Death Magic (44 page)
Authors: Eileen Wilks
“You’re so far ahead of where I thought you were . . .” He stroked her damaged arm with one hand . . . but the damage was gone. His fingers skimmed over intact muscle. Deep inside, he seemed to vibrate, as if . . . he didn’t know. He knew what the feeling was, but he didn’t like it. “What do you intend to do now that you’re a ghost?”
“What I always do. Find the bad guys. Stop them. I’ve got a plan—which consists mainly of questions, but with some assumptions mixed in. I need to know what kind of resources I’ll be able to draw on.”
“We can’t match what you’re used to, but you’ll have help. Some of it will be at the house by the time we arrive.”
“Cullen?”
“Yes, though he’s not the only one.”
“That reminds me. Someone else won’t be there. The Rhej had to leave. I gave her five hundred dollars.”
His eyebrow lifted. “Did you?”
“She asked me if you kept any Leidolf funds around, since she’d blown her bank account on a plane ticket. I didn’t know who that money in the safe was from, but I gave her five hundred of it.”
“You did the right thing.” He dug a hand into his pocket. “Did she say where she was going?”
“On mysterious Rhej business. That’s what she said. That’s all she’d say.”
“I’d give a good deal to know what that business is. Here.” He held out a smooth black pebble. “Your secret decoder ring.”
Puzzled, she took it. “Okay, it’s got a tiny tingle of magic, but it’s not a ring and . . . oh.” It was glowing.
“If you touch it for five seconds, it glows for two.” Hers had already faded back to dull black. “It won’t react to anyone but you. You use it to identify yourself to other ghosts as an active agent.”
She met his eyes. “You expected me to join your gang of conspirators all along.”
“Not expected. Hoped. I need to give you a quick rundown of how the Shadow Unit is set up.”
She glanced at the back of Mark’s head.
“He will be trying not to listen, but if he hears it’s all right.” He bent his head anyway to speak closer to her ear. It let him swim in her scent. “There are three types of ghosts—active agents, irregulars, and allies—plus an additional resource we call associates. You can assume that allies and agents know about Ruben’s visions, about the Great Bitch and Friar—pretty much everything. Agents are able to call on irregulars, allies, and associates for assistance, depending on the situation and the need.”
“Allies like the dragons?”
“Yes. Also brownies, and lupi as a whole are considered allies, though some individual lupi are also agents or irregulars. We’re still negotiating with the gnomes, but expect them to ally themselves soon.”
She pulled back slightly to look at him. “I can see where gnomes could be useful, but brownies? What can a timid race who never leave their reservations do?”
“Brownies are timid, but intensely curious. And they don’t stay on their reservations all the time. They never have.”
She blinked. “That’s . . . really surprising. I guess it means they’re good at sneaking.”
“Extremely good.”
“How do they report what they see? I’d have noticed if a bunch of brownies were hanging around the house to tell you stuff.”
He grinned. “Mostly by cell phone. Modu makes one that’s two and three-fourths inches high, less than a third of an inch thick, and weighs about as much as a spool of thread. It’s a great favorite with them.”
She snorted. “Brownies with cell phones. Okay, what about the irregulars?”
“The majority of ghosts are irregulars, and they vary greatly in duties, capabilities, and knowledge. Most of them are highly trustworthy, but aren’t suited for the work of an agent. Some know a great deal about what we’re facing. Others don’t. They don’t get the identifier that you did.”
“The secret decoder ring.” She rubbed the dull pebble in her hand, frowned, and set it on her thigh. “Fagin said he wasn’t an agent.”
“He’s an irregular, yes.” He ran his fingers over her arm again. Her healed arm. “So are Mark and our other guards. Many of the irregulars are what you might call support staff. A few may become active agents, but aren’t ready yet. Others have specific, limited duties. A small number are . . . I think of them as sleepers. We may never need to call on them, but if we do, they’re in place.”
She chewed that over in silence, then picked up her pebble. After five seconds, it glowed briefly, then winked out. Thoughtfully she slid it in her pocket. “And associates? You called them a resource. They’re not part of the ghosts?”
“Associates provide specific services or information for a fee. Some are decent people. Some are not.” He couldn’t feel where the bullet had gone in at all, but he could feel a bit of scarring where it had blown out the front of her bicep. Not much. “Associates don’t know about the Shadow Unit, and we want to keep it that way. You’ll be given access to a database with a list of associates, some background on each of them, and what kinds of skills they offer.”
“It’s ... really weird that you’ve been setting all this up—you and Ruben and probably others, but you’ve been part of it. And I didn’t know. I’m not angry.” A quick glance at him. “It’s just weird.”
He slid his hand up her arm to her shoulder. “It’s been weird for me, too, Lily.” He bent to rub the side of his face along the top of her head. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. They locked you up and I was far away. I was—”
She shifted and put her fingers on his lips. “No guilt. None. You did what you had to do, and I did what I had to do. And”—she sucked in a breath—“and I’m not ready to talk about the rest of it. About . . . my job. Not yet. Anyone else asks how I’m doing I’ll say okay, and that will be bullshit. It’s true, but it’ll still be bullshit, and I don’t want to give you bullshit. Only I don’t . . . I don’t have more right now.”
He looked into her eyes for a long moment. He wanted to push, wanted that badly. It couldn’t be good for her to keep everything throttled down inside, and he didn’t mind angering her. Anger might help her. And yet... “I suppose you think that, loving you and trusting you the way I do, I should accept that.”
Her lips moved in a small smile. “Yeah, I do. For now, anyway.”
Slowly he nodded. “For now.”
She sighed and settled against him.
“You could tell me about the jail.”
“You just agreed—”
“This isn’t about spilling your guts. Or about your career. Give me facts, not feelings.”
She rolled her eyes. “It was a holding cell. It stank. The food sucked and the company was on a par with the food. You’ve been in jail. You know what it’s like.”
“Don’t tell me what it’s like. Tell me about this particular jail. How many were in there with you?”
“It varied. The lowest number was ten. Made it downright roomy for a while.”
He kept asking questions. Solid, factual questions that kept her talking . . . and let him peek between the cracks. She was relaxed now, dealing with facts. He forced himself to stay relaxed, too. He wanted to kill those who’d put her in jail, who’d robbed her of what mattered most—but that was his need. Not hers.
When she paused, he asked, “You were in a county jail? In a holding cell the whole time?”
“Doesn’t make sense, does it? Why not a federal facility? Why wasn’t I questioned at all? Thinking about it made me paranoid. I kept thinking they’d put me there for a reason, and maybe that was so someone could get to me, so I didn’t sleep. Which sounds paranoid, all right, yet I’m still not sure why they didn’t try for me. I can’t see why ‘disgraced and dead’ wouldn’t work even better for them than just disgraced.” She shrugged. “Maybe I’m overestimating them. Maybe they couldn’t get someone thrown in lockup with me that fast.”
“You weren’t where you expected to be. Maybe you weren’t where our enemies expected you to be, either.”
“If so,” she said slowly, “that would mean Mullins isn’t one of them. He’s the one who took me in for booking. Maybe he took me to the wrong place.”
He turned his head so he could smell her hair. “Do you think Drummond is one of them?”
“Could be. Or Sjorensen. She’s the one who tipped me about Ruben. Or, hell, maybe it’s both of them. Or neither. I don’t have enough to make a guess yet.” She fell silent, then tipped her head to the side to look at him. “Isen told you what happened, right?”
His brows lifted. “Of course.” Isen thought there was a good chance her case would never go to trial—not enough evidence—but in the meantime she would almost certainly lose her job. Her badge. An administrative action didn’t require nearly the level of proof that a court did.
“I’m okay, Rule.”
She was tough and determined and not about to quit, and he felt her misery as clearly as if he’d turned empath. Maybe he breathed it in, some nuance of her scent he couldn’t consciously identify. She hurt, and he couldn’t fix it. “You will be.” He ducked his head lower, nuzzling her neck, breathing her in.
“You’ve been all wolfish ever since we got in the car. Petting me. Sniffing me.”
“Sorry.” He straightened. “I—”
“It’s okay.” She threaded her fingers in his hair and pulled his head back to her. “You’ve been scared for me. I guess your wolf wants to check me out.”
There was that vibration again.
“But it’s just the wolf who’s curious. You haven’t said anything about me being healed.”
“I knew about it, I knew . . .” Not a vibration. A trembling deep inside, as if . . . he had to hold it together. Had to stay calm. Lily needed him to stay calm. “The Rhej. Isen told me she said you’re healed. Completely healed.”
“It was pretty freaky when it was happening. My head felt weird and I got these tingles. It was like I stood a step back from my body, like it wasn’t entirely mine and . . . I didn’t know the mantle was putting in a rush job, getting everything fixed before it left. But that’s what it did.” She paused. “What your Lady did.”
His lips lifted in a snarl. “I’ll tell you what she did. She used you. She may have fixed you at the last minute, but she used you. I can accept you risking yourself. That’s what you do, who you are. I can’t accept her risking you that way. Using you.”
“I put myself at risk.”
“You didn’t know what you were agreeing to. You had no idea of the consequences. It’s my fault. I should have—”
“Whoa.” Now she straightened, pulling away from him enough to frown at him. “Where did that come from?”
“I wanted you to do it. I wanted you to keep Wythe’s mantle safe. You knew that, and because I thought it was safe, you did, too. She used me to get you to do what she wanted.”
Lily cocked her head, studying him. “You are truly, deeply pissed at your Lady.”
Yes. Yes, he was. Too angry to speak, the muscles of his jaws clenched tight on all that anger.
“As I understand it, the deal between your people and the Lady is that she gets to use you. You give her permission for that.”
He unlocked his jaws enough to say, “Not against you.”
“I gave permission, too.”
“You didn’t know what you were agreeing to.”
“Part of me did. No, wait, listen.” She put her hands on each side of his face as if she knew how tight he was there. How much he was holding back, holding in. “The first time, when Brian was dying, I didn’t notice anything like that. If the Lady was telling me things about what I’d agreed to, I didn’t notice it. But I think she did, because this time . . . in Ruben’s kitchen, I knew. I didn’t get any of it in words, but I knew exactly what I agreed to when I let that mantle go and flow into Ruben. The part of me she can talk to, it doesn’t have words, so I can’t hold on to what she says. I just know she cleared it with me first, and I agreed. I think that happened the first time, too, only it was such a different way of—of talking—I forgot it even happened.”
He felt like he was swimming in smoke—thick, acrid, and blinding both nose and eyes. He didn’t know what to say. What to think.
Lily stroked his face and spoke gently. “So the thing is, if you’re mad at the Lady for what she did, you have to be mad at me, too. It turned out okay, but she and I both risked me.”
“It didn’t turn out okay. You’ve lost your career.”
“I kind of think that’s the Great Bitch’s fault. And Friar’s. And maybe Sjorensen, or Drummond, or even Mullins. Someone set me up, but that someone wasn’t your Lady. She took advantage of the situation, I guess, to get me to go to Ruben so she could pass on the mantle. But she didn’t set me up.”
“You wouldn’t have gone there in person if she hadn’t tricked you into it. You’d have called, but you wouldn’t have been there when Drummond showed up. You wouldn’t have been arrested.”
“And if Ruben’s phone is tapped—and I’m betting it is—calling would have had the same result for me, but Ruben wouldn’t have gotten the mantle. He’d probably be in jail now instead of at Wythe Clanhome.”
The anger that had ridden him for days was draining out. Or burning down, if not out, leaving everything smoke and fog. He shook his head, but it did nothing to banish the fog. “You’re okay with it. You’re okay with being manipulated that way.”
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