by Eileen Wilks
It looked like spaghetti to Lily. Radioactive spaghetti. Wiggly white lines glowed against a black background with a few glowing blobs—caves, caverns?—strung along some of the loops.
“Of course, you can’t tell much from this,” Arjenie said. “Here’s the 3-D view.” She hit a few keys and the lines separated, becoming a 3-D representation. “They tied a bunch of key points to GPS, so I was able to transpose it onto an aerial map. I’ll show you.” She moved the cursor, clicked. Glowing spaghetti suddenly overlay the tan, gray, and dull green of mountains. “This is the tunnel we’re interested in.”
She shifted the screen to follow one particular strand of spaghetti that stretched out straighter and farther than most … and the aerial view was suddenly familiar. A whole lot like Cynna’s map, in fact, complete with a view of Friar’s roof and swimming pool.
Lily felt cold. Then hot. “Are you telling us that Friar’s tunnel connects to the cave system the Azá used?” On the list of places she never wanted to see again, that one would be number two. Right after hell.
“I can’t say for sure. My tunnel ends more than a quarter mile from the one Cynna found, and I don’t know if that’s because it really ends or if that’s just where the mapping stopped. Plus I’ll have to check the notations about depth to see if the two tunnels are in the same plane. But it looks like they could connect, doesn’t it?”
It sure as hell did. “Arjenie, you said the gnomes petitioned to have this added to their Underways. Was their petition granted?”
“I don’t know,” she said apologetically. “I didn’t check.”
“Find out. Unless the petition was refused out of hand, I’m betting it’s still pending. It’s been less than a year, and if the gnomes claimed that cave system, they wouldn’t tolerate Friar’s little tunnel.”
“Okay.” She looked puzzled. “You sound really cheerful about that.”
Isen smiled. “I believe I know why. Once the government agrees to consider such a petition, it becomes the custodian of the caves in question.”
Lily shot him a grin. “Exactly. In which case, we’ve not only found our back door—it’s on federal property.”
FORTY-ONE
DUSK. Air cooling in the slide from light to dark. A world wrapped in gray, its edges fuzzed and uncertain. Birds quiet, lights coming on inside houses … and, here at Clanhome, the occasional howl off in the mountains. Or closer.
Lily stepped out on the rear deck and paused, letting her eyes adjust to the incomplete light. Then she headed for the tall, dark-haired man leaning on the railing at the far end of the deck.
He turned. “You got the warrant?”
“Finally.” The judge had taken some persuading. The terms of the search were unconventional, and she hadn’t liked the idea of discussing matters in her chambers in a circle drawn by a sorcerer. The circle had been necessary to make sure Friar didn’t eavesdrop. The Code 300 the Bureau was operating under had persuaded the judge to accept the precaution.
“And you wanted me to know right away.”
“Not exactly. I …” Lily finger-combed her hair back from her face. “This wasn’t my idea. I thought Isen should talk to you. He thought I should. He won. I’m not sure how. Something about how he thinks you and I are so alike.”
Benedict’s eyebrows lifted. “My father’s understanding of people is uncanny, but …”
“I don’t get it, either.” She frowned up at him. “I don’t know what he thinks I can say. I’m not a talk-it-out person, so I don’t know how to get someone else to do that. Unless I’m interviewing,” she added, “but that’s different, isn’t it?”
He smiled slightly. “Is that what this is? An attempt to get me to work through my trauma?”
“No. I can listen if you want to—”
“No.”
She nodded, understanding perfectly. “How you deal with what happened isn’t any of my business as long as it doesn’t interfere with the mission tonight. The potion’s out of your system, so that’s not a problem. You told Isen you were okay to go tonight, and he took you at your word. I’m trusting his judgment.”
“And yet you’re here.”
“I talked to Arjenie a few minutes ago. Or tried to. I’m not a talk-it-out person, but she is, and she’s not talking.”
He turned away, laying his hands on the railing again. “You don’t want to go there.”
“My wants have nothing to do with it. She’s avoiding you. You’re avoiding her. That isn’t going to work.”
“You’re a couples therapist now?”
“It isn’t going to work because in a couple hours you’ll both be underground with your lives and a lot of others depending on how well you function together.”
“You discussed this with my father.”
“Damn right. With Rule, too. Rule thinks I should stay out of it. He’s willing to gamble his life that neither of you will screw up because you’re tied up in knots about the other one. I’m not.”
His hands tightened. She heard the wood creak in protest. “I’m not going to force my presence on her. She’s afraid of me.”
“She—”
He slashed the air, quick, and definite, with one hand, cutting her off. “Don’t try to feed me comforting lies. I smell it on her.”
“Maybe she is. She also thinks you blame her for what happened.”
He turned—quicker this time, not so deliberately. “How could she possibly—”
“She couldn’t say it, of course. She can’t speak of her sister. But I held her hand and I know what she thinks. It was her sister’s potion that turned you into a killer.”
“I am a killer.”
That stopped her—but only for a moment. “Wolves kill, yeah. Warriors kill, too—when we have to. When that’s required. You didn’t kill today because of your wolf or your will. You were used. Viciously used.”
He made an impatient noise. “You see that. I see it. But while Arjenie might agree with you in her head, she doesn’t feel that way about it. She doesn’t understand violence.”
“You’re right. She doesn’t have a context for it. She’s trying to build one, but you staying away doesn’t help. She saw you freak out …” Lily paused, remembering. “That was incredible. Until today I would have said no single person, human or lupus or whatever, could take down one of those red-eye demons without major firepower.” She’d seen Rule try once with the help of another lupus, and with Lily shooting it every so often. “I’m betting you could.”
His voice was desert-dry. “I doubt Arjenie shares your admiration.”
Annoyed with herself for getting sidetracked, she brushed that away. “My point is, she saw you freak. She knows you didn’t act by your own will, but knowing that doesn’t erase the images. You need to remind her of who you are. We’re what our choices make us. What you didn’t choose isn’t part of you. What you do about it will be.”
He was still. Silent. After a long moment, his mouth crooked up on one side. “My father is right again. How annoying of …” His voice drifted off. So did his attention, drawn to something behind her.
Lily turned. Arjenie had stepped out onto the deck. And for the first time, Lily saw the woman’s sidhe heritage.
Maybe it was the quality of the light, the shifting dimness somehow transmuting Arjenie’s careful gait into an instant of pure grace. She wore her usual tee and jeans, yet Lily could almost see the filmy sort of gowns elves wore. See how right that would look, anyway, flowing around long, thin limbs, with the wild rumpus of her hair falling loose around pale shoulders.
Lily blinked. The almost-seen vision was gone. It was thoroughly a normal woman coming toward them—thin, uncertain, her glasses hiding her eyes in the failing light. Lily glanced at Benedict.
He stood utterly still, as entranced as they say humans sometimes were by the sight of an elfin maid. Maybe he saw Arjenie as Lily had for a moment. Or maybe what he saw didn’t matter, eclipsed by what he felt.
“I’ll be
going now,” she said dryly, sure he wouldn’t notice.
But he did. He looked straight at her. “Lily.” He paused. “Most advice is useless because it’s shaped to the giver, so it is an ill fit for anyone else. But my father did send you to me, so I’ll give you my hardest-won lesson, for whatever good it may do you. For some of us, it’s easier to understand what we would die for or kill for than what we will live for. What we live for can change.” He nodded. “Thank you.”
ARJENIE was desperately unsure if she was doing the right thing. Maybe she should turn around and go back inside immediately. Benedict didn’t want to see her, and she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to see him, and … and he was looking at her as if she were the only thing left to see in the whole world. Her heart fluttered.
Foolish heart. Maybe she was a fool. She could live with that. She kept walking toward him. It wasn’t until he turned his head and said something to Lily that she realized Lily was present. Her feet stopped. She should go back inside. This wasn’t the right time.
If not now, when? They weren’t guaranteed to live through tonight. She thought they would. Hoped they would. But no guarantees. She got her poor, frightened feet moving again.
Lily left, pausing briefly on her way inside to give Arjenie a nod and a smile. Bless her. Arjenie let her feet carry her up to within a couple feet of Benedict. She managed a smile. She managed to say, “Hi.” Then her brain shut down.
A wisp of amusement ghosted across his hard features. “Hi?”
“You think I know what to say? I don’t know what to say, except that I’d be a big mess if I were you. No, I mean I’d be a mess if I’d had done to me what was done to you.” She cocked her head. “You don’t look like a mess.”
“I’m functional. I … have a context for what happened. You don’t.”
“It’s still pinging through me. Little aftershocks. I’ll get shaky all of a sudden, as if … I don’t know why. None of that was aimed at me.”
“The first time I saw someone killed, I threw up.”
She smiled. “That’s a very human reaction.”
“I was ten, so my wolf was still asleep.”
Only ten. Dear gods. “And the first time you killed someone?” Because this wasn’t his first. She was sure of that. Not sure why she asked, what she needed to know, but sure this wasn’t the first time for him.
He was silent so long she thought he wouldn’t answer. “His name was Brad Mettinger. I didn’t know that when I killed him. My father used to leave Clanhome more often. He went to the symphony one night. He was restless afterward, so we headed for the park. We were jumped by a Leidolf strike squad. I killed the one with the gun and disabled two others. My father killed the fourth one. He—the fourth Leidolf—was in wolf form,” Benedict added as if he didn’t want her to think poorly of Isen. “It’s harder to kill a wolf than a man.”
“How did you feel?”
“At the time, satisfied. I hadn’t failed. I was glad I’d refrained from killing all of them. It was best to allow Leidolf to clean up their own mess.”
The bodies, he meant. He’d refrained from killing all of them so the survivors could remove the bodies. “Afterward? How did you feel afterward?”
Again he was silent for a long moment. “I was young, but I’ve never … Rule says that I live close to my wolf. That’s not how I think of it. I don’t feel the division between myself as wolf and myself as man that most do. Wolves don’t regret killing. I didn’t regret it, but it made space between the man and the wolf. I was uncomfortable with that space. Isen told me to learn about the man I’d killed.”
“So you found out his name.”
“His name, his age, that he had had two daughters, no sons. His father was still alive at the time. I learned his name, too. And his uncle’s.”
“Did that help?”
“It allowed me to grieve his death. Wolves don’t, not when it’s an enemy they’ve killed. Men need to, or they get twisted up.”
“You’re grieving now.”
“Yes.” He hesitated. “Isen says humans have a hard time being glad they’re alive when others died, even when those others weren’t close to them. They feel guilty for their joy at surviving. They have trouble grieving those deaths because of the guilt. I understand this in a way. My grief for Claire was muddied and snarled by guilt. Do you feel this way now?”
A sound broke from her, something between a laugh and a sob. “Yes—no—I feel confused! When it was happening—it all happened so fast! I couldn’t believe how quick it all was. And you—” She stopped abruptly.
“I went insane. You saw that. You’re frightened of me now.”
“Lily said you’re angry at what was done to you. She assured me anger doesn’t make you crazy, that it isn’t what I saw today, and you would never fall into the fury if you hadn’t—if someone hadn’t … the fury’s different from regular anger. Isn’t it?”
“They’re alike in the way a puddle is like the ocean.”
She shivered. “It must have been horrible to feel that way.”
“They say women often forget the pain of childbirth. That the mind protects them from a too-keen recall. I remember what I did. What I felt has already begun to fade. Arjenie, I don’t blame you. I don’t blame your sister. I blame Robert Friar.”
In that last, flat statement she heard and saw the anger Lily had regretted mentioning. Deep anger. She couldn’t speak—but not because of his anger. Because what she wanted to say involved Dya.
“You’re frightened of me. Standing here with me scares you.”
“Well, of course. Not because I think you’re going to hurt me, because you’re not doped up by some terrible potion now, so you wouldn’t. It’s more that I saw how much I don’t know about you, and while I guess that’s true for anyone when they fall in love, I—”
“In love?” He started to reach for her. Stopped. His face shifted from anger to hope to … fear? Yes, that was it. Hope and fear were conjoined twins, after all. “You think you love me?”
“Maybe it’s just the mate bond thing for you, so you don’t want to hear the L-word, but I know ‘in love’ when I feel it. Not that I’ve ever felt it this strongly, and I don’t know if the mate bond makes it stronger, or if that’s because of who you are. I’m still at the falling-in-love stage, and there’s so much I don’t know about you, which is scaring me. You have to really know someone to really, deeply love them, don’t you?”
“I know you.” His voice thrummed with certitude.
Her heart was pounding hard. So hard. “Only a few days of knowing. That’s not much.”
“There will be more to learn, but I know you. You’re stubborn and pragmatic and caring. You like people. That liking is genuine and constant, with very few exceptions, so it’s no surprise that people like you back. You delight in the pleasures of the mind and of the body. You think of yourself as fearful, but don’t allow fear to stop you, which is the definition of courage. You’re deeply accepting and deeply loyal. When the half sister you knew for two years nearly twenty years ago calls, you drop everything, risk everything, for her. You feel deeply, see clearly, and talk a lot. You don’t care for wine. You love sweets. You have a strong sense of privacy. You treasure your family. You hate lying and avoid it if you possibly can. I don’t know what it would take to make you really angry. You’re clear and pure, and there are no stagnant places in you.”
Her face was wet. When had she started crying? She stepped forward, into his arms. They closed around her and she held on to him. Held on.
“I didn’t think you’d let me hold you again.” His voice was rough, broken. He pressed his cheek to the top of her head. “Not for a long time. Maybe not ever. Not after what you saw me do.”
“I won’t say that doesn’t matter, because it does, but I don’t know how and why and what it means …” She sighed. “I’m all-over confused. You made me sound so much more together than I am.”
He began stroking her hair. “Tog
ether sounds like finished . You’re too alive to be finished. I hope to have fifty or sixty years to watch you try out all sorts of ways to put the pieces of Arjenie together.”
Her breath broke on a small laugh. “Maybe more.” Honesty made her add, “Probably quite a bit more. Part-sidhe, remember? I don’t know how long I’ll live, but almost certainly more than that, and from what you’ve said about the mate bond, that means you’ll be putting up with me a long time.”
He went still. He stayed that way so long that she had to lean back so she could see him … and then couldn’t, not clearly, because of her wet eyes, so she wiped them. Met his eyes.
And saw joy. Stark, bone-deep, glowing like the heart of the sun.
He reached up, cupped her face. “You will live a long time.” There was wonder in his voice.
She nodded. “Most low sidhe live to a hundred, easy. A few live several centuries like the elves do, but they’re the ones who heal really quick, which I don’t. But I do heal faster than straight humans, so …” Suddenly she understood. Wonder seeped into her own voice as she said, “You love me. It isn’t just the mate bond. You love me.”
“So much.” He smoothed her hair back. “So very much.”
FORTY-TWO
IT was a whippy wind, a darting, daring, sand-in-the-face wind. Perhaps, Isen thought as he listened to it slapping at the car, the wind was annoyed with them for intruding on the empty places it frequented. Or perhaps it was delighted to find a new target for its mischief.
All personification aside, the wind was one more factor to consider when he fought for his life tonight … and, if he could manage it, fought to spare the life of the foolish, whippy young wolf he would face.