by Eileen Wilks
Lily looked past Sjorensen to find catch Rule’s eye. “What do you think?”
“Now’s as good as later for me. I can get a cab to the hospital. That’s where you’re going?”
“Yeah. Hang on a minute.” She dug into the oversize yellow shoulder bag she’d started carrying when they traveled. It held enough to double as an overnight case. “Here.” She handed him three strips of beef jerky.
He smiled ruefully and tucked them in his jacket’s inside pocket, then studied the small mob of news critters, who’d seen them and were jostling for position. “The blonde with the excellent elbow work is with CNN, but I can’t remember her name.”
“Emily Hanks,” Sjorensen said. “The one with the crew cut is Kyle Rogers with the NBC affiliate here. The other—the black guy—he’s with FOX. Armand something-or-other.”
“Here’s the deal,” Lily told Sjorensen. “You and I bull on through—strictly ‘no comment.’ Rule will distract them.”
Sjorensen shot Rule a suspicious look. “He can’t speak for the FBI, so why would they talk to him?”
Rule smiled blandly. “I think I can retain their interest. I’ll be speaking for Leidolf.”
EIGHT
“SO what’s Leidolf?” Anna Sjorensen asked as they approached the exit.
The reporters had mobbed them for about ten seconds. Rule was clearly willing to give them sound bites, and Lily clearly wasn’t. Print reporters might have stuck to her anyway, but the TV folks needed good visuals and they needed them fast.
“A lupus clan. Rule’s their new Rho. He’ll be telling the piranhas of the press about that.” Lily refused to worry on that score. Rule had decided he would have to out Leidolf to the press. How else could he explain his presence? He’d warned Alex, who was spreading the word to as many of the clan as he could reach quickly.
There would be repercussions. Some in Leidolf were bitterly opposed to their clan’s going public. Even those who were okay with it were likely to be unhappy. This wasn’t exactly an ideal way to make the big reveal. People were going to associate Leidolf with a crazy killer, and even someone as good at spin as Rule would have trouble separating—
“He’s what?” Sjorensen said.
Lily dragged her mind away from what she was not worrying about. “Their Rho. The leader of the clan.”
“I thought his father was the … oh, no. You mean his father—”
“No, no. Isen’s fine and is still the Nokolai Rho. Leidolf is a different clan.” She glanced at Sjorensen. “You know that lupi are divided into clans, right?”
“Of course.” She was chilly, affronted. “They’re like tribes.”
“Close enough. The Navajo aren’t the same as the Apache or the Cherokee, and they don’t share a chief. Lupi clans differ, too, and each has its own Rho.”
“Does that mean Mr. Turner changed clans?”
The prim phrasing made Lily smile. “No, he’s both Nokolai and Leidolf. It’s complicated.” Beyond the glass lay a lot of wet cement, wet cars, and wet air. Lily was ready, though. She’d spent enough time on the dawn side of the continent to know that water fell from the sky here a lot.
The doors opened automatically, bathing them in warm, damp air and exhaust fumes. The traffic lanes they needed to cross were roofed by a wide overpass of some sort, but Lily went ahead and dug her umbrella out of her purse.
Sjorensen raised one eyebrow. “Prepared for anything, aren’t you?”
Lily was getting tired of all the attitude. “If I’d wanted to be prepared for anything, I’d have brought something more than my SIG. It takes a lot more firepower to put down a demon. An AK-47, at a minimum.”
“But you’re not—we aren’t—this case isn’t connected to demons.”
“Not as far as we know,” Lily agreed, “which is why I only brought a 9mm.” Maybe that was a mistake. Demons didn’t call ahead to see if it was a good time. The last time she fought one, Rule had been sliced by poisoned claws and a young man had bled out on the pavement.
But … no. She shook her head at herself. Barring another power wind to help one cross, demons could only arrive if summoned, and true summonings were thank-God rare. “My SIG should be enough for this trip. What do you carry?”
Sjorensen stepped out into the traffic lanes. “A 9mm Baby Eagle. I like the grip, and it’s under two pounds.”
“It’s a subcompact, right? How many rounds?”
“Ten. And it may be small, but it’s got stopping power.”
It probably lacked accuracy, though. The barrel on a subcompact was short. “I’m happy with my SIG, but your Baby Eagle sounds like a good clutch piece. I’ve got a little .22 for that, but it lacks punch.”
“If you’re here long enough, I’d be glad to let you try it at the range.” A tentative smile. “Not that many weapons fit my hand. I’m guessing you have the same problem?”
“Too true. And shoulder holsters—it’s hard to find one that fits both me and my weapon. I gave up and had one custom-made.”
As they left the protection of the overpass, rain fell in a weepy, genteel sort of shower that made Lily feel as if she should offer the sky a handkerchief. She opened her umbrella without eliciting any snide comments. Gun talk carried them all the way to Sjorensen’s car, a white sedan that looked a whole lot like the one Lily drove.
The woman was pleasant enough now. Maybe she’d been nervous earlier. She must be pretty brand-spanking new, after all. Probably not long out of Quantico.
Lily decided to try some straight female bonding. “Couldn’t help noticing your shoes,” she said as she buckled up. “They’re gorgeous. I hope all the wet didn’t hurt them.”
“Thanks.” She flashed Lily a second smile and started the car. “They were a major indulgence, so I keep them treated with water repellent.”
“They’re worth the effort. You couldn’t run in them, though.”
Sjorensen grimaced as she backed out of the space. “I’m not likely to need to chase down a perp, not with what they’ve got me doing. I made the mistake of minoring in accounting, so—” The trill came from her purse, not Lily’s. “Um. That’s this guy I’m seeing. I left him a message canceling our date. Would you mind if I take it?”
And that, Lily thought, accounted for the rest of the young woman’s initial attitude. Canceling a date to play chauffeur could spoil anyone’s day. “No problem.”
Lily took her notebook out of her purse and began glancing through her notes while Sjorensen spoke in a low voice on her phone, steering with one hand as she eased into the line of cars exiting the parking area.
Cobb had been at a postgame party, a cookout, with the game being college football. There’d been nearly a hundred people present. The police report she’d read was skimpy, but it included preliminary statements from a few witnesses. Seems there’d been an argument about one of the plays, or maybe about the coach. Witnesses said it was the usual sort of armchair quarterbacking, with opinions flying, but no fists—until Cobb suddenly exploded. Two of the witnesses used the same phrase to describe it: “He just blew up.”
Rule was convinced Cobb couldn’t have been in the fury. Lily had to admit it was hard to see why a man who’d managed to keep his control for seventy-odd years turned homicidal when someone disagreed with his postgame analysis. But if not the fury, then what?
Sjorensen put her phone up and apologized again for the personal intrusion.
“It can be a real stretch, fitting in a personal life around the job,” Lily said agreeably. It occurred to her that she and Sjorensen were alone. She’d probably better bring up what she’d learned when they shook hands. Might not get another chance. “I need to ask you something. Have you had training for your Gift?”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“You’ve got a minor patterning Gift. Have you had training?’
Sjorensen turned icicle. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing. I’m not Gifted.”
“I’m afraid
you’re wrong about that. Patterning is a rare Gift, so you might not have heard of it.”
“I haven’t.”
“And it doesn’t always manifest in an obvious way. Do you sometimes have runs of extremely good luck? Or extremely bad? Bizarre coincidences?”
“I don’t—” Her breath hitched, quick and telling. “I don’t believe you came to Nashville to discuss my luck, or lack of it.”
“No, but you don’t know anything about the case, so we might as well get this covered. Patterning can be a dangerous Gift if you don’t learn how to use it—and how to avoid tapping into it. Otherwise, a bad mood can turn into anything from a flat tire to a five-car pileup.” The young woman’s face was a mix of confusion and suspicion. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. I usually don’t, but patterning’s potentially a—”
“I was tested,” Sjorensen blurted out. “Before I left Quantico, I was tested. I know you’re a sensitive, but you’re wrong about me.”
Lily’s eyebrows rose. Testing for Gifts was not standard practice at Quantico. It probably should be, but there weren’t enough qualified testers. “You know why you were picked to be tested?”
She shrugged. “They never told me. They don’t test everyone, so I thought maybe … but they didn’t find anything. No magic at all.”
“That was before the Turning.”
“Well—yeah. It was just before I graduated, so that would be about six months before the Turning hit.”
“You do know that some people had a Gift wake up then, right? The theory is that they had a nascent or potential Gift, but until then lacked the magic to kick-start it. The power storms changed that.”
“I thought … I thought that was urban legend. They—this show I watched—they debunked it. And I haven’t been starting fires or anything else weird.” She frowned. “Everyone gets flat tires sometimes.”
“I don’t know what show you watched, but ‘they’ were wrong. As for doing anything weird …” Lily tipped her head, considering the way Sjorensen had been singled out for testing. “Did you ever consider joining the Unit?”
Big blue eyes blinked several times. “I did. I do,” she corrected herself firmly. “I know there are a few in the Unit who aren’t Gifted, so it’s possible. Though now you say I am Gifted, so I …” Confusion overtook her.
“Uh-huh. And you just happened to be assigned to babysit someone who could tell you that yes, you do have a Gift. Someone who works in the Unit. You don’t call that weird?”
Sjorensen’s jaw dropped. Alarm widened her eyes. “But I got the assignment because Matt came down with a stomach bug. He was supposed to pick you up, not me, but he … are you saying I made him get sick?”
“In a roundabout way, yes, that’s likely.” Lily was brisk. Sjorensen had to understand the possible consequences of her Gift. “As I understand it, there had to be a chance he’d get sick anyway. You’re not very powerful, so there was probably a good chance of it. Your Gift bumped it up from ‘a good chance’ to actually happening. That’s why you have to be trained. I’ll call Ruben.”
“What? What? You mean Ruben Brooks? You’re going to call him about me?”
“He’ll want to know.” The glow on the young woman’s face made Lily realize she’d raised hopes. “This isn’t a recruitment or anything. I can’t recommend you—I don’t know you. But you need that Gift trained.”
Sjorensen nodded briskly. She wasn’t smiling—but she was still glowing, dammit. Better follow through. Lily dug out her phone and called her boss. She used the office number, not his personal line. He’d probably gone home by now, but she could leave a message …
“Ida Rheinhart,” a familiar, polished-steel voice said.
“Ida, this is Lily Yu. I—”
“Lily. You were on my list to call. I have some unfortunate news. Ruben had a heart attack approximately two hours ago. He’s in intensive care.”
NINE
RULE wondered which of his many sins in this life or any other caused him to have to spend so damned much time in hospitals. They were not a comfortable place for a lupus, stinking as they did of sickness and injury.
“This your first time in Nashville?” the cabbie asked.
“No, but it’s been a few years.” He was no stripling to lose control, he reminded himself. Nor did his wolf see humans as prey, but the smell of blood was … stimulating. And he hadn’t eaten.
“Guess you’re not here for fun, seeing as how you’re headed straight for Vandy,” the driver announced cheerfully.
“Not really, no.” Rule retrieved one of the strips of jerky and smiled faintly. Lily had planned ahead better than he had. Jerky wouldn’t fill him, but it would help.
“Even if you can’t make it to the Opry, maybe you can check out the General Jackson’s Showboat. Man’s got to eat, after all, and it’s—hey, would you look at that!” the driver exclaimed as he turned onto Medical Center Drive. “Somebody’s picketing the damned hospital. Whatcha think that’s about?”
“Have you heard of Humans First?” Thanks to the questions at his impromptu press conference, Rule already knew about the protesters ranged outside the oldest part of the medical complex. They were a wet, lonely little group at the moment. The TV cameras had already been and gone, getting a clip for the late news, and no one else seemed to be paying attention. But that clip would air, and probably nationally.
“They those folks that want to lock up all the weers?”
“Something like that,” Rule said dryly.
“Well, that’s kinda extreme, ain’t it? Though I can’t see why the government stopped registering them. Seems to me that worked pretty well. They couldn’t turn furry, so they didn’t cause any trouble.”
“Aside from the legal issues, there was a problem with the drug they used. It drove lupi insane.”
“No kidding? I thought it was supposed to stop them from going nuts.”
“Government doesn’t always get it right, does it?”
“You got that for damned sure right. Say, have you heard the one about the werewolf, the rabbi, and the priest?”
Rule listened and laughed at the punch line as they passed the protesters. The man finished just as they pulled up at awning over the entrance to the tower that held Cobb’s room. Rule checked the cabby’s license, making a note of his name, as he took out his wallet. “Do you mind if I steal that joke, Jake?”
“Hey, spread it around. Everyone needs a laugh, right?”
“Right. You might want to catch Jon Stewart’s show next Wednesday.” Rule passed the man a twenty for a ten-dollar fare. “If I get a chance, I’m going to use your joke. If so, I’ll mention you.”
“You’re what? You mean you’re gonna be on Stewart’s show?”
Rule smiled as he stepped out into the heavy drizzle. “Watch it and see.” He closed the door.
It was a small thing, maybe, but Rule was betting Jake would tell that story often to friends, family, and future fares—about how he’d had “that weer prince” in his cab and didn’t know it—and that Rule was a good sport and used his joke on Stewart’s show. He’d probably tell them the joke, too. And a few of those people would begin to think lupi were more like them than unlike. That was Rule’s job: making his people seem less alien and scary.
Cobb’s killing spree was going to make that job a lot harder.
So would Humans First. At least, they were damn sure trying.
Rule had gotten a good look at the protesters as they drove by. A small but determined group, clearly, to be out in this weather—four men and two women, all white, mostly middle-aged. One of the women was clearly younger. She was pregnant. Between them they carried four signs. One read, HOSPITALS R 4 HUMANS; two others said, SUPPORT PEOPLE. PUT HUMANITY FIRST; and the pregnant woman held a sign with a single capitalized word in ragged red paint: UNCLEAN.
Good staging, Rule thought as he entered the hospital’s incongruously modern tower. Visually coupling that word with fertility tugged at sexu
al, racial, and religious fears. And Friar’s movement was all about fear.
That hadn’t been his first thought. In the first instant of seeing her with that sign, he’d wanted to take it away, to carry it for her or get someone else carry it. No doubt she’d have spit on him if he’d tried, and he supposed she considered herself his enemy. But she was a life-bearer. She shouldn’t carry heavy things.
Lily knew his people were protective of women, yet she didn’t, not really. She didn’t understand how deep it went.
Cobb had attacked women.
Rule was surprised to see the pretty young agent waiting for him near the information desk. Her heels clicked on the linoleum as she approached. “Special Agent Yu asked me to wait for you,” she said crisply. “This place is a bit of a warren. I’ll escort you to Cobb’s room.”
“Thank you,” he said gravely. Anna Sjorensen was earnest as only the young can be, and trying so hard to be tough. Her attraction to him embarrassed her, especially since she wanted badly to impress Lily. Wanted, he suspected, to be just like Lily.
He doubted that Lily was aware of this. She could be oblivious to her effect on others. As they set off down a short hall he asked, “Is Lily already with Cobb?”
“She wanted to wait for you. Ah … he’s awake and uncooperative, I’m told, and is refusing medical treatment. Special Agent Yu was discussing that with his doctor when I came down here to wait for you. She believes you can persuade him to cooperate. You would be able to restrain him, I take it?”
“If necessary, yes.” They’d reached a stairwell. He’d expected either this or an elevator; his sense of Lily’s location told him she was belowground. “Though I trust he’ll respond to my presence and not need to be restrained.”
Ann headed down the stairs in front of him. “She said you’re the, uh, Rho of Cobb’s clan.”
“That’s right. Did you find out more about his condition?”
“They dug out the lodged bullet while he was unconscious. He had a collapsed lung, but apparently he healed that. They’re more concerned about the other bullet’s path, which includes damage to his colon.”