Death Magic (51 page)
Authors: Eileen Wilks
“There has to be someone around to notice. We were alone in the lobby, remember? And the elevator, and the hall. No one’s home during the day at an ESH building. It’s temporary housing, no families or retirees, and everyone’s at work. The best you could hope for is a delivery at the right time.”
“I suppose most people in the Bureau would be aware of that.”
She nodded. Her expression was abstracted.
He reached for her hand. “What?” he said softly.
“I didn’t say anything to Croft. Nothing about dopplegängers or what’s really going on. What we think is going on,” she corrected herself. “I left him in the dark about almost everything.”
“Because there’s a chance Croft is involved.” Rule didn’t believe it . . . but that could be because he didn’t want to.
“I hate this. I hate it. I think Drummond’s the bad guy, but maybe I think that because I want it to be him. Because I so much don’t want Croft to be one of them.”
He squeezed her hand. “Even if Drummond’s involved, he might not be the only one.”
She swallowed. Nodded.
He shifted the subject. “I keep wondering why they went after Anna. What did she know or guess that made her a threat?”
“They didn’t just want her. They wanted something at her place, too.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Why else were so many surfaces wiped clean? They were looking for something. Plus there’s the amount of blood in the carpet. It wasn’t a spurting type of injury. To get the carpet soaked that way, they must have left her lying there awhile. There are other possible reasons for that,” she added. “Maybe they didn’t go there expecting to have a body to remove and needed some time to arrange things. But the likeliest reason is that they left her there while they searched for something.”
For a moment he could see it—Anna’s crumpled body bleeding into the carpet while her attackers went through her things. Anger rose. “She was alive still,” he said, his voice rough. “When they searched, she must have still been alive to have bled so much.”
“Yeah, I think so, too.” She was silent a moment. “I even wondered for a bit if maybe it wasn’t Sjorensen who called me. What if it was her dopplegänger, and they had to get rid of Sjorensen so no one guessed? But the blood spot was still damp in the middle. She was attacked in the last twelve hours or so. If they’d made a dopplegänger, wouldn’t they want to get rid of the original sooner than that?”
Rule frowned. “Maybe not. If Anna didn’t call you, she’d deny having done so. But they would expect that, wouldn’t they? Both sets of ‘them’—the authorities and our enemies. Our enemies might have used a dopplegänger to call you, but not seen the need to remove Anna until something else happened.”
“Whoever called used Sjorensen’s phone. But maybe . . .” Her fingers started tapping on her thigh. “Maybe they snitched it from her, then planted it on her again. Maybe that’s what tipped her that something was wrong, and she started digging. Maybe she learned something, or they were afraid she did.” She sighed. “That’s a whole slew of maybes, and they don’t get us any closer to finding her.”
Rule didn’t respond. Lily knew as well as he did that it was unlikely they’d find Anna. Her body, perhaps, if they were lucky. And patterners tended to tip luck their way.
Scott turned onto their street. It occurred to Rule he hadn’t prepared Lily for what awaited them at the house. “I sent for more Leidolf.”
“You mentioned that.”
“I’m afraid it will mean decreased privacy for you. Some of them will be sleeping in the basement. It’s uncomfortable in its current state, but at least there’s a sink and toilet. They’ll have to shower in the first-floor bathroom, however, as will those bunking in the garage.”
Her head swung toward him. “You’re putting them in the garage and in the basement?”
“Most of them. The shift leaders and José will sleep in the front bedroom. José texted me that the bunk beds have been delivered. Did I tell you that I named Scott José’s second?”
“No.” There seemed to be a lot he hadn’t told her. Had he arranged all of this while they were at the ESH building? “Ah—congratulations, Scott.”
He nodded, facing straight ahead. “Thanks.”
“José will need a second, given the number of guards now in his charge. We discussed this and agreed on Scott. It helps that he’s Leidolf, but the promotion is based on ability and temperament, not clan.”
“How many guards are you talking about?”
“Twenty in addition to those already here.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Ruben isn’t the only one who can have a hunch.”
THEIR
little parlor was wall-to-wall lupi. They didn’t really fit. Lily stood beside Rule facing the sea of lupi and wondered why she was there. Sure, she had to meet them, but she didn’t think she could memorize everyone’s names this fast.
little parlor was wall-to-wall lupi. They didn’t really fit. Lily stood beside Rule facing the sea of lupi and wondered why she was there. Sure, she had to meet them, but she didn’t think she could memorize everyone’s names this fast.
Rule had told them all to sit and was giving them a truncated version of what they were up against—not everything, but he told them about dopplegängers, and that they were to watch for the scent of death magic, which should distinguish the fake from the real. José and Scott were at the back of the room, the only ones standing other than Lily and Rule.
“As for your immediate duties,” Rule finished, “José has already sorted you according to his needs and your strengths. Those of you—”
“No, he hasn’t.”
The blunt-featured man who’d contradicted Rule sat at the front of the mob. His name was Mike. Lily remembered that because he looked a bit like a pale-skinned Mike Tyson—well over six feet of muscle and mad.
Rule’s attention lasered in on the man. “What did you say?”
“José hasn’t sorted us according to our strengths. I’m the best fighter here. Ask anyone. Plus I’ve planned and led raids. I’ve got nothing against Scott, but I’ve got twice his experience. I should be in charge, not some Nokolai wetback who—”
He didn’t get the chance to finish. In a split second Rule had him by his shirt, jerked him to his feet—and threw him. All two hundred and fifty pounds or so of him. He sailed over two men who managed to duck and crashed into the wall—then fell onto an end table that broke beneath him, sending a lamp and a couple of ugly knickknacks crashing.
Rule stalked up to the man, weaving around the seated lupi. Mike started to get up. Rule put his foot on the man’s back and shoved him down again, leaving his foot in place. Had there been any sound in the room at all, Lily wouldn’t have been able to hear him, his voice was so soft. “You are mine. José is mine.
I
say you obey José. If he wants you to wash the floor with your tongue, you will start licking.”
I
say you obey José. If he wants you to wash the floor with your tongue, you will start licking.”
“Y-yes.” The man couldn’t offer his belly. He was lying on it, and Rule’s foot kept him pinned. But he managed to tilt his head so part of his throat showed. “Yes.”
No one moved. No one spoke. Lily wasn’t sure the roomful of lupi were breathing. She might not be able to feel it when Rule pulled mantle, but she could hear it in his voice—and see the results. He’d all but flattened them with it.
She shook her head. “I’ve always hated that table, but that’s the second wall you’ve damaged this week. You’re really hard on walls lately.”
For reasons known only to the testosterone crowd, that brought a bright grin to Rule’s face. He looked about eighteen. “I have been, haven’t I?” He stepped away from the man on the floor, speaking to Lily as if they were alone in the room. “My apologies for the mess,
nadia
. Mike will clean it up. The rest of you ...” He glanced around. “Those who will bunk in the garage can—”
nadia
. Mike will clean it up. The rest of you ...” He glanced around. “Those who will bunk in the garage can—”
The doorbell rang. José spoke from the back of the room. As usual, he wore an earbud. “It’s Seabourne with another man—pale skin, brown hair, looks about forty. He’s wearing a clerical collar.”
The priest. Cynna’s priest, who was supposed to call, dammit, not drop by. Lily sighed. “Maybe Mike could hurry.”
LILY
remembered Father Michaels from the wedding. Not everyone would have taken a ghostly poltergeist and an angry dragon in stride the way the priest had, so she was inclined to like him. He looked the way she thought a priest should look, too—not the bluff Irish version, but the scholarly sort. Abraham Michaels was slim and pale, with a long neck and elegant hands. He wore gold-rimmed glasses, dark slacks, and a tweed jacket. And the collar, of course.
remembered Father Michaels from the wedding. Not everyone would have taken a ghostly poltergeist and an angry dragon in stride the way the priest had, so she was inclined to like him. He looked the way she thought a priest should look, too—not the bluff Irish version, but the scholarly sort. Abraham Michaels was slim and pale, with a long neck and elegant hands. He wore gold-rimmed glasses, dark slacks, and a tweed jacket. And the collar, of course.
“We were about to order supper,” Rule said as he led the way to the kitchen, as bland as if they hadn’t all walked past a scary man crawling around on the floor picking up broken bits. Most of the rest of the lupi had vanished before Lily reached the front door—either out back or down to the basement—but the just-promoted Scott was still with them. “You’ll join us, I hope. Do you enjoy Mexican food, or would you prefer Chinese?”
“Nothing for me, thank you.”
“Mexican,” Cullen said promptly.
“So noted. Lily?”
“No preference.”
“Scott, you’ll take care of ordering, please. Three pans of the enchiladas from Café Lopez.”
Scott nodded, pulled out his phone, and left the room, heading for the front of the house. Three pans wouldn’t begin to feed thirty lupi plus Lily, Rule, Cullen, and Father Michaels—who’d be offered dinner again when it arrived, Lily was sure, if he was still here. The guards must have already eaten. Not surprising. It was pushing eight o’clock.
Rule gestured at the table. “Please have a seat, Father, and tell me what I can get you to drink. We have a decent selection of wines—the Cabernet is my personal favorite, but if you prefer white you might try the Riesling. Lily favors it. Or I could put on coffee. We have various sodas, too, of course.”
“Nothing, thank you. I’m sorry for barging in on you,” the priest said, seating himself at the table, “but I need to ask you some questions. The situation could be both urgent and dangerous. Extremely dangerous.”
“Yes, I believe it is.” Rule opened the wine cooler.
Lily went to get glasses. “Riesling for me. I don’t care if it goes with the enchiladas. Cullen?”
“Cabernet.” Cullen pulled out a chair and sat beside the priest. “Father Michaels called me instead of Lily after talking to his Jesuit buddy. He has questions and I didn’t know how much to tell him, so I brought him to you.”
Rule had retrieved two bottles and was opening one. “I wonder why you called Cullen instead of Lily?”
“I was alarmed, and . . . well, Cullen is not one of my parishioners, but I officiated at his marriage. I feel some responsibility toward him. When I learned there was a chance someone was creating dopplegängers—”
“He wanted to make sure it wasn’t me,” Cullen said dryly.
“Not because I had the slightest suspicion Cullen would use death magic,” Father Michaels said firmly. “He has a highly developed curiosity that might lead him to experiment unwisely, but he wouldn’t power his experiments in such a foul way. I didn’t know how certain it was that death magic was involved.”
“That part’s solid,” Lily said. “I’m a touch sensitive, and I felt death magic on, uh, something related to an investigation. Something we believe was handled by a dopplegänger.”
“Did you see it?” he asked urgently. “This dopplegänger. Did you see it, and are you certain it dispersed?”
Cullen’s eyebrows shot up. “They don’t last, Father.”
“Humor me.”
Cullen shrugged. “Okay, sure. Then no to the first—none of us have seen a dopplegänger—and yes to the second. They left wet spots behind.”
“They?” His eyebrows shot up. He shook his head. “I don’t quite see how wet spots—”
“About half of their mass comes from water. When they dissolve, some of that water remains. Wet spots.”
“I see.” He sat back, breathing out audibly in relief. “Yes, that should indicate they’re gone.”
Rule had wrestled both corks free and was letting his bottle breathe. Lily poured herself a glass of the Riesling and brought it to the table. “Are you sure you don’t want some wine, Father?”
He looked from Lily to Rule to Cullen, a frown pulling at his brows. “You don’t seem to grasp the seriousness of the situation.”
“We grasp it just fine,” she said, sitting across from him. “We’ve had a little more time than you to adjust, and . . . forgive me for the assumption, but we’re maybe more accustomed to dealing with this kind of sh—stuff than you are. I’ve got some questions for you.”
“As I have for you. How certain are you about these dopplegängers, if you didn’t see them? How many dopplegängers are you talking about?”
“Two. There may have been a third, but that’s iffy. As for how sure we are . . .” She glanced at Cullen. “What would you say—about ninety-five percent sure?”
“Something in that neighborhood.”
“This is not good.” The priest sighed unhappily. “Not good at all. That means we’re talking about multiple deaths. Multiple souls who haven’t been able to complete their passage.”
“How many?” Lily asked. “A medium I know told me that large amounts of death magic can cause what she called instabilities. Do you know anything about that?”
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