Lupi 08 - Death Magic

She didn’t turn around.
    Should she insist? God knew her news would affect Deborah as well as Ruben, so maybe the woman had the right to hear it. But Lily didn’t know Deborah well. She didn’t know how she’d act or react, especially if Ruben did run. She’d be questioned relentlessly. If she gave Lily up . . .
    “We have company,” Deborah announced in an overly bright way as she entered the kitchen.
    Lily began to think she’d interrupted an argument.
    “Lily!” Ruben sat at the breakfast nook at the west end of the room. A built-in-banquette curved around the table; two chairs were tucked in at the front. He looked tired.
    A timer dinged. “Ah, that’s the cookies.” Deborah veered for the oven, grabbed a hot pad, and opened the oven door. Scent washed out. “She says she comes bearing trouble. I’m going to pour her and her friend some coffee.” She smiled at Scott as she set the cookie sheet on a cooling rack. “Do you like cream or sugar?”
    “Nothing for me, thanks,” Scott said.
    “You’ll have cookies, at least.”
    “Deb,” Ruben said as he eased out of the banquette and stood. “They’re not here for cookies. Ah—Scott, is it?”
    Lily nodded. “Scott White. He’s one of Rule’s people. Ruben . . .” Lily glanced at Deborah, who was pouring the coffee she was so determined to offer. “I got a call from Anna Sjorensen ten or fifteen minutes ago. They traced the dagger used on Bixton.”
    “That ought to be good news. I’m guessing it isn’t.”
    “They traced it to you.”
    Ruben’s face went blank. Deborah dropped the cup she’d just filled. It smashed loudly.
    Ruben spoke slowly. “I assume there’s a warrant for my arrest. Are you serving it?”
    “No! No, I came to warn you because, ah—because of everything we discussed the night of the barbeque.”
    He nodded. “Deborah knows about my visions.”
    “They can’t arrest you,” Deborah said blankly. “That doesn’t make sense. They can’t think you could do such a thing. Not unless one of them is one of the bad guys.”
    Ruben rubbed his face with one hand. Tired, yes—maybe beyond tired. He looked halfway beaten. “With sufficiently damning evidence, they’ll have little choice. Someone has seen to it that such evidence exists.”
    Deborah bit her lip. Straightened her shoulders. And spoke firmly. “You’ll do what you have to, of course.”
    He looked across the kitchen at her. Their gazes held for a long moment. “I love you,” he said. “Beyond reason or measure, I love you.”
    A small smile played over her mouth. “And I love you. But I would really like to have some clue just what you’re going to do.”
    He gave a half laugh. “So would I. Lily.” He looked at her with the oddest expression—puzzlement and dismay mingled with a peculiar, hard focus. “Why are you here?”
    She blinked. Shock had rendered Ruben stupid? “To warn you. Like I said. I don’t know what you’ll do, what you should do. I was hoping you’d seen this. Foreseen it, I mean, or something like it, and maybe had plans to . . . but I guess not.”
    He shook his head. “Why are you here? My phone works.”
    “Your . . .” A cascade of shocks swept through her like electricity—pop! pop! pop!—no, it was magic, magic fizzing on the inside, not on her skin, magic like a hundred bottles of Coke shaken and spewing and that’s all she saw, too—magic cascading behind her eyes, a phosphorescent explosion smearing a rainbow of whites across her eyeballs.
    The floor reached up and smacked her in the back. She felt that, felt her breath whoop out at the blow, felt her legs twitching and her arms jerking and heard voices calling her name . . .
    No, only one voice, a beautiful voice, compelling as starlight. A woman’s voice. She called Lily’s name , the name only Sam knew, the one the black dragon had sung to her once. Only once.
    Her true name. Stillness flowed from that calling like spilled ink seeping into the rug, staining the frenzy of magic with quiet.
    “Okay,” she said, or maybe she didn’t, because she didn’t hear herself. The white was bleeding out of her vision, leaving a face hovering above hers—fuzzy for a second, but turning sharp and clear. Ruben’s face. His eyes were dark and worried. His hair had fallen onto his forehead. His mouth was moving. Dimly she heard his voice, but she didn’t know what he was saying.
    Okay , she said again, but this time she knew she hadn’t said it with