Mortal Sins (12 page)

“’Bout nine thirty. The doctor here doesn’t want me to drink coffee anymore, but I like a couple cups in the morning. I don’t have but two cups, though.”

Lily took him through the rest of the morning’s events, circling away when he grew agitated, asking about his contacts in the last four days, his knowledge of magic, any connection to Roy Don Meacham. He blinked a lot, she noticed. Not as much as Meacham, but more than was normal.

She circled back again to that morning, what he remembered, what he’d experienced. “You didn’t hear a voice telling you what to do? Or have thoughts in your head that didn’t seem to come from you?”

“No. No, it wasn’t like that. I just watched while my body did what it did. I couldn’t make it stop.” His eyes watered again and his voice shook. “Couldn’t make it stop.”

“Agent Yu,” Doctor Patel said, “I’m afraid your ten minutes are over.”

“Did you feel anything different? Were your sensations the same?”

Patel moved closer, to stand on the other side of the bed from Lily. “I must ask you to leave now.”

“S’okay, Doctor,” Hodge said, but his voice was growing weak. “I want to tell her . . . just the cold.”

“When?”

“The whole time. I got chilled right away, but not bad, and it kept getting colder, right up until . . .”

“Yes?”

A tear spilled down one grooved cheek. “Right up till my body started killing people. Then the cold went away. Then I was warm.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hodge.” She shut off the recorder. “Ah—are your eyes bothering you?”

“Didn’t blink enough,” he said softly. “When my body was running things, it didn’t blink enough. Left my eyes sore.”

Dr. Patel’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “You must tell me these things, Mr. Hodge. I will see you get some drops.”

Lily slid the recorder back in her tote and took something else out. “I brought something from your house. I hoped it might bring you some comfort.”

When he saw what she held, he smiled—a small, weary smile, maybe, but there was an easing around his eyes and in the worn lines of his face. “My Maisie’s Bible. Yes, ma’am, that is a comfort. Thank you. Ma’am?”

“Yes?” His hands were shaky. She slid the Bible under one.

“Do you know what did that to me? What made my body do those terrible things?”

“Not yet. I will.”

He studied her a moment with weary eyes. “I ’spect you will. Yes, ma’am, I ’spect you will.” His eyes drifted closed.

Once again, Dr. Patel indicated that Lily should precede him out of the room. And when he closed the door on Hodge’s room, he said, “That was nicely done. Although I can’t say you remind me of my grandmother, not when—Agent Yu?” He reached for her.

Lily didn’t quite fall. The dizziness had hit so suddenly, between one breath and the next, that her legs buckled, but she didn’t fall. Dr. Patel’s arm helped. “Give me a minute.”

“You must sit.”

“No, I have to . . .” Had to get her breath, which was being squeezed out of her, making her so weak it was an effort to get words out.

She knew what was wrong. Dammit to hell. She knew.

After months of quiescence, the mate bond had picked
now
to act up. Now, when Rule was in a car with Toby . . . “I need to go that way,” she said, nodding to the south. That’s where Rule was, and she had to close some of the distance between them. Fast.

She needed the doctor’s help. He didn’t want her moving, but she wasn’t going to do what he wanted, so he gave in and helped. She shuffled back out of the ICU, all the way down the hall, past the entrance to the waiting room . . . and finally, just as she reached the elevators, it eased.

She drew a deep breath. “Okay. I’m okay now.”

“You most certainly are not.” The doctor was angry. “I don’t know what is wrong, but you certainly must be examined.”

She dug her phone out of her pocket. “My condition is . . . unusual, nothing you would have heard of. Trust me. I’m all right now.” She hit speed dial, her heart pounding and her mouth dry, and remembered to add, “Thank you for helping me.”

“Whether you wish it or not, I am not finished helping you.” He grabbed the hand that wasn’t holding the phone and took her pulse.

And then, thank God, she heard Rule’s voice. “We’re fine. I pulled over in time and am turning around now. The dizziness eased enough for me to do that, which I assume means you’re mobile? Unhurt?”

“I’m fine. You’re coming back.”

“I have to, don’t I?”

EIGHTEEN

IT
was ten o’clock and full dark when Lily pulled into the driveway at Toby’s home.

The yard was empty once more. Rule would still be able to smell the blood, she thought as she climbed out of the car. She couldn’t. In the yellow glow from the porch light, the grass looked trampled and weary.

About the way she felt. Lily dragged her tote out of the car, closed the door, and clicked it to lock.

The front door opened before she could knock—but it wasn’t Rule who stood there.

“I saw the headlights,” Toby’s grandmother said. She wore a long cotton robe in cheerful green stripes. “Come on in. You must be exhausted.”

“It’s been a long day,” Lily agreed. And not just for her. She stopped in the foyer, studying a face that seemed to have aged ten years in a day. Oh—Mrs. Asteglio wasn’t wearing makeup. Lily had never seen her without it. “Are you all right, Mrs. Asteglio?”

“Not yet, but I will be. And do call me Louise. It’s time, past time . . .” She glanced behind her. The kitchen lights were on; in the den the television was on. She sighed. “I’ve never asked him to use my first name. I wanted to keep him at a distance, but it hasn’t helped, has it?”

It took Lily a second to realize what she meant. “This is happening sooner than you’d expected, but you knew Toby would have to go to his father eventually.”

“I know. That’s why I wanted his father on a last-name basis. Foolish, but I’m not in the mood to be reasonable now, dear. I will be later, but not tonight. Have you eaten? I saved you a plate. Chicken and rice with broccoli.” She turned and headed for the kitchen. She was limping slightly.

“I haven’t, and bless you. But I can get it.”

“I don’t want you to get it.” She paused, looking over her shoulder. “I don’t know what happened to make Rule turn around and come back. He won’t tell me. Oh, he says he got sick suddenly, but they don’t get sick, do they? And Toby had that look he gets when he isn’t supposed to tell me something.” Her lips tightened. “They are so fond of
secrets
.”

“They have reason,” Lily said quietly, knowing that “they” meant lupi. She’d noticed that Mrs. Asteglio—whom she was now supposed to call Louise—seldom used the word. She’d thought it was lingering prejudice, but maybe not. Maybe the woman had trouble putting a name to something that would inevitably take Toby away from her. “That doesn’t mean we have to like it, though, does it?”

“I don’t expect he has many secrets from you. But never mind me—I’m gloomy tonight. Whatever is wrong, I think he needs you. He’s watching those stupid news reports.” She shook her head, baffled by such behavior. “Toby’s asleep,” she added, and flipped on the light in the kitchen.

Lily followed instructions and her heart. She went into the den.

Rule sprawled on the couch, staring at the television. A perky brunette anchor with a familiar face was solemnly informing viewers that tragedy had struck a small Southern town.

Lily slipped off her jacket and unbuckled her shoulder holster. It was as much a relief to take that off as it would be later when she removed her bra. She draped jacket and rig on the coffee table and curled up with Rule. He took her hand. Neither of them spoke.

Tension drained from her shoulders, her neck. The headache that had started that morning, which ibuprofen had dented without eliminating, slowly drew its talons out of the base of her skull. Almost dizzy with the sudden easing and exhaustion, she closed her eyes. The television switched to a commercial.

Rule would be feeling much the same things. The mate bond—infernal, even dangerous, as it could be—did pay its way. Most lovers instinctively reach for each other when life bitch-slaps them, but for the mate-bonded the comfort of touch was as heightened as it was inescapable.

Not that Lily wanted escape. At the moment all she wanted was right here—a comfortable couch, no need to move, and the feel of Rule, the subtle scent of him.

She noticed another scent just as the microwave dinged. One that made her stomach growl. A second commercial began, and Mrs. Asteglio—Louise—brought Lily a steaming plate. “I’m going on to bed now. You two don’t stay up too late.”

The older woman headed for the stairs. Lily turned to Rule. “What is it about her that makes me want to mind without tripping any of my mother switches?”

“Years of practice.” His fingers toyed with her hair, but his gaze stayed fixed on the TV.

Lily watched, too, in between bites of chicken and rice.

First there was Rule saying, “You are here because of my son. So am I.” The sheen in his eyes couldn’t have been planned, Lily thought. Then there was a shot of all of them together on the porch swing. The brunette gave a brief voice-over about the child custody hearing of “lupus prince Rule Turner,” then said, “but no one could have foreseen the tragic turn events would take” as the image of Rule sprang to his feet—leaped—and Changed.

The camera caught even less of the process than Lily’s eyes. At the moment of Change, Rule seemed to burst into static, a second’s frozen explosion of colorful confetti hanging in midair. Then he was wolf, landing on his feet and streaking through the crowd.

The cameraman had been blocked by that crowd, thank God. There were no shots of Rule knocking Hodge to the ground and lunging for his throat.

“Had Rule Turner not been present,” the brunette was saying gravely, “and had he not acted with preternatural speed to subdue the shooter, casualties might have been much worse. As it was, two people died and three others were injured in this senseless shooting. One of those injured was Ed Eames, a reporter for the Associated Press.”

The scene switched to a close-up of the AP reporter being questioned by the brunette. Looked like Ed wasn’t going to be just a “treated and released” figure after all, Lily thought, turning her head to look at Rule. “This is the first time the Change has been caught on camera, isn’t it?”

“Yes. They’ve shown that clip several times now.” He didn’t speak for a moment, then his mouth twitched. “My father isn’t thrilled about it, but I think his chief regret is that Nokolai isn’t earning anything from rights to the clip.”

“Uh-oh. Does that mean he’s going to want to film you Changing and sell it?”

He snorted. “He might like to, but no. This . . . allowing ourselves to be revealed so publicly during the Change . . . it’s deeply against our instincts. Even those who live openly as lupi will be disquieted by such exposure.”

Oh, yes, lupi were very fond of secrets. And not without reason. “Are you in trouble?”

He shrugged. “Not personally. With my mate and son in danger, I Changed. I doubt any will argue about such a need. But those who oppose integration with the human world can use this. If I weren’t known to the media as the Nokolai prince, there would have been no press conference and no cameras.”

Were they talking about lupus policies because they were afraid of bringing up the scary stuff, or was that just her? Lily didn’t know how to ask about Toby, what his chances were, what could be done. She wasn’t sure she
should
ask.

But she didn’t think she could keep stepping around the subject, either. She leaned forward, set her empty plate on the coffee table, and drained half the glass of tea Louise Asteglio had supplied along with dinner. Then she tiptoed closer to the scary stuff. “The mate bond screwed up your plans. You can’t go to Leidolf’s clanhome.”

“No, they’ll have to come to me.”

Her eyes widened. “The whole clan?”

That brought a tired grin. “Mrs. Asteglio’s hospitality would be sorely stretched. No, only the youths participating in the
gens compleo
need come, though I’m sure some of their families will attend, also. Normally the ritual is conducted at a clanhome because the youths must present themselves to their Rho, not the other way around. In this, I act as their Rho. I can require them to come to me.”

“Can you require them not to bring too many people with them? We’ve got a situation here.”

“I won’t be holding the ritual in the backyard. Not in Halo at all, actually. There are miles of forest nearby. Of course, depending on what the mate bond is allowing, I may need you to attend, but it’s a brief ritual.”

“Damned tricky bond.” She leaned back against his arm, unhappy. The sudden dizziness when he was driving . . . the damned bond could have killed him or Toby. Especially Toby, who didn’t yet heal like a lupus. “How far out were you when it yanked?”

“Just under eight miles from this house.” His fingertips played across her nape. “Don’t fret about Leidolf. You’ve enough worrying you. My duties to that clan needn’t be on your list.”

Less than eight miles. That would really restrict them. Why now? Why had it suddenly tightened? “I’ll take that off my list, then. What about the Leidolf Rhej? Have you summoned her, too?”

His fingers stilled. “No one summons a Rhej, and she can’t leave Victor. Her skill is all that holds him to life. I did speak with her. I also spoke with Cullen.”

“Oh?” She thought she did that well—just the right amount of interest. “What did he say?”

He tugged once—a little too hard—on her hair. “That you ordered him to call me.”

She grimaced.
Call Rule re Toby,
she’d texted Cullen.
Urgent. Use tact.
“His notion of tact . . . never mind. I, ah, thought he might know something that would help.” At some point in his checkered career, Cullen had attended medical school. Magic couldn’t help lupi afflicted with the wild cancer; he’d hoped medical science might. He hadn’t learned how to cure it, but maybe he knew something about this supposed connection to a boy’s sensing of the Change.

Rule’s voice softened. “You were right to call. I wasn’t going to. You aren’t aware of the reason Cullen sought so hard for a cure, so you wouldn’t . . . You see, Etorri is much more subject to the cancer than the other clans. It killed his father.”

The muscles in Lily’s stomach clenched. Cullen had tried to save them. The father who’d turned his back on him, the clan that had kicked him out—he had tried to save them. “How old was he when he went to medical school?”

Rule understood what she was asking. “He was pre-med when Etorri made him a lone wolf. For a couple years directly afterward he was, ah . . . somewhat unstable, but after an adjustment period he was able to continue on to medical school. His father died before he completed it.”

“
Did
he complete it?”

“No.”

She rubbed her tense stomach, her fingers finding the burn scar. “He’d really hate it if he knew I was hurting for him.”

Rule’s smile was small, arriving mainly in his eyes. “That he would. Naturally he was annoyed with me for not calling him immediately about Toby. He disliked the notion that I was, as he put it, tiptoeing around his sensitive feelings, and told me I was panicking unnecessarily. He’ll be here tomorrow.”

She sat straight up. “What?”

Rule shrugged. “I was surprised, too. He wouldn’t explain, but I am to stop listening to old wives’ tales and use my head. Anecdotal evidence is often misleading, and I’m on a false trail. He also wished me to tell you three things. First, it’s fortunate that you have some sense, because I obviously don’t.”

Lily felt a smile starting.

“Second, you’re not to worry about the plane fare. He’ll charge it to my credit card. He considers his previous methods for handling credit inappropriate now that he consults for the FBI.”

That surprised a laugh out of her. It was so typically Cullen. VISA still didn’t understand why its computers insisted on offering unlimited credit to an unemployed stripper. Lily didn’t know how Cullen had done it, either. She’d probably have to arrest him if she ever found out. “And the third thing?”

“Cynna found the boy—frightened and injured, but alive.”

Okay, that was good. Lily relaxed back against Rule’s arm. She loved the feel of him, the leanness and the strength, the sheer maleness of the muscles she leaned against . . . muscles that were relaxed, not taut with worry. “You believe him, even without an explanation.”

“Cullen might twist the truth or withhold it, but he wouldn’t outright lie to me. Not about this.”

But Lily thought he might very well do just that—if he thought it was what Rule needed. And then devote the next three or four years to finding a way to save Toby before First Change.

“Lily.” Rule smiled and tickled the ends of her hair. “He’s coming here. He can’t lie to me in person.”

“Oh, right. I guess you could ask as his Lu Nuncio, couldn’t you?” One of the functions of a Lu Nuncio was to act as a prosecuting attorney within the clan—one to whom witnesses couldn’t lie. Not successfully, anyway. Lupi couldn’t always sniff out a lie, but supposedly the guilt of lying to their Lu Nuncio made it impossible for them to carry it off. “You think he’s flying here to make sure you believe him?”

“No. There’s something he won’t say over the phone.”

Paranoid of him, but Cullen combined normal lupus secrecy with a sorcerer’s suspicion that everyone really was out to get him—or at least to steal his spells. “Maybe he’ll be able to consult on my case while he’s here.”

“If you pay him, he probably will.” He wound a strand of her hair around one finger.

“He’s an approved consult.” Rule kept touching her. That was his way, but those constant, light touches were replacing comfort with other feelings.

“You want to talk about the case?”

She met his eyes . . . and her heart ached at what she saw in his face.

He’d lied. It was his father’s fault, she thought, in so many ways . . . but his own doing, too. Rule had learned early to project confidence, the kind of unworried air people—human or otherwise—crave in a leader. He could make his body lie for him, make it speak of control or power or ease, whatever was needed. And he’d needed to hide how much he still feared for his son. Maybe Cullen’s words had helped, but they hadn’t erased the fear.

But why hide it from her? No, she realized. No, he hadn’t hidden it from her. He’d imposed ease on his body for his own reasons, not to keep her out. He’d left his eyes unshuttered, hadn’t he? Let her see his need, the place that words couldn’t touch.