Blood Lines wotl-3

by Eileen Wilks

  When her arms were over her head, with her heels still pounding the earth, she searched. And Found.

  Not an exact match, but the click of connection was unmistakable. She felt it in her stomach, her palms, the lifting of all the tiny hairs on her arms. Her eyes opened.

  She was facing the house.

  SIXTEEN

  "SHIT!" Cynna snatched up her tote and kicked into a run, not taking the time to put her shoes back on.

  "Where?" Cullen demanded, loping along easily beside her. "Where is it? How far?"

  "The house. It's in the house."

  "Can't be. Even if I didn't smell it when we were inside, Victor or his guards would have. Behind the house, maybe."

  "No. It's on the second floor." That's what made her so sure it was in the house—it was that way, and the right distance, and well above ground level. "The connection feels odd, but it's clear enough."

  "What kind of odd?"

  "Finding is kind of like tying a rope between me and what I've searched for. The texture of this rope is funny, a little like when I search for a living person and Find a ghost. But not exactly, and anyway, demons don't throw ghosts."

  "Maybe it's dashtu. That might explain… no, it wouldn't," he said, arguing with himself before she could. "I still smelled the one that chased me when it was dashtu."

  "You were chased by a demon? When? Where?"

  "Later. They aren't going to let us in." He kept pace with her even as he told her it was pointless. "They won't believe you.

  Demons stink. Even a human could smell one if you were close enough."

  "Maybe this one's using deodorant."

  "I'd have seen it. I think. If it were in someone, I should've seen it."

  "So maybe it's in someone you didn't see. Get Timms."

  "They for damned sure won't let him in. If that odd texture you mentioned…" His voice trailed away. He stopped. "Holy Mother."

  She stopped, too, though it made her twitchy. "What?"

  "I'm stupid. I'm a fool. There are humans in that house. We can't be possessed, but there are humans in that house."

  "Oh, God." She stopped and tossed him the car keys. "M-16 in the trunk." She took off running.

  He ran with her, damn him. "Go get a weapon!" she shouted.

  "And shoot who? It's in a woman!"

  The car door slammed. Timms started for them, .357 in one hand, submachine gun slung over his shoulder. "Get the dart gun!'' she called.

  He paused, spun, and went back for it.

  The guards, human and lupine, massed in front of the door. "Stop."

  That was the one with African blood. Alex. Boss guard. "You heard us, dammit!" She skidded to a halt at the steps. Her heart was pounding, and not from the short run. The back of the house. The demon is upstairs, at the back of the house. It can't hear us. It has only its human host's senses. "There's a demon inside. We need in. Now."

  "The Rho is resting. He's not to be disturbed."

  "He'll be damned disturbed if that demon gets hold of him!"

  Timms slid into place beside her. "What's going on?"

  She answered without taking her eyes off the guards. "The demon has possessed one of the women. That's why the lupi didn't sniff it out. Look," she said to the boss guard. "I'm Dizzy and a Finder. I know demons, and I know Finding. You've got a demon in the same house as your Rho, and there's a good chance it wants to kill him. She sent the demon, and She may be trying to decapitate the clans."

  "She?" he repeated, brows snapping down in a scowl.

  "The Great Bitch," Cullen said. "The Lady's enemy."

  "You can prove this?"

  "Not from out here," Cynna snapped, "but I have holy water. If one of the women reacts to it, will you accept that as proof?"

  He thought about it longer than she liked, but at last nodded. "Wait here. I'll wake the Rho."

  "I need in now. I have the authority. If you don't—"

  Cullen put a hand on her arm, then said something Latin. At least she thought it was Latin. He spoke so softly she barely heard him.

  Boss Guard heard just fine. He looked at Cynna, astonishment mixing with skepticism, then back at Cullen. "AH right. Gary, go get her." One of the wolves—the one with reddish fur—leaped over the porch railing, landed on the ground, and hit high speed in a blink.

  "Where's he—"

  Boss Guard spoke right over her. "If you've lied, Nokolai—"

  "You'll pull me apart and feed me to the pups. Fine." Cullen leaped onto the porch without bothering with the steps. "Lead on," he told her.

  One hell of a leader she was. She should have planned for this possibility. Lily would have.

  She'd have to wing it. "Timms," she said, "we treat this as a hostage situation, only the hostage may try to kill us or take other hostages. We have to restrain her, not kill her. I want to surprise her if possible, so hang back, try not to let her see you. Be ready with the dart gun." And pray the dose they were using worked. "Cullen, burning things won't help. What else have you got?"

  "I'm more of a brute force kind of guy, but I do have a sleep charm."

  "Good. That's good. How long will it hold her under?"

  He shrugged. "It'll put a human to sleep for up to a week if left undisturbed, but I haven't tried it on a demon. And it has to be activated while touching her skin."

  Okay, the demon might not stand around quietly for that. "We may still need it. If Timms darts her, the anesthetic should have an effect, but we don't know how much, or how long it'll last." It was getting hard to stand still—this close to a target, the Find pulled at her.

  Boss Guard shook his head. "You aren't shooting anyone unless you prove she's possessed."

  "You'll have your proof. How many women are in the house?"

  "Three adults and two children."

  Oh, God. She hadn't thought of that. Never mind The Exorcist; demons seldom possessed a child. Kids were too constrained by size, social roles, and the lack of a Visa to be much fun for them. But she'd already been wrong about this demon once. "Timms, if it's in a child, you can't dart her. That dose is for an adult."

  "If I don't dart her, how will we hold her long enough for an exorcism?"

  "We'll think of something." Oh, that was lame. She looked at Boss Guard again. "How many of you are coming with me?"

  "Me. David." He nodded at a man-shaped guard, then told the wolf to hold the door.

  "Okay. Keep in mind that she'll have demonic strength— more than you've got—but she won't be as fast as you."

  "If there is a demon."

  He worried her. Doubt could make him hesitate, and hesitation could get him killed. But she didn't know what else to say. "Here's the plan. I Find her, splash her with holy water. She'll react in a way that proves she's possessed." Except that not all demons were hurt by holy water… but this demon matched the pattern of the one she'd killed. The poison from that one had definitely been affected by holy water, so the demon should be, too. Shouldn't it?

  Never mind. She didn't have time for second-guessing. "Soon as she reacts, I'll get out of the way." She shifted from foot to foot, wanting to get moving, to follow her Find. "If she's an adult, Timms darts her, and you big, strong lupi can finish subduing her, if necessary. Then Cullen puts a sleep on her."

  Boss Guard and Cullen exchanged a glance. "Well," Cullen murmured, "it does have the virtue of simplicity."

  Boss Guard grunted. "And if this alleged demon is in a child?"

  "There's three of us," Cullen said. "We might be able to hold her long enough for my charm to work."

  Or not, in which case… dammit, she couldn't think of any other options. Cynna took a deep breath, made the sign of the cross, pulled a vial of holy water out of her tote, and opened the door.

  No one in the entry, the hall, or on the stairs. She gave the living room a quick scan. Empty. Couldn't hear any voices, but music was playing upstairs—something longhair, with violins. She started up.

  The Find yanked hard now. She
had to consciously mind her pace or she'd have sprinted up the stairs. Stealth, she reminded herself, and kept to the outsides of the risers, hoping to avoid any creaky spots.

  The music grew louder as she climbed but remained muffled. Someone was listening to it in a bedroom, she thought, and hoped it was the Leidolf Rho, and that he wouldn't pop out of his room to make trouble. Then she hoped even more he was alone in his room.

  Close. So close. Fourteen feet away, and up. Thirteen.

  Cynna gestured at those behind her: wait. She eased up the last few steps.

  The pregnant Merilee was in the middle of the hall that ran the length of the house. So was Victor Frey. She was bent over her big belly, hands braced on the wall, her sweater bunched up beneath her breasts, jeans and panties MIA. His pants hung at his knees, stopped in their descent by his spread legs. He was fucking her from the rear, quick and hard.

  Merilee turned her head and met Cynna's eyes. Her face was flushed, her mouth smiling, her eyes wild. She liked it.

  Typical damned demon. Cynna drew her arm back and pitched the vial.

  Frey saw her. His face contorted in rage, his hips kept pumping, and his hand flashed up—and caught the vial before it struck.

  Damned lupus reflexes! Cynna dug out another vial, dumped the tote, and raced down the hall. "Timms—dart her!" she cried, cursing herself for telling the others to stay back. "Frey, she's possessed! She—aw, shit!"

  Still smiling, still fucking, Merilee had twisted around impossibly to loop one arm around Frey's neck, and squeeze. Frey's eyes bulged.

  Vial in hand, Cynna threw herself into a tackle.

  And Cullen, who'd never heard an order he didn't disobey, hurtled right past her.

  He arrived first, ducking as Merilee swung at him with her free hand. He grabbed the arm clamped around Frey's throat and threw himself back, pulling all of them off balance.

  They'd just started to topple when Cynna collided with a confusion of legs. She glimpsed shaved skin on a shapely calf and smashed the vial against it.

  Merilee howled. A heavy weight landed on Cynna's back, smashing her to the floor. Her breath whooshed out. Someone yelled. Feet thudded down the hall. A sledgehammer hit the side of her head, and everything went black.

  SEVENTEEN

  THAT afternoon, Lily developed a deeper appreciation for the problems of working parents.

  Right after Cullen left, she did, too, heading for the Secret Service's headquarters on Murray Drive. She wanted everything they had on the perp they'd tagged for demonic dealings. She wanted copies of whatever they'd learned about Jiri and the others on the list Cynna had given her, too.

  She struck out. The two men she'd worked with still wouldn't tell her a damned thing, so she insisted on being passed up the food chain to the assistant chief muckety-muck. He made her wait, then made vague promises of cooperation, claiming he wanted to help but had to clear it "at the highest level" first. But his face and body language said he'd die and rot before he gave freaks like her and the others in the Unit one jot of information.

  She wondered if the presidential adviser would take her phone call, maybe goose the jerk a bit. Didn't hurt to try, she decided, so she called Ida on the way back to the row house, requesting the number. Ida wouldn't give it to her.

  So Lily wasn't in the best of moods when she headed back to the row house. Next up was a meet with the task force at five, and she wanted Rule there. They'd have questions about the lupi's ancient enemy and Her role in the demons sprouting up like spring flowers. Plus he needed to get the last of the poison removed, and at least two of the task force members should be able to handle that.

  But Toby was there—scrubbing the kitchen floor, at the moment, as penance.

  "I don't see why he can't come with us," she said for the second time.

  "To FBI headquarters." He was incredulous.

  "It's secure."

  "And what do you plan to do with him? You don't have an office to park him in—not that I'd recommend that, anyway. The number of things a kid his age can get into—"

  "Like an airplane, but he managed to get here okay, didn't he? He's a bright kid."

  "He's a bright eight-year-old. Last summer he decided to make a pair of wings modeled after da Vinci's sketches. I found out before he tested them, thank God."

  "Maybe we can find someone there to keep an eye on him while we talk to the task force."

  "Ruben, maybe?"

  "Very good." She nodded. "You don't have anything reasonable to say, so you use sarcasm."

  "Reasonable. You think it's reasonable to insist I leave my son—"

  "Have I once said you should leave him?"

  "—with strangers because you're determined to manage my life. You don't trust me to take care of my leg. You don't trust a solution you haven't come up with yourself, so—"

  "Waiting is not a solution!" That's what he'd suggested—that he wait until the bodyguards arrived to deal with his wound.

  "—you want to drag me with you and make sure it's done on your schedule."

  She flushed. "I do have other priorities, like trying to find out how these demons are being summoned and who's behind it. Plus the task force needs to know about the conclusions we've drawn and the goddess we don't name."

  "So go."

  She stared at him a long moment, then shoved her hair back with both hands. "Why are we arguing? Do you even know why? I don't."

  "I'm arguing because my hip hurts and I'm an ass. You're arguing because you're worried about me. And because I'm an ass."

  "At least there's a good reason." She went to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. He put his arms around her, too, and rested his cheek on the top of her head. Within a few breaths, they were okay again.

  "You didn't mention the other reason we were fighting," she said.

  "Which is… ?"

  "The way I turn into a control freak when I'm scared."

  "Oh, that. I was being tactful."

  She snorted. "If we don't—" The doorbell chimed. She repressed a sigh. The world never gave them much time before poking its nose in. "Guess we should see who that is."

  "We should," he agreed without moving.

  Feet thudded on the stairs. "I'll get it!" Toby called.

  "No, you won't," Rule said, disengaging and starting for the stairs.

  Lily headed for the door. "Have you told him what's going on?"

  "Not yet. I will as soon as I see who our caller is. Toby, go back upstairs."

  Lily didn't listen to the argument that followed. She'd applied her eye to the peephole again and received an even bigger shock than finding Cullen on her doorstep. After a stunned pause, she unlocked and opened the door.

  This time it was two women who stood there, both Chinese.

  One was middle-aged, plain, and wore a simple dark-blue pantsuit with a wool jacket. The other was old, tiny, and as proudly erect as a queen. Her black hair was winged with white and drawn into a ruthless bun; her dress was crimson and reached her ankles; her jacket was quilted silk of many colors.

  Lily sighed. "Grandmother. Of course you would show up now."

  "You are not moving aside so we may come in," Li Lei Yu pointed out severely.

  Automatically Lily complied.

  Grandmother brushed past. "Our bags are in the car. Your Rule Turner may see to them. Do you still have that cat?"

  Grandmother was using English instead of insisting Lily speak Chinese. No doubt that was meant to convey some sort of message, but Lily was in no mood to decode it. "Harry's around someplace. Grandmother, why have you—"

  "Not now," she said, giving the living room a disapproving eye. "Ugly. I suppose that is not your fault, however."

  Li Qin paused on the threshold to give Lily an apologetic smile. "The limousine driver can bring in the bags, Lily. Are you well?"

  "Mostly." She watched, resigned to her fate, as her grandmother seated herself on the sofa. Her feet didn't reach the floor.

  "I
will need a footstool," the old woman announced, "but later. I have been in airplanes and airports for seventy-two hours. You have no Christmas tree."

  "We expected to go home for Christmas, so we didn't put one up. Grandmother—"

  "Your plans have changed? Ha! I am not surprised," she said darkly. "Later you will tell me. Now you may tell me where my room is. Li Qin will wish to go to her room, also. We have eaten. Abominable food, but we do not require a meal."

  Lily's conscience nipped at her. It was easy to forget that Grandmother was old. She sat as erect as ever, but the skin around her eyes looked bruised with fatigue.

  But why exhaust herself so? Why had Grandmother cut her trip short and flown here instead of home to San Diego? "Upstairs," she said automatically. "Your room will be upstairs. But, ah, we weren't expecting you, and we have to—"

  "Madam Yu," Rule said, entering with Toby trailing behind. Toby hung back in the doorway while Rule crossed the room. He bent, taking the old woman's hand to press a kiss there. "You honor us. May I present to you my son, Toby Asteglio?"

  Grandmother gave an approving nod. "You may. You are Toby," she informed the boy. "You may greet me."

  Toby gave his father a panicky glance but came forward a few steps, offered a jerky little bow, and said, "Madam Yu. H-how do you do?"

  "I am well, thank you. Do you stay here, also?"

  He nodded uncertainly. "I wasn't supposed to, and I'm in trouble about it."

  "I will teach you to play mah-jongg. You will not enjoy it at first because I will win, but you will like it later, when you find players you can defeat. Lily." She turned imperious black eyes on her granddaughter. "I have much to say to you and Rule Turner, but I will rest first. Why are you not at work?"

  "I'm trying to work," she said dryly. "People keep showing up, expecting to stay here."

  A gleam of amusement brightened the tired eyes. Grandmother enjoyed being outrageous, but at least she knew she was doing it. Mostly. "You require a Christmas tree."