Mind Magic

by Eileen Wilks

  “How can I be placed under house arrest at the Brookses’ home if he’s suspected of conspiracy?”

  “Possibly the judge isn’t yet aware of Homeland’s actions.”

  In spite of himself, Rule snorted. “You remind me of my father.” Devious, in other words.

  “Isen Turner is a smart man. If you’re as smart as he is, you’ll level with me.”

  “You seem convinced that I’m not.”

  “On the same day that your host is picked up by Homeland Security, someone frames you for a noxious but unrelated offense? Please.” She waved that away. “I’d rather not believe that my government is in the business of framing people they know to be guilty yet lack the evidence to convict, but I’m not naïve enough to think it’s impossible. It’s certainly not as unlikely as coincidence.”

  “You have a low opinion of coincidence.” Rule fell silent, thinking hard. As hard as he could in his current state, that is. He’d eaten. He was no longer locked up. Those things helped. They helped because they made control easier, but implicit in that was the need for control. He hadn’t thrown off the effects of being trapped for so long. He still stank. He still needed a shower. And a run. A run would clear his head better than anything.

  Almost anything. He needed Lily.

  Tough. He couldn’t have her, not anytime soon. He’d call her, though. She’d be waiting to hear from him. He’d borrow a phone in a moment and call her, but right now he needed to make a few decisions. Clearly, whoever had moved against him had also moved against Ruben. Possibly the charges against Rule existed primarily to keep him locked away while Ruben was taken down . . . by Homeland Security? How and why were they involved?

  It looked very much as if someone had found out about the Shadow Unit. He couldn’t imagine how. He didn’t see what evidence they might have . . . but a lack of evidence hadn’t kept them from getting Rule arrested, had it? Smearing him with one of the worst crimes in existence . . . and never mind that. The nature of their enemy’s actions suggested a group, one with remarkable reach, rather than an individual. The next obvious question was whether their enemies were part of Homeland, part of the Justice Department, or were separate yet able to manipulate those arms of the government in ways Rule couldn’t at the moment fathom.

  He rubbed his face. “All right. I’ll tell you one more time: Ruben and I are not involved in a conspiracy against the government. We have at times acted in ways that needed to be kept from the public. I can’t tell you more unless you obtain approval from the president.”

  “The president.” Her voice was flat with disbelief.

  “Yes.” Not that the president was aware of the Shadow Unit. Rule was intentionally conflating two secrets—that of those covert actions Ruben had undertaken with the knowledge of the president, and that of the existence of the Shadow Unit.

  “You expect me to believe that whatever you and Brooks are up to, the president is aware of it?”

  “‘Expect’ is the wrong word. I’ve spoken truthfully, and that’s as much as I can tell you. Our most pressing need right now is for information. With Ruben out of the picture . . .” Rule was in charge of the Shadow Unit. Which meant he’d better get word to the other Ghosts, and quickly—without leaving D.C. Without leaving the Brookses’ house.

  Abel. Abel Karonski. He was an agent of the other Unit, the legal one, as well as a member of the Shadow Unit. He might even now be someplace where there was a dragon who could pass word along. “I need a phone. Mike, the throwaway, please.” It was SOP for the leader of off-site guards to carry an untraceable phone as backup.

  Mike didn’t let Rule down. He twisted around to hand Rule the phone and spoke quickly. “I need to tell you something first. It’s about Lily.”

  “Hold on,” Stockard said quickly. And for the first time, she smelled faintly of fear. “Isen said to wait until—”

  Mike gave her a hard look. “Isen isn’t my Rho. Rule is. And—”

  “No! This isn’t what I agreed to. This isn’t—”

  “Miriam,” Rule said very softly, “shut up. Mike, what about Lily?”

  “She’s missing.”

  SEVENTEEN

  A great, gaping chasm opened between one moment and the next. An emptiness. Rule hung suspended in that non-moment, expanding into it, knowing without thinking that this was the instant when the ocean retreats, abandoning the shore. The pause before the tsunami hits. As automatically as a falling man throws out a hand to catch himself, he reached for Lily.

  And found her. Above him. At his feet. A thousand miles off to the west. A mile north and speeding along at the speed of a jet. Splinters of Lily everywhere—

  The tsunami slammed home.

  “What is it? What’s wrong with him? His eyes—”

  Out, out, out—

  “He won’t hurt you.”

  Out! Go to Lily!

  “He’s not right. He’s doubled over. What’s happening?”

  A woman’s voice. Upset. Not Lily. He ignored her. He had to—

  “He won’t hurt you, dammit. Man or wolf, he’s not going to hurt you.”

  Wolf and man alike knew that voice. Mike. Mike was his. So was the other one, Paul, who was driving . . . who would surely be pulled into the Change along with him. Rule’s need was too fierce, too strong. He’d pull both Mike and Paul with him if he Changed now.

  The wolf didn’t think the same way the man did, but he wasn’t stupid. Paul controlled the car. If he Changed, no one would be controlling the car. That would be bad. The car . . . oh, but he wanted out, wanted desperately to leave this metal trap and go to his mate.

  He didn’t know where his mate was. She was alive. Their bond still existed, so he knew she was alive. But he didn’t know where she was. He didn’t know how to find her.

  The man would. Slowly the wolf curled up, retreating, allowing the man . . .

  “Mike,” Rule said, straightening. He still gripped the phone Mike had handed him. Carefully he loosened his fingers, hoping he hadn’t damaged it. Were his eyes still black? Probably. The wolf had pulled back, but the man was only in control at the moment because the wolf allowed it. “Tell me what you know.”

  Mike was still turned around in his seat. He kept his gaze down, carefully submissive. “After you were arrested, José and I stayed in touch by text. He let me know what was happening at his end. Some of this I got from his texts, some from when he called me after it happened. Lily was real upset about you being arrested. She even talked about breaking the deal and coming back here. Didn’t do it, of course, but that’s how upset she was. They were on their way to a nature preserve where they were supposed to meet with this preacher. Ah—Perkins, that’s his name. Father Perkins. He was late, and Lily wanted to walk around. She needed to move. José sent four of the guys with her, and that elder—Charles—he went, too. She walked up the road a ways. She saw . . .” Mike hesitated. “Lily said it was that brownie, the little female she’d seen yesterday. José doesn’t think it was a hallucination, because he heard the brownie’s voice, too, when he got there. None of them could smell or see her, but they heard her talk. José says brownies can do that . . .?”

  Rule nodded. “Their dul-dul works on scent and sight, not hearing.”

  “That’s what José said. So the men heard the brownie—if that’s what she was—ask Lily to come with her, but she had to come alone. The men refused, of course. That’s when José joined them, and at first he said no, too. He can’t tell Lily what to do, but she can’t tell the guards to stop guarding her, either. José could, but he wouldn’t, not until the brownie said Charles could come with them. Lily . . . she can be pretty persuasive. So José agreed to keep the men with him. Lily and Charles went off into the woods with the brownie. They didn’t come back.”

  “José has searched.” Rule said that calmly. He was calm now, his mind clear and spacious. All unplanned, he’d slid into certa, the battle state, a place of perfect readiness and balance. “He found no scent trail?�
�

  “Her scent trail ended about half a mile into the woods. So did Charles’s. He didn’t smell anyone else there, no one who might have grabbed her, but their scents just ended.”

  “You said ‘if that’s what she was’ when you referred to the brownie. Is there reason to believe that it wasn’t a brownie who met Lily in the woods?”

  “Nothing concrete, but—a brownie?” Mike’s incredulity was obvious. “A brownie who kidnaps people?”

  And who was apparently able to render both Lily and Charles unconscious or otherwise unable to resist, and then cart the two of them away somewhere. Rule couldn’t see how a whole troop of brownies could have pulled that off, much less why they would want to. Brownies were their allies.

  He tabled that question for now. “Paul, you have permission to exceed the speed limit, but not too much. We need speed. We don’t need a traffic cop tailing us with siren blasting.”

  “Same destination?”

  “Yes.” Bethesda was more or less on the way to Ohio, and he needed to organize his departure. “Mike, I’ve got calls to make. I need you to call—” His mind clicked through the names of the guards who should be there. “Andy. He is to take all of my clothes, both clean and dirty, to the cleaners immediately. Everything but the socks and underwear. Those should be washed immediately, along with the bedding I’ve slept on, and anything else a handler might use to give his dogs my scent.”

  “Wait a minute,” Miriam Stockard said sharply.” You’re not thinking of breaking the terms of your release.”

  He looked at her. Her fear filled his nostrils. Fear was a reasonable response to him in this state. Meeting his eyes like that was not. He looked at her until she dropped her gaze. “Ms. Stockard, I require you to be quiet and patient for now.”

  “I put my reputation on the line for you. You can’t—”

  “My mate has been taken.” That came out low. Almost a growl.

  “Missing does not equal kidnapped.”

  He took a few seconds to consider that, then shook his head. “José hasn’t found her. Her scent trail stopped. Even if Lily for some reason decided to ditch her guards without leaving a message for them—highly unlikely, but not impossible—she couldn’t arrange to stop leaving a scent trail. Someone took her.”

  Miriam swallowed and stopped arguing. Good.

  This phone didn’t have any numbers in memory, so Rule got José’s number from Mike. José gave basically the same report Mike had, then added information Mike lacked. Some of it was extremely interesting. “. . . didn’t know if I should tell Adler or not,” José finished. “Lily hadn’t intended to tell the HSI guys about their supposed terrorist, though, so I decided to keep it to myself until I talked to you.”

  Brent Adler was the Unit 12 agent Ruben had sent to look for Lily and take over the investigation into the Homeland agent’s death. He was a Finder, which was good. He not a member of the Shadow Unit, however, and Rule knew nothing about him. “Best not, for now,” he decided. “We don’t know what Adler might feel compelled to share with Homeland, and they do not seem to be our friends at the moment. Your impression of Special Agent Adler?”

  “Seems competent,” José said, “as far as I can tell. He’s out there now, trying to Find her, but his Gift only has a radius of a couple miles.”

  Rule hoped to import another, much stronger Finder. He didn’t say so, or tell José about his other intentions. José would know what Rule had to do, and there was no point in taking chances. The phone Rule was using shouldn’t be on any governmental list, but it was barely possible that José’s was. He disconnected.

  While he’d talked to José, Miriam had been trying to get Mike to talk Rule out of breaking the terms of his jailing.

  “Not my call,” Mike said now. “But I doubt they’ll even know he’s gone, unless you tell them.”

  “They’ll know. He can’t remove the tracker without tampering with it. The moment it’s tampered with, it will send a signal.”

  Mike snorted. “Putting one of those things on a lupus is silly. Unless they asked for his word that he’d stay—”

  “They didn’t,” Rule said.

  Miriam scowled at him. She didn’t smell frightened anymore. Good. “They certainly did. You signed papers stating that you understood and accepted the terms of your release.”

  “I did and do. A judge has determined that I’m legally obligated to remain on the Brookses’ property. If I don’t, I will be breaking the law.”

  “And your word.”

  Rule shook his head and tapped in a number he knew by heart into the phone. “Think about the wording, Miriam. I wasn’t asked to pledge that I will remain where the court placed me, but to acknowledge that if I don’t, there will be legal consequences. You may see that as morally binding. I don’t.”

  He could see how badly she wanted to argue, but he knew exactly what he’d signed. When your word is binding, you’re careful about how vows are worded. Finally she huffed out a breath. “You signed in two places. One of those signatures was a promise not to tamper with the tracking device.”

  Mike snorted. “He won’t have to. The minute he enters the Change, the tracker will fall off. That’s not tampering. Unless the magic involved in the Change fries it?” He turned to Paul. “What do you think?”

  Paul shrugged. “Don’t know. That Nokolai sorcerer might. I don’t.”

  “Think,” Rule advised them as a phone rang in California. “Your phones don’t stop working when you Change. Clearly, our magic doesn’t scatter itself in a way that fries tech. I don’t know if the monitor will send a signal when it falls off, but—Isen,” he said when the phone at last stopped ringing. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

  It was good. Rule wasn’t angry with his father for having told Miriam to wait to speak of Lily’s disappearance. It had been good advice. Rule had nearly lost it. But Mike had been right, too. Isen was Rule’s Rho. He had the right to temporarily withhold such information. Mike did not.

  “And I’m very glad to hear yours,” Isen said. “You didn’t use your own phone, however.”

  “It’s being held as evidence. I need you to send me some phone numbers.”

  Isen, like José, knew without being told what Rule intended to do. Any lupus would, and none would argue with him about it. Rule’s mate had been taken. The drive to find and free her overcame all else. “Of course. Before I do, you need to know about a remarkable coincidence. Cullen has also gone missing.”

  Rule’s calm wobbled. He breathed slowly and thought of Lily. Reaching her was his goal. Everything else was data. “Tell me.”

  Isen did, very briefly. Yesterday Cullen had headed into Mexico to investigate some kind of magical anomaly in the mountains across the border. When Isen learned of Rule’s arrest, he’d tried to contact Cullen to tell him he was needed. That’s how they learned he was missing, as were his guards. A few hours ago, Cynna had left with two squads of guards to look for her husband.

  Cynna was the clan’s Rhej. She was also the best Finder in the nation—one of the best Finders anywhere, he suspected—and Rule had no doubt she could locate Cullen. Dead or alive, she’d Find him. Alive, he told himself firmly. Assuming the worst wouldn’t help. But dammit, he’d wanted Cynna here. Cullen, too. Cynna to Find Lily, and Cullen to deal with whatever magic was involved.

  That wasn’t happening. “This changes my plans.”

  “I thought it might. Is there anything I should know immediately? Anything you need to ask?”

  Not on a line that theoretically could have been tapped. “I don’t think so.”

  “Very well. What phone numbers did you need?”

  Rule told him, then asked about Toby. Isen told him his son was fine and was in class now, but would appreciate a call from his father later, if that was possible. He finished by bidding Rule t’eius ven—a phrase that meant both “go in the Lady’s grace” and “good hunting”—and disconnected.

  A moment later the first of the pho
ne numbers Rule needed arrived. He called it and was in luck. Abel Karonski answered right away. “Abel. This is Rule. Where are you?”

  “Near Portland.”

  “Good. The forecast is dark. You understand?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Ruben’s been taken away by HSI. I was arrested for an unrelated matter. In one hour, not before, you are in charge. At that point you are to call Deborah.”

  “Hold on, hold on! What do you—”

  Rule disconnected. A dark forecast meant that the Shadow Unit was in danger and its members were to go dark—cease all communications save those passed through dragons. He’d not passed on command in the proper way, through the dragons, but that couldn’t be helped. He didn’t want to spend the time or the circumlocution necessary to tell Abel what was going on, so he left that to Deborah. The hour’s delay was to ensure that by the time Abel assumed control of the Shadows and called Deborah, he’d learn that Rule was gone—too late to order Rule not to break his house arrest.

  An hour was generous. He was aiming for twenty minutes. They were ten minutes from the Brookses’ home. With luck, he’d have ten minutes there to arrange matters, and then he’d run. On four feet.

  Better if he stayed two-footed, of course. Cars were faster than legs, especially when there was so much distance to cover. But he couldn’t take this car. He couldn’t take Ruben’s or Deborah’s. He’d be caught, and quickly. And he couldn’t wait long enough to acquire a vehicle. Literally could not.

  He estimated he had roughly twenty minutes before the Change overtook him.

  Certa had many advantages. It was a dispassionate state, the eye of the hurricane from which he tracked all the changing variables of battle . . . including his own condition. His body was charged with adrenaline, taut and ready to engage the enemy, while his mind remained cool and calm. But certa was temporary. It was a battle state, and there was no one to fight.

  Yet. “Mike, tell me exactly what happened when the HSI agents came for Ruben.”