Mind Magic (21 page)

Cynna was the clan’s Rhej. She was also the best Finder in the nation—one of the best Finders anywhere, he suspected—and Rule had no doubt she could locate Cullen. Dead or alive, she’d Find him. Alive
,
he told himself firmly. Assuming the worst wouldn’t help. But dammit, he’d wanted Cynna here. Cullen, too. Cynna to Find Lily, and Cullen to deal with whatever magic was involved.

That wasn’t happening. “This changes my plans.”

“I thought it might. Is there anything I should know immediately? Anything you need to ask?”

Not on a line that theoretically could have been tapped. “I don’t think so.”

“Very well. What phone numbers did you need?”

Rule told him, then asked about Toby. Isen told him his son was fine and was in class now, but would appreciate a call from his father later, if that was possible. He finished by bidding Rule
t’eius ven—
a phrase that meant both “go in the Lady’s grace” and “good hunting”—and disconnected.

A moment later the first of the phone numbers Rule needed arrived. He called it and was in luck. Abel Karonski answered right away. “Abel. This is Rule. Where are you?”

“Near Portland.”

“Good. The forecast is dark. You understand?”

“Yes, but—”

“Ruben’s been taken away by HSI. I was arrested for an unrelated matter. In one hour, not before, you are in charge. At that point you are to call Deborah.”

“Hold on, hold on! What do you—”

Rule disconnected. A dark forecast meant that the Shadow Unit was in danger and its members were to go dark—cease all communications save those passed through dragons. He’d not passed on command in the proper way, through the dragons, but that couldn’t be helped. He didn’t want to spend the time or the circumlocution necessary to tell Abel what was going on, so he left that to Deborah. The hour’s delay was to ensure that by the time Abel assumed control of the Shadows and called Deborah, he’d learn that Rule was gone—too late to order Rule not to break his house arrest.

An hour was generous. He was aiming for twenty minutes. They were ten minutes from the Brookses’ home. With luck, he’d have ten minutes there to arrange matters, and then he’d run. On four feet.

Better if he stayed two-footed, of course. Cars were faster than legs, especially when there was so much distance to cover. But he couldn’t take this car. He couldn’t take Ruben’s or Deborah’s. He’d be caught, and quickly. And he couldn’t wait long enough to acquire a vehicle. Literally could not.

He estimated he had roughly twenty minutes before the Change overtook him.

Certa had many advantages. It was a dispassionate state, the eye of the hurricane from which he tracked all the changing variables of battle . . . including his own condition. His body was charged with adrenaline, taut and ready to engage the enemy, while his mind remained cool and calm. But certa was temporary. It was a battle state, and there was no one to fight.

Yet. “Mike, tell me exactly what happened when the HSI agents came for Ruben.”

*   *   *

SEVENTEEN
minutes later, Rule ran.

Wolves could run for hours. Wild wolves brought down prey that way, with the pack running a deer or elk into exhaustion. Rule was not a wild wolf. He ran through these woods alone. He had—barely—managed not to drag any of the others into Change with him by inviting it instead of waiting until he’d been robbed of choice, but that had used up the last of his control. Now he raced through the trees at top speed, surrendered to the urgency of his need.

The wolf was in charge, but this was a wolf with a man’s knowledge, even if he didn’t think in the same manner. He understood why he was alone, where he needed to go, and how to get there. He knew roughly how long it would take and that he would need to pace himself—later. Most of all, he knew why he ran.

Lily.

But he didn’t think about the how, where, or why. He didn’t even think about Lily. She was the stretch and flex of his body, the wind whipping by, the terrified rabbit he didn’t chase. He ran. Trees flew by in a blur; his body exulted in motion and the rush of scents. The woods that touched the back of the Brookses’ property stretched nearly to the Potomac, and he ran their length full-tilt, slowing only as he neared the last of the trees. He made himself stop, whining softly with regret at the necessity. He wanted to keep running and running, but at least he’d burned off the worst of the urgency.

Time now to think.

Humans would be surprised at how readily a wolf could go unnoticed in their towns. Slums were difficult, for they lacked green spaces, but Bethesda was a prosperous place. Lots of green. It would have been dead easy to navigate after dark, but night wouldn’t fall until after nine in this latitude in the summer. Still, he’d planned for this next stretch. Three of his men were busy laying false trails—two in fur and one in a car with Rule’s credit card. He hoped they’d draw away any immediate pursuit, but he still needed to cross the next few blocks without attracting official attention. An animal his size couldn’t go truly unnoticed on a city street, but as long as no one called the police, it should be okay. That’s why he wore a disguise: a bright red collar with a short length of leash dangling from it.

A few people did see him trotting across lawns, driveways, and parking lots on his way to the river—only they didn’t, not really. They saw a very large dog who’d escaped from his owner. He helped their misperception along by behaving like a loose dog, pausing to sniff here or lift a leg there, but he was bigger than any dog and his proportions were wrong. It didn’t seem to matter. People mostly see what they expect to see. The mantles he carried may have given his disguise a boost. They seemed to do that at times.

At a boatyard next to the river a brave if foolish Good Samaritan approached him, telling him what a good dog he was, clearly intending to grab the truncated leash so he could return Rule to his owner. Rule wagged his tail, gave the man a doggy grin, and loped away.

Once he reached the river’s bank, he stretched out and settled in for a long run. There were long swaths of protected green space along the Potomac. Houses, too, but they were mostly set well back from the banks, and traffic on the river was light at this time of day. If any boaters did get a glimpse of him, he was running too fast for them to take in details. Not that he ran flat-out, but he didn’t settle into the easy lope he would have used for a really long run, either. He aimed for a speed about that of a human’s top sprint. His goal was sixty-five miles away by road, slightly longer on the winding river route he’d take. He wanted to cover those sixty-five-plus miles in three hours.

After reaching the Brookses’ home, Rule had politely separated his lawyer from her phone, then stashed her where she couldn’t overhear before calling Alex to arrange for a vehicle. A lot of Leidolf’s clan members weren’t “out” as lupi, so no one should be able to link them—or their cars—to him.

He hadn’t had to come up with an escape route, fortunately. Ruben was a man who planned for contingencies, including the possible need to evacuate his home. He’d mapped out several possible escape routes depending on how many needed to evacuate, what form they were in, and whether they wanted to leave the city or just the immediate area. He’d shared that information with Rule last night, and while Rule hadn’t had time to memorize everything, a quick talk with the Wythe clansman in charge of Ruben’s guards had refreshed his memory of the route he wanted. He was headed for a truckstop-style diner just outside Charles Town, West Virginia. Three Leidolf lived within an easy drive of Charles Town. One of them would meet him at the diner with a vehicle he could use and other necessities. And then . . .

Find Lily. Find the enemy. Sink his teeth into the enemy’s throat.

How?

For the next hour he chewed over what he knew. It was clear that one or more branches of the government were his enemies or were being used by his enemies. This was bad, but the need to evade the authorities didn’t disturb him. It felt normal. Human governments had always been hostile to his people, and the U.S. government’s change to a more neutral stance hadn’t been around long enough for him to trust it. But the wolf was fuzzy about some aspects of human authority. He knew “arrest” meant being locked up and “taken in for questioning” might lead to arrest. Both involved human laws, but they weren’t the same thing, and he couldn’t track the implications of that difference. He knew HSI was not the same as the Justice Department, yet both entities had acted against them.

He decided to leave that part of the situation for the man to sort out. Omitting the governmental tangle allowed other things to spring into focus.

Sam had not perceived the Great Enemy in the patterns.

Ruben had had a strong hunch that the Shadow Unit would experience a crisis.

The Lady had allowed the mate bond to stretch enough for Lily to be separated from him. She had also spoken to Charles, sending him with Lily.

A man whom HSI said was one of their agents had been killed by magic, possibly telekinesis. Sam had apparently wanted Lily to discover this.

The Lady had let Rule know she approved of his determination to go to Lily if she needed him.

Rule had been framed for a vile crime. His lawyer considered the case rushed and flimsy.

HSI had picked up Ruben for questioning while Rule was in jail.

Lily and Charles had been taken by someone who could remove them without leaving a scent trail.

A brownie had either conspired in the abduction or had herself been taken.

Rule-wolf did not think about these things in the linear manner of the man. He held each thought in his mind, allowing it to open and bloom until it had grown as large and intricate as his current understanding allowed. He spent some time considering the meaning of crisis in this way, some time contemplating brownies, and quite a bit of time remembering as clearly as possible the way he’d felt in the first few seconds after receiving the Lady’s approval.

After about an hour he remained unsure of much, but a few things were clear. First, the Lady was extremely interested in whatever was going on. This was not comforting. She might keep a close watch on her people, but she almost never communicated directly with them. Either Sam was wrong about the Great Enemy’s involvement, or the situation was extremely dire even without
her
participation.

Second, he clearly had human enemies to deal with, whether or not any of them were
her
agents. He had no idea who, but the scope suggested an organized group, not an individual. HSI was involved, either complicitly or as unwitting tools.

Third, the dead man was key. Sam had wanted him found by Lily; Lily had been taken soon after finding him. The dead man was connected to HSI. He might or might not be their agent as they claimed, but there was some connection.

Therefore, if he found out why the dead man mattered, he’d have a trail to the enemy. The enemy would lead to Lily.

Rule whined, greatly disliking that conclusion. That trail would take too long. He wanted to find Lily first, then go after their enemy. But he didn’t see how. Maybe he should check, make sure he still couldn’t use the mate bond. Sam didn’t know how long it would take for Lily’s brain to adapt, resolving the interference that played havoc with their bond. Didn’t that mean it could happen at any time?

Maybe it had already happened. He came to a complete stop. Gingerly he reached with the mate sense . . .

It was all he could do not to tip back his head and howl. Splintered Lilys were everywhere. He heaved a sigh and started trotting.

Up ahead, the island divided the river into two channels. He compared what he saw to what Ruben had told him and the map he’d studied. Farther up the river there should be a bridge. Harpers Ferry was just beyond that. He needed to be on the opposite bank before he reached the bridge, and Ruben had mentioned this as a crossing spot. He jumped into the water. It felt good, cool and refreshing. He swam that channel, crossed the island to the next, and swam again.

He’d come about a third of the way and was getting tired, but this area was wooded, with good concealment. He pushed his pace while he could, running almost flat out until he drew near the bridge. He stopped and rested at the road that fed onto the bridge, catching his breath and waiting for a gap in the traffic, one large enough that he might not be spotted. Eventually one appeared.

A couple miles later he reached a spot where a tributary dumped itself into the Potomac. He abandoned the Potomac for the tributary. He had to mix running with trotting now. After about five miles he took another swim to get to the other bank of this river. Then it was time to strike out across country, heading west-southwest.

He soon left the woods behind, forcing him to go slower. That was okay. He was hot and tired, ready for an easier pace. This stretch involved a lot of open fields broken here and there by small copses, left in place or planted as windbreaks. Although the sun was headed down, it was still light out and his coloring didn’t blend well with the greens of summer. He found what he hoped was the right highway and followed it west, staying well back from the road. Most people driving by at seventy miles an hour or more wouldn’t notice him, but a few would. Some of them might even think “wolf” for a second, but he was betting they’d quickly discount that. There were no wolves in this area, and it’s hard to get people to see something they know can’t be there. It helped that his size would be less obvious from a distance.

Eventually his nose told him he was drawing near human habitations. He angled toward a cluster of trees along the highway. If he’d plotted his course correctly, the truckstop should be close.

It was. On the other side of the trees was a parking lot and a building with a sign—the number 354 in blue centered in an orange circle. The diner had been named for the highway it served. The parking lot was full of semis huddled together like oversize sheep sheltering from the wind. He needed to circle around, find the section of parking used by normal vehicles.