Death Magic (40 page)

Read Death Magic Online

Authors: Eileen Wilks

It was one bright, warm kernel to cling to. Grandmother was on her side. But even Grandmother couldn’t make the news less than devastating to Lily’s parents. By now her mother knew she was disgraced and would be unemployed once the Bureau got around to the paperwork. Her father, too. Croft would have to fire her. He had no choice.
Suddenly weary beyond words, Lily leaned her head back. She closed her eyes and tried not to think.
Unfortunately, she’d never been good at that. Questions pushed at her until their pressure had her eyes popping open again. “You never answered my first question. Why are you here? For that matter, why are you here with Pete instead of Benedict? Who’s taking care of Toby?”
“Toby’s fine. Benedict and Arjenie are there. And Pete is well able to see to my safety.”
“I’m sure he is, but on those rare times you leave Clanhome, Benedict always goes with you.” Pete was good—Lily had seen him in practice bouts—but Benedict wasn’t just better. He was the best.
“Oh, Benedict objected at first, but he’s too sensible to insist on coming with me, under the circumstances. It would not be wise for me and both of my sons to be out and about for a protracted period.”
Because of the mantle. Because if Isen and both his sons were killed, Nokolai’s mantle would be lost. “And yet you’re here.” It was a huge risk, and not just to Isen. To the clan.
“And will soon be at Wythe Clanhome. Wythe doesn’t have Benedict, so their security isn’t up to our standards, but it would still be extremely difficult for our enemies to penetrate. The danger is much less than you’re thinking.” He patted her hand again. “You were alarmed for the clan, weren’t you? I’m pleased.”
She blinked, confused. “You’re going to Wythe Clanhome?”
“Of course. That’s where Rule and the new wolf are. Rule says that the new wolf—”
“You mean Ruben. Why do you avoid using his name?”
His eyes twinkled with unimpaired good humor. “Do you know, I don’t believe anyone had interrupted me for years before you joined the clan? Yes, that’s who I mean. A brand-new wolf isn’t called by the name he bears in his other form for the first two weeks following the Change. At the new moon, his guide will use that name to recall him to his other form. This new wolf is a Rho. That has never happened, obviously, but we are learning some of the consequences quickly. He can’t be controlled by anyone except a mantle-holder, yet he must be controlled until he’s able to do so himself. I flew out so I can relieve Rule of that task.”
Warmth rushed through her, a dizzy sort of weakness. He’d done it for her. Oh, being Isen, he might have had a dozen other reasons—no, there was no “maybe” to it. He did have other reasons. But in a very large way he’d crossed the continent so she wouldn’t be alone in this strange new life she’d been thrust into. Life as not-a-cop.
She touched his hand. Immediately he closed his around hers—a broad hand, warm and brimming with magic. It was nothing like holding Rule’s hand, yet it was comforting. Neither of them spoke for several moments. Finally she said, “I really need a shower, don’t I?”
He chuckled. “Oh, yes.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
 
 
LILY
got her shower. Then she slept.
She hadn’t planned to, but she walked out of the bathroom and the bed was right there and that was it. She figured it was okay to nap because she didn’t really have a plan. Not for the rest of the day, the week, her life.
When she woke up, she did. Sort of.
She lay quietly, blinking up at a ceiling grayed out by dusk and listening to rain on the roof. A faint, stretched feeling said that Rule was still far away to the north. The same thoughts she’d gone round and round with in that cell presented themselves to her again . . . only now they lined up better.
Had she been set up? Her gut said yes, and she was going to go with that assumption for now. But that only applied to what, not who or why. “Who” might be Sjorensen, but it was just as possible that Sjorensen had been used. And who better to do that than Special Agent Al Drummond?
She couldn’t be sure if she was letting the facts put Drummond at the top of her suspect list, or if she was leading with feelings. Because she wanted it to be him. She remembered the gloat in his eyes, the sheer delight he took in her downfall. But just because the guy hated her didn’t mean he’d framed her. Someone could’ve used his attitude to manipulate him, just as they might have used Sjorensen to tip Lily off. Drummond didn’t have magic of his own, and she hadn’t felt death magic on him. He could still be part of it. One of
them
.
Or not.
It was the “why,” though, that needed more thought. The last time one of Friar’s acolytes had tried to get her the plan had been wonderfully simple: kill her in a drive-by. They would have succeeded, too, if LeBron hadn’t given his life to save hers.
This time they’d gone for a complicated trick to destroy her as a cop. It didn’t jive. It was as if two different minds were coming up with “get Lily” schemes—one convoluted and subtle, the other brutal but straightforward.
Maybe it would help to look at what else Friar & Co. had done recently. They’d started by killing Bixton in a crazily complicated way, presumably so they could frame Ruben. That had to be the subtle mind. Then they’d firebombed Fagin’s house and nearly killed him. Straightforward.
Two minds. Well, Friar had two lieutenants, didn’t he? If she looked at results in order to determine her enemies’ goals, one thing was clear: they wanted Lily out of the Unit, not a cop anymore. Either dead or disgraced worked for that.
So she had to keep being a cop.
Her stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten much in lock-up, and she’d slept for . . . ye gods. It was four thirty in the afternoon. She sprang up from the bed, gave her hair a quick brushing, and double-timed it downstairs. The lights were on down there, holding back the early dusk brought on by the rain. Good smells and voices came from the kitchen, which turned out to be full of people sitting at the table . . . Isen, Pete, the Leidolf Rhej, José . . . and Deborah Brooks.
“Ah,” Lily said cleverly, stopping in the doorway as five pairs of eyes swung toward her. “Deborah.”
Deborah’s dimple winked. “You didn’t expect to see me.”
“No.” And she felt obscurely guilty now. “I guess you wanted to find out more about what happened to Ruben.”
Deborah nodded, sobering. “Isen and the sera have been telling me about being lupus. About being Rho. What it means, what it will mean. I’m . . . fairly boggled still.” She shrugged. “Also unemployed. Officially I’m on indefinite leave, but from what I’m hearing, I probably won’t be able to go back to teaching in Georgetown. Ruben’s going to have to stay at Wythe Clanhome.”
Lily crossed to the table and sat beside her. “I’m so sorry. Teaching means a lot to you.”
“I’ll teach again. It’s what I do, what I love. But not here, I guess.” She sounded sturdy, determined. Her eyes were sad. “And not soon, even though I can’t go to Ruben. That’s what I meant to do. I came here thinking someone would tell me how to find him, but I hadn’t thought it through. If I go to him, I’ll lead the—the authorities there.”
Isen patted Deborah’s hand. “It’s very strange to think of Ruben Brooks as apart from the authorities, isn’t it? We will work to repair that situation. José,” he said, turning his head, “perhaps you’d go ahead and make your corn bread.” He nodded at Lily. “I made some of my special chili. You like it, I recall, and it’s ready. We weren’t sure when you’d awake, though, so the corn bread isn’t. If you can wait a small bit longer ... but perhaps you don’t wish to. You missed lunch, and the gods only know what they fed you for breakfast in that place.”
Lily agreed that José’s jalapeño corn bread was worth waiting another “small bit” for. The Rhej pushed back her chair and stood. “May I?” the woman asked.
“May you—oh. You want to check me out. Sure.”
José went to the refrigerator and pulled out the milk. The Rhej moved behind her and rested her hands on Lily’s shoulders, humming “Amazing Grace.”
It took a while, though as usual Lily didn’t feel anything. José had time to mix the corn bread and slide two big pans into the oven before the Rhej spoke. “Your arm is completely healed, aside from a bit of scarring.”
Lily nodded. That much she knew.
“The microscopic damage in your brain is healed, too. And the circulation problems that led to it are gone.”
Grins sprang out around the table. José spun away from the stove with a huge grin. Even Deborah looked happy. Maybe they’d told her what the mantle had been up to before the Lady got it where she wanted it.
“But this is wonderful!” Isen cried. “Lily, you are no longer angry with our Lady? And not surprised at all to learn about this, I think.”
She was a great many things, too many to sort into words. But not surprised. “You’ll tell Rule.”
“Of course.”
The Rhej squeezed her shoulders before releasing her. She came around and sat next to Lily. She had a broad face, the skin a warm, friendly sort of brown, with beautifully arched brows above dark eyes with thick, stubby lashes, and the kind of smile that made you want to smile back. “You want to talk about it, honey? Because I’d surely like to hear.”
“About the Lady, you mean?”
“About her. About whatever you’d like to tell me, but I am always most interested in hearing about the Lady.”
“She spoke to me this time.” Lily paused, surprised that she’d said that. That she wanted to talk about it. “Not in words. I didn’t get words like you Rhejes do. Maybe she spoke the other time, too, but the part of me that . . . that can hear her doesn’t have words, so the rest of me didn’t know about it. But I remember her voice this time. It was a voice,” she added as if the Rhej had disputed this. “Not just a feeling or a knowing.”
“Her voice is beautiful, isn’t it? Like a purring kitten and a thunderstorm all wrapped up together.”
Small and vast, cuddly and shockingly powerful. Yes. All of that at once. A pang shot through her and she looked at Deborah. “She asked me to let her put the mantle into Ruben. She let me know what I was supposed to do for that to happen. So I knew what I was agreeing to. Not in words, I didn’t know anything in words, but I agreed. The Lady needed my permission to put the mantle into me. She needed my permission to take it out, too. So what’s happened to him is partly my fault.”
Deborah frowned. After a moment she said, “Maybe he had to agree, too. If you had to give permission, surely he would have, too.”
“If he did, there’s a good chance he doesn’t know it.” Lily shook her head. She didn’t want to talk about the Lady anymore, but there was one question she couldn’t keep back. “When I said she told me what she’d do, I don’t mean she gave details about the project. How could she turn Ruben into a lupus?”
“Ah. We’ve been discussing that,” Isen said, “at some length. I believe she first had to alter the mantle itself. Cullen said it was changing while you hosted it. I think she was—mapping human neurological paths, perhaps. Or other elements that differ from ours. Second . . . but this is your part of the story to tell.” He nodded at Deborah.
Deborah leaned forward slightly. “Arjenie Fox found something. I think I told you she’d been looking into Ruben’s genealogy for me? Well, after Ruben went through First Change, I guess everyone at Nokolai Clanhome was talking about it. At least Benedict and Arjenie were, and she got the idea to see if any of Ruben’s people could have been lupus. It seems lupi keep records. By combining her search with those records, she found . . . you have a term for it.” She looked at Isen, tossing the explanation back to him.
“A
pernato
. Yes. One of Ruben’s great-grandmothers on his mother’s side was the granddaughter of a Wythe Rho. One of his grandfathers on his father’s side was descended from a Wythe-Leidolf
pernato
, who was in turn descended from another Wythe Rho. He had the bloodline on both sides. Very thin, but it was present.”
Lily gave up trying to track the great-greats. “
Pernato
are the result of recessives on both sides. I get that. But why didn’t you know about him?”
“We knew about his grandfather on one side and his grandmother on the other. But beyond the fourth generation, no
pernato
are born, so we don’t track our descendents past that point. It’s a matter of magic as well as genealogy, you see. The recessive genes may continue to be passed down, but the power is too diluted for a lupus babe to be born. And, indeed, Ruben Brooks was not born lupus. But he possessed the bloodline.”

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