Tempting Danger

by Eileen Wilks

  “Sometimes, when I’m with my grandmother.”

  “Cool. My friend Manny, he’s teaching me Spanish. His folks talk in it all the time, and I can’t tell what they’re saying, but I know a little. I can count to twenty. ¿Como está usted?”

  “Muy bien, gracias,” she replied gravely. “¿Y usted?”

  “You talk Spanish, too! Hey, Dad!” He patted his father’s cheek. “She talks Spanish. Maybe she can teach me so’s I don’t forget, since I have to be here a while. Gammy says you’re nuts for dragging me clear across the country,” he added. “Or if you aren’t, then you’d better get your act together. I don’t think I was supposed to hear that part.”

  “Probably not,” Rule said. “However, I’m working at getting my act together.”

  “She didn’t mean it bad. She says that a lot. If I forget my homework, she says I’d better get my act together. But I’m glad you haven’t gotten it together, ’cause I get to be here awhile.”

  A tall woman with a cloud of frizzy gray hair hanging nearly to her waist stepped out of the house. “Toby, you need to finish your lunch, or Henry will be convinced you’re coming down with something.”

  “I’m not sick!”

  “You know that, and I know that, but will Henry believe us?” The woman wore running shorts and an athletic bra. Her skin was coppery from heritage as well as sun, and her muscle tone was excellent, making it hard to guess her age. “Hello, Rule. Toby certainly knows the sound of your car. He shot out of the kitchen like we’d lit a fire under him.”

  “It’s just sandwiches,” Toby informed his father. “But with Henry’s bread, so they’re good.” He addressed the next to Lily. “He makes it himself. Gammy just buys hers, but Henry makes it. He lets me help sometimes.” Back to Rule. “Are you going to have lunch with me?”

  “Ms. Yu might, after speaking with your grandfather,” Rule said. “I can’t, not this time.”

  Toby made a face. “Oh, yeah. I forgot. You can’t come in. But after the ritual . . . ?”

  “I’ll come see you,” Rule said gently. “Work hard on your division, and you and I will go to the creek.” He swung the boy off his shoulder, kissed his forehead, then set him on the ground and swatted his backside lightly. “Go eat.”

  Toby didn’t move. The stubborn look on his face reminded her of Rule. “I would like to go with you.”

  “Yes, you would. But children are not allowed, which you know very well. Now go tend to your duties, and I’ll take care of mine.”

  The boy heaved a huge sigh. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Yu. Maybe we can talk Spanish later.”

  “Maybe so,” she said, charmed. And feeling guilty. This was not the distant relationship she’d been picturing. “Though I don’t know very much.”

  “That’s okay. I don’t, either. Bye!” And he raced into the house at what she suspected was his usual pace: headlong.

  Lily flicked a glance at the guard. The others acted like he wasn’t there, but she found it difficult to ignore a man with a sword. Well, a machete, she amended. It was closer to two feet than three. She spoke quietly to Rule. “Your son’s a charmer.”

  “I think so, too.” He watched the door Toby had vanished through a moment longer, then turned to her. “I won’t be going in with you, I’m afraid.”

  “What’s that about?”

  He just shook his head and gestured at the tall woman standing silently nearby. “This is Nettie Two Horses. I imagine she’ll take you to meet the Rho. Nettie, this is Detective Lily Yu. You’re expecting her?”

  “I am.” She held out a hand. Lily took it, and received a tingle of magic along with a firm, no-nonsense handshake. Native magic—she’d encountered its like before.

  “Rule left off part of the introduction,” the woman went on. “I’m Dr. Two Horses. Not that you’re obliged to call me that. Heaven knows no one around here does.” She had a quick, wide smile. “I don’t suppose I look like a doctor to you.”

  “Most doctors don’t wear white lab coats at home.”

  “And you’re wondering whether this is home for me. Well, Clanhome is. This house isn’t, but I’ve a patient here.” She grimaced. “A bloody difficult patient.”

  Rule smiled wryly. “He’s awake, obviously.”

  “And doing well, under the circumstances. But I want him back in Sleep as soon as possible, which means I’d better take Lily to see him right away.”

  Rule nodded. “I’ll see you later, then.” He gave Lily a glance she couldn’t read—then touched her cheek. “Be safe.”

  She lifted her brows. “Don’t you mean, ‘Be safe, Detective? ’ ”

  He chuckled. Then, instead of getting back into his car, he loped off, moving at an easy run that was pure pleasure to watch.

  “He’s beautiful in motion, isn’t he?” the woman beside her said. “They all are. I’ve never tired of watching them.”

  Lily made a noncommittal noise, embarrassed that she’d been caught staring. “I didn’t realize Isen Turner was ill. I hope it’s nothing serious?”

  “Serious enough, but he’s not ill. Come, let’s go inside. I’ll explain some of it, but you’ll need to save most of your questions for Isen.” She started for the house.

  Lily spared one last glance at the man with the oversize knife, then followed. “I didn’t realize Rule’s son was visiting.”

  “Mmm. Tell me, should I call you Detective? Or Lily?”

  Meaning she wanted to know what it meant that Rule had touched Lily’s cheek. Well, so did Lily. “I’m here as part of an investigation.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Would it make you uncomfortable to remove your shoes when you step inside? It’s custom here.”

  “Not at all.” Though in fact it made her feel a little weird, mirroring as it did the practice at Grandmother’s.

  Just inside the door Lily paused, taking a quick look around as she bent to slip off the flats she’d worn with her linen suit. The entry hall was large, tiled, with a skylight. It ended in French doors, left open, that led to an atrium. Doorways opened off both sides; one led into a dining room, the other a hall.

  There was a shoe rack next to the door. Déjà vu all over again, Lily thought, straightening. The tiles were cool to her bare feet. Magic brushed her soles faintly, a fuzzy hum similar to what she’d felt at the murder scene.

  Lupus magic. Which Rule seemed to lack. She faced her guide. “If Mr. Turner isn’t ill, then he’s been injured.”

  “That’s right. Since you’re a police officer, I’m hoping you aren’t squeamish.”

  “Traffic patrol generally cures any tendency toward squeamishness.”

  “I can see that it might. Like working the ER, perhaps. But you’re a detective now?”

  “I am. Homicide.”

  Her eyebrows commented on that, but she didn’t ask the questions Lily expected. Instead, she started for the hallway on the right. “Lupi heal better when their wounds are left uncovered, and, as you may have noticed, they lack body modesty. Isen isn’t bandaged or clothed, and he isn’t pretty to look at right now. He’s regrown the skin and some of the muscle over the abdominal injury, but—”

  “Wait a minute. He’s got a gut wound, and he isn’t in the hospital?”

  Nettie paused, glancing over her shoulder. “Lupi generally hate hospitals. There are reasons for the Rho to remain here, and he’s well cared for, though shock remains a danger. Which is why I keep him in Sleep as much as possible.”

  “When and how was he attacked?”

  That sudden smile flashed over the other woman’s face. “You’re quick. Save your questions for Isen, though.”

  “All right. But this one’s for you. You’ve used that phrase, ‘in Sleep,’ a couple times now. What does it mean?”

  “A healing trance. It aids healing in almost anyone, but lupi benefit from it to an extreme degree, since they naturally heal so quickly. It virtually eliminates the possibility of shock.” She started walking again, heading for the panel
ed wooden door at the end of the hall.

  “You’re a touch healer of some sort, I take it.”

  “I took my degree in conventional medicine in Boston, and trained in shamanic practices under my uncle.”

  Lily nodded. Shamanic practices meant earth magic, which fit with what she’d picked up when they shook hands. She was surprised to find a trained shaman here, though. Native healers were hot these days, especially with the Hollywood crowd, but not many of them left the reservations. Even fewer cross-trained in Western medicine. “You practice here at Clanhome?”

  “Here and in Rio Bravo. I consult elsewhere sometimes. This is it,” she said, and rapped on the door, then pushed it open.

  Over six feet of solid male muscle blocked the doorway. This one wore cutoffs and had one of the most impressive chests she’d ever seen. That chest was smooth and hairless, and crossed by a leather strap.

  Equally impressive was the machete he held as if he might want to skewer the next person to walk through the door.

  TWELVE

  “BENEDICT,” Nettie Two Horses said, exasperated. “Move.”

  “She has a gun,” the man said calmly. “She’s not allowed to bring it into the Rho’s room.”

  Lily had had about enough. “Put away the blade.”

  He didn’t move. His eyes were dark, his skin coppery, like Nettie’s. There was another, smaller scabbard at his waist, a scattering of silver in his black hair, and no expression at all on his face.

  “Put it up,” Lily repeated. “Or I’ll arrest you for drawing a weapon on a police officer.”

  From behind him came a low chuckle. “It would be interesting to see how you went about doing that, but we’re short of time. Benedict, stand down. She may keep her gun.”

  That voice was even lower than the guard’s, seeming to rumble up from the bottom of a well. In one smooth motion the impassive hunk stepped back, sheathing his blade in the scabbard on his back. Nettie Two Horses moved into the room, and Lily followed.

  It was a large bedroom, woodsy and masculine, with a beamed ceiling and what looked like a medieval tapestry on one of the forest-green walls. A cello sat in one corner. The furniture was dark and lovingly polished; it had been shifted to accommodate the hospital bed at the room’s center. In that bed was a bear of a man with an IV in one arm. He looked nothing like Rule. His face was craggy with a prominent Roman nose, his age hard to guess. Fifty? Sixty? And yes, he was entirely naked, except for a patch over one eye.

  He was also a bloody mess.

  The wound running from his cheek up under the eye patch was bumpy with a heavy scab. New pink skin had formed at its edges, trailing into what was left of a grizzled, rust-colored beard. The gouges on his torso started in the furry chest just beneath the left nipple and ran all the way down his belly, stopping just short of his genitals . . . which didn’t seem to be damaged. His abdomen dipped in oddly, as if not all of the usual pieces were in place beneath the skin. She couldn’t see his left arm, but his right hand had only two fingers. The rest were marked by tiny, pink nubs.

  “What,” she asked, “was that all about?”

  “Please excuse my son,” the Nokolai Rho said. “He is responsible for my safety and diligent in his duty. Our customs require that no one enters my presence armed.”

  His son? Lily resisted the impulse to check Benedict for any resemblance to Rule and walked up to the bed, looking down at its mutilated occupant. She’d interviewed people in bad shape before, but usually they had more clothes on. This was . . . distracting.

  But maybe that was the idea. “You wanted me here. I’m a cop, cops carry guns, and I’m guessing you aren’t an idiot. You could have settled the gun business before I walked in. So why the dramatic welcome? Did you want me too irritated to feel sorry for you? Or was it just another way of putting me off balance?”

  The single visible eye was set deep . . . and amused. “If my goal was to irritate you, I succeeded. Won’t you have a seat?”

  Since there wasn’t a chair near the bed, she started to make another smart comment. But Benedict was good for something other than looking menacing. He brought up an upholstered armchair, carrying it one-handed as easily as if it had been a plastic lawn chair, then retreated to his post near the door.

  Leaving her forced to put her back to him or refuse to sit. All right, she told herself as she sat down. Isen Turner liked to play games. She could handle that. She’d been dealing with Grandmother all her life. “You were attacked, nearly killed. Who did it?”

  “I don’t remember an attack,” he said blandly. “Perhaps there was a head injury, and it affected my memory. You smell of my son. The youngest one,” he added.

  “You’re beginning to piss me off.”

  He made a muffled sound, and the lumpy skin on his abdomen shivered. “Ah . . .” he said after a moment. “That hurt. I can’t laugh yet. Nettie, I need you to check on Toby. Or you could brew me one of your possets.”

  “You don’t have enough duodenum at the moment to digest a posset, but I can take a hint. I’ll go, but say whatever you have to say quickly. I’m giving you fifteen minutes.”

  “Thirty.”

  “Fifteen, and you’re going back in Sleep when I return.”

  “The woman doesn’t understand bargaining,” he muttered, watching as Nettie Two Horses closed the door behind her.

  Lily thought Nettie understood just fine—you only bargained when you had to. Apparently she didn’t, which was interesting. It was also interesting that the Rho didn’t dismiss the blade-toting Benedict. “Fifteen minutes isn’t much time,” she said. “You’ve got an agenda. So do I. Maybe we should quit fencing.”

  “Why not? You haven’t rattled, despite my efforts. You don’t even smell of fear. I wonder why that is?”

  “Your son—the one standing behind me with that big people-opener—won’t take a stab without your say-so. And you didn’t bring me here to cut me up.”

  One bushy eyebrow lifted, and she suddenly saw a resemblance to Rule—not the features, but the expression. “And yet, even reasonable people fear us, at least at first. Logic can restrain fear but doesn’t eliminate it.”

  “Curiosity works against fear, too. And I’m very curious. For example, I’m wondering about your attackers. You don’t remember them.” She nodded as if that made perfect sense. “But if you were to speculate, who would you suspect?”

  “Well, now.” That single eye was warm with amusement. “I might wonder if Leidolf was involved. I heard a rumor that three of their clan members suffered unfortunate accidents while in wolf form. As if they’d been in some sort of brawl.”

  “Did you hear the names of these brawlers?”

  “I’m afraid not, but it hardly matters. They’re dead.”

  And it was no crime to kill lupi in wolf form, leaving her without an investigative leg to stand on. “I wonder who the leader of the Leidolf clan might be.”

  “I can see why you might be curious about that.” He smiled and said nothing more.

  It was a trick Lily had used herself often enough. Let a gap fall in the conversation, and most people were compelled to fill it—and in their haste and discomfort, said more than they’d intended. She smiled back at him.

  He chuckled. “I like you, Lily Yu. Not that you care, but I thought I’d mention it. As you say, let’s stop fencing before my keeper returns. You mentioned agendas. Yours, I assume, involves your murder investigation.”

  “I’ve got a killer to catch, yes. To do that, I need to be free to talk to your people. They’ll not give me much help without your approval.”

  “And yet I’d rather not see any of my clan behind bars. Particularly my heir.”

  She shook her head. “No, you’ll want to help, because whoever did it tried to frame your son. The other one, not the one standing behind me.” That startled him. Good. She was taking a risk, gambling that what she learned here would be important enough to justify spilling a little information.

 
“You have decided this? Or proved it?”

  “I have certain evidence. I also have instincts, and they tell me that Nokolai is connected somehow. Perhaps as a target. First, it’s your prince someone wanted accused. Second, there’s that ceremony today. You’re making a new alliance, and I have to wonder why. Then there’s you, and the attack you don’t remember. Someone seems to have it in for your family. I want to know who and why.”

  “I can’t tell you who,” he said slowly. “But I know why. Nokolai supports the Species Citizenship Bill. There are many who would do almost anything to keep it from passing.”

  She could believe that, but . . . “It was one or more lupi who attacked you, and a lupus who killed Carlos Fuentes.”

  “It isn’t only humans who fear the consequences if the Citizenship Bill passes.”

  She digested that. The Species Citizenship Bill had two thrusts. First, it officially defined those of the Blood as nonhuman—which was pretty much a given to a lot of people, but had never been codified. Second, it granted certain of them, including lupi, full citizenship.

  Lily brought up the part that bothered her. “Because they don’t want to be legally nonhuman?”

  He waved that aside with the hand that had pink nubs instead of fingers. “Human, nonhuman—what’s the dividing line? Genetics? We make babies with you, but that doesn’t make us the same as you. Names don’t matter. We know what we are. No, what the shortsighted among us fear is the effect of such a law on our culture, our governance and customs.”

  “It would make it illegal for people to shoot you when you’re furry, for one thing. That has to be a plus. But you couldn’t kill each other anymore, either.”

  “Which will change us more than you can understand. But there is little wilderness left, and hiding becomes increasingly difficult in a crowded, computerized world. We must adapt to survive. Some can’t see that. All they see is that the Challenge will be changed.”

  Lily’s hip thrummed—not with magic, but from her cell phone, which she’d set to vibrate. “What’s the Challenge?” she asked as she pulled her phone out of her pocket. Then she saw the Caller ID. “Just a minute. I have to take this.”