Lupi 08 - Death Magic

ruptured his heart and flung him into the abyss where leaf-crunch and fire-crackle melded with inky black, a silent tsunami of song and pain rending him, rendering him . . .
    Whole. Reformed, two-footed, his breathing unruffled, Rule lingered in the fringe of trees long enough to pull on the jean shorts he’d carried in his mouth.
    He’d been right. Ruben and Deborah’s land welcomed the Change. He strode out of the lovely little scrap of forest into their backyard.
    Deborah stood near one of the rear flower beds, a dirty trowel in one hand. She wore a faded blue sweatshirt and jeans. She was staring at him.
    “I hope I didn’t startle you,” he said as he drew near. “I’m afraid I’m a trifle underdressed, but it’s difficult to carry much in the way of clothing when I’m four-footed.”
    She had an odd, stunned expression on her face. “What did you do? I . . . felt it. Something moved through the earth. I’ve never felt anything like it.”
    “The Change calls earth to dance with moonsong. I imagine it would feel peculiar to one touching Earth at the time.”
    “Peculiar. Yes.” She smiled suddenly. “And incredibly lovely. I was encouraging my rhododendron, you see. You’re here to see Ruben?”
    “I am, yes.”
    “I’ll take you to him. “
    “I don’t like to interrupt you.”
    “I’ll take you to him,” she repeated, and started for the house. Rule perforce walked with her. “You didn’t want to be seen coming to the house. That’s why you came through the woods in, ah, your other form.”
    “It seemed best.”
    Silence fell. He didn’t try to fill it, sensing something was brewing in her. Halfway across the yard, it boiled over into words. “I hate this. I hate it.”
    Her voice, low but throbbing with emotion, told him to step carefully. “This?”
    “This, them . . . the people who tried to kill him. The way we’re living now, with guards lurking around. Ruben almost died, but he didn’t, so now they’re trying to strip him of everything else—honor, freedom, his reputation, his work. He didn’t even want me to work outside today. He wishes I weren’t here at all, but he especially wishes I wouldn’t go into our own yard. He wants me to hide. Did you know that?” It was demand as much as question. “He wants me to go into hiding.”
    Rule knew. He’d suggested it to Ruben last week . . . but it had already occurred to Ruben that their enemies might try to grab Deborah, to use her against him. She refused to leave her home and her husband. “You’ve every right to be angry.”
    “Oh, that’s fine, then. I’m entitled to my anger, so that’s fine.” She stopped, faced him. “He doesn’t get visions about himself. He doesn’t even get hunches, usually, not about his own welfare.”
    “I know.” It was a common blind spot for precogs. They were much more likely to get hunches about others, or about the grand sweep of events. Now and then a precog might have a feeling he shouldn’t cross a certain street at a certain time, but most of the time a precog was as likely as anyone else to step blithely into the path of an out-of-control car.
    Deborah shook her head as if to shake off some troublesome thought. “How do you do it? Lily was injured last month, just like Ruben. She’s a target still. You have to live with that. How do you do it?”
    What could he say? That his wolf wasn’t prone to worry? That the man was, so he wrapped as much protection around Lily as she’d allow? Neither of those options was available to Deborah. “I fell in love with a cop. She’s always been a target. The danger is greater now, but she hasn’t changed. I can’t ask her to.” He paused. “It helps when I can run as wolf. Does digging in the earth help you?”
    “Sometimes. Lately it hasn’t been enough.” She started walking again, her head down. “You and Lily are partners in this—this secret war. You aren’t pushed to the sidelines, to the sit-home-and-wait role.”
    Rule was uneasily aware of being drawn too close to the explosive intimacies of someone else’s marriage. Probably he should shut up. He didn’t. Her distress was too real. “Have you been pushed?”
    “No.” She brushed her hair back impatiently. “I opted for the sidelines years ago, as far as Ruben’s job goes. I didn’t see a place for me there, and I had my own place. Teaching matters to me. That way worked for both of us for a long time. It isn’t working