Tempting Danger (18 page)

“She has a gun,” the man said calmly. “She’s not allowed to bring it into the Rho’s room.”

Lily had had about enough. “Put away the blade.”

He didn’t move. His eyes were dark, his skin coppery, like Nettie’s. There was another, smaller scabbard at his waist, a scattering of silver in his black hair, and no expression at all on his face.

“Put it up,” Lily repeated. “Or I’ll arrest you for drawing a weapon on a police officer.”

From behind him came a low chuckle. “It would be interesting to see how you went about doing that, but we’re short of time. Benedict, stand down. She may keep her gun.”

That voice was even lower than the guard’s, seeming to rumble up from the bottom of a well. In one smooth motion the impassive hunk stepped back, sheathing his blade in the scabbard on his back. Nettie Two Horses moved into the room, and Lily followed.

It was a large bedroom, woodsy and masculine, with a beamed ceiling and what looked like a medieval tapestry on one of the forest-green walls. A cello sat in one corner. The furniture was dark and lovingly polished; it had been shifted to accommodate the hospital bed at the room’s center. In that bed was a bear of a man with an IV in one arm. He looked nothing like Rule. His face was craggy with a prominent Roman nose, his age hard to guess. Fifty? Sixty? And yes, he was entirely naked, except for a patch over one eye.

He was also a bloody mess.

The wound running from his cheek up under the eye patch was bumpy with a heavy scab. New pink skin had formed at its edges, trailing into what was left of a grizzled, rust-colored beard. The gouges on his torso started in the furry chest just beneath the left nipple and ran all the way down his belly, stopping just short of his genitals . . . which didn’t seem to be damaged. His abdomen dipped in oddly, as if not all of the usual pieces were in place beneath the skin. She couldn’t see his left arm, but his right hand had only two fingers. The rest were marked by tiny, pink nubs.

“What,” she asked, “was that all about?”

“Please excuse my son,” the Nokolai Rho said. “He is responsible for my safety and diligent in his duty. Our customs require that no one enters my presence armed.”

His son? Lily resisted the impulse to check Benedict for any resemblance to Rule and walked up to the bed, looking down at its mutilated occupant. She’d interviewed people in bad shape before, but usually they had more clothes on. This was . . . distracting.

But maybe that was the idea. “You wanted me here. I’m a cop, cops carry guns, and I’m guessing you aren’t an idiot. You could have settled the gun business before I walked in. So why the dramatic welcome? Did you want me too irritated to feel sorry for you? Or was it just another way of putting me off balance?”

The single visible eye was set deep . . . and amused. “If my goal was to irritate you, I succeeded. Won’t you have a seat?”

Since there wasn’t a chair near the bed, she started to make another smart comment. But Benedict was good for something other than looking menacing. He brought up an upholstered armchair, carrying it one-handed as easily as if it had been a plastic lawn chair, then retreated to his post near the door.

Leaving her forced to put her back to him or refuse to sit. All right, she told herself as she sat down. Isen Turner liked to play games. She could handle that. She’d been dealing with Grandmother all her life. “You were attacked, nearly killed. Who did it?”

“I don’t remember an attack,” he said blandly. “Perhaps there was a head injury, and it affected my memory. You smell of my son. The youngest one,” he added.

“You’re beginning to piss me off.”

He made a muffled sound, and the lumpy skin on his abdomen shivered. “Ah . . .” he said after a moment. “That hurt. I can’t laugh yet. Nettie, I need you to check on Toby. Or you could brew me one of your possets.”

“You don’t have enough duodenum at the moment to digest a posset, but I can take a hint. I’ll go, but say whatever you have to say quickly. I’m giving you fifteen minutes.”

“Thirty.”

“Fifteen, and you’re going back in Sleep when I return.”

“The woman doesn’t understand bargaining,” he muttered, watching as Nettie Two Horses closed the door behind her.

Lily thought Nettie understood just fine—you only bargained when you had to. Apparently she didn’t, which was interesting. It was also interesting that the Rho didn’t dismiss the blade-toting Benedict. “Fifteen minutes isn’t much time,” she said. “You’ve got an agenda. So do I. Maybe we should quit fencing.”

“Why not? You haven’t rattled, despite my efforts. You don’t even smell of fear. I wonder why that is?”

“Your son—the one standing behind me with that big people-opener—won’t take a stab without your say-so. And you didn’t bring me here to cut me up.”

One bushy eyebrow lifted, and she suddenly saw a resemblance to Rule—not the features, but the expression. “And yet, even reasonable people fear us, at least at first. Logic can restrain fear but doesn’t eliminate it.”

“Curiosity works against fear, too. And I’m very curious. For example, I’m wondering about your attackers. You don’t remember them.” She nodded as if that made perfect sense. “But if you were to speculate, who would you suspect?”

“Well, now.” That single eye was warm with amusement. “I might wonder if Leidolf was involved. I heard a rumor that three of their clan members suffered unfortunate accidents while in wolf form. As if they’d been in some sort of brawl.”

“Did you hear the names of these brawlers?”

“I’m afraid not, but it hardly matters. They’re dead.”

And it was no crime to kill lupi in wolf form, leaving her without an investigative leg to stand on. “I wonder who the leader of the Leidolf clan might be.”

“I can see why you might be curious about that.” He smiled and said nothing more.

It was a trick Lily had used herself often enough. Let a gap fall in the conversation, and most people were compelled to fill it—and in their haste and discomfort, said more than they’d intended. She smiled back at him.

He chuckled. “I like you, Lily Yu. Not that you care, but I thought I’d mention it. As you say, let’s stop fencing before my keeper returns. You mentioned agendas. Yours, I assume, involves your murder investigation.”

“I’ve got a killer to catch, yes. To do that, I need to be free to talk to your people. They’ll not give me much help without your approval.”

“And yet I’d rather not see any of my clan behind bars. Particularly my heir.”

She shook her head. “No, you’ll want to help, because whoever did it tried to frame your son. The other one, not the one standing behind me.” That startled him. Good. She was taking a risk, gambling that what she learned here would be important enough to justify spilling a little information.

“You have decided this? Or proved it?”

“I have certain evidence. I also have instincts, and they tell me that Nokolai is connected somehow. Perhaps as a target. First, it’s your prince someone wanted accused. Second, there’s that ceremony today. You’re making a new alliance, and I have to wonder why. Then there’s you, and the attack you don’t remember. Someone seems to have it in for your family. I want to know who and why.”

“I can’t tell you who,” he said slowly. “But I know why. Nokolai supports the Species Citizenship Bill. There are many who would do almost anything to keep it from passing.”

She could believe that, but . . . “It was one or more lupi who attacked you, and a lupus who killed Carlos Fuentes.”

“It isn’t only humans who fear the consequences if the Citizenship Bill passes.”

She digested that. The Species Citizenship Bill had two thrusts. First, it officially defined those of the Blood as nonhuman—which was pretty much a given to a lot of people, but had never been codified. Second, it granted certain of them, including lupi, full citizenship.

Lily brought up the part that bothered her. “Because they don’t want to be legally nonhuman?”

He waved that aside with the hand that had pink nubs instead of fingers. “Human, nonhuman—what’s the dividing line? Genetics? We make babies with you, but that doesn’t make us the same as you. Names don’t matter. We know what we are. No, what the shortsighted among us fear is the effect of such a law on our culture, our governance and customs.”

“It would make it illegal for people to shoot you when you’re furry, for one thing. That has to be a plus. But you couldn’t kill each other anymore, either.”

“Which will change us more than you can understand. But there is little wilderness left, and hiding becomes increasingly difficult in a crowded, computerized world. We must adapt to survive. Some can’t see that. All they see is that the Challenge will be changed.”

Lily’s hip thrummed—not with magic, but from her cell phone, which she’d set to vibrate. “What’s the Challenge?” she asked as she pulled her phone out of her pocket. Then she saw the Caller ID. “Just a minute. I have to take this.”

A minute later, face grim, she stood and slipped the phone back in her pocket. “I have to get back to the city right away. There’s been another murder.”

 

 

RULE
smelled his oldest brother before he saw him. Benedict didn’t smell of any special alarm, however, so Rule continued with the ceremony, even as part of his mind wondered what had brought Benedict here, away from the Rho. It was unlikely to be good news.

But only part of his mind. The man part. Most of him was rapt in the sheer immediacy of the world—the feel of grass and dirt beneath the pads of his feet. The ruffled texture of sounds made by the people surrounding him and the Kyffin Rho. Though those attending stood quietly, there was a shifted foot now and then, the breeze hushing through bodies, hair. The breaths of those nearest him. And the air itself, so rich with scent it was like drawing the world inside every time he inhaled, then exhaling himself back into the waiting world. If vision was flatter, colors fewer and less vivid, the loss passed ungrieved amid such wealth.

He wanted to run—run for the sheer joy of running. But the man part wasn’t gone or eclipsed. The terms of the alliance had been announced while he and Jasper were two-footed, but their agreement was meaningless without the submission. Rule waited, motionless, as the Kyffin Rho approached.

Jasper was a handsome wolf, slighter and sleeker than Rule, with a brownish dun coat and yellow eyes that reminded Rule of Cullen’s wolf form. He was faster than greased lightning, from what Rule remembered from youthful tussles, and every bit as alpha as a Rho must be. Submission did not come easily for him.

He also had an unfortunate tendency to lose himself in the wolf. Which was why, when he reached Rule, his hackles were raised, and the scent of
seru
was strong. And why he immediately flopped down, belly up, like a puppy waiting for a rub.

There were a few muffled laughs. Decidedly anticlimactic, Rule thought, lowering his head to sniff the offered belly. Usually there was some growling, a brief combat before submission. Not with the intent to do real harm, but to demonstrate the strength of each and lend authority to the eventual submission. Jasper had told Rule ruefully that he didn’t think even a mock combat was a good idea. He was likely to get caught up in it. Rule didn’t think less of him for it. A good leader understands his weaknesses as well as his strengths.

He found a little fear-scent amid the
seru,
the wolf smell, and Jasper’s individual scent, but not the mingled stink that spoke of guilt.

Having accepted the submission, Rule stepped back, and the ritual was complete. By not ripping out that offered belly, he’d accepted that Jasper had played no part in the attack on his father, restoring Jasper’s honor in the eyes of the clans. In return, Kyffin would subordinate itself to Nokolai for a year and a day.

Usually at this point there’d be a general shifting, as some members of both clans—mostly the younger ones—took the opportunity to socialize in wolf form. Rule had expected to stay in this form to act as host and make sure the play didn’t turn rough. But he sought the source of his brother’s scent and found Benedict standing at the front of the circle of watchers, next to Rule’s clothes.

Benedict made the small, circular gesture that said,
Change.

Regretfully, Rule opened himself, reached for the order the earth required of him, and let the wildness sort him. It was easy, almost painless, with his paws on the earth of the ritual grounds. In seconds, he stood naked on two feet, with his head higher off the ground than before, and the world blunted to all senses except vision.

Jasper had sprung to his feet and was regarding Rule with his head tipped quizzically.

“I’m sorry. Benedict has need of me, but please—enjoy the friendship of Nokolai in whichever form pleases you.” Rule glanced around, caught the eye of one of the older Councilors, and made the same gesture Benedict had. The man’s eyes widened slightly, but he shifted obediently. Seth could serve as four-footed host—a necessity as well as a courtesy. Seth could keep the younger Nokolai in line. They were accustomed to obeying him.

Jasper glanced at the Councilor wolf, at Benedict, and back at Rule. He nodded and sat, waiting for Seth to trot over. Rule hurried to Benedict.

“What?” he said, catching the clothes his brother tossed him.

“Your detective needs to go back to the city right away.” A hint of a smile ghosted across Benedict’s blunt features. “She wasn’t happy at being told she had to wait for your return.”

Rule stepped into his jeans. “What happened?”

“A phone call. There’s been another murder.”

Rule cursed, zipped the jeans, and stamped one foot into a shoe. “Who? Where?”

“She didn’t say, but of course I heard. She isn’t aware of that, I think. Therese Martin, 1012 Humstead Avenue, Apartment Twelve.”

“A woman?” Rule asked, his voice sharp with disbelief. “Attacked by a lupus?”