Lupi 08 - Death Magic

desk, the desk, it will shield us—
    The ground reached up and smacked them as the air ignited in a wall of stink, heat, and flame.

TWENTY
     

     
    THE woman’s gray hair frizzed around her face in an untidy halo. Her eyes were small and suspicious, her skin as scuffed and worn as an old suitcase. She smelled of baby powder, sweat, and the chicken concoction she shoveled into a small, pursed mouth with all the dainty greed of a cat enjoying a dish of tuna. Her hands were small and immaculately clean, even under the nails he suspected she trimmed with her teeth. They looked chapped.
    She did not smell of alcohol, unlike the man on Rule’s right. He gave off fumes that should have robbed everyone in a nine-yard radius of their appetites. “But you do know Birdie, I think,” Rule said. He didn’t say the woman’s name because he didn’t know it. She wouldn’t give it to him.
    “Everyone knows Birdie,” she said without looking up. “I ain’t seen him lately, but that don’t mean he ain’t around.”
    “How long do you think it’s been since you saw him?”
    “Well, now let’s see.” She stopped eating and mimed patting her pockets. “Sumbitch. I think I done lost my PDA, where I jots down all that important shit.”
    Rule wasn’t sure why he didn’t give up and move on to someone else. She didn’t want to talk to him, and he couldn’t make her. But she was enjoying giving him a hard time. Why not let her have a few more minutes of it? “It’s hard to know who to trust, isn’t it?”
    She snorted. “That’s easy. Don’t trust nobody. Do I know you from someplace?”
    “I’ve been on TV now and then. I’m the Lu Nuncio of my clan.”
    “Of your . . . shit, you’re that prince guy. The werewolf.” Her eyes narrowed even more and she pointed at him with her fork. “You’re a ce-le-britty.” The last two syllables sounded more like “bratty.”
    Rule grinned. He was beginning to like her. “Of sorts, yes.”
    “How come you’re here without the cameras? Ever’ time you goddamn ce-le-britties come around to feed the homeless, there’s a camera someplace. Marianne says it’s good publicity. Brings in donations. I say it’s a pain in the ass.”
    “But I’m not here to feed the homeless. I’m looking for Birdie.”
    “He ain’t here.”
    “True. Is there anyone else who’s usually here who you haven’t seen lately?”
    “Tom Cruise. That man plumb loves the chicken and noodles. Can’t figure why he ain’t been around lately.”
    “Perhaps he’s on a diet. Us celebrities have to watch our waistlines.”
    “Ha!” In high good humor, she slapped the table. “P’raps he is. Watchin’ your waistline, are you? Why you wanna know all this, anyway?”
    He glanced across the noisy room. It wasn’t as crowded now. The line of people to be fed was gone; there was a shorter line now leading to the trash cans. Patrons were encouraged to scrape their cafeteria-style trays before turning them in.
    Lily was talking to a tall man in a spattered white apron—one of the servers. She had instructed Rule firmly not to divulge why they were here. Some of these people were not screwed down tight, and all lived a precarious existence. It would not be helpful to tell them that someone might be snatching homeless people and killing them to power their magic. “I’m not supposed to tell you,” he said at last.
    Her mouth twisted in scorn. “But I’m supposed to tell you stuff?”
    “I can’t think why you would,” he admitted. “I may not be here for a photo op, but I do want something from you. Why should you care what I want?”
    She stuck a forkful of chicken-whatever in her mouth and chewed in silence for a moment. “She’s a cop. That woman you came with.”
    “Yes. Federal, not local.”
    “Why’s she want Birdie?”
    “She thinks someone may have harmed him.”
    “You ’spect me to believe some big-shot federal cop cares what happens to Birdie?”
    “She cares.” Rule looked at the nameless woman who smelled of baby powder, whom life had taught a great deal about survival and very little about trust. “You have no reason to believe that, but it’s the truest thing I know. She cares what happened to Birdie.”
    “Hmph.” The sound was scornful, but after another bite the woman put her fork down. “You wait here. I’m gonna turn in my plate, then maybe I’ll tell you.” She heaved herself to her feet.
    Rule waited. Why not? While she was gone the pungent