Lupi 09 - Mortal Ties

magic?
    God, yes. Just like he hated the gun laws in this country that made it too fucking
     easy for bastards to blow each other away along with whoever else might be standing
     nearby. Didn’t mean he hated guns—just the ones used by goddamn idiot losers who had
     no business being handed power like that.
    That’s what he hated about magic. That it could be wielded by losers at least as easily
     as by the good guys. That it could—like all power—turn a good guy into a loser.
    He should have told Yu that. She didn’t trust him, whichproved she wasn’t an idiot. But he needed her trust. He needed her, period. Needed
     her more than he’d needed his mother’s tit as a baby.
    Just went to prove…if there was a God, He had one sick sense of humor.

FOUR

    “I’ M fine, Mother. Really.” Beth Yu dropped to the floor, lifted the bed skirt, and peered
     into the crowded darkness under her bed. Nope. Not there. Which meant it had to be
     Deirdre…again. “The apartment may be small, but you saw it. It’s in a perfectly decent
     part of San Francisco, and…he did? Well, you can tell Uncle Feng to butt out of—”
    That, of course, was a mistake. While she listened to “Respect Your Elders” speech
     number twenty-seven she pushed to her feet and headed to the door of her closet, aka
     bedroom. Through superhuman organizational ability she’d managed to make room for
     her desk, but that’s about all it held. That and a small file cabinet and the twin-size
     bed she’d swapped out her old bed for so she could wedge the desk in. When you were
     freelancing from home, you had to have a desk.
    The door to closet number two—Deirdre’s room—was three steps down the hall. She opened
     it and frowned at the debris covering every surface. Was it only two years ago that
     she’d lived like this, too? Back then, it had seemed deliciously hedonistic. Liberated.
     Now it just looked stupid. You couldn’t find anything in a space this messy. Likeshoes.
Her
shoes, which Deirdre liked so much she kept borrowing them, maybe because she couldn’t
     find any of her own.
    Beth stepped into the one spot of carpet that showed between piles of cast-off clothing
     and started digging.
    When her mother paused for breath, she said, “I’m sure my uncle meant well, but I
     hate that he got you all worried. There’s nothing wrong with this neighborhood. People
     can get shot anywhere. No one was killed, and it isn’t like it was a gang shooting
     or something—”
    Another mistake. Usually she handled her mother better than this. She started tossing
     clothes around as her mother explained how very stupid it was to assume it wasn’t
     gangs when the police didn’t know who’d done it, and if the victim wasn’t dead yet,
     he probably would be soon, and if he didn’t die, he’d probably be paralyzed. How was
     that any better? Not that she wouldn’t far prefer to have a paralyzed daughter to
     a dead one, but this wasn’t about her feelings, it was about Beth’s safety.
    Beth sighed and pulled out the big guns. “I really think this neighborhood is safe,
     but you’re right, I have to be careful. I’ll ask Lily to check those crime statistics
     for the area again. Maybe they’ve changed. I know she said they looked pretty good
     when I moved here, but…”
    It worked. It worked so well Beth ground her teeth. Citing her sister calmed her mother
     as nothing else could these days. It was as irrational as it was infuriating. “You
     want to call her yourself? Oh, of course. I know…” Where were those damn shoes?
    “And just what do you think you’re doing in my room?”
    She must have been listening to her mother more than she’d thought. She hadn’t heard
     the front door. Beth looked up at the skinny girl lounging in the doorway. Deirdre
     had short, shiny blond hair, a nose stud, five piercings in one ear and three in the
     other. She didn’t trust even numbers. “Looking for my—hey!”
    Beneath the ragged hem of Deirdre’s jeans were the sky-high hot pink wedges Beth had
     bought when she got herfirst check as a freelance website designer. She waved at her roommate’s feet. “Take
     ’em off. No, Mother, I didn’t mean you. Deirdre borrowed my shoes and I want to wear
     them, so…listen, can I call you back? It might be late, but—okay, tomorrow, then.
     Love you.”
    She disconnected quickly.
    “You don’t need your shoes now,” Deirdre informed her. “It’s Tuesday. You’re