Lupi 09 - Mortal Ties

another waited its turn. Lily had
     already tried getting the attention of passersby, though, on her way out of the apartment
     building. Alycithin was too damn good with her Gift.
    Alycithin said something in her language.
    The people-size door opened. A large, fat man stood in the doorway. He wore a trench
     coat, T-shirt, jeans, and boots. He was bald with a tattoo on his forehead, and he
     carried a sawed-off shotgun in one hand.
    This wasn’t quite the way she’d intended to find Hugo.
    “She’s here,” he said loudly, “with her half of the deal.”
    Wait a minute. “How come he noticed you?” she asked Alycithin.
    “Does your friend not know how to use her Gift selectively? I suppose little training
     is available to her here.”
    Hugo moved out of the way, and a second man emerged.
    Robert Friar was looking good. His deep tan hadn’t faded. The silver in his dark hair
     was as dramatic and attractive as ever. He wore tailored slacks and a good-quality
     cotton shirt, open at the throat. It was a deep, rich shade of blue that complemented
     his coloring. He carried a black bowling-ball bag.
    He looked at Lily. Delight lit his eyes. Anticipation. Then his gaze shifted to the
     woman holding her. “Alycithin, how good to see you again. I hope you will excuse my
     haste, but we have only a short time before Benessarai and the others return.”
    “I do not object to haste, but you must take down the wards on the building so I can
     confirm that we are alone save for our agreed-upon attendants.”
    “I’m afraid I failed in part of my task. Benessarai refused to show me how to take
     down the wards.”
    “Then we will not exchange here and now, Robert Friar. Dinalaran,” she said, adding
     something in her language as she took a quick step back, pulling Lily with her.
    Lily didn’t see it happen. One second she was being tugged backward. The next a huge,
     hard shove sent her flying—and a gunshot shattered the air. A second shot boomed almost
     immediately as Lily landed on her knees, still falling, but she rolled so she ended
     on her side—and saw Alycithin facedown on the concrete, her back a bloody mess. With
     Dinalaran standing over her, gun in hand.
    He’d shot her in the back. Her own man had shot her.
    She’d shoved Lily out of the way. Whatever sense had alerted her, she’d used that
     split second to save Lily, not herself. The rounds in that SIG would likely have gone
     right through Alycithin and into Lily.
    “That,” Friar said disapprovingly as he stepped forward, “was poorly done, Dinalaran.
     Do you know anything about that weapon in your hand? If Alycithin hadn’t quixotically
     chosen to— Hugo,” he snapped. “Get her.”
    It was awkward to get to your feet quickly with your hands bound behind your back,
     but Lily managed it—only to be confronted by the elf’s SIG Sauer, all too quickly
     followed by the oversize Hugo, who pinned her to him with a forearm around her neck.
     He felt a lot harder and more muscular than he looked. He smelled like pizza.
    Lily glanced quickly at the other warehouse. It was only fifty feet away, but everyone
     there continued to unload trucks. No one had heard the shots. No one had seen a thing.
     Someone was still hiding them. If not Alycithin, then who? She’d thought Dinalaran
     was one of the body-magic guys. Could he be that good at illusion, too?
    Something dropped to the concrete with a metallic thud. She looked quickly that way
     and saw Dinalaran sink to his knees, tears streaming down his face. He’d dropped his
     weapon. He looked up and began to sing.
    He had a high, pure voice. His song was clearly a lament, the melody simple and haunting.
    “Can’t have that,” someone else said. “It is not fitting that my cousin’s murderer
     sing her death song.”
    Another person had emerged from the warehouse. He was tall and slim and beautiful
     and dressed all in white—loose white tunic-length shirt, white leather pants, white
     boots. His long hair was loose and the color of a new penny. It shone brightly in
     the winter sun, as if it were indeed made of metal instead of collagen. The tips of
     his pointy ears poked through that copper curtain. He wore what looked like an enormous
     blue sapphire on a chain around his neck. One slender hand rose gracefully to touch
     the stone. He murmured a few words.
    Dinalaran hushed and stiffened. Slowly his hand moved to his boot. He pulled a knife
     from it and closed his eyes