Blood Lines wotl-3

by Eileen Wilks

  Lily licked dry lips. "Uh… the realms?"

  "Yes. Such a feat is difficult, even for them. But enough of them chose to work together to do this much: our Earth was closed to most of the other realms. Magic here dwindled—slowly at first, so that for centuries little seemed different. Then faster. And they—even they—were forbidden to enter here or to meddle in our affairs."

  "That's why the Great Bitch can't cross?" Cullen said sharply. "Because she's forbidden by others of Her kind?"

  Li Lei shrugged again. "Forbidden is a human word. I do not know what laws or bindings act on such as they."

  "The task force," Lily said suddenly. "Fagin, the guy in charge, believes that magic began dwindling about four hundred years ago, not three thousand."

  Grandmother looked at her, "His guess is not so bad. By then, the remaining magic was not enough to… hold things together. That is when the dragons left, and the last of the elves, and many others of the Blood, and their leaving made a hole. Magic poured out faster than ever. And the Book of All Magic—"

  "Was lost," Cullen broke in. "Or was it?"

  Grandmother fixed him with a severe stare. "You," she announced, "are going to be a problem." She folded her hands on the table. "The shift in the realms, the closing of ours from the others, was not meant to be forever. The story I know calls the moment when the realms return to their previous state the Turning. Two nights ago, I felt it happen."

  No one spoke for a long moment. It was Cynna who broke the silence. "Excuse me, but are we supposed to just, you know, believe that? We'd already figured out that the realms are shifting, but the rest of this… are you claiming that, of all the people on the planet, you felt this Turning and knew what it was?"

  For whatever reason, that made Grandmother smile, as if at a good joke. "Yes."

  "What you're saying," Lily said, leaning forward, "is that magic isn't going to return to the level of four hundred years ago. It will go back to what it was three thousand years ago."

  "Yes. Though not right away, I think."

  "And the Codex Arcanum?" Cullen demanded. "The Book of All Magic. You started to say something about it."

  She looked at him and sighed. "Yes. According to legend… theory… a good guess," she decided. "We will call it a good guess, made by the one who told me this tale. He believes that what you call the Codex was taken away and hidden when the magic failed. He believes it will return at the Turning, or be returned—or even that the Turning is a sign it has already returned. As do others," she finished grimly. "Including She we do not name. That is what She wants: the Codex Arcanum. The Book of All Magic."

  "Don't tell them," Cullen said.

  Lily stared at him. His eyes were glazed, his face tight with emotion. "What?"

  "Don't tell the FBI about the Codex. I'm not sure I trust me with the knowledge that it's back—that maybe it's back. I for damned sure don't trust anyone else."

  "I have to," she said. "They have to know."

  His eyes flashed with such anger she almost reached for her weapon. He shook his head sharply, thrust his chair back, stood, and strode for the door.

  Lily pushed to her feet. "Cullen—"

  Rule laid a hand on her arm. "Let him go. He'll come back when he's ready."

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  He wasn't ready for three days.

  While Cullen was gone, Toby did indeed learn to play mah-jongg. So did Timms, who came to see Cullen the day after he took off, then returned at Madam Yu's regal invitation.

  Madam Yu also became a student, or perhaps collaborator was the better word. Or guinea pig. She received a kilingo of Cynna's pain-blocking spell, and when she was able to make it work, Cynna imprinted the spell on two of the guards, who had less success. She didn't know if the spell lost potency from being copied or if the guards simply weren't able to work a spell of that sort. They decided to wait for Cullen's return before imprinting it on anyone else.

  Rule's wound healed completely, though the scar remained. And he continued to lose time.

  Early Tuesday morning, Cullen turned up at the door, unshaven and looking like he'd slept in his clothes. Which Rule assumed he had, for however little time he'd spent sleeping. "Have you eaten?" he asked, holding the door.

  "Yes." Cullen frowned. "Not lately, though, now that you mention it."

  "The kitchen, then." Rule headed that way.

  They met Lily winging through on her way to the back door. She wore one of her pretty suits, this one with a dark blue jacket and a black pencil skirt. The coat he'd given her wasn't back from the cleaners yet, so she was shrugging into the Lands' End jacket.

  Her face went blank. "Cullen."

  "Like the proverbial bad penny, here I am once more." He sank into one of the chairs, a subtle lessening in his usual grace telling Rule exhaustion rode him hard. "Miss me?"

  She scowled. "I was worried."

  "That I'd absconded with your secrets and gone off to pursue the you-know-what?"

  She rolled her eyes. "I've got to go," she told Rule, and came to him for a quick kiss… which didn't turn out to be so quick. He handed her the umbrella she kept forgetting. This was the third day of drizzle, but Lily hadn't adjusted to the notion of consistent wetness. She frowned at it, patted his arm, and sped out the door without looking back.

  Normal. They both worked at keeping things as normal as possible. Rule knew she was afraid for him—he smelled it on her—but they both pretended otherwise. It helped.

  Cullen was looking him up and down. "It's stronger. Not by much, but… stronger."

  Rule kept his expression even. "So Lily says, also. Do you want eggs or meat?"

  "Meat." Cullen propped his elbows on the table and leaned his head into his hands, scrubbing his face. "Where's Cynna?"

  "Albuquerque." They'd eaten deli food last night. Rule took what was left of the rotisserie chickens from the refrigerator. "She left last night."

  "Albuquerque?" Cullen straightened. "What the hell's she doing in Albuquerque?"

  "Did you think you could set her down, go away, and find her still where you put her when you came back?" Rule poured a glass of milk. "You know women better than that. Here."

  "I didn't think—" Cullen began indignantly, then broke off and grinned. "All right. I didn't think, and that's going to bite my tail, isn't it? But really—why Albuquerque?"

  "She's interviewing one of Jiri's former students. So is Lily, though her target lives much closer, in Baltimore."

  "Ah." Cullen lost interest.

  Lily—via Ruben—had pried open the Secret Service's files on those in Jiri's inner circle. One was in prison; three had vanished beyond the ability of the Secret Service to locate; two were dead.

  Of the remaining four, Lily had spoken with two, sent Cynna to talk to one, and was supposed to meet with the last one today.

  Fortunately, the mate bond was in one of its more elastic periods, and Baltimore was less than forty miles away. Even if her target lay on the far side of the city, it shouldn't be a problem.

  Cullen had gone back to scrubbing his face, probably trying to stay awake long enough to eat. Rule sliced off a drumstick and thigh, put it on a plate and set that, a fork, and the plastic tub of potato salad in front of his friend. "Eat," he said, and sat opposite him.

  Cullen needed no encouragement, tearing into the chicken as if it had been days since he's eaten. That was unlikely. He might delay sleep more than was wise, but he kept himself fueled. It was one of the few good habits he'd developed while clanless. Lone wolves couldn't afford to get too hungry.

  With the chicken reduced to bones, he started on the potato salad. "I wasn't off sulking, you know. At least, not the whole time."

  "I realize that. Lily, however, has known you during one of your more stable periods," Rule said calmly. "Her expectations are different."

  Cullen looked up, his eyes dark with anger—then gave a bark of laughter. "Women and expectations. Go together, don't they?" He sighed, pushed the empty contai
ner away, and picked up the glass of milk. "I'm feeling a tad volatile. You may have noticed. I should probably go burn something."

  Rule let his eyebrows express astonishment. "You mean you haven't?"

  Cullen's grin was easier this time, less edged. "No. Haven't been laid in far too long, either." He broke off to yawn hugely. "Lord, I'm tired. I did spend some time four-footed. Have you?"

  "Every day." Ten minutes, as he'd been set to do.

  "I don't mean penance. I mean running, being wolf as wolf is meant to be."

  Anger licked at Rule's insides. He suppressed it. "Nag later. Did you learn anything?"

  "Not much." Cullen slouched back in his chair. "I was in New Orleans. You'll be getting a Visa bill for the trip."

  Rule nodded, accepting that for the explanation it was. Cullen's financial morals were peculiar, but within their bounds he was quite straitlaced. If Cullen had billed the trip to him, it was clan business, which meant he'd gone in search of help for Rule's condition. "You went to see a Vodun priest or priestess?"

  "The one I hoped to consult hasn't been seen since the hurricane, but I talked to a couple others. One let me use her workshop." He lifted his butt enough to dig into his pocket and pulled out a small, silk-wrapped bundle. "Don't say I never gave you anything."

  Rule unfastened the black silk gingerly. The contents were unremarkable: a single white feather. It looked like it had come from a chicken. "I hope I'm not supposed to eat this."

  Cullen snorted. "No, you wear it next to your skin. Just a sec…" He dug into another pocket. "Here." He passed Rule a thin strip of leather. "This has been purified. Use it, not silver or gold. The original charm wards off evil spirits—not exactly your problem, but we tinkered with it."

  "We?"

  "The priestess whose workshop I used helped me work out some of the changes. The original charm was Vodun—got it from the guy who's missing—so I needed advice on the modifications. If it works, it'll stop the demon stuff from growing."

  "And if it doesn't?" Rule picked up the feather. There was a small silver cap on one end with a loop to run the leather strip through.

  "I suppose it could cause a rash." He grimaced. "Hell, Rule, I don't know. It's the strongest charm I could make. I think it will work, but I don't know. Even if it does, it won't last more than a week. Maybe less."

  Rule turned the charm between his fingers. It felt like just a feather, no zing or punch at all. He wondered what it would feel like to Lily. "Blood magic, Cullen?" Most Vodun magic involved blood, or so Cullen had once told him. And most blood magic came with an expiration date.

  Cullen scowled. "It's not black."

  But it was probably gray. Rule suspected that any moral penalties from the charm wouldn't redound to him but to his friend. It was probably too late to object. The charm was made. Refusing it wouldn't lessen any price Cullen had agreed to pay.

  But he didn't like it. He didn't like it at all. "Our friendship is getting unbalanced. You went to hell for me. Now you've taken on God knows what kind of burden to—"

  "Shove it. First, you were my friend when it cost you—and don't tell me it didn't. Second, you're now my Lu Nuncio. What happens to you affects the whole clan. I'm allowed to protect the clan."

  Rule turned away abruptly and grabbed the chicken carcass. He yanked open the refrigerator. "Do you have any idea what that's like? People guarding me, protecting me, paying for my safety with their lives—do you know what that's like?" He grabbed the milk, spun, and hurled it across the room.

  The carton splatted against the wall. Milk went everywhere.

  "Feel better?" Cullen said cheerfully.

  "No." What a mess. What a goddamned mess.

  "Funny. It usually brightens my day to break things. Oh, well." He shoved back his chair. "Let's get it cleaned up. Where's your brotherly shadow?"

  "You," Rule said, incredulous, "are going to help clean up?"

  "I'll hand you the sponge and point out any spots you miss." He looked around. "Where is the sponge?"

  Rueful, Rule shook his head. "That's going to take more than a sponge." He went to the pantry and took out the mop. "Benedict's upstairs with Toby. I promised not to leave the house without him."

  "I'm surprised he agreed to put a whole floor between you."

  "The warden cut me a deal." His brother had probably heard everything—Rule's temper tantrum, much of their current conversation. Benedict's hearing was uncanny, even for a lupus. Rule picked up the burst carton. "Throw that away, will you? I'm supposed to spar with Freddie later." Methodically, he began mopping. "For some reason everyone thinks I'm strung a little tight."

  "If you start acting as erratic as me, we're in trouble." Cullen dumped the carton in the trash and added quietly, "You've had more… incidents, haven't you? Blackouts, I guess we could call them."

  "Four." He carried the mop to the sink, rinsed it, and brought it back to finish. Three times in the last two days his memory had simply ceased working. "The gaps are short—between ten and twenty minutes. So far, no other symptoms. Lily knows about one. I haven't told her about the other three, so don't mention them."

  "Jesus, Rule! And you accuse me of being an idiot with women!"

  "No, you're thoughtless, but when you bother to think, you're bright enough." Rule finished mopping and carried the mop back to the pantry. The wall still had to be washed. "Don't bother giving me advice. I'm not going to worry her more than I have to."

  Cullen shook his head. Another yawn hit.

  "You'd better get to bed. Take my room—the others are occupied."

  Cullen managed a tired grin. "Think Lily will object to my sleeping in her bed?"

  "No, but she'll hate the way you'll bring it up at whatever moment irritates her most." He retrieved the sponge Cullen had pretended not to see earlier. It was hiding on the shelf above the sink.

  "Couple of things I need to tell you before I crash, if I can keep enough brain cells operating to do it." Another yawn. "About Timms—"

  "I told you I wasn't keeping him for you."

  "I know that." Cullen was irritated. "I called him, told him I had to be out of town awhile. I…" He stopped, eyes narrowing. "You knew that."

  "He's come over every day. He's on medical leave because of his arm, so I guess he's at loose ends. Madam Yu," he said, "is teaching him mah-jongg."

  "Good God."

  And that, Rule thought as he stooped to wipe down the wall, was both typical and brand-new. Cullen hadn't called Rule after he vanished—typical. He'd expected Rule to understand. He also hadn't wanted to give Rule a chance to object to what he meant to do. He hadn't called Lily or Cynna because it hadn't occurred to him. But he'd called Timms.

  Cullen had always collected strays—often, though not always, human. People as hungry in their way for belonging as he was. But he'd never tended to them himself for long, instead finding someone else to assume responsibility.

  But he'd called Timms.

  "Might as well call him, tell him I'm back. Can't tell him everything, of course," Cullen said. "Especially about the Codex." He paused. "I suppose Lily has already passed that bit on."

  Rule finished the wall, straightened, and nodded.

  Cullen's fists clenched, then relaxed. "I guess the ones we most wish didn't know about it already do. I've an idea about the Codex. That's the other thing I wanted to tell you before I crash."

  "I'm listening." He put the sponge back and returned to the table, where he picked up the feather and the leather strip. He might as well wear the damned thing. Maybe it would help. He threaded the leather through the silver loop.

  "The report Lily gave me. Putting it together with what I can remember or reconstruct—does that make you as mad as it does me?" he asked suddenly. "Having your memory messed with?"

  Since he'd just finished cleaning up the evidence of his temper, Rule's voice was dry. "Yes. It does."

  Cullen nodded. "Anyway, the FBI detected what they call a nodal disturbance down in Galv
eston. Their reader's estimate was so high—in the neighborhood of sixty thousand fyllos—they assumed it was a glitch. That kind of nodal energy just doesn't happen, and if it did, there'd be other disturbances… kind of like what we've seen lately, as a matter of fact. But they sent someone to check it out anyway. Regular FBI guy from the local office, not the Unit, but he had some Wiccan training. He talked to several people who lived near the node. Including Molly Brown."

  Rule tied the leather around his neck and slipped the feather under his shirt. He didn't feel different. But then, he didn't feel different when he lost time, either. "Molly's your succubus friend."

  "Right. She had another friend with her—a woman named Erin DuBase. Registered Wiccan, rumored to be a priestess or high priestess. Also present was someone they claimed was Molly's nephew… named Michael."

  Rule saw where he was going. "The same first name as the sorcerer who visited you. The one you think tampered with your memory."

  Excitement burned off Cullen's exhaustion. He began to pace. "Next thing you know, there's an APB out for Molly and Michael, who've left Galveston—only no one knows who issued it. Molly calls me at some point, then she and Michael fly out to see me. We're together for hours. I don't remember it clearly at all, but it doesn't occur to me for a long time that there's anything wrong with my memory. Aversion spell," he said, stopping crisply. "I found the damned thing in my head."

  "Did you get rid of it, then?"

  Cullen's grin was fierce. "I did. Learned a few things in the process, too. But back to my story. My next clear memory is waking up with Molly and Michael gone. I'm not alone long. The Az£ come calling, looking for Michael, though they settle for me.

  "Lucky me. At some point before their arrival, I acquired shields. Shields so good no one, not even the telepathic Helen with that damned staff augmenting her power, can break through. We're talking the Rolls-Royce of shields, Rule, when no one on this planet today knows how to build a goddamned Model T."

  Rule felt cold. "But that sort of spell might well be in the Codex."