Lupi 08 - Death Magic

wasn’t beside her, and she couldn’t make her mind shut up. It wasn’t doing anything useful, just circling around and around various disasters—a couple that were real because they’d actually happened, like getting checked into the holding cell; a couple that hadn’t happened yet, but would, like Croft firing her; and fistfuls that were gloom-of-the-night phantasms, all the what-if-if-ifs a hectic brain can conjure. Finally she got up and did some stretches and lunges and such, and that helped enough for her to doze off.
    She woke up feeling okay. There was a low-lying dread gnawing at her breastbone, but her brain was clear.
    Before she showered, before she got that first cup of coffee, she checked her phone. Rule hadn’t called. She’d thought he would once his father arrived and he could switch back to a more verbal form, but he hadn’t. Or else Isen wasn’t there yet.
    That was probably it. Wythe Clanhome was nearly five hundred miles away, and Isen was following some tricky plan to get there without being followed.
    The phone chimed when she was still dripping wet from her shower. She wrapped a towel around her and hurried and managed to catch it . . . then wished she hadn’t.
    It was Croft. He told her she’d been placed on administrative leave pending an investigation; she’d receive the formal notice, which would inform her of her rights and responsibilities, through the mail. She told him she understood and hung up, then stood with the phone in her hand, staring at nothing.
    The phone beeped, announcing a text message. She checked, saw that it was from one of the numbers Isen had given her, and read:
    This is Rule. I love you. Leaving now. Isen’s keeping both non-GPS phones. Mine will be turned off. Love you.
    Lily rolled her shoulders and gave a sharp nod. She and Rule were okay. The rest of her world was packed up in the proverbial handbasket and rolling downhill fast, headed for hotter climes, but she and Rule were okay.
    When she got downstairs, she found the Rhej waiting by the door with her suitcase. “You’re leaving.” That sounded especially stupid, so she tried again. “Why are you leaving?”
    The woman smiled that molasses smile of hers. “I’m afraid you won’t like my reason. I’m off on mysterious Rhej business and can’t say a word about it.”
    Mysterious Rhej business. “You’re right. I don’t. With everything that’s going on right now, if you know something, you really need to share it.”
    “I can’t. I’m hoping you won’t hold that against me. I had to empty out my bank account for the plane ticket. Does Rule keep any Leidolf funds on hand you have access to?”
    He kept cash in the safe upstairs. Lily had no idea if it was Leidolf money, Nokolai money, or just Rule’s money. But she knew the combination, so she went up to get the Rhej some cash. “Is five hundred enough?”
    “Oh, yes, I think so. Thank you, Lily.”
    “You shouldn’t be traveling on your own. You should have a guard, I mean.”
    She shook her head. “Not takin’ anyone with me, but Mark’s bringing the car around to drive me to the airport.”
    Lily tried one more time to get some clue what the woman was up to, but all she got in return was a smile and a hug.
    Lily’s meet with her lawyer was at nine. She got there five minutes early, but was sent straight in anyway. Miriam Stockard turned out to be five foot nothing, with dark gray hair, serious glasses, and a pale yellow suit that had probably cost more than Lily made in a month. More than she used to make in a month, at least. She was all but unemployed now.
    The lawyer also turned out to have a trace of a Gift Lily didn’t have a name for, save that it was connected to Air. Lily had run across people with that kind of magic before—sort of a nascent telepathy Gift, so faint and unfinished it didn’t mess people up. Ms. Stockard couldn’t read minds, but Lily would bet she sometimes made good guesses about what a prosecutor or witness was thinking.
    Or a client, for that matter. Lily got through the interview okay. Neither of them wanted to be buddies, both wanted to win, and Ms. Stockard was every bit as sharp and icy and focused as her reputation claimed. The arraignment had originally been set for that afternoon, Stockard said, but she’d gotten a postponement. She was in touch with the prosecutor. There was a chance the man would drop the charges. Lily should not get her hopes up, but it was worth a shot.