by Eileen Wilks
“Belt and suspenders,” he said obscurely as the elevator started down. “Lily, the two dead—Murray took out one, and Patrick got the other. The badly injured one, though, that was Beth’s doing. Do you want Patrick to take responsibility for him? I need to let him know.”
“Shit.”
TWENTY-FOUR
“SURE,” Lily said. “I’ll call you later. No, I’m here and…I know you do. I’ll give her your love, and…” Lily listened patiently to another list of things she must be sure to do. It wasn’t that hard. She knew the list was her mother’s way of saying she loved Beth, and this time, at least, her mother wasn’t blaming Lily for what had happened to her sister. This time, her mother seemed to trust her. “Uh-huh. No, don’t worry about that—she’ll be staying with me and Rule.”
Beth paused in her pacing to glare at her. “No, I won’t.”
Lily gave her a look. “I need to go. I don’t like to leave Beth alone with that detective and…of course I will. ’Bye.”
“She’s not coming here, is she?” Beth demanded.
Lily slipped her phone in her pocket. “No, and you owe me big-time for telling her you were still talking to the local police. You’ll call her yourself later. And you are staying with me and Rule.”
“No, I’m not.” Beth resumed her furious circuit of the surgical waiting room. “Haven’t I proved how damn good I am at taking care of myself? Sent him sailing—splat!” She slapped her hands together. “Took him right out.”
“Uh-huh. You figure you can protect your roommates, too, if the bad guys try for you again?”
Beth’s mouth opened. Closed. She turned away and started pacing again, up and down the room, like she’d been doing since they got here.
There was only one person other than Lily to watch. Tony Romano sat in the corner pretending to read an old issue of Better Homes and Gardens. Maybe he really was reading it—who knew? He’d insisted on coming to the hospital, claiming he had no problem with the setting. Most lupi didn’t do well in hospitals, but Tony was a Rho. He was supposed to be aces at control. He said he hoped to be useful to Rule, but of course Rule didn’t stay where Tony could hang around being helpful. He went into surgery with Murray. That’s when Tony attached himself to Lily like an enormous barnacle. She thought he must be “studying on” her, getting used to the idea of a woman with authority. She wasn’t sure why she was letting him.
Scott and Todd were just outside in the hall, glaring at anyone who looked like they might come in. Either the glares worked or the hospital was having a slow surgical day, because they’d had the room to themselves for the past twenty minutes. Lily knew that was temporary. If nothing, else, the press would find them eventually.
Somewhere nearby was the man Beth had sent sailing over a railing to plummet three stories down. He was still in surgery. Lily had told Rule it was Beth’s choice about whether to ask Patrick to claim responsibility for that. Beth had reacted just as Lily had expected—she’d been horrified by the idea.
Murray had come around at the scene, but Rule had kept him calm, and Cullen had met them at the hospital. Murray had taken two bullets; one wasn’t much of a problem, being in his shoulder, but the other had hit his heart. He had to have surgery, but anesthesia didn’t work on lupi. Fortunately, sleep spells did, and Cullen was good at them, so he and Rule had scrubbed and gone into surgery with Murray. They were with him now in post-op.
Lily was not needed for any of this. She’d rather have taken Beth to the hotel once they could leave the scene of the attack. Beth could be guarded better there—and Lily had so much to do. The locals were handling the immediate investigation of Beth’s attackers, but that wasn’t exactly the only thing on her plate. She’d ended up video conferencing from the damn ladies’ room—the one spot at the hospital with some privacy—when the judge insisted on a personal discussion of her need for taps on Jasper Machek’s phones.
At least the woman had ended up granting permission, so…her phone buzzed.
It was the detective Lily had maligned to her mother, a perfectly courteous woman named Rachel Jones. They’d confirmed the ID on the three perps whose bodies—living or dead—were in their hands. They had a line to follow on who they’d worked for, too. Did Lily want to sit in when they picked the man up?
She did. Lily thanked Detective Jones and disconnected.
“Who was that?” Beth said brightly. “One of your police buddies? Have they decided for sure they won’t arrest me?”
“They’re not going to arrest you.” Lily had told her that several times. “They’ve got names for all of the perps but the one who escaped. The guy in surgery is—”
“You’re right. Why would they arrest me? I didn’t do anything wrong. He deserved it, right?”
Beth didn’t want to hear the man’s name. Having a name made him real, made it a person she’d tossed over that railing, not a lump of meat. Lily understood, but dehumanizing your opponents was bad for the soul…and it was weird for her to think in terms of the soul, but things had changed a lot in the last year. The good news was that her sister wasn’t very good at that particular form of denial. Beth had insisted on coming here to wait until the guy got out of surgery. You didn’t do that for a lump of meat. The bad news was that Beth insisted she was fine, just fine, while her movements grew more frantic and her eyes brittle with everything she was determined not to feel.
After a too-long pause Lily said, “Maybe it doesn’t matter what he deserved.”
“I guess you think it should bother me,” Beth said. “It doesn’t. I defended myself. That’s why I went to Bojuka—so I’d be able to defend myself. And it worked, didn’t it? So I’m not upset.”
“You’re doing a pretty good job of acting upset.”
“I’m not acting. And I’m not…it’s the adrenaline. I was attacked, and all that adrenalin has me kind of wired. But not upset.”
“The adrenaline’s worn off by now.” Lily stood. “His name is Robert Clampett.”
“Why do I need to know that? I didn’t need to know that.”
“I don’t know if Clampett deserved his fate, but I don’t have to know that. You did the right thing, Beth. You did what needed to be done.”
“Aren’t you listening? That’s what I’ve been saying.” Beth stopped moving. Her eyes were too big, too bright.
“Is it what you’re feeling?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what I feel. It’s not guilt, but I don’t know what it is. I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me, too.” Lily moved closer and slid an arm around Beth’s waist. “Maybe you can just feel whatever-it-is without naming it.”
“But it has to have a name. Something so large—other people must have felt it, too. There must be a word for it.”
The word was change. Lily didn’t think Beth would know what she meant if she suggested it, though. People didn’t use change as an emotion word, but as a little-c verb—change the oil, the channel, your hair color or your address or your diet. Even the phrase “change your life” referred to an act of volition, taking charge of something and making it better, or at least different. They weren’t talking about the kind of volcanic upheaval Beth was caught up in where ash covered the landscape and lava spewed up into the air and the ground shook and shook, and nothing looked right or normal.
Of course, another word for what Beth felt would be trauma. Lily didn’t think her sister wanted to hear that one, either. “Are you glad you’re alive?”
Beth nodded firmly. “Of course.”
“It looks like Murray’s going to be okay. Are you glad about that?”
“I—he—Lily, he jumped at that man with the gun so he would take the bullet instead of me. I’m sure of it. He—he—” Her breath hitched. Her eyes filled. And at last she started to cry.
Once the sobs hit, they hit hard. Lily wrapped her arms around Beth and held on while Beth cried out some of the confusion. For a long time she didn’t say anything, not until Beth stirr
ed. “Tissue?” She disengaged enough to reach for the box on a nearby table.
“Oh, God, yes,” Beth took the box and pulled one out and blew her nose. “I’m sorry for falling apart like that.”
“Why?”
“You don’t.”
“Just because you haven’t been around for any of my collapses doesn’t mean they don’t happen. Murray’s going to be okay, Beth. What he did—”
“He could have died.”
“He could have, yeah. But that’s the sort of thing lupi do, especially if a woman’s in danger. They heal so much faster than we can, so they go flinging themselves in front of bullets or knives or demons or whatever as if that were a good idea.”
Beth’s laugh was damp and shaky. “That’s it. That’s it. I didn’t want him there, and I was giving him a hard time, and he—he still threw himself in front of that gun!”
The shooter had carried a .22, and Murray had been trained by Benedict. He knew rounds from a .22 weren’t likely to go through him and hit Beth, so he’d jumped the perp. The two of them had tumbled down a flight of stairs, coming to a stop with one of them passed out, the other one dead.
The official version might say that the perp had probably broken his neck falling down those stairs, but Lily knew better. Lupi didn’t like to leave threats cluttering up the landscape if they expected to be dead or unconscious shortly, and they were ungodly fast. Murray had broken the man’s neck the instant they collided. “And in a week or so Murray will be strutting around—”
“A week?” Beth said, eyes widening. “I know they heal fast, but—a week?”
“He might not be back to normal, but he’ll certainly be up and around and thinking he’s pretty hot stuff. And we’ll let him, because he is. He saved you. But Beth…” Lily smoothed her sister’s hair. “You saved him, too. Probably yourself as well, but definitely Murray. When you repelled the second attacker it gave Patrick the seconds he needed to take out the third guy before he could put more bullets in Murray.”
Patrick had been outside. He’d given a sharp whistle to warn Murray of suspicious strangers entering the building, but procedure was for him to remain on post unless summoned—which Murray had done, but Patrick wouldn’t have gotten there in time to save Murray if Beth hadn’t been able to stop the man who’d grabbed her.
“I didn’t repel him,” Beth said flatly. “I flipped him, and he went sailing over the railing. He fell straight down. Lily, he made the most horrible noise when he hit. It wasn’t loud, but it…I keep hearing it.”
Lily nodded. Beth would remember that sound all her life.
“I feel horrible when I think about it, and I can’t stop thinking about it, and I’m not at all sorry I did it, and that doesn’t make sense! And even though I hope that man doesn’t die, that’s really all about me. I don’t want to have killed someone. So I hope he doesn’t die, but not because I really want him to live.”
“Do you think you’re supposed to?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know anything.”
“You do. You think you’re all uprooted, but plenty of you is still rooted nice and deep. You just can’t see that for all the debris.” And that clearly had sailed right past Beth, judging by the confusion on her face. “You think we could sit down for a few minutes?”
“Sit down? Okay, but that doesn’t…okay.”
“Come on.” Lily tugged her over to the chairs and they both sat. “Now. You know that I’ve killed.”
Beth nodded solemnly. “But you’re a cop. That…it was a line-of-duty thing, right?”
“Do you think cops get a moral pass on killing?” Lily shook her head. “Never mind. I’m not good at putting words to this, but the way it seems to me, everyone is born capable of killing others. That’s hardwired in us the same as loving babies and craving sugary foods. But killing is more dangerous than a sweet tooth, isn’t it? So it gets a pretty universal thumbs-down in human cultures everywhere. That’s necessary and important, but it’s also true that we need for some people to be able to kill, under some circumstances. Cops, once in a while. Soldiers. People like you who get caught in a kill-or-be-killed situation. Problem is, we don’t give them much to go on except stupid shoot ’em up movies where the good guys blast away at the bad guys and everyone cheers. If you think the bad guys aren’t really people, you don’t have to worry about the whole thou-shalt-not-kill bit, do you? So you call them by some name that sets them outside the realm of real people—they’re gooks or weers or whores and…and I just gave you way too much philosophical shit when that isn’t what you need at all, is it?”
“Probably I’ll want the philosophical shit later,” Beth said apologetically.
A muffled sound that might have been a chuckle came from the chair across the room, reminding Lily they weren’t alone. When she glanced over her shoulder, Tony looked apologetic, too. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to overhear. Beth, is it okay if I talk to you about this?”
Beth shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”
Lily could think of a couple of reasons—he was male and lupi, and he didn’t know Beth at all. She doubted he could understand, much less help, but she held her peace. He probably wouldn’t do any harm.
Tony crossed to them and went down on one knee, putting his eyes more or less level with Beth. He held out both hands. Hesitantly she put hers in them. He squeezed and looked her in the eyes and spoke in his slow, measured way. “Someone tried to hurt or kill you. Maybe you killed him instead. Maybe you hurt him very badly. You are having a hard time with this.” He paused.
Beth nodded.
“That’s okay. Killing is not supposed to be easy.”
Beth’s mouth rounded in a silent “oh.” Tension eased out of her shoulders. “You mean I’m supposed to be confused.”
“You are.”
“And I should quit thinking I need to figure everything out right away.”
He chuckled, a rumble so low Lily barely heard it. “Pequita, no one ever gets everything figured out.”
She smiled back and looked more like herself. Flirty. “Hey, who are you calling ‘little one’?”
“Almost everyone.”
Beth laughed. It was a good laugh, and it looked like it surprised her as much as it did Lily.
Out in the hall someone said, “…give me that look. I don’t know what your problem is, but I’m perfectly entitled to go in the—”
“Deirdre!” Beth sprang up. “That’s Deirdre. I’m in here,” she called hurrying to the door, and a tall skinny blond with enormous hoop earrings and a small butterfly tat on her collarbone sailed into the room. “Beth! I just checked my messages, and I’m so sorry I didn’t check earlier! Are you all right? You look—”
“I’m good except—”
“—like you’ve been through the wringer, and I—”
“—that I’m awful, too, and I’m so glad to see you!”
The two collided in a hug and just kept talking over, under, and around each other.
Lily sighed and smiled and stood, suddenly tired. She looked at Tony, who was unwinding his not-quite-seven feet back to standing. She cocked her head and said quietly, “What would you have said to her if she’d said she felt anger or regret instead of confusion?”
Deep in those brown, bovine eyes a spark of humor glinted. “Same thing. You asked her good questions,” he added in an encouraging way.
“Then tried to give her my answers instead of waiting for her to find her own.”
“We always want to fix things for the people who matter. Can’t, mostly, but we want to.”
“I think you’re going to make a good Rho.”
“Do you?” He slid her a glance as opaque as any Isen might use. “Even though I don’t think so quick?”
“The thing Isen does best, the thing the clan needs him for the most, is people. You don’t handle people his way, but your way—” Her phone vibrated. She took it out. “Your way works, too.”
Her caller was Arjenie. She asked a
bout Beth first. Lily wasn’t sure how she’d heard, but Rule had of course told his Rho, so maybe Isen had called Benedict, who would have told Arjenie. Lily assured her Beth was okay, then they got to the business of the call. Which was basically that Arjenie hadn’t been able to turn up a Hugo in San Francisco that fit Cullen’s description, or a Hugo who’d been through the prison system anywhere in the country who was a good match, and she was out of options to check. Lily grimaced and thanked her and disconnected.
“This Hugo you’re looking for,” Tony said. “He is here in San Francisco?”
“He was. We think he still is. Why?”
“I know people. Those in my clan will know people I don’t. Tell me about him.”
“He’s a big man—big as in fat, weighs around three hundred, or did five years ago when he hung out at a bar called Rats. At that time he was either bald or shaved his head. He’s white, maybe fifty-five years old, and has a tattoo of a lightning bolt on his forehead. He’s got an Air Gift and contacts in the magical community. At one time he was the go-to guy for people who wanted magical items stolen.”
Tony nodded slowly. “I’ll find him for you.”
Just like that? Well, Rule had said Tony had lived here a long time. Maybe he wasn’t as young as he looked, after all. Why not let him have a try? “Thank you. He’s one of the few leads we—”
“Lily,” Beth said, having detangled from her friend, and tugged Deirdre forward. “You know Deirdre, right? And Deirdre, this in Tony, whose last name I’ve forgotten—sorry. Tony, Deirdre Marks.”
“My pleasure,” Tony said gravely.
Deirdre’s eyes went big as she looked him up and down. “Wow. I mean…wow.”
“Lily, I’ve told Deirdre most of it, but I couldn’t remember his name. You know—the sorry son of a bitch who tried to get me who I don’t really want to die, even if he is a sorry son of a bitch. I’ve forgotten his name.”
Lily didn’t smile except inside, where relief broke out in a grin. “Robert. His name is Robert Clampett, but on the street he goes by Little Mo.”
