Lupi 08 - Death Magic

Benedict? Who’s taking care of Toby?”
    “Toby’s fine. Benedict and Arjenie are there. And Pete is well able to see to my safety.”
    “I’m sure he is, but on those rare times you leave Clanhome, Benedict always goes with you.” Pete was good—Lily had seen him in practice bouts—but Benedict wasn’t just better. He was the best.
    “Oh, Benedict objected at first, but he’s too sensible to insist on coming with me, under the circumstances. It would not be wise for me and both of my sons to be out and about for a protracted period.”
    Because of the mantle. Because if Isen and both his sons were killed, Nokolai’s mantle would be lost. “And yet you’re here.” It was a huge risk, and not just to Isen. To the clan.
    “And will soon be at Wythe Clanhome. Wythe doesn’t have Benedict, so their security isn’t up to our standards, but it would still be extremely difficult for our enemies to penetrate. The danger is much less than you’re thinking.” He patted her hand again. “You were alarmed for the clan, weren’t you? I’m pleased.”
    She blinked, confused. “You’re going to Wythe Clanhome?”
    “Of course. That’s where Rule and the new wolf are. Rule says that the new wolf—”
    “You mean Ruben. Why do you avoid using his name?”
    His eyes twinkled with unimpaired good humor. “Do you know, I don’t believe anyone had interrupted me for years before you joined the clan? Yes, that’s who I mean. A brand-new wolf isn’t called by the name he bears in his other form for the first two weeks following the Change. At the new moon, his guide will use that name to recall him to his other form. This new wolf is a Rho. That has never happened, obviously, but we are learning some of the consequences quickly. He can’t be controlled by anyone except a mantle-holder, yet he must be controlled until he’s able to do so himself. I flew out so I can relieve Rule of that task.”
    Warmth rushed through her, a dizzy sort of weakness. He’d done it for her. Oh, being Isen, he might have had a dozen other reasons—no, there was no “maybe” to it. He did have other reasons. But in a very large way he’d crossed the continent so she wouldn’t be alone in this strange new life she’d been thrust into. Life as not-a-cop.
    She touched his hand. Immediately he closed his around hers—a broad hand, warm and brimming with magic. It was nothing like holding Rule’s hand, yet it was comforting. Neither of them spoke for several moments. Finally she said, “I really need a shower, don’t I?”
    He chuckled. “Oh, yes.”

TWENTY-SEVEN
     

     
    LILY got her shower. Then she slept.
    She hadn’t planned to, but she walked out of the bathroom and the bed was right there and that was it. She figured it was okay to nap because she didn’t really have a plan. Not for the rest of the day, the week, her life.
    When she woke up, she did. Sort of.
    She lay quietly, blinking up at a ceiling grayed out by dusk and listening to rain on the roof. A faint, stretched feeling said that Rule was still far away to the north. The same thoughts she’d gone round and round with in that cell presented themselves to her again . . . only now they lined up better.
    Had she been set up? Her gut said yes, and she was going to go with that assumption for now. But that only applied to what, not who or why. “Who” might be Sjorensen, but it was just as possible that Sjorensen had been used. And who better to do that than Special Agent Al Drummond?
    She couldn’t be sure if she was letting the facts put Drummond at the top of her suspect list, or if she was leading with feelings. Because she wanted it to be him. She remembered the gloat in his eyes, the sheer delight he took in her downfall. But just because the guy hated her didn’t mean he’d framed her. Someone could’ve used his attitude to manipulate him, just as they might have used Sjorensen to tip Lily off. Drummond didn’t have magic of his own, and she hadn’t felt death magic on him. He could still be part of it. One of them .
    Or not.
    It was the “why,” though, that needed more thought. The last time one of Friar’s acolytes had tried to get her the plan had been wonderfully simple: kill her in a drive-by. They would have succeeded, too, if LeBron hadn’t given his life to save hers.
    This time they’d gone for a complicated trick to destroy her as a cop. It didn’t jive. It was as if two different minds were coming up with “get Lily”