Lupi 08 - Death Magic

Three days in a row now it had rained. Surely it couldn’t do it again?
    Against those clouds a red and white mechanical dragonfly darted. Lily could hear the whomp-whomp-whomp of the news helicopter as it dipped closer. She resisted the urge to shoot the bird at the reporters. Not a good image for the six o’clock news.
    There were four of them on this side of the wall: her, Rule, Cullen, and Scott, who’d leaped it before it finished growing, unwilling to leave his Rho without protection. Scott sat on the bottom step frowning at the earthen rampart enclosing them. Rule sat across from Lily near the other pillar. Cullen lay between them in a nest of blankets and pillows that Scott had found in the house.
    Damn them. Whoever they were. Lily didn’t know, couldn’t even guess. Friar’s people were staying so many jumps ahead she was dizzy, furious with her own consistency. Again and again she failed to keep up, much less catch up. Why had they attacked Fagin? Had Fagin even been their target? Why a firebomb, of all things?
    She was just so damn tired. It felt like she’d been up all night or tried to run for miles after fasting. No reserves. “What did you mean when you asked Cullen if the elemental was emerging?” she asked Rule.
    “You know that each type of elemental has a preferred form they take sometimes?”
    “Yeah, I guess. Salamanders, sylphs . . . I can’t remember the other two.”
    “Earth elementals emerge as giant worms or snakes when they want to do battle.”
    “Oh.” She made an effort and got her eyes open. “Guess we should be glad it didn’t emerge, then.”
    She glanced at Cullen, but he hadn’t shifted. When she looked at Rule, she frowned. His eyes looked funny.
    “Are you holding up okay?” he asked.
    “I’m tired, pissed, but my head doesn’t hurt. How about you?”
    “Me?” His eyebrows lifted. “I’m fine.”
    He sounded fine. His body looked loose and relaxed. But his eyes . . . there was too much black in his eyes, she realized. Not a big difference. If you didn’t look closely, you’d think his pupils were slightly enlarged, but she knew better. Black was trying to eat the irises and spread itself out over his eyes.
    The Change. That’s what that meant. When black swallowed Rule’s eyes, he was fighting the Change. But why? They weren’t in immediate danger. And maybe why wasn’t as important as doing something about it. She got up and went to sit beside him. His arm came around her, and she leaned into him.
    If this felt as much better to him as it did to her . . . “Full moon tomorrow night,” she said casually.
    “I’m okay, Lily.”
    When she looked at his eyes, they were normal again. So maybe he was okay, now. She wasn’t sure he had been a minute ago.
    At the moment, he literally had his hands full—one arm around Lily, the other hand resting on Cullen’s shoulder. It allowed Cullen to relax, he’d said. Lily wasn’t sure relax was the right word, but she knew what Rule meant. The contact let Cullen know all the way down that his Lu Nuncio was with him. He didn’t have to fight to retain control of himself or cling to consciousness. He was safe.
    They were, too—as long as they didn’t try to leave. Fortunately, Cullen had told them what to do before unconsciousness claimed him. Call Sherry. Get some of Fagin’s blood.
    Sherry was on her way. Lily was on hold. She put her phone on speaker so she’d hear it when Croft returned and set it in her lap.
    “You think they were after Fagin or Cullen or the library?” she asked. “Cullen thought it was the library.”
    “Hard to guess until we know what Cullen was doing here.”
    “True.”
    Rule never had trouble controlling the Change as full moon drew near. Even on the night of the full moon when, he said, moonsong was so pure and sweet it made a mountain spring seem tainted, he could refuse the Change if he needed to. But it was taking effort for him to hold it off now, with a day still to go. “Rule—”
    “Sorry that took so long,” said a voice from her lap.
    It was Croft. She picked up the phone and took it off speaker. Not that it mattered—Rule would hear both sides of the conversation anyway. “No problem. I’m here.”
    “I’ve got people heading for the hospital to guard Dr. Fagin. One of them will bring you the vial of blood, assuming Fagin gives consent—either Matthew Cates or Royce Richards. Do you know them?”
    “I don’t know Richards. Cates is . . .” She