Lupi 08 - Death Magic

young lupus several years to learn to control the Change and his wolf. “I guess new wolves want to be around their age-mates.”
    “It’s more need than want,” Rule said. “The two years following First Change are critical to integrating our dual natures. Lupi who are deprived of age-mates in that period can be forever at war with themselves.”
    Cullen didn’t look happy. “So limiting availability is off the table. Chemical and mechanical means won’t work. I’m going to have to find a magical method.”
    “Is there such a thing?” Lily asked, startled. “A magical contraceptive?”
    “By the time my daughter turns thirteen, there will be.”
    “I guess that’ll be complicated, since, uh . . . I mean . . .” This was not an easy subject. “It’ll have to be a flexible method, won’t it? There aren’t condoms for wolves. And they couldn’t put them on if there were.”
    “Oh, you’re talking about when she’s wolf.” Cullen said. “That shouldn’t be as much of a problem. We’ll have to wait and see to be sure, but it’s unlikely she’ll be in perpetual heat the way human females are.”
    Lily opened her mouth. Closed it.
    “Biologically speaking,” Rule said apologetically, “being in heat means being fertile. Human females don’t have heat cycles because they remain potentially fertile. Female wolves generally go into heat only once a year, in the winter.”
    Cullen nodded. “We may have to segregate Ryder when her wolf’s in heat, but the jury’s still out on that. We can only speculate based on the behavior of wild wolves, but abstinence might work for her wolf form. Most female wolves refuse to mate with non-dominants, and the dominants Ryder will be around will be adults and able to control themselves.”
    “Out of charity for Mason,” Rule said dryly, referring to the Nokolai elder who had charge of the youngsters at terra tradis , “segregating her during her cycle might be best.”
    Cullen chuckled. “Maybe so.”
    Lily sighed. “I’m really, deeply uncomfortable talking about fourteen-year-old kids having sex.”
    Two uncomprehending male faces turned toward her.
    “It doesn’t feel icky to you? Never mind.” Clearly it didn’t. Lupi were deeply protective of their children. Lily knew that. No pedophile who preyed on—or tried to prey on—a clan child had to worry about arrest. He’d be way too dead to worry about anything. And kids having sex with kids was not the same thing at all, and there’d been a time when fourteen-year-olds married, but . . . not now , she told herself firmly. “Let’s talk about something simpler, like illusion spells.”
    “They don’t exist,” Cullen said promptly. “Not in any meaningful way. Not in our realm.”
    “And yet someone who looked like Ruben killed Senator Bixton. Wait, wait,” she said, shoving her chair back. “I need my pad.” Taking notes was how she thought.
    Rule put his fork down, reached out one long arm to the nearby counter, and retrieved the little spiral she knew damn well she’d left in her jacket pocket.
    She accepted it from him. “When you stay three jumps ahead of me, I start feeling inadequate.”
    “You’re welcome.” He handed her a pen, too.
    She flipped to the page where she’d jotted down the questions she wanted to be sure she asked Cullen. “Okay. Illusion spells don’t exist in our realm, but the Great Enemy isn’t from our realm, isn’t human, and doesn’t have a lot of limits on what she can do. One of the limits she does face is contacting someone here directly. She’d need a telepath on this end to do that, right?”
    “For the kind of clear communication it takes to teach someone a spell, yes,” Cullen said. “At least she did three thousand years ago. If she’s learned any new tricks since then, she didn’t use them when she was getting the Azá to open that gate for her. Friar probably dreams about her.” He shoved his chair back and headed for the coffeepot. “I mean that both ways. He’s smitten, plus she probably contacts him in dreams.”
    “But it would be somewhere between unlikely and impossible for her to teach him an illusion spell in a dream, right?”
    “In my opinion, yes. But I’m not an Old One.” Cullen refilled his mug and leaned against the counter to sip from it. “Still, what little I know about illusion spells suggests that they’re mage-level, if not adept. Friar’s got a gazillion oomphs of power now, but even if she