by Eileen Wilks
“A sorcerer. One who wanted the competition out of the way, maybe.” Her phone buzzed. She took it out of her purse. “Yes?”
Rule listened with half an ear while Lily spoke with Nettie. Mostly he absorbed what she’d told him. She was convinced Cullen’s attacker wasn’t lupus. Not Nokolai, then, and that was a huge relief. Too, the apparent use of magic made this very much her case, which would help.
He should have felt better, but . . . if the killer wasn’t lupus, what was he?
Someone who could fool the eyes and noses of a few hundred lupi. Someone who could fashion a killing spell and deliver it on the point of a knife while surrounded by witnesses. Someone who far outstripped any of the practitioners Rule knew, including Cullen.
Rule scrubbed both hands over his face, trying to force himself to be alert, to think. He didn’t like where his thoughts were headed.
Lily disconnected. “Nettie wants us to head for—”
“I heard.” He took her hand and started for the doorway. “Do you know where Cullen’s room is?”
“Fourth floor. Rule, I need my arm free. I don’t expect I’ll need to draw on anyone here, but I need my arm free.”
“Of course.” He dropped his hand. Usually he was careful not to take her gun hand in public. He was distracted. It wasn’t safe to be this distracted.
Lily moved quickly toward the red EXIT sign at the end of the hall—to the stairs, in other words, not the elevator. Rule decided to allow that. Normally he’d force himself into the damned tiny box so as not to feed his fear by conceding it a victory.
Just for tonight, he decided, he could cut himself this much slack: no elevators.
He moved slightly ahead so he reached the door to the stairwell first and paused briefly, listening. Smelling. No one on the other side. He opened it. “Can we know for certain that this hypothetical illusionist or sorcerer can’t confuse Cynna’s patterns?”
“I don’t know anything for certain.” Clearly that frustrated her. “It seems like he’s using some kind of mind-magic—he’s getting people to see and smell someone else, but they aren’t all seeing the same someone. Who knows whether he could fool Cynna into thinking her pattern checked out? That’s why I stopped at Grandmother’s on the way here.”
Relief bloomed. Of course. It might seem odd to enlist a tiny old woman as bodyguard, but Lily’s grandmother was . . . Well, he wasn’t sure the language held a word for her, but Madame Li Lei Yu had formidable defenses against magic. Formidable defenses, period. And she was fond of Cullen. She’d agree. “When is she coming?”
“One problem,” Lily said.
Rule’s eyebrows flew up in surprise. “She won’t do it?”
“She isn’t there. Neither is Li Qin.”
ELEVEN
THE stairwell was well lit, utilitarian, and not entirely deserted. Lily heard feet moving somewhere above.
So it made her a little twitchy when Rule stopped her, turning her to face him so he could press a kiss on her forehead. “You’re worried about your grandmother.”
“No. Yes. Yes, I guess I am, though it seems pointless. I mean, we’re talking about Grandmother. She left a note,” Lily added abruptly. “Not Grandmother. Li Qin. It was taped to the wall facing the front door.”
“I didn’t realize you had a key to their house.”
“Grandmother gave it to me years ago. I’ve never used it.” She’d hesitated a long time before using it tonight, but finally decided she had to be sure no one was lying in a pool of blood.
“The note was addressed to me. It said she and Grandmother had to be gone for a while, and that it would be foolish to tell me not to worry because words don’t amend the anxiety caused by mystery, but they were both well and would return when they could.”
Rule frowned. “When they could?”
“Yeah.” And that was a big part of Lily’s worry. Grandmother was not given to taking off this way. The only other time she’d done it, there’d been a nutty telepath, a hellgate, and a couple of Old Ones involved. But she hadn’t taken Li Qin with her that time. “Grandmother’s old Buick is gone, too,” she added.
“She needed Li Qin to drive her, then.”
Lily nodded. Grandmother either couldn’t drive or refused to—Lily had never been sure which. “I’m pretty sure Grandmother wouldn’t take Li Qin into a dangerous situation, so whatever she’s up to, it probably isn’t too dire.”
The footsteps above them ended with the sound of a door opening and closing. Lily still felt twitchy. She started up the stairs. “I couldn’t tell how much stuff they’d packed, but they definitely took some clothes. That suggests they don’t expect to be back right away.”
Rule kept pace beside her. “I know Madame Yu speaks English, but does she write it as well?”
“Sure. She claims to prefer hanzi, but she claims to prefer everything Chinese when she’s in a mood. Why?”
“I wondered why Li Qin left the note rather than your grandmother.”
“Good question. Grandmother may not even know she did it.” Lily considered that a moment. “Li Qin wouldn’t give anything away if Grandmother wanted secrecy, but she wouldn’t make things up.”
“You’re sure it’s Li Qin’s handwriting.”
“Unless someone’s an expert forger. No one writes like Li Qin. Pure copperplate. Besides, it sounds like her. The note opened with her hope that I was well and her regret that their sudden absence might distress me.” Lily frowned. “Though maybe Grandmother’s decision to disappear wasn’t as sudden as it seems. Beth said Grandmother has been acting funny lately. She wanted me to go see her, find out what was wrong.”
“Ah, I see why you’re upset. If only you’d gone to see her last week. No doubt she would have unburdened herself to you instead of indulging in all this secrecy.”
She had to smile. “If you mean that she wouldn’t have told me anything, you’re probably right, but—”
“Probably?”
“Okay, okay, you’re right. If she’d wanted me to know what was going on, she would have told me.” And no one and nothing could force, persuade, trick, or cajole Grandmother into revealing one iota more than she wanted to. “But I should have noticed something was up. Beth did.”
“So the problem is that you aren’t your sister.”
Lily grimaced. “I can be illogical if I want.”
“You know, if you feel it necessary, you can always ask Cynna to Find Madame Yu.”
“I guess I could.” That made her feel slightly better, though she didn’t want to do it. Not with what Cynna had on her plate already. “What do you think? Grandmother takes off on some secret business. A few hours later, Cullen gets attacked by a mysterious assassin who’s able to do impossible things, magically speaking. Those events don’t seem connected by anything but the timing, and yet . . . Am I trying to tie them together just because I know both people?”
“If so,” he said grimly, “I’m making the same connection, and not liking it.”
They’d reached the fourth floor. She hesitated, then faced Rule without opening the door. “You’re afraid she’s involved somehow. The one we don’t name.”
“Aren’t you?”
Yeah. She was. “I don’t want to blame everything I don’t understand on her. That’s not helpful. But . . . well, we’ll talk about it, but not in the stairwell. Maybe Cullen will be able to fill in some blanks—such as why someone wanted him dead so badly they tried for him in such a freaky public way.”
CULLEN’S room was interior, so no windows, which Lily liked. Admittedly, they were on the fourth floor and the killer was unlikely to do a Spider-Man up the outside wall, but this killer did unlikely things. Windows meant vulnerability.
One other thing she liked about it: it was in infectious diseases, not cardiology or critical care or any of the obvious places. According to the hospital records, “Adrian Fisher” suffered from a rare tropical disease and had enough money to pay for private nursing in his quarantine room
. For now, making Cullen hard to find was their best defense.
Lily considered that a temporary ploy, though. They should be okay tonight and probably tomorrow. After that, she’d better come up with a way to guard Cullen against someone who might be able to look like anyone.
Or no one. That’s what one of the witnesses had seen. No one at all.
Lily knocked on the door of number 418, then pushed it open. And was pleased to see Jason standing at the ready a few feet away—and Cynna standing by Cullen’s bed, weapon drawn, her other hand outflung.
“Okay,” Cynna said after a second. “You’re you.” She put her weapon on the table by the bed. “I’ve figured out what to do to check people out,” she added. “If it’s anyone but you two, I’ll check for magic. That’s quick and easy, and whoever is hiding behind other faces is using magic to do it. He won’t be able to hide that.”
“That’s good.” Lily’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s very good. I should have thought of that.”
“You’ve been busy. I’ve been waiting. It gave me time to think. I’m going to set a ward on the door, too—a visual one. That way, if I get drowsy, Jason will be able to tell that someone with magic is trying to come in. He can stop them.”
“Can you hold a ward when you aren’t here? I’ll be relieving you, so—”
“No, you’ll be going home to get some sleep once you’ve talked to Cullen. I’m not going anywhere tonight, and there’s no point in both of us standing guard. And you’re the investigator. I want you focused and rested so you can catch the rat bastard.”
Lily’s eyebrows went up. After a moment she nodded. Tonight was probably the safest period, anyway. “Okay. I will relieve you in the morning, though, at least until we can figure out how to properly guard Cullen.”
“I’ve a suggestion about that,” Rule said, moving ahead of Lily so he could hug Cynna lightly.
He did that sort of thing easily, naturally. Lily wished it had occurred to her to hug Cynna. “Go ahead.”
“Max.”
Relief bloomed. “Of course. He claims he’s immune to mind-magic, so . . . you’ll call him?” Max was surly, lecherous, and train-wreck ugly, though the last was probably because his standard of beauty was wildly different from hers, since he was a gnome. A rather oversize one who for some reason didn’t live underground like his fellows—gnomes were said to be very clever with stone—but a gnome nonetheless.
“He’ll come. He’ll bitch about it endlessly, but he’ll come.” Rule smiled at Cynna, his arm around her vanished waist. “You’re doing okay.”
“Sure.” She glanced at the bed and its sleeping occupant. “Sleeping Beauty doesn’t look so hot right now, but Nettie says he’s hanging in there.”
Nettie was on the other side of the hospital bed. She’d barely glanced up when they came in. “He’ll wake in less than ten minutes. When he does, you can talk to him briefly, then I’ll put him under again.”
Lily nodded and moved to the foot of the bed.
The man occupying that bed was hooked up to an IV and a heart rate monitor, which beeped quietly. He was deeply asleep or unconscious. And much too pale.
Cullen Seabourne was the opposite of Max—as breathtakingly gorgeous as the gnome was ugly. Rule was sexier, in Lily’s opinion, and possessed more sheer presence. But Cullen was the kind of gorgeous that makes strangers on the street stop and stare. At the moment, the perfect architecture of Cullen’s bone structure was all too clear. He was pallid, the skin drawn and tight, and naked at least to the waist. A lightweight blanket covered him from there down.
His chest was a ghastly orange-yellow where they’d splashed it with Betadine. The incision to the left of his sternum had been left unbandaged. It was long and punctuated by staples. It looked fresh. She glanced at Nettie. “He hasn’t healed the incision.”
“The intrusion is localized around his heart, but it’s like wolfsbane in one way. It keeps his healing magic tied up fighting it. I can help some with the incision after I’ve rested.” Nettie’s voice was lower and hoarser than normal. She needed sleep almost as much as her patient did.
Lily nodded and made a decision. “Cynna, I should talk to the Rhej about this, but you’re here, so . . . Rule and I were wondering if the one we don’t name could be involved.” The Old One who was the lupi’s most ancient enemy had a name, or maybe several . . . but lupi folklore said she could hear it when her name was spoken.
“Oh. Oh!” Cynna frowned, then shook her head. “I see why you’re wondering. We’ve got an assassin with weird-ass abilities. But whoever he is, he’s not her agent. It’s possible she gave him some help in a roundabout way. We don’t know how much she’s able to do along those lines, but it’s safe to assume she does have some agents here on Earth again. But the rat bastard assassin wasn’t one of them. An agent of hers couldn’t get into Clanhome secretly. The Rhej would know if one tried.” She considered a moment, then added, “The Rho would, too, but he might not recognize what was wrong.”
Rule’s eyebrows lifted. “I wasn’t aware of that.”
“Sure,” Cynna said. “Clanhome is claimed by the mantle holder, so the mantle knows it. The mantle is from the Lady, and the Lady recognizes her enemy. So the mantle would be aware if one of her agents was in Clanhome. I don’t know how that would feel to Isen, but he would feel something. You might, too.”
This time Lily’s eyebrows lifted. “You know a lot about mantles all of a sudden.”
She shrugged. “It’s stuff from the memories.”
The memories were literally that: incredibly vivid memories of various long-dead Nokolai that had been passed down from Rhej to apprentice for thousands of years. Since many of the memories involved battle and other calamities, there was a lot of pain and fear involved. A lot of stress for a pregnant lady, in other words. “I don’t get why the Rhej changed her mind. She was going to wait on that part of your training until you had the baby.”
“There was a reason not to wait any longer.”
“You’re sounding like a Rhej now. Cryptic.”
Cynna offered a vague, apologetic smile and an equally vague gesture. “I’m not supposed to talk about some stuff.”
Great. Lily dragged herself back on topic. “When you say ‘agent,’ you mean something specific, but I’m not sure what.”
“Someone touched by the enemy. Someone using an object or spell touched or created by her. Uh . . . by touch, I don’t mean physically, but contacted or acted upon.”
“So if she’s involved, it’s indirectly.”
“Real indirectly. Someone like the Great Bitch leaves traces. Take the incognito spell the assassin seems to have used—it couldn’t have come from her. Even if it passed through others before the assassin got it, it would retain something of her energy. The Rhej and the Rho would have reacted to those traces because the Lady would feel them.”
Lily cocked her head. Cynna was sure sounding cozy with the lupi’s Lady. “Are you—”
“He’s waking,” Nettie said crisply. “Rule—?”
Quickly Rule moved beside Nettie and placed one hand on Cullen’s upper shoulder. Nothing happened. Cullen looked as deeply asleep as before—right up until the second his eyes flew open, bright and burning blue.
“Be still,” Rule said firmly. “You’re safe. Cynna’s safe. She’s fine. The baby’s fine. You’ve been hurt.”
Cullen blinked. “No shit,” he said, his voice faint. “Cynna . . .”
She’d taken Cullen’s right hand. “Right here, not a mark on me,” she announced cheerfully. Lily could see the strain in her eyes, but it didn’t show in her voice. “And the little rider seems to like staying up late. He’s frisking around like crazy.”
Cullen’s smile was small, but the relief behind it looked large.
“Cullen,” Nettie said, “I know you’re in a great deal of pain, but I need to know if your wound feels odd in any way.”
Even his scowl looked weak. “Feels like I’ve been stabbed, s
tomped on, and cut open.”
“Accurate,” Rule said, “except for the stomping.” He swallowed. “Cullen. I didn’t like thinking you were dead.”
The scowl eased to a thoughtful frown. “I came close?”
“You did. There was a magical component of some sort on the blade. It would have killed you if Nettie hadn’t been close, and if the Rhej hadn’t been able to channel power to Nettie. It’s still interfering with your healing. That’s why Nettie asked how your wound felt.”
“Shit.” He paused and lifted his head slightly. “Ow. Shit.” His head fell back. “Can’t see.”
Lily knew why he’d been trying to see the wound. She felt magic. He saw it. That, according to him, was what made someone a sorcerer—the ability to see the energies he worked with. “Are you up to answering a few questions?”
“Gods. You here, too?”
She had to smile. That was such a Cullen thing to say. “Do you have any idea who stabbed you, or why?”
“No. Cynna, lift my head up. Can’t see my chest.”
Nettie shook her head. “Cullen, you’ve had your ribs cracked open and your heart stitched up. You aren’t healing at your normal rate. You’ll stay still and prone, and in a few minutes I’ll put you back in sleep.”
“Need to look,” he insisted. “Find out what’s wrong.”
“Let me see what I can learn.” Lily glanced at Nettie. “If that’s okay?”
She nodded. “But we’re not moving him one jot more than we have to, so no turning him to check the entrance wound. Scrub first. We don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t want to take any chances.”
Lily’s eyebrows rose. Normally lupi didn’t worry about infection, but with something messing with Cullen’s healing . . . better safe than sorry, she supposed. She went to the small sink in the corner and squirted stuff on her hands. “Cullen, who was close to you when it happened?”
“Cynna. Mike. I was talking to him. Uh . . . Sandra, I think. Gods. Hurts like hell.”
Nettie’s voice was soft now. “I can put you back in sleep.”
