Mortal Sins (9 page)

TWELVE

WINTER
or summer, the backyard was Toby’s favorite place. He loved everything about it—the gazebo, the grass and flowers, the trees. Even when it was real hot, there was lots of shade.

Not that Toby really minded hot weather. Or cold weather, either, from what he could tell, though he hadn’t seen much really cold stuff, not in Halo. Dad said most lupi were like that, not much affected by hot and cold. The magic in Toby was mostly asleep still, but it was there and it had a pattern for him. He sort of leaned toward that pattern even now, years before he could run on four feet instead of two.

Dad started walking along the fence, moving slowly. It felt weird, walking around his yard like this with his dad. Soon this place would be for visits, not really his anymore.

Dad seemed to know that. “There’s a lot here you’re going to miss.”

“Yeah.”

“Make you mad?”

Toby stopped and stared. Sometimes Dad pulled the thoughts right out of his head, like there was a string attached to them he could tug on. “It doesn’t make
sense
for me to be mad. I want to go. I know it’s right for me to go. So how come it makes me mad when I think about not being here in my yard anymore?”

Dad smiled. “You’ve a strong sense of territory. Most of us do, but it’s stronger in some than others. You’ve been the only wolf here, so this yard is completely yours. It doesn’t matter to your wolf that your grammy is in charge—to him, she’s only in charge of your human self. So this place is yours in a way Clanhome isn’t. Clanhome is your grandfather’s territory—shared with all who are Nokolai, yes, but
his
. No matter how much you want to be there, you don’t want to surrender what’s yours.”

“Yeah! Yeah, that’s what it’s like. I want to be at Clanhome, but this . . . this is mine. Only how come I feel that way when my wolf’s still asleep?”

“Asleep or not, he’s there. Also, humans are almost as territorial as wolves, so the two instincts strengthen each other rather than competing. Though your wolf’s sense of territory may be somewhat different from your human understanding of it.”

They’d reached the back fence, where Grammy’s azaleas were thick and bushy and smelled so good. “I don’t think I can sort out what’s the wolf and what isn’t. It all feels like me.”

“It is all you. What did you dream last night?”

“Huh?” It took a moment to remember. “I was playing baseball, but there weren’t enough of us on the team and we were losing. The TV people were there ’cause it was a big game, and one of them had a lot of dogs and the dogs wanted to play, too. Grammy said dogs couldn’t play baseball ’cause it wasn’t in the rules, and how would they hit the ball? But you said it was okay, so then the dogs got to be on my team. And then we started winning.”

Dad’s mouth crooked up and his eyes went all pleased, as if that silly dream meant something to him. “The Toby who dreamed about baseball isn’t exactly the same Toby who plays baseball, is he?”

“Oh.” He thought that over. “I see what you mean. When I’m asleep, things seem different from when I’m awake, and I know different things and all. But it’s all me.”

Dad nodded. “For now, your wolf is sleeping so deeply that the awake Toby doesn’t know what the sleeping part knows. It’s like when we can’t remember our dreams—that doesn’t mean we didn’t dream. Just that our dream self is too distant from our awake self for us to claim the memories. After the wolf wakes and you take that form, you’ll remember that part of you all the time. You’ll see many things differently. Some of those differences will be confusing.”

“I know that,” Toby said, impatient. It wasn’t like they’d never talked about this before. “Confusing” meant that when First Change hit, his wolf would be real strong and people would smell like food, so when he was twelve he’d go to
terra tradis
, where everyone was lupus, so he didn’t hurt anyone. He’d have to stay at
tradis
after the Change, too, and be home-schooled there, but he’d probably be able to go to a regular high school.

That’s what he planned, anyway. Uncle Benedict said not to count on that. Most new wolves weren’t ready to be around humans all the time, not until they were real old—maybe eighteen. But some of them managed it younger. Dad had. Toby figured he would, too.

They’d finished their circuit of the yard, ending up near the patio. Dad stopped and turned to him. “I told you last night I had some clan business to take care of while I’m here. Because your grammy was present, I didn’t say which clan.”

“Oh. Oh! You mean you have to do Leidolf business? That’s why we’re going there?” Toby’s nose wrinkled. He didn’t like that Dad was connected to the other clan, who had been Nokolai’s enemies forever. Unless . . . He brightened. “Hey! Have you figured out how you can give the new mantle to someone else?”

Dad shook his head. “That won’t happen until the All-Clan.”

Toby didn’t exactly understand mantles yet, but they were sort of like magic blankets covering the clans, keeping everyone steady. It was supposed to be impossible for anyone to carry parts of two mantles, just like it was impossible to belong to two clans. But Dad was doing it.

According to Grandpa, that was the Lady’s doing, and maybe the reason for the mate bond between Dad and Lily. Grandpa thought the Lady used the mate bond—which came from her, after all—to help Dad because she wanted the two clans to be friends again. When Toby had asked Dad about that, he’d shrugged and said perhaps. That was one of Dad’s words—perhaps. He used it a lot.

But the Leidolf Rho was real sick and could die, and if he did, the whole mantle would go to Dad. Toby wasn’t sure what would happen then, but it must be pretty bad. No one wanted the whole mantle to go to Dad. Not even Grandpa. That’s why the Rhejes were going to shift it, but they had to all get together to do it, and that wouldn’t happen until the All-Clan, which was months and months away.

“Hey.” Dad ruffled Toby’s hair, then cupped the side of his head. “Don’t look so worried.”

“But if the Leidolf Rho dies and you have to take it all—”

“It will be okay. I’ll be okay, Toby. The Leidolf Rhej is a skilled healer. She’s keeping Victor alive, and I’m careful not to call on that mantle.”

Dad wanted him to feel better, so Toby tried. After all, even if the old Rho died right this minute, Dad had the mate bond, so the Lady could still help him. “You’ll be okay,” he echoed. “But I wish you didn’t have to do Leidolf stuff right now.”

“But right now I do have the heir’s portion, so in all honor I need to fulfill those duties their comatose Rho cannot. Two of Leidolf’s youngsters are ready for the
gens compleo
.”

Toby didn’t know much about the
gens compleo
, just that it was when a lupus was accepted into the clan as a full adult. But he knew it involved the clan’s mantle. “They—those youngsters—they’re already in the mantle, though, right? They’re already clan.”

“They’re clan and past First Change, so the mantle knows them, but they aren’t
of
the mantle yet. That’s what the
gens compleo
is for.”

That didn’t really explain anything, but Dad said that talking about mantles was like trying to wrap up color in words. No matter how good your words were, they ended up pointing in the wrong direction. He also said that, for lupi, talking about the mantles was like talking about sex used to be for humans—something you did kind of hushed, where others wouldn’t hear.

That had made Toby snort. The grown-ups he knew here in Halo still talked about sex like that. “Hey—you made sure no one was listening, didn’t you? That’s why we went outside and walked around. So you could be sure nobody would hear us, because the mantles are the Lady’s secret.”

“That’s right. We keep many secrets from the humans around us, but only one at the Lady’s behest—the clan mantles.”

Toby nodded. The Lady wasn’t like Santa Claus. She wasn’t like God, either, who you had to believe in, but not everybody did, and even people who did believe argued about Him. But the Lady was real, one hundred percent, and the clans didn’t argue about her because the Rhejes had the memories of what she’d said, only mostly she didn’t talk to them or do much. But sometimes she did. “Lily’s human, but she knows about mantles, doesn’t she?”

“She’s both Chosen and clan. She knows.”

“So the Lady didn’t say humans couldn’t know. Just the out-clan.”

“That’s right.” Dad touched his shoulder, smiling. “You’re full of questions this morning. If I . . . That’s Lily,” he said, and headed for the house.

Toby followed. He hadn’t heard anything. Maybe Dad just picked up that Lily was here? The mate bond let him know where she was, so . . . But it was a more ordinary connection this time, he saw. Dad had his phone up to his ear and was talking, then listening.

It didn’t sound like it was good news. “Shit. Yes, I see. Tell your reporter friend I appreciate the notice . . . No, that won’t be necessary.”

“What is it?” Toby asked as soon as Dad set the phone down.

“I’m afraid reporters are on their way here. They were tipped off about the hearing. I’ll have to talk to them, but you and your grandmother don’t.”

Toby’s heart sped up. “I think I should.”

“No.” Dad headed for the stairs. “Mrs. Asteglio?”

Grammy called back, “Almost finished. I’ll be right down.”

Toby figured he’d better talk fast, ’cause he knew what Grammy would say. “Listen to me! Listen. People like kids. I mean . . .” It sounded dumb when he tried to put words to it, but Toby pushed on. “You’re sort of the image for lupi, right? That’s why you went public and why you do a bunch of stuff, letting people see that lupi are okay. Wouldn’t I make a good image, too? I’m just a kid, but I’ll be a wolf one day, only I don’t look scary or anything.”

Dad stopped at the foot of the stairs. “You’re suggesting you would be good PR for our people?”

Toby nodded. “Humans need to stop being scared of us, right? Well, no one’s gonna be scared of me.” He grimaced. “Old ladies think I’m cute.”

“You’ve a good point, and I’m proud that you’re thinking of our people. However—”

“It’s not the paparazzi, is it? Just regular reporters?”

Dad’s eyebrows lifted. “What do you know about paparazzi?”

“Well, they hounded that poor princess to her death. That’s what Mrs. Milligan says, anyway. And they make up stupid stuff, like that dumb story about your love slaves that was in one magazine next to the alien baby pictures. And they try to take pictures of people when they’re naked.”

Dad’s lips twitched. “Not a bad description. Paparazzi are photographers who . . . you might think of them as lone wolves. A problem on their own, and dangerous when they travel in packs.”

“Rule, a van just pulled up out front. A television van.” Grammy stood at the top of the stairs, looking like she’d bitten into a rotten apple—and meant to spit it out on someone. “How did they find out?”

“That . . . is something I need to explain. Toby.” Dad knelt, putting his hands on Toby’s shoulders. Which made him feel queasy, because it meant he wasn’t going to like what Dad had to say. “I’ve some news that may be upsetting. Lily learned of it from an acquaintance of hers who works for the AP.”

Toby swallowed hard and didn’t say a word, because he knew. The moment his dad said “the AP,” he knew.

Dad’s eyes were angry, but he kept it out of his voice. “Your mother is in town. She’s told the other reporters about the hearing.”

THIRTEEN

THE
sharks were circling when Lily pulled to a stop three doors down from the Asteglio house. The press had taken all the closer parking.

But reporters weren’t the only ones on Mrs. Asteglio’s grass. A gaggle of teenagers, several women, a young man holding a toddler on one hip, and assorted sizes of children filled any gaps between cameras, microphone wielders, and the rumpled suits of the print press.

Lily kept her “no comment’s” polite as she threaded her way past outthrust microphones to the semi-safety of the porch. Someone must have threatened them, or they’d have been banging on the door.

The door opened before she could touch the knob. She slid inside, and Rule closed it on the shouted questions.

He was looking especially magnificent. He’d changed into his usual black—black dress slacks, black silk-blend shirt. He wore a pretty dark expression, too, though his voice was mild. “I did say you weren’t to come.”

“I don’t mind well, do I? How’d you get the sharks to stay away from the door?”

“Anyone who comes up on the porch will be asked to leave the property entirely—and so will not be included in the interview I grant the rest.”

“You’re mean. I like that.”

“On the phone you mentioned a problem with the investigation.”

“I’ll fill you in later.” She glanced around.

The foyer opened on the left to the stairs; at the rear to the kitchen; and on the right to a living room that held two sofas and an upright piano. Mrs. Asteglio stood beside the large picture window backing one of the sofas, glaring out at the invaders on her lawn. She was a lanky woman a little over Lily’s height with gray hair cropped no-nonsense short and pampered skin. Lily had never seen her without makeup and pretty pink fingernails. Today she wore robin’s egg blue slacks with a button-down shirt in a gingham check.

Toby stood a few steps behind Rule, his chin held at a stubborn angle that reminded her of his grandfather, Isen. His eyes were very much Rule’s, though—dark, liquid, hinting at secrets, with the same dramatic eyebrows.

She smiled at him. “Hey, there.”

“Hi, Lily. Tell Dad this is my business, too.”

Lily glanced at Rule, eyebrows lifted, but before he could respond, Mrs. Asteglio announced, “I’m going to go out there and tell them all to go away. They can’t come on private property. Those
journalists
”—she made the word sound like a curse—“and my neighbors, too, who ought to be ashamed of themselves.”

Rule shook his head. “Your neighbors might leave, but the press will just camp out on the sidewalk and street. The best way to be rid of them is to give them a little of what they want. I’m not the biggest story here, so if I give them a few sound bites, they’ll go back to pestering Lily and the sheriff.”

“And me,” Toby said. “I’ve got sound bites, too.”

“You can just forget that notion, young man,” Mrs. Asteglio told him firmly.

“I need to,” he insisted. “It’s clan business.”

The older woman huffed out a breath. “It’s my grass they’re trampling, my family they want to gossip about, and my daughter who told them about—oh, about your father, and the hearing. Things that should be private. That makes it my business.”

“But Grammy—”

“You want to see yourself on television, but you don’t realize what it would be like, so it’s up to the adults in your life to do what’s right for you. If . . . Rats!”

“Rats” was the strongest expletive Lily had ever heard from the older woman. This time it came in response to the trill of a phone. At least Lily supposed that’s what it was—it sounded like an electronic bird.

“Don’t answer it,” Rule said.

Mrs. Asteglio’s lips tightened to near invisibility as she turned away to delve into her purse, which sat in its usual place beside the couch. “Oh, I’ll answer. That’s my daughter’s ring tone, and she has some explaining to do.”

Lily wanted to grab the phone and ask her own questions, but throttled back that unhelpful impulse. She turned to Toby. “So you want to go talk to the reporters.”

“Lily.” Rule’s voice was as slick and hard as ice. “Don’t meddle.”

Her head jerked back. Where the hell did that come from? “You’d better take a deep breath and shove that attitude back down.”

The hardness dropped away, leaving his face oddly blank. “You’re right. You’re right. I don’t know . . .” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Hell, I’ve got to do better.”

She didn’t know what he meant. Better at sharing the parenting of his son? He’d been doing that all along, though with Toby’s grandmother, not with Lily. But this wasn’t the time to ask.

It
was
the time for another question. She looked at Toby. “Toby, why do you want to talk to the reporters? If you do it because you’re mad at your mom and want to get back at her, that’s likely to backfire.”

“That’s not it! Well, not . . .” He hit that word and stumbled, picking up again more slowly. “Not much of it, anyway. I am mad. Why’d she have to tell her reporter friends and not even let us know she told them?”

“I don’t know.”

He gave a little shrug, denying that it mattered when it obviously did. “Well, anyway, even before you called, I was telling Dad I ought to talk to the reporters, too. Or trying to tell him.” He shot Rule a look chock-full of early-onset preteen resentment. “People don’t think about us lupi being kids because the clans’ kids have always been hidden away to keep us safe. Maybe that’s how things used to have to be, but everything’s changing now. And—and I don’t want them making stuff up about me. I want to tell them the truth so they can’t do that.”

The twin slashes of Rule’s eyebrows drew down. “Unfortunately, telling the truth doesn’t stop others from making stuff up and reporters from repeating it. It’s my responsibility to represent us to the press, not yours. And I think that’s enough discussion of the subject.”

Toby tilted his head back to stare up at his father. “Are you being my dad or my Lu Nuncio? ’Cause it feels like you’re pushing at me to agree, and that’s . . .” He stopped, darting a glance at his grandmother.

Rule looked taken aback. “Either role requires your obedience.”

“Rule.” Lily put a hand on his arm. “Talk to me a minute, okay? In the other room.”

His eyes met hers, and an echo of the first time their gazes locked rippled through her—the click, the falling, the sensation of utter change when the mate bond had dropped into place. She blinked, and once more they were just eyes. Beautiful and familiar eyes the color of bitter chocolate, filled now with a mix of exasperation and rue.

“If you wish,” he said, “but let’s make it quick.”

She hoped it would be quick. She had multiple murders to investigate and was fresh out of suspects—unless you counted Cullen’s hypothetical out-realm being.

Here there be dragons, indeed. Problem was, dragons had turned out to be real.

Rule headed for the kitchen. Lily followed, trying to sort impressions and puzzlement into sense, into words. Something was eating at Rule. Of course, he had the whole alpha, prince-of-his-people thing going, which made him a tad autocratic at times. But now . . . what, exactly, was bothering her about his reaction?

He went straight to the coffeepot. “Want a cup?”

“Did you make it?” At his nod she said, “Sure. I didn’t get any of the good stuff earlier.”

He poured for her first and handed her the mug. “I take it you disagree with my decision.”

“I don’t understand it.” She brought the mug up to her face and breathed in the aroma, her eyes closing briefly. When she opened them and sipped, she saw a familiar expression on his face. “Hey. Not now.”

“Can I help it if watching you enjoy coffee turns me on?” His smile turned wry as he brought his own mug up to sip and leaned back against the counter. “I apologize for my comment earlier. It was uncalled for, but . . . I thought we were agreed about protecting Toby from the press. Your question to him took me by surprise, and I responded poorly.”

That
was it. That’s what was bothering her. Rule never objected to questions. He didn’t always answer them, but he didn’t object to them. “We were agreed, but that was before the press found out about him. It was also before we knew Toby wanted a chance to tell his side of things. The situation’s changed, but your decision hasn’t. Why not?”

“Dammit, Lily, I’m not using my son for PR! He’s too young. Someday he’ll have to . . . but that’s years away. I’ll not have him used.”

“Yet he wants to do this,” she said mildly. “Is it using him if it’s his idea?”

“Is it his idea?” Rule’s expression darkened. “My father wanted this all along. He wanted Toby in front of the cameras, talking about how much he wants to live with me. Great publicity for us, paves the way for other lupi who want the courts to recognize their rights. I’ll bet he’s been talking to Toby. I should have seen that. He put this idea in Toby’s head.”

Ah, now she understood. “Grandmother says that parents are always trying to raise themselves all over again, repair the things their own parents did wrong.” Grandmother said it in Chinese, and more eloquently. But that’s what she meant.

“Your grandmother is a remarkable woman.” Rule was polite. He was always polite with Grandmother, whether she was present or not. “But does that have anything to do with the subject?”

“Maybe you’re doing what you wish someone could have done for you when you were small. But Toby isn’t you.”

Rule’s gaze shifted away. He sipped his coffee, hooded eyes holding his thoughts in. After a long silence he sighed. “What do you suggest?”

“If Mrs. Asteglio is willing, why don’t we all go out together? You make a brief statement and control the flow of questions, pick what Toby responds to.”

“I dislike it when I’m wrong.”

“Yeah. I know what you mean.”

He put his mug down and just stood there, looking at it as if the pretty yellow flowers circling the rim carried an important message. “Why do you think Toby wants to do this so badly? Altruism aside,” he added dryly. “My son is certainly capable of that, but I don’t think it’s his only motive.”

“Why don’t you ask him?”

“More common sense. Yes, but he may prefer privacy for the discussion. Ask him to come in here, please.”

LILY
saw with disturbing clarity at times, Rule thought as he sipped his coffee and waited. He had good reasons for wanting to shield his son, but on a deep and foolish level she was right. He’d been trying to shield the boy he once was, as well.

Not that he had been thrust in front of the press at Toby’s age. Lupi were still very much in hiding then, passing as human. But his father’s goal had been clear years before anyone believed it would be possible for a lupus to live openly as what he was. From an early age, Rule had known he would someday be the public face for his people. If the Supreme Court hadn’t ruled that lupi in human form were “entitled to and compelled by all the rights and responsibilities of citizenship,” Isen would still have had Rule proclaim himself publicly.

And Rule had been ready to do so. He’d always challenged himself by riding in elevators, on trains and airplanes, teaching himself to handle the fear of small, enclosed places common to most lupi . . . and, he admitted, especially strong in him. He’d done that because he expected to be locked up someday. And he would have been, had the Supreme Court ruling gone against them. He would still have gone public, just as he had, but with the goal of eliciting as much sympathy and airtime as possible when federal agents apprehended him, imprisoned him, and injected him with one of the very few drugs his system couldn’t override: the one that robbed lupi of the Change.

He would have done it because his Rho told him to—and because Isen was right. Lupi could no longer hide themselves from the rest of the world; technology and the sheer press of population growth made that impossible. They had to find a way to live openly and peaceably with humans. For that, they needed to replace fear with sympathy and support.

But it’s one thing for an adult to understand and accept such a necessity. Rule hadn’t wanted his son to grow up feeling shaped for sacrifice.

He grimaced and put down his mug as Toby entered the kitchen, just over four feet of wary defiance cast in a familiar mold. Rule had sometimes wondered if Alicia’s indifference to the child they’d made rose from her inability to see herself in the boy’s face or future. Toby would grow up to assume a second form, one forever denied his mother, and his present form looked nothing like Alicia. Hair, eyes, mouth—all mirrored his father, not his mother. His build was much like Rule’s had been at that age, too, though something in the way he moved—the quick certainty of it, perhaps—reminded Rule of his brother Mick.

The reminder was bittersweet. He and Mick had not been close, being separated by age, experience, and ambition. In the end, Mick had betrayed Rule . . . then died saving him.

The way Toby’s long eyelashes flickered as he swept his gaze around the room was familiar, too, but that trait wasn’t Rule’s alone. Lupi habitually checked out a space when they entered it. They were like cops that way, though their instinct was innate, not acquired.

Toby squared up in front of Rule. “Lily said you wanted to talk to me.”

What he truly wanted was to grab the boy up and swing him around and make him laugh. Toby had a laugh that could lift the world. But this wasn’t the time. “Lily persuaded me to reconsider. As your father, I still believe allowing you to speak to the reporters is a mistake. If it is, however, it’s one you’ll survive and should be allowed to make if you wish.”

Toby’s face lit up. “Then—then you’ve changed your mind?”

“Your father has. Your Lu Nuncio remains undecided, which is why I wished to speak with you privately.”

Understanding touched with hurt flashed through Toby’s eyes, but he didn’t whine, didn’t make his feelings more important than his duty. Rule felt a surge of pride in the boy . . . and wondered if his own father had felt a similar pride when Rule was learning these hard, early lessons. And did that make Isen right in retrospect, or Rule wrong in the present?