Lupi 04 - Night Season
Cynna on his crutches. The guy in the suit swerved around Rubenâs chair, holding out a hand and yammering about how he was some kind of undersecretary. The gal with the tusks got nervous. At least, Cynna guessed that was why she drew that sword of hers in a single hiss.
Everyone stopped movingâ¦except Timms, who drew his weapon. And Gan, who hopped up and down in excitement. âSwing it! Swing it! But not at Lily Yu. Lily Yu, stay back so sheââ
âPut that damned thing away.â That was Cullen, irritated, talking to the swordswoman.
ââdoesnât cut you in half!â Gan yelled.
âCalm down, Gan.â Lily said.
âWelcome to America, sir.â The guy in the suit.
âHold your fire, Mr. Timms.â Brooks.
âKethe mi notasi.â Bald dude with shiny skin.
Reluctantly, the tusked woman sheathed her blade. She added a few words that might have been a curse or a prayer or a request for directions to the ladiesâ room.
âI am sitting down now,â Cynna announced. And did.
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â S O while the guy from the Commerce Department was making nice with the councilor guy, Lily held the ring and I did a scan on it,â Cynna finished. âThe dominant pattern was new to me. Daniel Weaverâs, I guess. But my momâs was there, too.â
The sun was down, the smell of tomato and peppers hung in the air, and the twenty pounds of cat in Cynnaâs lap was purring. Rule stood at the counter, tearing lettuce as he listened. Lily stood beside him, cutting tomatoes into meticulously correct slices. Sheâd done most of the briefing; she was good at it.
Cynna, barred from helping by kitchen ineptitude, sat at their big, round table petting Dirty Harry and trying not to drool over the enchiladas baking in the oven. Trying not to think, too. Thinking hadnât brought any answers. It just put twitchy little wires in her veins, making it hard to sit still.
âTold you so,â Gan said. âAre there more little fishies?â
Lily told her to look in the pantry, and Gan hopped down from her chair in search of âlittle fishies.â Apparently sardines were one of the few dead things she liked.
Dirty Harry flexed a front paw, letting his claws prick Cynnaâs new slacks. She took the hint and resumed petting him. âHeâs not bothered by Gan at all.â
âHe?â Lily paused, her knife hovering over a tomato. âOh, you mean Harry. He does seem pretty clear that she isnât a demon.â
Cats hated demons. Harry had proved that his demon radar worked exceptionally well, but he was ignoring Gan. That pretty much proved Gan wasnât a demon anymore, to Cynnaâs way of thinking. She gave Harry a good rub behind the ears, and he rewarded her by turning up his engine.
âYouâre sure about the pattern, then.â Lily said that in a way that left it hovering between statement and question. âIt must have been faint. The ring didnât belong to your mother, and sheâs been gone a long time, hasnât she?â
âDeadâ was the word Lily wasnât using. People sidestepped that word the way theyâd step around a pile of dog shit on the sidewalk. Her father was gone. Her mother was dead. Big difference. âShe died twenty years ago, so yeah, the pattern was old and very faint. And it was my motherâs.â
âYou can pick up a twenty-year-old pattern from an object that didnât even belong to her?â
âWedding rings are different. They carry a charge fromââ
Ganâs piping voice interrupted her. âWhatâs this?â Sheâd emerged from the pantry with a bag of Goldfish. âIt has fishies on it.â
âThose are crackers,â Lily said. âCynna, if these people are truly sophisticated spellcasters, is it possibleââ
Gan stuffed a handful of the little crackers in her mouth. And immediately spat them out. âYuck, yuck, yuck! Thatâs not food!â
âSome nutritionists would agree with you,â Lily said dryly. âThat doesnât make it okay to spit it out on the floor. Get some paper towels and clean it up.â
âDonât want to.â Gan turned to go back into the pantry.
Rule ripped off a handful of paper towels and walked over to the little not-quite-demon. He grabbed Ganâs shoulder. âYou made a mess. Clean it up.â
Gan glared up at
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