by Eileen Wilks
“Leo was under the impression he was being clever. He thought I’d appreciate his, ah, sneakiness. In his mind, by selling worthless information—he knew the prototype had problems—he benefited his clan, thereby benefiting Nokolai as well. I explained the flaws in his reasoning.”
“You did more than that.”
“True. However he may have justified his actions to himself, he deceived and betrayed Nokolai. I can no longer trust him. I required him to pass Laban’s mantle to his heir—”
The quick “son of a bitch!” came from Cullen.
“—who will be joining you in San Francisco to assist in your investigation.”
FIFTEEN
LILY snapped her seat belt in place. “I’ve never wanted to punch your father more.”
Rule smiled at his nadia, seated between him and Cullen in the backseat of Isen’s oversized and armored Lincoln. No doubt it was perverse of him to find her aggravation comforting. “It’s not an uncommon reaction.”
“There is no reason for him to be so tight-lipped about his reasons!”
“He did explain.”
Lily snorted. “Oh, yeah. He’s just making things easy for me.”
“That’s Isen for you,” Cullen said. “One considerate son of a bitch.”
Isen had informed Lily that it would be convenient for her to have Tony around to question in person. True, but Lily’s skepticism was justified. There was more to Isen’s arrangement…not that Rule assumed he knew all of that “more,” but he knew some. “You will want to talk to Tony about the deal his father made with whoever wanted the prototype.”
“Of course I want to talk to him. Isen didn’t get any information about that from Leo. At least that’s what he claims.” She shot Rule a look. “You were with Isen for a couple hours. You know more about this.”
“Most of our discussion this morning involved clan politics. Isen’s manner of handling Laban’s betrayal will have repercussions.”
“Why?”
“It’s meddling,” Cullen said. “Meddling in an internal Laban matter.”
“It’s okay for Isen to kill Leo, but it’s meddling if he makes him step down?”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
Rule could tell how little Lily understood that. “A subordinate clan owes obedience to its dominant, but is governed by its own Rho. Isen was well within his rights to require Leo’s death, but telling him he must pass the mantle to his heir…he has the authority, but some will question whether he has the right. Only a Rho makes decisions concerning the mantle.”
“Yet killing Leo would have the same effect—the mantle would go to his heir. Plus Leo would be dead.”
Rule nodded. “And that’s how Isen will present his decision, as the symbolic death of an oath-breaking Rho. The Rho ‘died’; the man did not. Some will still see it as a usurpation of the Laban Rho’s authority. Ah…this isn’t a perfect example, but think of how testy local cops get when your Bureau intrudes on what they consider their turf. The feds have the authority to do so, but local officers sometimes think they abuse that authority.”
“Then there’s the Civil War,” Cullen said cheerfully. “States’ rights and all that—what powers belong to the federal government and what belong to the states. People still get hot under the collar about that. Laban is subordinate to Nokolai, but it still has rights.”
Rule nodded. “It doesn’t help that Tony was Leo’s heir, and Isen didn’t allow him to change that before passing the mantle on.”
“What does that have to do with it?”
Rule and Cullen exchanged a look. Rule answered. “Until this past July, Leo’s heir was his older son, James, but he suddenly replaced James with his younger son, Tony. It’s widely believed that the two of them argued and Leo wanted to teach James a lesson, and that Tony, the younger son, is a temporary placeholder for his brother.”
“What’s wrong with Tony?”
“Nothing,” Rule said firmly. A little too firmly, maybe, and she raised her brows at him. He sighed and gave a partial answer. “Tony doesn’t have a son. And yes, I’ve told you that’s essential for a Lu Nuncio, but it’s a cultural requirement, not a distinction the mantle makes.”
Cullen put in helpfully, “It’s like the way Jasper Herron named Myron the Lu Nuncio for Kyffin. Myron’s a lousy fighter.”
She nodded slowly. “A Lu Nuncio is supposed to be proven in battle, but Jasper made his uncle his heir because his son’s too young and Myron doesn’t want to be Rho, so he’ll be glad when his great-nephew is old enough for the position. Everyone’s wink-wink, nudge-nudge about it. Does everyone wink at Tony being Lu Nuncio, then?”
“More or less. We’ve assumed Leo would remove Tony before long.”
She nodded again. “Okay, so there’s an issue of territory and rights with Isen telling Leo to step down. I get that, but how does letting Leo live change the way the boundaries are drawn?”
“It was Leo who was responsible, you see. Not the mantle.”
Lily chewed on that a moment. “In a weird, lupi sort of way that makes sense. Leo took responsibility for his actions, so he’s personally culpable, which lets his clan off the hook. But Isen’s decision was about the mantle, which makes it about Laban.”
“Some will see it that way.”
“Is my head spinning? It feels like it’s spinning. And all that doesn’t explain why this new Rho is ordered to join us. Or why we should let him.”
“You and Cullen and I are exposed to risk because of Laban’s actions. Laban’s Rho will therefore be exposed to risk, too—and given a chance to help recover what his clan caused to be taken from Nokolai.”
“Grandmother says that if you make an enemy lose face, you have to either kill them or give them a way to regain face.”
“Laban is not our enemy, but otherwise…yes.”
Lily fell silent, thinking that over. Or maybe she’d reverted to worrying about him.
His fault. He hadn’t found time to have a word with her alone. He took her hand. She looked at him once, a slanted glance from under her lashes. She wanted to ask him questions, but she wouldn’t, not here. He looked away, stroking his thumb over the fleshy base of her thumb. He didn’t want her questions. Shame clung to him, vague and sticky as a spiderweb. He saw no reason for it.
It had been a shock to learn he had otherkin. He hadn’t reacted well. No doubt some of that was due to the timing, falling as it had on Mick’s birthday. But he wasn’t shamed by his reaction.
How did he feel now? That’s what Lily would ask if they were alone. Or perhaps not. Much as she loved questions, she did understand that some answers arrived more fully without tacking words to them. He was…curious. Yes, now that the shock was past, he wanted to know more about Machek. He didn’t want the man in prison, if it could be avoided—a goal Lily might help or hinder, and there was a question he needed to ask when they were private. But there was no real bond between him and this newly discovered kin, even if Machek had called him brother on the phone last night.
But Jasper Machek was fifty-three years old. Rule knew this because Lily had asked Isen while Rule was still reacting. And while Rule might have been utterly unaware of Jasper Machek’s existence, Machek had known about Rule. So Isen had said just before Rule left the room last night. The man had had ample opportunity to call Rule brother before now.
Easy enough to see what had changed. He wanted something.
Rule roused from his thoughts, feeling Lily’s gaze on him. “Yes?”
“I think we should be sure we’re all on the same page here,” she said. “Cullen wants his prototype back. I do, too, but even more I want to find out who has it and why. What’s your priority, Rule?”
“Determining if Friar has any connection to the theft, of course. Which puts us very much on the same page.” He added very softly, “I’m okay, Lily.”
She nodded, but not as if she believed him. More like she was willing to let him say that. “We don’t have any reason righ
t now to think there’s a connection. This could be good, old-fashioned corporate theft.”
“You said Ruben had a hunch you should be there.”
“His hunch didn’t include why, though. It doesn’t mean Friar’s involved.” She drummed the fingers of her free hand on her thigh. “I’ve got two good witnesses, or will have. Your brother and what’s-his-name…the new Laban Rho.”
“Tony Romano.”
“Right. Tony and Jasper both had contact with whoever commissioned this theft.” She gave him a quick glance. “I’m assuming that information is part of this deal your brother wants to make.”
“I think of him as my alius kin.”
“Okay. I think of him as your brother.”
He didn’t respond. Eventually Lily would understand, but she didn’t now, and he wasn’t inclined to explain while they had an audience.
After a brief pause she went on. “But whatever label we give Jasper, he knows things we need to know. Talking has to be part of whatever deal we make.”
“Obviously. Information is all he has to offer, if what he said about the device being stolen from him is true. I don’t know what he wants in return, but I’d guess that staying out of prison is involved.” He paused. “I would prefer that he not go to prison.”
“I’ll bear that in mind. I think I should do the dealing.”
His eyebrows lifted. “I’m quite capable of—”
“Yes, but it gets you two off to a difficult start if you have to be a hard-ass.”
“Considering that our relationship began with him stealing from the clan, I’d say we’re already well into ‘difficult.’ ”
“Then let’s not make it worse. Besides, you can’t agree to grant him immunity from prosecution, which he’ll likely insist on.”
He suspected that technically she couldn’t, either, but she could neglect to arrest Machek. She must think she could keep this under the table. He considered a moment longer, then nodded. “Am I supposed to be the good cop, then?”
“You can stand there looking mysterious and vaguely scary. You said he wouldn’t talk about what he wants until we get there.”
He nodded, toying with the ring on her finger. His ring.
“Can you give me your impression of him?”
“He knows what he wants, even if he wasn’t willing to tell me. He was calm, in control, when he might have been panicky or angry about losing something he’d gone to great trouble to obtain.” He thought a bit more and added, “He’s educated, or knows how to sound like it.”
“He’s got a degree in art history and owns a small gallery.”
Art history. Why did that surprise him? He’d known about the man’s existence for less than twenty-four hours. Surely that wasn’t enough time to develop preconceptions. “Last night I wasn’t ready to learn about him. I am now.”
She cocked her head. “I’ve got the FBI’s file on him, plus some recent stuff Arjenie dug up. You want to see it?”
The FBI didn’t keep files on everyone. “Do you mean a file or a rap sheet?”
“No rap sheet. He’s never been arrested, but several years ago he was a person of interest in a theft at the National Gallery in D.C. That made it an FBI matter, see—National Gallery, federal law. They never had enough evidence to make an arrest, but it’s clear the lead agent had him picked for the perp. He put together the file.”
“He is a pro, then. As you suspected.”
“Looks like it, though there’s—”
Cullen interrupted. “What was stolen?”
She looked at him. “That was odd. Only one item went missing—a thirteenth-century chalice, solid gold with precious gems. No one could figure out why he targeted that one item. It was worth plenty, sure, but there were other things he could have grabbed that were worth more.”
“No, there weren’t,” Cullen said.
“What do you know about this?”
“That chalice was an artifact.”
“An artifact?” Rule said, startled. Artifacts were major magic—so major no one on Earth knew how to make them. It took an adept to make an artifact, and the knowledge had been lost even before the Purge. “What did it do?”
“No one knows. At least I never heard a whisper that anyone had figured it out, and I sure as hell couldn’t. I studied the damn thing for days, but all that showed was the trigger—and that was locked.”
“Locked,” Lily repeated.
“Locked as in keyed to someone who has probably been dead for a few hundred years, so no one could use it. Resetting the key would take knowledge we just don’t have.”
“And you studied it for days?”
“That was about three months before it was stolen. And no,” Cullen added with preemptive irritation, “I didn’t have anything to do with that. Not from any moral objection on my part, but I couldn’t afford Umbra.”
“Umbra.”
“That’s the name your thief goes by. Or used to. Kind of pretentious, isn’t it?’
“I don’t know,” she said dryly. “What does it mean?”
“It’s the scientific name for one part of a shadow. Anyway, everyone assumed Umbra was the one who took the chalice because it was such a slick, high-dollar job. There was a lot of speculation about who his client might have been, but it was bullshit. No one really knew anything.”
“Who’s ‘everyone’?”
Cullen waved vaguely. “People. You know.”
“No, actually, I don’t. But I’d like to.”
“I’m not going to tell you about them. First, it was seven years ago, and I don’t remember exactly who I talked to. Second, if any of them had an inkling I mentioned them to someone official, they’d never talk to me again. And that would be bad.”
“Are they other sorcerers?”
“Did you hear me say I wouldn’t tell you about them? I could’ve sworn I heard those words come out of my mouth.” Cullen sighed. “I feel a bit better knowing it was Umbra who got through my wards. Not a lot, but some. He was supposed to be the best.”
Rule’s eyebrows lifted. “Was?”
“Two or three years ago word went out that he wasn’t taking jobs anymore. Rumor was divided about why. Some said he’d retired. Some said he’d died. Looks like he was just on sabbatical.”
Lily made a note. “Huh. Guess we’ll have the chance to ask him. How did people reach Umbra to hire him?”
Cullen considered the question a moment. “I can tell you that much. Here in the States he used an agent, a big fat guy named Hugo. I met him once on an unrelated matter. Back then—this was maybe five years ago—he hung out at a dive called Rats in San Francisco. He’s Gifted—can’t tell you which one because I don’t remember. Maybe one of the Air Gifts. Caucasian, around fifty, bald or else he shaved his head. Tattoo of a lightning bolt on his forehead. Looked like prison work.”
“Last name?”
“No idea. He went by Hugo.”
“How big was he?”
“About Rule’s height and maybe three hundred pounds.”
“Okay, I’ll see if Arjenie can do anything with that.” She turned to Rule. “I need to ask Cullen some more questions before we get to the airport. Want to read that file now?”
No. “Yes.”
She bent and dug a folder out of the case that held her laptop. It would have been easier to send the material to his iPad, but that left an electronic trail. Technically Lily had the authority to share information with a consultant; technically Rule could be called a consultant. But there was always the chance that someone would decide to make an issue of it.
He accepted the folder and opened it. The first page was a brief bio.Jasper Frederick MachekBorn: San Francisco, California
Two years and nine months after she handed me to my father and walked away and never looked back…Father: Frederick Alan Machek; b. 12/7/1929Mother: Celeste Marie Machek, nee Babineaux; b. 9/27/1928 d. 3/11/ 2006
Rule stared at the page, his eyes dry and unseeing, his mind blank
save for one thought.
Dead. She was dead.
SIXTEEN
LILY did not watch Rule read the file she’d handed him. She wanted to, but she was pretty sure that was a bad idea. When you’re raw you don’t want people studying your reactions, even if you’ve convinced yourself you’re just fine.
Maybe especially then. She leaned forward and pulled her notebook and pen out of her purse. “Okay, Cullen, I need you to tell me more about the prototype. You’re not the only one working on the problem—everyone from mega-corporations to individual practitioners are giving it a shot. But this is the first really promising device for shielding tech from magic, right?”
“Wrong.”
“You said it worked. You said that several times. That isn’t promising?”
“I mean that it’s not a shield.”
“But it’s supposed to protect tech from magic.”
He nodded. “Naturally you think ‘protect’ equals ‘shield.’ I did, too, at first. So has everyone else. The problem is, the only way to absolutely, positively shield against every type of magic is to be you.”
She blinked. “Ah—be a touch sensitive, you mean?” Able to feel magic, but impervious to it.
“Right. The first thing you need to know is that no substance shields really well against raw magic. Earth comes closer than most, but it’s too varied to shield predictably. And it takes a lot of dirt to do much good.”
“Raw magic is what comes from nodes.”
“Right. Ambient magic is at least ninety percent raw. A small percentage is elemental, but the vast majority is raw—unless you’re in an old forest, of course, but that’s a special case, and there’s not much tech deep in the Sequoia National Forest, so it doesn’t matter. Now, some substances do offer minimal shielding, like the silk case you use for your phone, but they’re ineffective near a node, a ley line, or even the ocean. Or if there’s even a small surge. We don’t get the kind of power blasts we did when the Turning hit,” he added, “but there are frequent small surges, and the level of ambient magic continues to rise.”
