Blood Magic (17 page)

TWENTY

RULE
sat quietly through a second making and pouring of tea. Alarm still pinged through his system, scattered after-quakes set off by Sam’s revelations. His thoughts were jumbled; he made no attempt to gather them. Not yet. There was a time to bear down and think through a problem, and a time when thinking was mere froth on the surface of deeper processes moving forward, unseen, in their own way.

Mostly he watched Lily.

She was upset, and not just by the threat posed by the Chimei.
Topsy-turvy
, she’d said. He didn’t understand. He tried not to feel affronted. He knew she’d always understood herself to be fully human, and it was rough to be forced to change one’s view of self. But was her notion of humanity so rigid it couldn’t flex to include a whiff or two of dragon?

Once the tea was poured, he inhaled deeply, allowing the scent to fill him. A question floated up into the froth of his thoughts. How would he react if he were told he wasn’t purely lupus?

Badly, he decided, and sipped.

More questions, more insistent: What would they do about this Chimei? How would they stop her?

A year ago he would have pounced on those questions, wrestled with them, stuck doggedly to their trail. The balance between wolf and man had shifted since then . . . a forced shift, perhaps, and acceptance had not come easily. But the new balance worked. His wolf was more present these days. If that made some situations—like hospitals—harder to navigate, it steadied him in others.

Like now. His wolf understood waiting. They didn’t know enough. Some shapes were emerging, but the murk was too thick to guess what those shapes portended. It wasn’t yet time to act, or even to choose an action.

He glanced at Lily. There was a small crease between her brows, and though she seemed to look at the cup she held, he doubted she noticed it at all. He would leave the first action to her, he decided. Soon she would begin to ask questions. The shapes would grow clearer.

For now, Rule relaxed into the moment. The air was almost painfully dry, which muted the scents it carried, but those scents were delightful—creosote, cypress and sumac, wild mustard and cholla, all overlaid with the lush moistness of the reservoir. San Miguel Mountain smelled like home to him, only without much wolf-scent. And with a good deal of dragon.

Most wolves wouldn’t care for that, and not because the smell was unpleasant. Sam’s scent was as compelling as his sinewy form, but it bore the meaty whiff of predator among its notes of metal and spice and mystery. The smell awoke the crouched beast in the back-brain, stirring the hackles, making feet twitch with the need to escape something much larger and more dangerous than any wolf could be.

Rule’s beast was calm. He knew this scent, this dragon.

The air was growing warm, perhaps unpleasantly so for humans. Rule asked Li Qin if she were comfortable here, if she required anything. She assured him it was much cooler inside Sam’s lair. He’d dug her a small “room” inside and enchanted it to remain cool. Something to do with moving the heat elsewhere, she said, through the rocks.

Rule smiled. Even the black dragon was not immune to Li Qin.

Lily asked what she could bring Li Qin. Food? An air mattress? Books? Rule’s thoughts drifted back to wolves and dragons.

Wolves prefer to run away if faced with an impossible battle—a more helpful attitude than human machismo, in his view. But Rule’s wolf knew this particular dragon. Knowledge did not make him unwary, but it settled his hackles. They weren’t friends, he and Sam, but there was respect and honor between them. Sam was deeply honorable, by his lights.

Deeply tricky, too. Rule contemplated that as he sipped.

This time, the consumption of tea seemed to settle Lily, though she hadn’t quite emptied her cup when the first question emerged, shaped as a statement. “I wish I knew where Sam went. What he’s up to.”

Li Qin spread one hand gracefully. “Perhaps he is up to something, as you say, at this moment. Perhaps he left simply so he would not be tempted to steer our conversation.”

“He did advise us to confer among ourselves. He thinks we can stir up enough answers to get started that way.” Lily frowned at her almost empty cup. “Do you know where Grandmother is? What she’s up to?”

“I do not. Sam said she is hidden.”

“That doesn’t mean she isn’t up to something.” Lily took a final sip of tea and put down her cup. “Maybe we could start the conferring by you telling us the rest of the story about Grandmother and the Chimei. You said that Sam—Sun Mzao—hoped she would stop the demon somehow. How?”

“
The Chimei had taken as lover a young sorcerer, who had in turn taken control of the city. While Li Lei was in the mountains, studying with Sam, this sorcerer caused the deaths of her entire family.”

“Bloody—” Rule stopped himself from finishing the oath. “Excuse me. But . . . she was only seventeen, you said.”

“Seventeen when she went to Sam. Nineteen when her family was slain.”

“She killed the sorcerer?” Rule asked.

Li Qin nodded. “Though I do not know the details, I know Li Lei returned to Luan with that intention, and she succeeded.” She put her own cup down. “I have heard pieces of this story over many years. The questions I now wish to ask were not what seemed most important in earlier days. Li Lei never spoke easily of that time, so I did not press her.”

Lily’s fingers tapped once on the table. “She didn’t explain when she asked you to take refuge with Sam?”

“She said she was unable to. She was clearly frustrated by this.”

“This treaty Sam talked about stopped her from talking about it now, but it didn’t stop her before.”

“So I assume. I do not know.”

Rule said, “Sam spoke of intent as a factor.”

Lily’s gaze flicked to him. “He did, didn’t he?”

“I cannot claim to know another’s full intent,” Li Qin said placidly. “However, I do not think she told me anything so I would be able to act against the Chimei, should the need arise. I would say her motives were quite personal.”

“Hmm.” Lily’s fingers drummed on the table again. “But Grandmother did kill the sorcerer who killed her family. You’re sure of that.”

“Li Lei is certain of it.”

“The thing is, it looks like the Chimei . . . Does she have a name?”

Li Qin turned her palms up. “I do not know it. Could any being not possess a name?”

“I don’t know. Dammit, I left my notebook in the car. Never mind,” she said to Rule when he started to rise. “I’ll take notes later. What I mean to say, Li Qin, is that it looks like our Chimei has hooked up with a sorcerer again. That’s not definite, but it’s a strong possibility.”

“Ah. No, I do not believe this could be the same sorcerer. However, many folktales speak of men who unknowingly take a demon or spirit as wife or concubine. This is a common theme. I mentioned this to Li Lei recently, thinking it was funny to assume a spirit would wish for a human wife. She said she didn’t know about spirits, but for a demon, mating with a human was the only way to be in flesh.”

“In flesh?”

Li Qin tilted her head, considering that. “No, I believe ‘in body’ would be closer. Her words were
zài shen ti
. It’s an odd phrase, which is why it stayed with me. At the time, I thought she made a naughty play on words—to be in a body, to be in a woman. Now I wonder if she meant this physicality Sam spoke of.”

Lily glanced at Rule. “Shen ti is like
body
or
health
. Zài sort of means
in
, but not exactly. You’d use it to say you were in a location, or in the middle of doing something. Or if you use it a different way, it just means to be, to exist. So that fits. It works.”

He nodded. “You think the Chimei’s bond with her lover is necessary for her to . . . How did Sam put it? To reconstitute her physical portion.”

“Sure sounds possible. Sex magic is an old tradition, and if she always picks a sorcerer for a mate, it may be she needs him to do a ritual or something. We can ask Cullen what he thinks later.” She looked at Li Qin again. “Do you know if, when Grandmother killed the . . . Shit.” Her phone had chimed. “I’m surprised I’ve got reception out here.”

Li Qin smiled. “Oh, Sam arranged for me to have bars here. He did not want me to feel isolated. I think, too, he is curious about technology and wished to see if he could do this.”

Lily flung her a startled glance, but whatever number she saw on the phone’s display had her answering crisply, “Lily Yu.”

“Sam is able to boost coverage for a cell phone?” Rule asked Li Qin. He didn’t precisely listen to Lily’s conversation while he spoke to Li Qin, but he didn’t precisely not listen, either. He felt a frisson of displeasure when her caller turned out to be Deputy Cody Beck—and felt annoyed with himself for the annoyance.

“I do not know how it works—but then, I do not know how cell phones work, either.” She smiled. “I believe Sam understands it better than I.”

“There would be a huge commercial potential, if what he does could be duplicated.”

“I do not think Sam approves of money. Not for dragons, at least. He says he does not want his promises scattered all over, nor does he accept promises promiscuously.”

Money as a collective promise? It was an interesting take on the subject. “Still, if he’s found a way to make magic and technology coexist, or even work together . . . hmm.” It gave him something to consider for the favor Nokolai would eventually claim, once they finished negotiating.

Lily disconnected. “We’ve got to go.”

“What’s up?”

“Cody’s found a body for me.”

THE
body, it turned out, was already at the Medical Examiner’s.

“So this victim was killed by a single thrust to the heart.” Rule started the car, put it in reverse, and twisted around. He needed to get the vehicle turned around here, where Sam’s landing pad gave him room to maneuver.

Lily clicked her seat belt into place. “Looks like. The responding officers didn’t spot it, but no shame to them. The body was found yesterday, but the victim had been dead awhile. In this heat . . .” She shrugged.

Rule’s nose twitched in sympathy. “They know anything about the victim yet?”

“If so, Cody didn’t have it. Just that the man had been stabbed from behind by a thin blade that penetrated the heart. No suggestion magic was involved, but there wouldn’t be. Um . . . you don’t have to go in with me.”

“I’m perfectly capable of controlling myself.”

“Sure, but you hate that place.”

Rule disliked morgues with both of his natures, but it was the wolf who truly hated them. Rule wasn’t sure why. Wolves weren’t upset by the deaths of strangers, but for some reason, the presence of all those bodies made his wolf anxious. Cemeteries didn’t affect him that way. Just morgues. “I’m not fond of waiting in the car, either.”

“Okay. What about your bodyguards? Going to have them meet us there?”

“They won’t be much help against a killer who could make them think no one was around. Or that you were attacking me.”

“True.” She pulled out her phone. “I’m going to call my mother.”

His eyebrows rose. “Voluntarily?”

“I just want to make sure . . . rats. It went to voice mail. Ah—Mother, this is Lily. I need to talk to you about something important. Give me a call, okay?”

“You want to make sure she’s okay,” Rule said as she disconnected.

“I want to make sure she actually wears that charm. Mother tends to discount what Grandmother says, which I guess I can understand, because Grandmother doesn’t ask—she commands. And she seldom explains. But telling Mother to wear a dragon scale charm doesn’t mean she’ll do it.”

True. “Madame Yu must be aware of that.”

“She ought to be, but there’s this dynamic in our family where Mother usually agrees with Grandmother, then does things the way she wants. So she might have nodded and agreed to wear the charm, but—” Her phone interrupted with the opening bars of “The Star Spangled Banner.”

That particular ring tone meant her boss, Ruben Brooks. She answered right away. “Hi, Ruben. You must be psychic or something. I was just going to call.”

Since Brooks was, indeed, psychic—his Gift was precognition, or awareness of events before they occurred—that was meant as a joke. But Brooks didn’t laugh. Rule had no trouble hearing his response. His hearing might not be as acute in this form as in his other one, but with Lily’s phone so close it would be hard to not overhear.

“Lily, I had a disturbing dream last night. Or a series of dreams, rather, centered on San Diego.”

“I didn’t think you did dreams.”

“Normally my Gift doesn’t manifest that way, no. On the rare occasions that it does, it generally means there’s the possibility of a massive loss of life. I have a feeling it would be unwise to bring in troops at this point, but I’m unsure what steps I should take.”

TWENTY-ONE

RULE
saw Lily jolt. He felt the same shock in himself, a nasty, crawling certainty that things were about to go spinning out of control.

“Troops?” Lily repeated. “Like the Army? You’re thinking of calling in the Army?”

“No, I’ve decided I’d better not. I’ll explain. I dreamed of a series of possible scenarios. Many of them involved widespread arson, rioting, violent mobs—the complete breakdown of civil authority in San Diego. However, in some of the dream sequences, this breakdown wasn’t limited to San Diego. I don’t wish to alarm you, but there is a possibility the upcoming crisis could infect the entire nation. Maybe several nations.”

“We just got warned about something like that,” Lily said slowly. “Really bad shit that could happen all over the world.”

Ruben’s faint sigh suggested relief rather than increased tension. “Then I called the right person. Good. For some reason I doubted . . . Never mind.”

“Do you have any feel for how close the crisis is?”

“Hmm. I can’t answer that precisely. I’ll try to frame this better. That I dreamed of so many sequences suggests there are many decision points that could lead to what I saw. Some of those decision points may be fairly immediate. I believe my first impulse—which was to ask the president to put the National Guard on standby alert—was one such decision point. I decided that bringing in the military would increase rather than ameliorate the potential disaster. Do you know why that might be?”

“Shit. Shit. Maybe. Let me pull my thoughts together. We’ve just been to see Sam—Rule’s with me—and what we learned has to explain those dreams. He said . . .” Her voice trailed off. A strange look spread over her face, as if she’d bitten into a steak only to have her teeth grind against steel. “He told us about this being, this . . . He said that I . . . There’s . . . Oh, hell.”

Lily thrust her phone at Rule. “I can’t. I can’t say any of it.”

He took the phone, thinking fast. Lily had been able to discuss the Chimei with Li Qin, so why . . . but Li Qin already knew about the Chimei. Ruben didn’t. That must be the difference. “Ruben, this is Rule. I’ll have to brief you. Lily has just discovered she’s unable to speak to you about this. There’s a geas—an inherited binding—that’s tied to Lily’s Gift rather than being repelled by it. This geas prevents her from saying more.”

“Hello, Rule.” Ruben’s voice was polite with a hint of wary. “What in the world is going on out there?”

Lily watched him, intent and furious. He wished he could take her hand, but both of his were occupied. “I need to ask you something. It’s after noon, your time. Clearly you waited several hours to call Lily. Earlier, you said you had doubts, but didn’t explain. Were you uneasy about speaking with Lily?”

“Yes, I thought our conversation might be or might precipitate one of the decision points.”

“Do you have that feeling about speaking with me?”

Ruben was silent a moment. “Actually, it’s stronger than before.”

“All right. Let me think a moment.”

Lily spoke very low. “Rule, you have to tell Ruben.”

“Do I? It seems that the treaty considers Ruben pivotal, or it wouldn’t have stopped you. Ruben has an uneasy feeling about talking with me. This—my revealing information—could be one of those indirect actions Sam spoke of which can break the treaty.”

“Or it could be exactly why Sam brought you in—so you could pass on information I can’t!”

That was what had his mind spinning, trying to guess at ramifications that were essentially unguessable. Sam had included Rule in his briefing. That had been choice, not necessity, so it meant something, but what? “He made me part of this, though the treaty’s geas can’t act on me, and the treaty didn’t stop him. Therefore it must be possible, even probable, for me to act in ways that don’t break the treaty.”

“I’m finding my end of this conversation interesting, yet frustrating,” Ruben said.

“Sorry. I was speaking to Lily. I should have put you on mute. There are ramifications to your learning too much right now.”

“There are also ramifications from my knowing too little, which is where I am right now.”

“I’m sorry,” Rule repeated, “but I have to put you on mute for a moment.” He touched the screen.

Lily was ready to erupt. “Dammit, Rule, we can’t just sit on this!”

“Before we act, we have to figure out why Sam brought me into this—and why the treaty let him.”

“He did it so you could speak of all the things I am so damned not able to!”

“That’s one possibility.” Rule trusted Ruben as much as he did any non-clan human, but telling the man about the Chimei and the treaty would hugely increase the variables. “Here’s another one. What if Ruben decides he can’t rely on you, since you’re being affected by an outside agency?”

“He wouldn’t pull me. Someone else wouldn’t have the geas getting in the way, but the Chimei or her lover could affect them.” Her voice was crisp. She was thinking again, not just reacting.

“But Ruben might not accept my word for that. And it would be my word, not yours, since you can’t speak to him about this.”

“Shit.”

“Yes.” And that was only one of a half dozen ways this could go wrong. A half dozen he could glimpse—how many more was he missing?

He couldn’t afford to bring Ruben in. He couldn’t control the decisions Ruben or those he informed might make. Maybe Ruben wouldn’t bring in troops, but the president could overrule him. Adding Ruben to the mix meant adding a spiraling number of decision points.

No, that wasn’t quite accurate . . . Withholding information didn’t mean Ruben wouldn’t act. He’d simply do so in the dark. “Bloody blast it all. Does Sam expect me to figure out what he thinks I’d do, then do it? How do I know what a dragon thinks I would do?”

Grudgingly, Lily said, “Sam knows you best as a wolf. He’d predict your actions based on the wolf, not the man.”

Yes. Yes, that made sense. He flashed her a smile, then fell silent, letting himself slip partway into wolf . . . and gradually, many of the difficulties dropped away. His choices were fewer and clearer.

He took the phone off mute and spoke crisply. “Ruben.”

“Still here.” There was an uncharacteristic edge to the man’s voice.

“Your hunch was correct. Do not call in the Army or the National Guard. We’re dealing with a being who can affect minds en masse—up to about five hundred at a time that we know of, based on the number of people who failed to see, smell, or hear this being’s agent last night. Lily was the only exception. Her Gift blocked the illusion.”

“Yet it allows her to be silenced by this geas.”

“As I said, the geas is inherent in her Gift, though it wasn’t triggered until now. But the geas doesn’t delude Lily’s senses, which this being can do to almost everyone else.”

“Including you?”

“Yes. It’s not mind control, but sensory control. People see and smell what she tells them to. We don’t know her range, either. She may be able to affect even more people than she did last night. Since she thrives on the fear of others, calling in the Guard could precipitate the very crisis we need to avert. The Guard might begin shooting at what they thought were monsters, and instead kill innocents.”

“You said ‘she.’ What being is this?”

“I won’t speak of that at this time.”

“Won’t or can’t?”

“Lily can’t. I won’t. Nor, I’m afraid, will I explain that decision.”

Ruben was silent for a long moment. “This has something to do with the treaty you spoke of before muting the phone. Treaties are the purview of the government, not your clan.”

“The treaty I spoke of predates the U.S. government.” He paused, considered options. “I believe that’s all I will say about it.”

“Does this have something to do with the one you lupi don’t name? The one who tried to open a hellgate last year, and whom Lily and you ran up against in Dis?”

Ruben was amazingly bright—and was reaching for precisely the conclusion Rule intended. A stupid man would not have arrived at the wrong answer so quickly. “I’m not going to answer that question.”

“That’s not satisfactory.”

“We aren’t in a satisfactory position at the moment. I have to gather more information before I know what’s safe to tell you—or anyone else.”

“
You
have to gather information. Not Lily?”

“We’ll both be doing so, of course. But since she’s involuntarily mute on the subject, it falls to me to decide what to tell, who to tell, and when. We’ll stop this enemy, Ruben,” he added quietly. “But I’m not sure how yet. The situation is extremely fragile.”

Ruben spoke very dryly. “That much I already knew. Let me speak to Lily.”

“Very well.” Though he wasn’t at all sure Lily would back him on this, he handed her phone to her.

“Lily,” Ruben said, “are you able to tell me anything at all?”

She scowled. “Not really.”

“Can you tell me if what Rule has said—what little he’s said—is accurate?”

“Yes.” Surprise wiped away the scowl. “Apparently I can. He hasn’t told you enough, but what he’s said is true.”

“You disagree with his decision to withhold information.”

“I do, but . . .” She glanced at Rule. “But I understand his reasons, and they’re valid. He’s doing this his way, which pisses me off, but he’s got the right goal in mind. I can see where the scenarios you dreamed about could happen. I can see that all too easily.”

“What do you need?”

Rule almost closed his eyes in relief. Ruben was keeping Lily in charge of the investigation.

“I don’t know yet. No, wait. A car. I need a car. Mine’s still being fixed.”

“With the fate of San Diego and possibly the world hanging in the balance,” Ruben said dryly, “I think that can be arranged. What will you be doing?”

“Looking for the perp. The, ah, one Rule mentioned, whom apparently I can’t mention—no, wait; I can say that he tried to kill Cullen. That perp. He’s . . . Shit, it’s closing me down again.”

“This is frustrating for both of us. Ida will arrange for your car. Where do you want it delivered?”

“The Medical Examiner’s office. That’s where I’m headed.”

“Very well. It may be there before you are. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“What? You’ll see me?”

“I’m flying out there,” he said serenely. “I’ve a strong feeling I’m needed. Goodbye for now.”

Lily took the phone away from her ear, staring at it blankly. “He’s coming out here.”

“Good.”

“You want him here? When you won’t trust him with the truth?”

“He’s a strong precog who interprets his Gift with rare accuracy. I can’t think of anyone better able to help us navigate this maze.”

“But you won’t tell him what maze we’re navigating!”

He glanced at her. She was still deeply angry. Some of that was directed at him, but he wasn’t the cause. “It’s difficult to put my reasoning in words, since it’s largely non-verbal. The wolf wanted . . . No,
I
wanted Ruben to have enough information so he wouldn’t act blindly, but there was a good chance he would tell others what I told him. That feels extremely dangerous. Those others might react in too many different ways, ways that Sam couldn’t have foreseen and accounted for.”

“But now Ruben just has guesses and speculation to pass on. How is that better?”

“That’s why I led him to believe we’re dealing with the one we don’t name.”

“You what?”

“I didn’t lie, but I encouraged that conclusion. You and I wondered the same thing last night, before we knew about the Chimei. It wasn’t hard to steer him in that direction.”

“You deliberately deceived him.”

“Ruben will be more likely to trust us to deal with this if he believes it has to do with
her
. Lupi are the world’s only experts on
her
.”

“That only makes sense if I accept your starting point—that it’s better not to tell him the truth.”

His decision was so obvious to him now it was hard to understand why she didn’t see the same thing he did. “Sam needs the number of decision points kept as low as possible. Otherwise he loses control of the possible ways the treaty could be broken.”

“You’re letting Sam call the shots? You pulled a Rho on Ruben, but you let—”

“I did what?”

“Pulled a Rho on Ruben. You weren’t making suggestions—you were telling him how things were and what he needed to do, then manipulating him like your father would. If he hadn’t been on the other side of the continent, he’d have felt your mantle pushing at him.”

“Humans don’t feel the mantles.”

She snorted. “Go right on believing that. I’ve seen you pull the mantle on a former Marine, and I saw him back down. Never mind—we can argue about that later. The point is, you’re dancing to Sam’s tune. We need to call Ruben back, fill him in.”

“Sam knows the tune. We don’t, not yet.”

“So you’ll just cede him the right to call the shots? That’s not like you.”

“I’ve ceded nothing,” he snapped. Clearly his
nadia
partook of dragon nature in more ways than one—which gave him new insight into how difficult it had been for her to accept the mate bond, but he’d consider that another day. When she wasn’t driving him crazy. “Sam and I are allies in this. You’re overreacting.”

“I’m damned well not! I’m not going to be shut out, shut down, by this—this—”

“At the moment, the treaty is controlling more of you than your speech. You’re like an animal trying to chew off its leg to escape a trap. You’re reacting, not thinking.”

“I’m thinking just fine. I think I hate misleading Ruben.”

“Ruben is a good man, but he acts for
the government
. If Sam’s actions indirectly cause a separate power—a governing body—to move against the Chimei, that’s likely to break the treaty. “

“I act for the damned government, too.”

“And you weren’t allowed to speak to Ruben. To bring that government in on this.” He let that sink in a moment. “You can’t tolerate having something imposed on you. I understand that. Sam understands even better, I’m sure, but he’s had time to adjust. He doesn’t allow his rage to dominate his thinking.”