Death Magic (45 page)
Authors: Eileen Wilks
“I’m okay with it the same way I’m okay with the mate bond. Or your father.”
That startled him into silence.
She grinned. “If you could see your face . . . what I mean is, sometimes it drives me crazy, not knowing what the mate bond’s going to do, and I hate that, but the bond makes me part of something other than me. There would be an ‘us’ even without the bond, but it helps, doesn’t it? When I was locked up, I knew you were hundreds of miles away, but that was good. It meant you and Ruben had gotten away, and knowing that helped. It helped a lot.”
“And my father?” he said dryly.
“He reminds me of the Lady.” She paused, her frown saying it was hard to find words. “I heard her. I didn’t get words, but I heard her voice, and . . . you know how Isen is. Tricky, sometimes manipulative. He never tells you everything, and you never know what he’s going to do. But whatever it is, it will be done with a clean heart. The Lady can be tricky, too, and she sure as hell doesn’t tell us much, and I have no idea what she’s going to do, and I don’t like that. But I think ... I feel like she’s got a clean heart. Like she’s clean all the way through.”
He put both arms around her and pulled her close and rested his head on top of hers. And sighed. “I think you’re right. If I can’t stop being angry with her, does that mean my heart isn’t clean?”
“It means you’re mad. That’s all it means.”
She was right . . . mostly. There was one other meaning to his anger. One cause that he hadn’t wanted to see. Fear was the tinder that anger burned, wasn’t it?
He was afraid of the Lady.
It was a thought so foreign he almost couldn’t grasp it. How could he fear that which made him who and what he was? Without the Change, the clans, the moon and the magic, he wouldn’t be. Someone else might have been born and given the name Rule Turner, but that man would not be him.
Moonsong, mantles, and magic. The half of him that ran on four legs and knew so much of love and blood and loyalty . . . all of that was not just
from
the Lady, but
of
her. How could he fear what was so much a part of him?
from
the Lady, but
of
her. How could he fear what was so much a part of him?
The answer floated up as if he’d always known it. For the first time, he’d found something his Lady could ask of him that he was not willing to give. His life, yes. That was hers. But not Lily’s.
He knew now that the Lady hadn’t asked that of him. Lily was whole and healthy. Perhaps she never would ask it. But he also knew that part of him wasn’t the Lady’s. Part of him could not be given freely to her, and fear rose from that part like a chilly mist.
He had an image suddenly of his wolf in a deep cavern, advancing cautiously into that cold mist. Sniffing. And snorting, unimpressed.
It’s only fear.
It’s only fear.
Slowly the knots inside him eased. It was only fear. Nothing strange about fear. For several moments he didn’t move as the world returned to him . . . the blare of the stereo, the scent of Lily, of Mark, of the car itself. The warmth along his side and his shoulder from Lily’s body. The barely there bump of her heartbeat.
Lily was with him and she was physically healed and whole again. The other problems weren’t going away, but in this moment, things were good. She was here, and she was okay. She kept telling him that. Maybe he should believe her. “This was supposed to be my chance to comfort you.”
“It’s not an either-or deal. Comfort goes both ways.”
He found himself smiling. Yes, it did.
THIRTY
CULLEN
was in the kitchen when they got home—or as close to home as they could manage on this coast. He sat at the kitchen table scowling at a bunch of complicated glowing lines that hung in the air in front of him. On the table in front of him was a battered leather journal—probably the one he’d rescued from Fagin’s library.
was in the kitchen when they got home—or as close to home as they could manage on this coast. He sat at the kitchen table scowling at a bunch of complicated glowing lines that hung in the air in front of him. On the table in front of him was a battered leather journal—probably the one he’d rescued from Fagin’s library.
“The rest of your resources aren’t here yet, it seems,” Rule said. “Coffee?”
“Sure. I’ll start with Cullen.” She took out her spiral and sat beside him. “Hey. Have you noticed you aren’t alone in the room?”
“It is noisier here than it was a moment ago.” He still didn’t look at her. He reached up and used two fingers to drag one glowing glyph slightly to the left. “I’m busy.”
“Rule says you’re one of my resources, so stop doodling and pay attention.”
“This is important.”
“Whoever firebombed Fagin’s library wasn’t going after him or his books. They wanted to kill you.”
Now she had his attention. Bright blue eyes narrowed at her. “You sound pretty sure of that.”
“We’ve got two minds behind what’s happened lately. One’s subtle and devious and likes things convoluted. The other’s direct. Guess which one’s likely to opt for a bomb?”
“I’ll buy that, but why does it tell you what the target was?”
“Fagin’s been in D.C. for months. Him and his library. A lot of people knew about that grimoire he’s been translating—the Harvard press, for one. Some of his colleagues.” She had names. They should probably be checked, just to be sure. But that was a job for someone who could call the local cops and ask for a favor. “The one new element here is you. You show up in D.C. and a day later you nearly get crispy-fried.”
He shook his head. “Why would anyone who knows anything about me use fire to take me out?”
“Friar knows you’re good with fire. I’m betting he’s the convoluted thinker in this deal. I think the direct guy is working with him, not for him. An ally.” She glanced at Rule. “Like the dragons are our allies. God knows they don’t tell us everything. I doubt Friar tells his allies much.”
“I’m not sure Sam would care for the parallel, but you’re right.” Rule set the filled kettle on the stovetop. “What Friar does tell his hypothetical allies is probably a mix of lies and misdirection with just enough truth to get what he wants from them.”
“So let’s assume Direct Guy knows Cullen’s a sorcerer. He finds out that Cullen’s here. He could be having the place watched, or he may have been keeping track of flights to D.C. If he—”
“Wait a minute,” Cullen said. “You think one of our villains could get the airlines to watch for flights booked in my name?”
“The Bureau can do that sort of thing, and there’s a traitor in the Bureau. So yeah, I do.”
Rule moved up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Drummond?”
“He’s top of my list, but it could be Mullins. Or Sjorensen, though she’s unlikely. At her level, she shouldn’t be able to add someone to the watch list.” She paused, then got it said. “The one who could do it the easiest is Croft.”
Silence.
She kept going. “He knows Cullen’s a sorcerer. That’s something people might figure out from reading some of my reports, so it’s only suggestive, not conclusive. But we need to keep it in mind.” She twisted her head to look up at Rule. “I need to know if Croft is part of the Shadow Unit. One of the ghosts.”
Rule shook his head. His lips were tight. “Ruben had a feeling Croft shouldn’t be told anything. He doesn’t know about the ghosts or Ruben’s visions. Ruben emphasized that he does not have a hunch that Croft is less than trustworthy, or he’d take steps to remove him. Foreknowledge can alter the way someone responds. Ruben believes that’s the case with Croft.”
“He believes that, or he had a hunch about it?”
“I’ve given you his words.”
“I don’t want it to be Croft. I like him. But we have to keep it in mind.”
Rule gave a single nod. The kettle started whistling. He turned to deal with it.
“I wish I knew who was working the bombing.” She opened her spiral, frowning at the notes she’d made. “There’s a lot of strings to tug on there, but they’re the sort that need a lot of manpower. A badge helps, too.”
Rule poured the steaming water into the French press. “That I can’t provide. Not directly. But I believe one of your resources has arrived.”
The doorbell rang.
She shoved her chair back. “How do you do that? We’re all the way at the back of the house. You couldn’t hear anyone walking up to the door from back here.”
“José told me.”
“You aren’t wearing your earbud.”
“He spoke from the backyard.”
She shook her head and headed for the door.
The man standing on her front stoop wore a wrinkled shirt, a mud-brown suit, and a bright orange tie. His hairline was receding, his waistline increasing, and she was really glad to see him. Also surprised. “Uh . . . are you my resource?”
“That’s not how you do it,” Abel Karonski told her disapprovingly. He dug one hand into his pocket and pulled out a small black rock. It glowed for two seconds, then quit.
“Am I supposed to show you mine?” She stood aside so he could come in.
“Nah. Rule told me. Well, technically it was Mika, but the message came from Rule. Took you long enough to make up your mind.”
So he’d known Ruben had asked her to join the ghosts. And that she hadn’t agreed ... not until her career was toast. “You found it an easy decision?”
He snorted. “Not easy, maybe, but simple. If the country’s survival hangs in the balance, it makes things pretty damn simple.”
“I didn’t find it either easy or simple.”
“I guess you’re at that in-between age. Too old to jump off just any old cliff. Not old enough to spot the one cliff in a hundred that’s worth the leap.”
Jumping off cliffs was not a reassuring metaphor for joining the ghosts. Accurate, maybe, but not reassuring. So why did she feel better? “With your people skills, you should have been a therapist.”
“That’s me, Mr. Sensitive. Want to tell me all about your feelings?”
“Now there’s a cliff you want to steer clear of.”
Karonski stopped when they were halfway through the dining room. He sighed. “Lily.”
She stopped, too. The parlor, dining room, and kitchen of the row house were shot-gunned, so there were no windows in this dim, interior room. But she could see Karonski’s expression well enough. Her stomach went tight. “Yes?”
“I’m here for two reasons. Two units, two different duties. I need to deal with the official duties first. You have to turn in your badge and service weapon, pending the results of the administrative hearing. Croft thought it would be easier this way—me picking them up instead of you coming to HQ to do it.”
She swallowed. Swallowed again. Her mouth tasted foul. “My service-issue weapon’s back in San Diego. I never carry it. It’s too big for my hand. I . . .” Her voice wobbled. She forced it steady. “I can get someone to bring it to the Bureau’s office there.”
“That should work. Have them do it pretty quick, though.”
She nodded jerkily. “My badge. That’s in my purse. It’s in the kitchen.” She turned, moving on automatic. She wouldn’t think about this. She’d do it and wouldn’t think.
When Karonski’s hand fell on her shoulder, she jolted.
His voice was low and rough. “You got Ruben out. Even before you decided to join us, you got Ruben out. You did the right thing, and it cost you a helluva lot.”
She swallowed again. Dammit, she was not going to be sick. “I warned him. Rule got him out.”
“And I’d sure like to know how he did that.”
“I’m not sure I can tell you.”
“I can,” Rule said from the doorway to the kitchen. He had her purse in one hand. “And will, but it’s need-to-know, Abel, and I get to pick who needs to know. Not you.” He looked at her. “I can do this. You don’t have to.”
“No.” It was hers to do. Hers to get through. She took the purse from him. Her badge was in a leather folder in the outside pocket. Her fingers were so thick and clumsy it took two tries to pull it out. She held it out to Karonski without speaking.
He sighed heavily. And took it.
Rule moved behind her. She was afraid he’d hug her, try to comfort her. She’d come apart if he did. Maybe he knew that, or maybe he saw her stiff shoulders. He rested one hand there lightly and spoke to Karonski. “Coffee?”
“Sure.”
Lily’s heart continued to beat too hard as she and the two men went into the kitchen. Something seemed lodged in her throat. But she’d be okay. This would pass and she’d be okay . . . for some value of okay. At some time in the future that she couldn’t see at the moment.
Other books
Flying Home by Ralph Ellison
Small Man in a Book by Brydon, Rob
Surviving Bear Island by Paul Greci
The Vow by Jessica Martinez
The Temptation (The Medieval Knights Series) by Dain, Claudia
Tristan's Redemption by Blackburn, Candace
Bite Me by Elaine Markowicz
Kaleidoscope Hearts by Claire Contreras
Working for Him by Willa Edwards
The Priest's Madonna by Hassinger, Amy