that’s who I mean. A brand-new wolf isn’t called by the name he bears in his other form for the first two weeks following the Change. At the new moon, his guide will use that name to recall him to his other form. This new wolf is a Rho. That has never happened, obviously, but we are learning some of the consequences quickly. He can’t be controlled by anyone except a mantle-holder, yet he must be controlled until he’s able to do so himself. I flew out so I can relieve Rule of that task.”
Warmth rushed through her, a dizzy sort of weakness. He’d done it for her. Oh, being Isen, he might have had a dozen other reasons—no, there was no “maybe” to it. He did have other reasons. But in a very large way he’d crossed the continent so she wouldn’t be alone in this strange new life she’d been thrust into. Life as not-a-cop.
She touched his hand. Immediately he closed his around hers—a broad hand, warm and brimming with magic. It was nothing like holding Rule’s hand, yet it was comforting. Neither of them spoke for several moments. Finally she said, “I really need a shower, don’t I?”
He chuckled. “Oh, yes.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
LILY got her shower. Then she slept.
She hadn’t planned to, but she walked out of the bathroom and the bed was right there and that was it. She figured it was okay to nap because she didn’t really have a plan. Not for the rest of the day, the week, her life.
When she woke up, she did. Sort of.
She lay quietly, blinking up at a ceiling grayed out by dusk and listening to rain on the roof. A faint, stretched feeling said that Rule was still far away to the north. The same thoughts she’d gone round and round with in that cell presented themselves to her again . . . only now they lined up better.
Had she been set up? Her gut said yes, and she was going to go with that assumption for now. But that only applied to what, not who or why. “Who” might be Sjorensen, but it was just as possible that Sjorensen had been used. And who better to do that than Special Agent Al Drummond?
She couldn’t be sure if she was letting the facts put Drummond at the top of her suspect list, or if she was leading with feelings. Because she wanted it to be him. She remembered the gloat in his eyes, the sheer delight he took in her downfall. But just because the guy hated her didn’t mean he’d framed her. Someone could’ve used his attitude to manipulate him, just as they might have used Sjorensen to tip Lily off. Drummond didn’t have magic of his own, and she hadn’t felt death magic on him. He could still be part of it. One of them.
Or not.
It was the “why,” though, that needed more thought. The last time one of Friar’s acolytes had tried to get her the plan had been wonderfully simple: kill her in a drive-by. They would have succeeded, too, if LeBron hadn’t given his life to save hers.
This time they’d gone for a complicated trick to destroy her as a cop. It didn’t jive. It was as if two different minds were coming up with “get Lily” schemes—one convoluted and subtle, the other brutal but straightforward.
Maybe it would help to look at what else Friar & Co. had done recently. They’d started by killing Bixton in a crazily complicated way, presumably so they could frame Ruben. That had to be the subtle mind. Then they’d firebombed Fagin’s house and nearly killed him. Straightforward.
Two minds. Well, Friar had two lieutenants, didn’t he? If she looked at results in order to determine her enemies’ goals, one thing was clear: they wanted Lily out of the Unit, not a cop anymore. Either dead or disgraced worked for that.
So she had to keep being a cop.
Her stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten much in lock-up, and she’d slept for . . . ye gods. It was four thirty in the afternoon. She sprang up from the bed, gave her hair a quick brushing, and double-timed it downstairs. The lights were on down there, holding back the early dusk brought on by the rain. Good smells and voices came from the kitchen, which turned out to be full of people sitting at the table . . . Isen, Pete, the Leidolf Rhej, José . . . and Deborah Brooks.
“Ah,” Lily said cleverly, stopping in the doorway as five pairs of eyes swung toward her. “Deborah.”
Deborah’s dimple winked. “You didn’t expect to see me.”
“No.” And she felt obscurely guilty now. “I guess you wanted to find out more about what happened to Ruben.”
Deborah nodded, sobering. “Isen and the sera have been telling me about being lupus. About being Rho. What it means, what it will mean. I’m . . . fairly boggled still.” She shrugged. “Also unemployed. Officially I’m on indefinite leave, but from what I’m hearing, I probably won’t be able to go back to teaching in Georgetown. Ruben’s going to have to stay at Wythe Clanhome.”
Lily crossed to the table and sat beside her. “I’m so sorry. Teaching means a lot to you.”
“I’ll teach again. It’s what I do, what I love. But not here, I guess.” She sounded sturdy, determined. Her eyes were sad. “And not soon, even though I can’t go to Ruben. That’s what I meant to do. I came here thinking someone would tell me how to find him, but I hadn’t thought it through. If I go to him, I’ll lead the—the authorities there.”
Isen patted Deborah’s hand. “It’s very strange to think of Ruben Brooks as apart from the authorities, isn’t it? We will work to repair that situation. José,” he said, turning his head, “perhaps you’d go ahead and make your corn bread.” He nodded at Lily. “I made some of my special chili. You like it, I recall, and it’s ready. We weren’t sure when you’d awake, though, so the corn bread isn’t. If you can wait a small bit longer ... but perhaps you don’t wish to. You missed lunch, and the gods only know what they fed you for breakfast in that place.”
Lily agreed that José’s jalapeño corn bread was worth waiting another “small bit” for. The Rhej pushed back her chair and stood. “May I?” the woman asked.
“May you—oh. You want to check me out. Sure.”
José went to the refrigerator and pulled out the milk. The Rhej moved behind her and rested her hands on Lily’s shoulders, humming “Amazing Grace.”
It took a while, though as usual Lily didn’t feel anything. José had time to mix the corn bread and slide two big pans into the oven before the Rhej spoke. “Your arm is completely healed, aside from a bit of scarring.”
Lily nodded. That much she knew.
“The microscopic damage in your brain is healed, too. And the circulation problems that led to it are gone.”
Grins sprang out around the table. José spun away from the stove with a huge grin. Even Deborah looked happy. Maybe they’d told her what the mantle had been up to before the Lady got it where she wanted it.
“But this is wonderful!” Isen cried. “Lily, you are no longer angry with our Lady? And not surprised at all to learn about this, I think.”
She was a great many things, too many to sort into words. But not surprised. “You’ll tell Rule.”
“Of course.”
The Rhej squeezed her shoulders before releasing her. She came around and sat next to Lily. She had a broad face, the skin a warm, friendly sort of brown, with beautifully arched brows above dark eyes with thick, stubby lashes, and the kind of smile that made you want to smile back. “You want to talk about it, honey? Because I’d surely like to hear.”
“About the Lady, you mean?”
“About her. About whatever you’d like to tell me, but I am always most interested in hearing about the Lady.”
“She spoke to me this time.” Lily paused, surprised that she’d said that. That she wanted to talk about it. “Not in words. I didn’t get words like you Rhejes do. Maybe she spoke the other time, too, but the part of me that . . . that can hear her doesn’t have words, so the rest of me didn’t know about it. But I remember her voice this time. It was a voice,” she added as if the Rhej had disputed this. “Not just a feeling or a knowing.”
“Her voice is beautiful, isn’t it? Like a purring kitten and a thunderstorm all wrapped up together.”
Small and vast, cuddly and shockingly powerful
. Yes. All of that at once. A pang shot through her and she looked at Deborah. “She asked me to let her put the mantle into Ruben. She let me know what I was supposed to do for that to happen. So I knew what I was agreeing to. Not in words, I didn’t know anything in words, but I agreed. The Lady needed my permission to put the mantle into me. She needed my permission to take it out, too. So what’s happened to him is partly my fault.”
Deborah frowned. After a moment she said, “Maybe he had to agree, too. If you had to give permission, surely he would have, too.”
“If he did, there’s a good chance he doesn’t know it.” Lily shook her head. She didn’t want to talk about the Lady anymore, but there was one question she couldn’t keep back. “When I said she told me what she’d do, I don’t mean she gave details about the project. How could she turn Ruben into a lupus?”
“Ah. We’ve been discussing that,” Isen said, “at some length. I believe she first had to alter the mantle itself. Cullen said it was changing while you hosted it. I think she was—mapping human neurological paths, perhaps. Or other elements that differ from ours. Second . . . but this is your part of the story to tell.” He nodded at Deborah.
Deborah leaned forward slightly. “Arjenie Fox found something. I think I told you she’d been looking into Ruben’s genealogy for me? Well, after Ruben went through First Change, I guess everyone at Nokolai Clanhome was talking about it. At least Benedict and Arjenie were, and she got the idea to see if any of Ruben’s people could have been lupus. It seems lupi keep records. By combining her search with those records, she found . . . you have a term for it.” She looked at Isen, tossing the explanation back to him.