Lupi 04 - Night Season

the elephants at the table.
    One elephant was the allusion ban, which Lily and Rule both honored. Cynna didn’t know why they showed such restraint, but she was damned glad of it. The other subject they avoided—or tried to—was their opinion of her decision to go to Edge.
    Hard to ignore, those elephants. Fortunately, there were other subjects to discuss. Like gnomes.
    Rule knew one gnome pretty well. Max was crude, ill-tempered, oversize for his species, and unforgettably ugly. He was also very much Rule’s friend. He’d gone to hell with them to rescue Rule—bitching about it all the way, but he’d gone.
    â€œMax won the down payment for his club playing liar’s poker,” Rule said as he dished himself a second helping. “He’s been banned from Vegas because he bluffs so well. To a gnome, lying is an art. I have the idea there are rules, ethical considerations, among his people about lies, but I’ve never figured them out.”
    â€œSo we shouldn’t take what the councilor says at face value,” Lily said.
    â€œIf the gnomes in Edge are anything like the ones here, then no. They’ll expect us to lie, too.”
    Cynna snorted. “No problem. I’m guessing Underass from Commerce sees lying as an art form, too.”
    Lily grinned. “Underass. You’re talking about McClosky, I take it.”
    â€œGot it in one.”
    â€œThe government can and will look out for itself,” Rule said. “You have to do the same. Just because the gnome says your father’s in Edge doesn’t make it so. He knew the man’s name, yes. But he also knew Lily’s name, and he didn’t learn that from Daniel Weaver.”
    â€œHe has a wedding ring with my mother’s pattern on it.”
    â€œCynna.” Lily touched her hand. “That suggests Daniel Weaver—or his ring—was once in Edge. It doesn’t prove he’s there now.”
    Â 
    A LL in all, it was a relief to close their front door behind her.
    The air was cold and still. Cynna grabbed a lungful and held it in, hoping to quiet the jitters. Somewhere nearby a dog was barking. Somewhere even closer a lupus was watching her, though she couldn’t see him. Rule’s father had decreed that he’d be guarded from now on, and he’d spoken as Rho. Cynna didn’t have to see the guard to know he was around.
    She stuffed her hands in her pockets and grimaced. Dammit. She’d forgotten all about the coat. She hadn’t thanked Rule, who didn’t even know he’d bought it for her. Lily had left that out of her briefing.
    Shit, she still owed Lily for the slacks and sweater she was wearing. She’d forgotten to ask how much they’d cost.
    She wasn’t going back inside to find out. Not tonight.
    Her government-issue Ford was parked at the curb. She didn’t go there. “Tell them I went for a walk,” she told the unseen guard. She dropped her keys in her bag, slung the strap over her head so that it crossed her chest bandolier-style, and started moving.
    The new coat was lined and supple and surprisingly warm. The swing of her arms made the leather whisper to her: shh, shh, shh. The sound reminded her of tires on pavement or an eraser wiping a blackboard. Motion.
    Walking was Cynna’s healthiest coping mechanism. She might prefer fighting, but she’d stopped acting on that impulse. Mostly. Anyway, there was no one around to punch tonight unless she headed back and socked Lily, who’d probably put her on her ass pretty fast. A second-degree black belt didn’t take shit from a measly brown. And Rule might let her hit him, but that wasn’t a fight.
    And why was she even thinking these things? She wasn’t mad at Lily or Rule…who had not abandoned her. It was stupid, irrational, to feel as if they had.
    Dammit. She scowled at the dark street ahead as she stepped off the curb.
    There was only the slightest sound behind her for warning. She spun.
    Just under six feet of lean, angry man stood an arm’s length away, crutches propped under his arms. Messy hair the color of cinnamon without the sugar framed a face sculptors would kill to commit to stone. He wore the same torn jeans and dirty denim jacket he’d had on earlier. The scowl was fresh.
    â€œFor God’s sake,” Cullen snapped, “didn’t your mother teach you to look both ways before crossing the street?”
    Her