Mortal Ties wotl-9

by Eileen Wilks

  “What happened to you?” she whispered.

  He glanced down at his ravaged middle. His mouth crooked up. “I got there, got to Turner, but it was not a smooth trip. I guess I’m finally dying. So listen up. That scumbag deserves to die, but you don’t deserve to live with what that will do to you. You don’t deserve to end up like me.”

  His arm was fading. The one hanging down, the one with a chunk missing—it was dimming, going away. She swallowed. “I—”

  He leaned closer, scowling. “Promise me. Promise me you won’t kill him. Not like this.”

  She looked him in the eye and nodded slightly. “Okay. I promise.”

  He exhaled in relief. “Good choice. You’re a good cop, and we don’t have enough—” Suddenly his head tilted. He looked up and to his right. His mouth fell open. She could swear tears filled his eyes—and joy. He reached up, his face lit with happiness as real as anything she’d ever seen. He reached up with his remaining hand, the wedding band on the third finger glowing softly.

  “Sarah,” he said. And the rest of him faded away.

  Lily felt shaky and weird inside. Kind of hollowed out. Then the body beneath her tensed, and she was called back to reality. This reality. Benessarai was looking up at her. She sighed and pressed the knife into his skin slightly to make him pay attention. “So what the hell do I do with you?”

  “I can help with that,” Cullen said. He limped over, wincing with every step. He was missing half his hair, and he looked like he had a bad sunburn.

  “Cullen! That was you falling? You didn’t—”

  “Didn’t burn. Much. I couldn’t get the last damn ward down, but it was a fire ward, and I’m good with fire, so I took it down by leaping through it. Landed badly, though—my ankle’s got a hairline fracture, I think. It took a lot of concentration to keep the flames from burning me until I could snuff them.” He sank down carefully to sit by Benessarai’s head. “Good thing this asshole doesn’t know about mage fire, or I’d be really crispy. Nighty-night,” he said, and slapped his palm onto the elf’s forehead.

  Benessarai went limp, his eyes closing.

  “Sleep charm,” Cullen added. “Don’t know how long it will work on his sort. You okay?”

  “Not…long,” a breathy voice said on Lily’s right.

  Lily turned to see the not-so-dead Alycithin smiling faintly at her. She scooted close. “What can we do? How do we help you?”

  “Aroglian…will help. Give him…ring and word. Thelaisat.” She closed her eyes as if gathering herself. “I bequeath to you, Lily Yu, my…rights and responsibilities for…Sean Friar, hostage. You…accept?”

  “I do.”

  “Say…the word.”

  “Thelaisat,” Lily repeated. Alycithin’s wince might have been at Lily’s mangling of her language, or simple pain. “That one…” The halfling’s gaze shifted to indicate Benessarai. “Best if…you kill.”

  “I can’t. I gave my word.”

  The slightly lifted brows expressed incredulity. Alycithin didn’t ask who Lily had promised, though. Instead she said, “Duct tape.”

  “Duct tape.”

  “On…mouth, hands, feet. Strong. Magically…inert.”

  “Cullen, did you hear that?”

  “Mike!” Cullen called. “We need duct tape, pronto. I’ve got a couple more sleep charms,” he added, “which is good, because he’s almost burned this one up.”

  “You shocked the hell out of me when you touched me,” Lily said. “And undid the restraints, for which I thank you with my whole heart.”

  The eyebrows lifted again. “You…did not know? Said…now or never.”

  “That was for Rule. I knew he was on the roof. I thought you were dead. You fooled Benessarai, too, when he did that spell.”

  Alycithin’s eyes closed, but her lips turned up. “The fool…right about one thing. Rekklat…hard to kill. My Gift…he didn’t notice.…I was alive.”

  “Your Gift doesn’t work on me, and I’ve never seen anyone look as dead as you did who wasn’t.” She hadn’t been breathing. Lily was sure of that.

  “Not…very alive. More now, but…” Very faintly she sighed. “I will sleep.”

  Outside, a tiger roared. Lily looked up. “Grandmother—”

  Rule stepped into view at the end of an aisle between shipping crates. “Let Madame Yu in,” he snapped at someone.

  “Friar?” she asked, pushing herself to her feet.

  “No sign of him. His scent trail ends at the back of the warehouse.”

  “He knows a spell to go out of phase like—” Rule had reached her and his arms closed around her. Tight. “Ow. My rib.” But she held on, too.

  He loosened his grip immediately and straightened to inspect her worriedly. “Are you all right? Your face.” He touched her cheek gently. “Someone hit you.”

  “Friar. He’s gotten a lot stronger than he used to be. I don’t think he broke any ribs, but they’re tender.”

  Rule’s mouth tightened. “That would be why Madame rushed things, I imagine. She was to wait for our signal. Cullen took down the first ward—there were only two—but the second was harder.”

  “Not on Rethna’s level, thank all the gods,” Cullen said, “but a good, workmanlike job. I couldn’t untangle it in the time I had.”

  “Which is why,” Rule said dryly, “he knocked me aside—damn near knocked me off the bloody roof—so he could make his heroic dive.”

  “Because you were about to do it,” Cullen said promptly, “and you are not good with fire.”

  Lily shivered at how close it had been.

  “You’re all right?” Rule asked again.

  “I’m good. Sore here and there, but good. What about…do we have any casualties? From last night or now?”

  “Minor wounds, nothing serious. I think we managed to keep one of the other two elves in here alive.” He turned his head. “Scott? Is your captive going to make it?”

  “I think so. He’s still out.”

  “Duct tape,” Lily said. “We’ll need it for him, too. And we have to send someone to the apartment with Alycithin’s ring so Argolian will release Sean Friar and come here to help Alycithin, and—” She broke off to smile. “Grandmother.”

  Todd had opened the door. The tiger who slinked in was as huge as Grandmother was small in her usual shape. Her head reached Todd’s chest. Her tail lashed as she stalked forward. Flecks of blood, drying now, marred her beautiful coat.

  Lily didn’t ask if any of those outside had survived. Tigers, Grandmother had said once, see no point in disabling an enemy.

  The tiger came straight to Lily and rubbed up against her. Firmly. Lily would have fallen if Rule hadn’t caught her. “Hey.” She grinned and knelt on one knee and ran her hands through the great cat’s ruff, scratching where she knew it felt good. Grandmother purred. She was a lot more demonstrative as a tiger. “Thank you,” Lily told her.

  She got a tiger tongue in her face in return. Tiger tongues are about 120 grit. She laughed and gave Grandmother a last rub along her cheekbone, and the tiger turned and lay down next to Benessarai. She laid one huge paw on his chest—pinning her prey, maybe, but she was still purring, so Lily was pretty sure she wasn’t going to rip out his throat.

  Lily stood. Rule immediately slid his arm around her waist. He needed the contact, she thought. She did, too, so she leaned into him.

  “I have never even imagined seeing anything like that.” Jasper had come in behind Grandmother. He watched her now with wide, wondering eyes. “A were-tiger.”

  “Not exactly,” Lily said. “You’ve been told that you aren’t to speak of this? Ever?”

  He nodded and tore his attention from the great cat. “Have you seen—”

  “Jasper.”

  Adam King looked a bit wobbly from the aftereffects of the charm, but his eyes were clear. Alan was steadying him with one hand, but he pulled free. “Jasper!”

  Lily got to see joy all over again, on two faces this time. The
two men were struck motionless by it for a second, then Jasper ran and Adam wobbled forward and they hung on to each other, talking and crying…about like she was doing with Rule, except for the crying. Though maybe her eyes were a bit damp. She leaned back to look at Rule’s face. “We’ve got a lot to do. Alycithin needs care we can’t give her. We need to free Sean Friar, too.”

  “I know.” But he didn’t let go. “Tell me something.”

  “What?”

  “When I…when you seemed to want to go to find Hugo, and I…did you know what I was doing? Trying to trick you to keep you safe?”

  She snorted. “You are not that sneaky, Rule.”

  Behind her a tiger huffed in what might have been amusement.

  FORTY-FOUR

  ON New Year’s Eve, at three thirty, Lily said goodbye to her new friend of the fifth degree. Alycithin had healed almost completely from her terrible wounds. She was going home via the gate in D.C. The powers that be had decided the least embarrassing thing was to agree with Alycithin that she could take custody of the criminals and return them to their realm.

  They might not have come to that decision, diplomatic immunity or no, if Lily hadn’t edited her official report carefully. If she had not, in fact, left some things out completely. Sean didn’t object. He’d grown to like Alycithin, too.

  Sam had returned to his lair without speaking to her.

  Lily knew now why he’d shut her out so abruptly. Grandmother had explained. Part of Benessarai’s payment to Robert Friar had included three psi bombs—something she’d never heard of—that an agent of Friar’s had been taking back east aboard a 747. The man had accidentally detonated them. Sam had foreseen this and reached the plane in time, but he’d had to hold a shield around the blast to keep it from driving everyone aboard insane, including the pilot. Had he faltered for even a second, the plane would have crashed.

  In other words, Sam was a hero and Lily had no excuse for holding a grudge. Four hundred lives had hung in the balance, and she had been a distraction he could not afford. In her head, Lily knew there was nothing to forgive. He’d done the right thing. All of which left her confused and not liking herself much. She didn’t know if she was angry or hurt or just pouting, but she couldn’t seem to let it go. She couldn’t forget that slammed door.

  Otherwise, things were pretty good. The day after tomorrow, on the second day of the new year, she and Rule had an appointment. With a real estate agent. They’d be looking for a property with a fair amount of land, something not too far from the city, but also not too far from Clanhome. Toby had been shuffled around enough. They wanted him to be able to continue his schooling at Clanhome.

  But Rule couldn’t live there anymore. Not now that he was fully Leidolf Rho. They would find a property with land enough for wolves to run and either a really large house or two houses. They’d still need plenty of security, and besides, Rule wanted to bring more Leidolf out here. Time, he said, he started training more of them away from certain habits their old Rho had instilled.

  The whole thing made Lily nervous. Rule had considered paying cash, but decided it would leave him with too little cushion. This purchase was on him, mostly. Lily sure couldn’t afford the kind of place they needed, Leidolf didn’t have the funds, and it was not something Nokolai could help with. So they’d be signing a mortgage. One whopping big mortgage, even with Rule making a whopping big down payment. Land did not come cheap.

  Tonight, though—tonight was for Rule. Rule and Nokolai.

  Lupi made a big deal about New Year’s Eve. At least Nokolai did. Christmas they considered more of a private time, one you spent with family or friends, but New Year’s Eve was for clan. They had a big bonfire, lots of food, dancing, and music, and everyone came who could. You were supposed to bring something to toss on the bonfire, something that stood for whatever you wanted to let go of along with the old year. People starting adding their whatevers around eleven so everyone would have a chance to finish before midnight, when the Rhej would ring a big old cowbell to let everyone know.

  This was Cynna’s first time to have that duty. She was kind of nervous about it.

  Some of the letting-go objects were funny, like Hostess cupcakes Emma tossed on the fire with a shout of “Junk food!” Some were a mystery to everyone else, like the small rubber ball José contributed. Several lupi gave him a hard time for stinking up the place—rubber smells awful when it burns—but he just smiled. A lot of people simply brought a piece of paper with something written on it.

  That’s what Rule did. Lily didn’t know what he’d written on it, but he’d nodded as it turned black and burned.

  Lily brought a stone from her necklace—the one that was supposed to keep ghosts away. It wouldn’t burn, but it was the idea that counted, she figured. She knew what she was letting go of as she chunked it on the flames. If she’d had to put a word to it, she would have said, “judgment,” but it was both more and less than that.

  Drummond hadn’t come back.

  When Lily was nine years old, a monster had stolen her and her friend. He’d raped and killed Sarah. Lily was alive because of a cop who got there in time. Since she was nine years old, she’d known two things: there were monsters who looked like people. And one day she would become a cop and protect the real people from the monsters. By the time she joined the force, she’d understood that the monsters were real people, too—twisted and warped and bad, but people. But her goal hadn’t changed.

  When Lily was eight years old, she’d wanted the monster who killed Sarah dead. She’d wanted to be the one who killed him. That was one of the few things she’d been able to say about what happened to her, and it had alarmed her mother. The therapist they’d sent her to had wanted to talk about feelings, not actions. She hadn’t known what to say to a child who dreamed of murder.

  Grandmother had. She’d patted Lily on the back and said, “Of course you wish to kill him. However, you cannot. Now go kill the weeds in my garden. Pull them out by the roots. Pull out the grass, too. Kill as much of it as you can.”

  Lily still loved to garden.

  It had taken another twenty years for her to understand there had been another reason for her to become a cop. She’d needed the rules. She was capable of killing, and she’d needed to know exactly what the rules were so she wouldn’t kill unless it was absolutely necessary.

  She stood in the circle of Rule’s arm and watched the bonfire, feeling its heat on her face. Two people had brought fiddles and were starting to play. She’d dance in a bit. Her head hadn’t been concussed, and if her ribs were still bruised, that wouldn’t matter. Rule’s gunshot wound—which he had not told her about until she saw it—was fully healed. So she’d dance with Rule, and with others, too. She’d lived, and he had, and everyone here tonight had made it through this year in spite of the war. They would celebrate that.

  Some hadn’t made it through the year. Too many.

  Lily wasn’t sure if she would have killed Benessarai if Drummond hadn’t shown up to exact that promise, but maybe. Maybe she would. That was not a comfortable thing to know about herself. If she’d killed him, it wouldn’t have been because she had to, or even for the pragmatic reason that it was damn hard to imprison a sidhe with his skills. She’d have done it because she could, and he deserved death for what he’d done.

  She still thought he deserved to die, but it wasn’t up to her. It never had been up to her. That’s what she’d tossed on the fire a few minutes ago.

  Sometimes the bad guys did redeem themselves, wholly and completely. That’s what she’d learned from Drummond. That’s why it wasn’t up to her.

  “This is going to sound stupid,” she said, “but I kind of miss him.”

  “Miss who?”

  “Drummond.”

  “You’re right. That sounds pretty stupid.”

  She elbowed him. “You’re supposed to reassure me.”

  “Can’t. I tossed that sort of thing on the fire just now.”

  She
turned in his arms to look at him directly, looping her arms around his neck loosely. “I’m guessing you don’t mean you’ve given up reassuring me.”

  He ran a finger along the side of her face, which was still a bit swollen. “I gave up thinking I can make better choices for you than you can. Being less than honest with you. And in all honesty, it does sound pretty dumb for you to—”

  Rule was really ticklish under his arms. She got him good, and of course he retaliated, so they were both laughing when Cynna rang the cowbell good and loud, welcoming in the new year.

  EPILOGUE

  IN a place that was not quite a place as we think of them, two people were doing what, here, people often do in a bed.

  No, not that. Though their reunion had been joyous and prolonged and had included plenty of sex—or something as like to sex as makes no difference, even though they did not have bodies as we know bodies—just now they were sleeping. Or enjoying something very like sleep, but enough of the circumlocutions. We have no way of truly understanding that place, so we’ll continue from this point on as if they were here and use the terms we know…

  He woke first. That was habit and normal and familiar and quite wonderful. It gave him the chance to watch her sleep when he had thought he’d never have such a moment again.

  A restless man most of the time, this morning—and it was morning, in all the ways that matter—he was at peace. At least until she woke and smiled at him. She touched his cheek, tracing furrows put there by a life lived hard and mostly right, though when he’d gone wrong, he’d done so spectacularly. As she’d told him tartly at one point, for they’d talked as well as making love. “When are you leaving?” she asked.

  He scowled. “What are you talking about?”

  “Oh, please. When have you ever been able to relax and enjoy a vacation?”

  He blinked. “Vacation? They, uh, said this was a place of rest. I thought…it’s beautiful here.”

  “It is. Very beautiful.” She was laughing at him now. “Rest, vacation—whatever we call it, this isn’t a place to stay forever. Though some people enjoy resting, or so I’ve heard.”