Lupi 08 - Death Magic

Washington Monument. That’s an earth elemental. Not a big one, nowhere near the size of Fagin’s, but . . . shit. There’s another one under the Smithsonian. It’s deep, but I can see a glow.”
    “Can you tell who’s summoning them?”
    Cullen crouched and put one hand on the ground. “I suck at Earth magic, but here goes.” His lips moved, but all Rule caught was a cadenced sort of murmur. An incantation, he supposed. Cullen straightened. “No clue who’s doing it, but I think it’s a call, not a summons. That’s good news.”
    “The difference being—?”
    “A call is just that—‘hey there, how ya doing, want to come have some blood?’ A summons is a compulsion and takes beaucoup power, especially with earth elementals. I’d rather not go up against anyone who could summon multiple earth elementals, then keep them from trying to kill each other. Highly territorial, earth elementals. Or, hell, anyone who could summon a single elemental the size of the one Deborah’s hanging out with. If . . .” His voice trailed off. He squinted, then started walking toward the stage at the far end of the Mall.
    Rule kept pace. “Manny, Tom—your job is to keep Cullen alive. Stay with us. The rest of you, fan out, centered on me. Fifteen-foot perimeter.” He lowered his voice. “What is it?”
    “I just caught a glimpse. Something leaked, but only for a second. Maybe someone broke the circle, then closed it up again. But I could swear someone’s working a spell under that damn stage.”
     
     
    “ . . . EXCEPT for the death magic,” Mullins finished. “Al didn’t know about that, didn’t believe you when you said it. But he’s been a cop too long. He got itchy, checked something out. Found that setup on Webster. You were right. They’ve been collecting homeless people, killing them to make death magic. Al couldn’t stomach what they were doing, what they planned to do, so he called me. Two of us couldn’t do it alone, though. We’d just get killed, then they’d go ahead and kill everyone. So I called you.”
    They’d moved inside—all of them, or almost. Maybe 1223 Hammond wasn’t as completely derelict as 1225, but it was equally abandoned. Lily had summoned Scott and Chris, and the five of them sat or squatted on a kitchen floor every bit as dirty as the ground outside. In here, though, they didn’t have to worry as much about being heard.
    Lily looked at Drummond—who was technically under arrest. Mullins had informed him of that before calling Lily. Mike had disarmed him and sat next to him now, ready to stop him if he tried anything. He hadn’t said a word since his demand to “get this son of a bitch off me.”
    He didn’t look like a man undergoing a crisis of conscience. More like a balked fanatic. “You’re okay with violating your oath,” she said. “Okay with killing Ruben Brooks—”
    “He’s not dead.”
    “Not your fault he lived, though, is it? You didn’t object to your buddies killing a senator, either—one who was as anti-magic as you are. Did he find out too much about Dennis Parrott, or was he just a convenient way to frame Ruben? I’m not even going to ask you what part you had in bombing Fagin’s library and nearly killing him and Cullen. You probably don’t think they’re real people, seeing as how one’s lupus and the other’s Gifted. You’re cool with massacring lupi and Gifted, but I’m supposed to believe you draw the line at killing homeless people.”
    “I don’t give a damn what you believe.”
    “Al,” Mullins muttered, “you’re not helping.”
    Drummond shot him a look Lily couldn’t read. “Look,” he said impatiently, “she’s not going to buy it if I play the repentant sinner. She and all her magical crowd are an imminent and ongoing danger to the people of this country. That’s fact, and if you can’t see it now, you will. But yeah, I do draw the line at killing innocent people. Especially killing them in such a foul way. It . . .” His lips tightened to a thin line. After a moment he went on, eyes blazing. “And if you don’t quit talking this all out and give me back my weapon so we can do something about it, they’ll all die.”
    “Who’s in this with you?”
    He shook his head, a small, bitter smile on his thin lips.
    “You want my help, you’re going to have to—” Her phone vibrated. She pulled it out of her pocket, saw who the text was from, and smiled tightly. At last. She read it, sent a quick