by Eileen Wilks
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Acknowledgements
ONE
TWO - Three Weeks Later
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE - The city of Luan; Shanxi Province, China; sixteenth day of the ...
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN - The city of Luan; Shanxi Province, China; nineteenth day of the ...
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-TWO
THIRTY-THREE
THIRTY-FOUR
THIRTY-FIVE
THIRTY-SIX
THIRTY-SEVEN
THIRTY-EIGHT
THIRTY-NINE
FORTY
Teaser chapter
EILEEN WILKS
PRAISE FOR EILEEN WILKS’S NOVELS OF THE LUPI
MORTAL SINS
“Filled with drama and action. The love between Rule and Lily is made even more special with the mate bond they possess, and the unconditional support they offer each other in their time of need is heartening. This story is number five in the World of the Lupi series, and is just as good as the first.”
—Fresh Fiction
“The latest Agent Yu ‘Mortal’ urban fantasy police procedural is refreshed by the family element and by a unique serial killer . . . A strong entry in her Yu thrillers.”
—Genre Go Round Reviews
“This is a great mystery that definitely held me enthralled and kept me glued to my seat . . . The characters and world are intriguing, and the solution to the murders is unusual and thought-provoking . . . Even better, Ms. Wilks has a skill with description and narrative that truly brings a world and its characters alive.”
—Errant Dreams Reviews
“Fabulous . . . The plot just sucked me in and didn’t let me go until the end . . . Another great addition to the World of Lupi series.”
—Literary Escapism
“[Lily and Rule are] a crackling couple . . . [Wilks manages] to translate that indefinable tension, that absolute and utter chemistry which happens between real couples . . . onto paper.”
—Romance Novel TV
NIGHT SEASON
“A captivating world.”
—The Romance Reader
“Filled with action and plenty of twists.”
—Midwest Book Review
continued . . .
BLOOD LINES
“Another winner from Eileen Wilks.”
—Romance Reviews Today
“The magic seems plausible, the demons real, and the return of enigmatic Cynna, along with the sorcerer, hook fans journeying the fantasy realm of Eileen Wilks.”
—The Best Reviews
“Intriguing . . . Surprises abound in Blood Lines . . . A masterful pen and sharp wit hone this third book in the Moon Children series into a work of art. Enjoy!”
—A Romance Review
“Savor Blood Lines to the very last page.”
—BookLoons
“Quite enjoyable, and sure to entertain . . . a fast-paced story with plenty of danger and intrigue.”
—The Green Man Review
MORTAL DANGER
“I’ve been anticipating this book ever since I read Tempting Danger, and I was certainly not disappointed. Mortal Danger grabs you on the first page and never lets go. Strong characters, believable world-building, and terrific storytelling . . . I really, really loved this book.”
—Patricia Briggs, #1 New York Times best-selling author of Bone Crossed
“Mortal Danger is as intense as it is sophisticated, a wonderful novel of strange magic, fantastic realms, and murderous vengeance that blend together to test the limits of fate-bound lovers.”
—Lynn Viehl, USA Today best-selling author of the Darkyn series
“[A] complex, intriguing, paranormal world . . . Fans of the paranormal genre will love this one!”
—Love Romances
“Terrific . . . The cat and mouse story line is action-packed . . . A thrilling tale of combat on mystical realms.”
—The Best Reviews
FURTHER PRAISE FOR EILEEN WILKS AND HER NOVELS
“I remember Eileen Wilks’s characters long after the last page is turned.”
—New York Times best-selling author Kay Hooper
“Eileen Wilks writes what I like to read.”
—New York Times best-selling author Linda Howard
“If you enjoy beautifully written, character- rich paranormals set in a satisfyingly intricate and imaginative world, then add your name to Eileen Wilks’s growing fan list.”
—BookLoons
“Exciting, fascinating paranormal suspense that will have you on the edge of your seat. With a mesmerizing tale of an imaginative world and characters that will keep you spellbound as you read each page, Ms. Wilks proves once again what a wonderful writer she is with one great imagination for her characters and the world they live in.”—The Romance Readers Connection
“Destined to become a big, big name in romance fiction.”
—Romantic Times
“Fantastic . . . fabulous pairing . . . Ms. Wilks takes a chance and readers are the winners.”
—The Best Reviews
“Fun [and] very entertaining!”
—The Romance Reader
“Should appeal to fans of Nora Roberts.”
—Booklist
“Fast paced.”
—All About Romance
“Eileen Wilks [has] remarkable skill. With a deft touch she combines romance and danger.”
—Midwest Book Review
Books by Eileen Wilks
TEMPTING DANGER
MORTAL DANGER
BLOOD LINES
NIGHT SEASON
MORTAL SINS
BLOOD MAGIC
Anthologies
CHARMED
(with Jayne Ann Krentz writing as Jayne Castle,
Julie Beard, and Lori Foster)
LOVER BEWARE
(with Christine Feehan, Katherine Sutcliffe, and Fiona Brand)
CRAVINGS
(with Laurell K. Hamilton, MaryJanice Davidson, and Rebecca York)
ON THE PROWL
(with Patricia Briggs, Karen Chance, and Sunny)
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
BLOOD MAGIC
A Berkley Sensation Book / published by arrangement with the author
PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley Sensation mass-market edition / February 2010
Copyright © 2010 by Eileen Wilks.
All rights reserved.
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eISBN : 978-1-101-18510-0
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My thanks to Dr. Craig Nelson, Deputy Medical Examiner in San Diego, for patiently answering my questions and sending me that photo of his workplace. Any mistakes are purely my own . . . though I hope one thing, at least, is wrong, and that by the time you read this, he and the rest of the staff have been able to move into their new building.
Special thanks go to my editor, Cindy Hwang, for checking and re-checking the Chinese words and phrases I’ve used. Most of an editor’s work is invisible to readers—and sometimes to writers, too—but books are very much a partnership. I’ve got a fantastic partner—and an able helper in her assistant, Leis Pederson.
I’d also like to apologize to residents of San Diego for the liberties I’ve taken with their city, such as rearranging the physical properties of one hospital to suit the needs of my story. Please overlook this and other discrepancies, bearing in mind that I don’t write about your San Diego, but one in an alternate world where lupi have recently become U.S. citizens—as long as they’re on two feet.
ONE
ON a blistering noon at the tag-end of July, Balboa Park in San Diego offered plenty of green to sun-weary eyes. The paths in the Palm Canyon section were some of the park’s prettiest byways, though shade was scant now. With the sun directly overhead, it was reduced to furtive puddles at the feet of the palms’ arcing trunks.
A tall man walked one of those paths alone, dressed head-to-toe in black.
His hair was dark, his skin lightly tanned. His eyes were hidden by expensive sunglasses. From a distance he looked like a clump of shadow visiting its more dappled cousins along the bone-colored path.
Rule Turner touched his sunglasses lightly. They didn’t need adjusting. He just liked the tactile reminder. They’d been a gift, a surprise present from Lily when the two of them returned from North Carolina with his son yesterday. She’d even found a smaller, identical pair for Toby, which the boy wore constantly. So Rule touched the shades and thought of Toby, and of Lily, and why he was here.
Two men rounded a curve in the path, heading toward Rule. Neither wore sunglasses. The older one looked like a blacksmith or some primordial earth deity—bearded and burly and as if he might burst out of his slacks and shirt at any moment. His beard and hair were rusty brown shot with gray; his eyes were the color of roasted nuts. Tanned skin creased around craggy features in a way that suggested smiles came easily and often.
He wasn’t smiling now.
The other man looked younger and more dangerous . . . which was true in a sense. Benedict could kill faster and more surely than anyone Rule knew. He shared his companion’s muscular build, but fitted over an additional five inches of height. Benedict’s features reflected his mother’s heritage, the cheekbones flat and high, the mouth wide, and his black hair was long enough to club back in a short tail.
No smile lines around those dark eyes. He moved with the economy of an athlete or martial artist, which he was; he wore athletic shoes with jeans and an oversize, untucked khaki shirt.
The shirt did nothing for his build or the bronze of his skin, but Benedict wouldn’t have thought of that. Clothes, like most things, were tactical tools to him. The shirt was appropriate for the setting and hid whatever weapons he’d deemed appropriate. Knives, certainly. Probably a handgun.
Neither of them looked like Rule. Nor did they much resemble each other. A stranger wouldn’t have guessed the three of them were a father and his two living sons.
The older man stopped some fifteen feet away. Benedict dropped back a few feet, guarding his rear. Rule continued walking until he was only three feet away, then stopped, too. Waiting.
“Do you not kneel?” Rule’s father demanded.
“I’m waiting to see who greets me.”
Now there was a smile. A small one, but it reached the nut-brown eyes. “Your Rho.”
Immediately Rule dropped to one knee, bending his head to bare his nape. He felt his father’s fingers brush his nape, and in Rule’s gut the portion of mantle that belonged to his birth clan—to Nokolai—leaped in response.
The other mantle—the complete one—remained quiet. Leidolf didn’t answer to Nokolai.
“Rise.”
Rule did. And still he waited. Isen Turner might be wolf in his other form, but his son thought of him as more like a fox—canny, tricky, highly maneuverable. Isen could trip Machiavelli on his assumptions, so Rule did his best not to possess any.
For once, Isen was blunt. “Why did you assume the Leidolf mantle?”
Rule had already told him how it happened, though over the phone. For some months he’d carried the heir’s portion of the Leidolf clan’s mantle, due to trickery of the man who had been Leidolf’s Rho. Then Lily had been possessed by the wraith of one who, in life, had been Leidolf. Rule had needed the authority of the full mantle to command the wraith and save Lily. He’d taken it, killing the former Rho—and becoming leader of his clan’s enemies.
But if anyone understood the difference between a chronology of events and a revelation of motive, it was Isen Turner. Rule kept his answer brief. “To save Lily.”
“Was that the only reason?”
“No.”
Isen hmphed. “Taught you too well, haven’t I? Very well. You don’t speak of your other reasons. Is that because they are Leidolf business?”
“In part. Mostly, however, I am bound by a promise I gave.”
Isen’s bushy eyebrows climbed in surprise that might have been real. “A promise! Obviously I can’t ask what you promised, but who . . . That is my affair, as your Rho. Who did you promise?”
Rule had considered what to say on this score already. He’d hew to the words of his promise, but give his father some meat to chew on. Cullen wouldn’t mind. “I can’t in honor give you the name, but he’s Nokolai, and you already possess the information he gave me, if not the conclusions he drew from that information.”
“Do I, now?” The bushy eyebrows drew down, but in thought, not anger.
One of the tactics Rule had learned from his father was when to shift the subject. “Benedict is angry with me.”
Isen brushed that aside. “That’s a matter between brothers, not clan business. How can you be both Rho to Leidolf and Lu Nuncio to Nokolai?”
With great difficulty. “If we speak of status, I’d suggest some default settings. When I’m at No
kolai Clanhome, I’m your Lu Nuncio. When I’m away from it, I’m Leidolf Rho.”
“You assume you will remain my Lu Nuncio?”
For the first time Rule smiled—small and wry, perhaps, but a genuine smile. “I assume only that your decision will not be based on anger or affection, but on what you think best for Nokolai. You asked how I could be both. That’s what I answered.”
“True, true—though that’s a tiny dab of an answer, compared to the size of the problem. Do you see any advantage to Nokolai in having my heir be Rho to another clan?”
“Certainly. Leidolf won’t be trying to kill you anymore.”
Isen chuckled. “A refreshing change, yes, and one I’ll appreciate. But I think that with you as Rho, Leidolf will stop its assassination attempts whether you remain my heir or not. What else?”
Rule stepped out on shaky ground then, but he stepped surely. Hesitation, doubt—both were reasonable, but revealing them was seldom useful. “No lupus has held two mantles in over three thousand years. Our oldest enemy has been stirring. Times are changing. I believe this is our Lady’s will. That it’s part of her plan to defeat the one we do not name.”
This time Isen’s surprise was unmistakably real. Both eyebrows shot up—then descended in a scowl. “You think you’re privy to the Lady’s plans now?”
“I’m guessing, of course. If the Lady has spoken to any of the Rhejes, they haven’t told us. But it’s a guess based on my gut, on . . .” Rule hesitated, then did his best to put words to what didn’t fit into words. “The mantles I carry are pleased by the situation. They . . . help. They make it easy for me to separate my roles.”
