Lupi 08 - Death Magic

searched her memory. “Late twenties, shaggy hair, very slight charisma Gift?”
    “That’s him. Richards is in his early fifties, brown and black, mustache, small half-moon scar on his jaw. Wiccan with a teleport Gift. Ida is sending you their phone numbers so you can get in touch if you need to.”
    “Any word on Fagin’s condition?”
    “Just that he’s reached the hospital. Do you think Sherry can get you out without Fagin’s presence?”
    “Cullen thought so. Sherry does, too. She knows the specifics of the bargain Fagin has with the elemental. She knows how to contact it.”
    “For which she needs Fagin’s blood.”
    “Apparently.”
    “How’s Seabourne doing?”
    Lily glanced at the pale face of the unconscious man stretched out between her and Rule. Rule had used the pillows to get Cullen’s feet higher than his head. While it was rare for a lupus to go into shock, taking steps to prevent it kept his healing from having to work on that as well as the burns. “Second- and third-degree burns over an estimated nine percent of his body. Breathing shallow, but not labored. He’s hurting, he needs fluids, but he’s lupi. He should be okay.”
    “Good. You’re cleared to collect evidence. Ida is setting up the expert consult you requested.”
    Evidence collection was not Lily’s job. Sure, she’d had training, but a patrol cop’s job was to secure the scene, not wander around picking up cigarette butts. Homicide cops and FBI agents didn’t play CSI, either. There were specialists for that. At the moment, though, Lily was all they had. She wanted help, advice, questions answered. “Thanks.”
    “You should get a call soon about that. Oh, and I’ll have someone waiting to take custody of whatever you collect once you’re able to leave. Hannah, probably. The press is out in force.”
    As if to underline that thought, the news copter dipped close enough for her to see faces and a camera behind the glass bubble. No doubt there were plenty of the earthbound version of the press waiting to pounce on the other side of the barricades the police had set up on Fagin’s street. “You need to tell them to keep their damn helicopter higher. No saying what the elemental might do if it decides they’re a threat.”
    “They’ve been warned. I’ll repeat it. When the press descends on you—”
    “I’m good at ignoring them.”
    “I don’t want you to. Tell them that the elemental is not dangerous as long as it isn’t disturbed. Emphasize the need to keep back. Emphasize that it hasn’t harmed anyone. You can add that we’re pursuing all leads regarding the bombing, and I’ll be giving a press conference at three thirty.”
    “Bless you.”
    “You’re welcome.” He sighed. “What the hell was Fagin thinking, dealing with an elemental?”
    Lily didn’t try to answer that one. It was a good question, though, so after she disconnected she repeated it. “What the hell was Fagin thinking?”
    The unconscious man spoke. “Thought it was little.”
    Lily jumped. “You’re awake.”
    “Unfortunately. Thirsty.”
    “I’ve got water,” Rule said. “No, hold still.” He lifted Cullen’s head and shoulders with one arm and held a glass to his lips.
    Cullen drank the entire glassful without opening his eyes. “Ah. Good. That’s good.” Rule lowered him back to flat. “Fagin thought the elemental was little. Sherry probably told him that. I thought so, too. Looked small, not much power. Turns out most of it was asleep. They don’t sleep here.”
    Lily frowned. “Here . . . you mean in our realm?”
    “Yeah. We need Fagin’s computer. I’ve got the journal, but we need the other one. The book.”
    Rule spoke. “What book?”
    “ Ars Magicka. A grimoire. By Eberhardus Czypsser.”
    “Gesundheit,” Lily said.
    “It’s in medieval German. The translation’s on Fagin’s computer.”
    “The one on his desk?”
    “Yeah, it . . . shit. Fire’s probably not good for computers.”
    “I’m guessing it isn’t. But—”
    “Original’s in his safety-deposit box. Cambridge. You can get a warrant or something.” His eyes came open, burning blue in his pale face. “I need that book.”
    “I was about to say that Fagin is not an idiot. He’s bound to have backed up his work. Even if he didn’t, it may be possible to recover the data from his hard drive.”
    “Get everything. I need . . .” He winced. His eyes closed again. “Dammit,” he muttered. “Think some of the