Lupi 09 - Mortal Ties

you’d
     like to put that gun away?” The last was accompanied by a roguish waggle of his eyebrows,
     as if he invited Lily to some faintly wicked act.
    “We’ll see,” she said pleasantly as she and Rule entered the room trailing Cullen
     and Scott. “You’re Jasper Machek?”
    “And you’re Lily Yu.” That wide mouth stretched in an attractive smile. “I’ve seen
     you interviewed. You’re even lovelier in person, I must say, than on TV. But I don’t
     know the two gentlemen with you who are not Rule Turner.”
    “Cullen Seabourne and Scott White.”
    “Seabourne.” Machek’s eyebrows lifted. “How awkward, yet how convenient.”
    Cullen answered him coolly. “Is it, now?”
    Machek didn’t respond, apparently fascinated by the sight of Cullen. Rule glanced
     around the large room. Someone had poured quite a bit of money into the house, gutting
     this floor to create the kind of open floor plan beloved of designers these days.
     At one end, the big bay window held a cluttered roll-top desk, its top open. A pile
     of fur slept on top of an assortment of papers there…a cat, actually, but Rule wouldn’t
     have known that if not for his nose. Couch, church pew, and chairs in the middle.
     Dining at the far end, with the kitchen around the corner.
    The room smelled of cats, people, peppers, and ginger. Chinese takeout, he guessed,
     glancing at the square dining table, where a foam container held what remained of
     today’s lunch.
    With his immediate territory charted, he took Machek upon his invitation to sit, choosing one end of the couch. The end nearest his newfound
     kin. He drew in a slow breath and learned that Machek was a good deal more anxious
     than he looked. And guilty about something.
    Machek met his gaze. Blinked. “This is disconcerting, isn’t it? Especially when you
     look like my much-younger brother, not older. If you’ll tell me who does your work,
     I know any number of people who’d love to make him rich.”
    Work? Oh—plastic surgery. Rule smiled a trifle grimly. “Clean living.”
    Machek snorted.
    Cullen sat while they were talking, taking the other wing chair. Scott fell back to
     the wall sheltering the stairway, where he could keep an eye on most of the room.
     Lily holstered her weapon, advanced toward Jasper, and held out her hand. “It’s good
     to meet you.”
    His eyebrows flew up. “Is it?” But he rose automatically and accepted her outstretched
     hand.
    “Well,” she said after they shook, “that’s a surprise.” She glanced at Cullen. “It’s
     a very slight Gift, but it feels like yours.”
    Cullen leaned forward, studying Machek intently.
    Machek frowned at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “You must have seen the wrong news clips, or you’d know that I’m a touch sensitive.”
    “Son of a bitch,” Cullen said. “You’re right. He’s a sorcerer.”
    Machek stiffened. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
    “I’m frequently ridiculous. You’re still a sorcerer.”
    “But—” Machek drew a breath, exhaled, and waved one hand. “Never mind. I have a touch
     of the Sight. It doesn’t make me a sorcerer, but if you—”
    Cullen didn’t let him finish. “What do you think a sorcerer is, anyway?”
    “The legal definition is someone who sources their spells outside themselves. Since
     I don’t have any spells—”
    “The legal definition is bullshit. You must know that. You’ve stolen enough texts
     to understand—”
    “I steal them. I don’t read them.”
    Cullen looked astonished. “You must.”
    “Why?”
    “Never mind,” Lily said, finally sitting down herself next to Rule. “Whatever you
     call your Gift, it must come in handy in your profession. No one can pass a dummy
     magical item off as the real thing when you can see the magic, or lack of it.”
    He cast her a wary glance. “Yes, well, I’m retired, actually. Or was. Is he”—a nod
     at Scott—“just going to stand there?”
    “Yes,” Rule said.
    Machek’s eyebrows lifted. “What is he—a bodyguard? Do you trail bodyguards everywhere?”
    “Yes,” Rule said again. “Every so often, someone tries to kill me or Lily. I’d like
     to hear about the deal you wanted to make.”
    “We should get to it, shouldn’t we?” But instead of launching into explanation, he
     leaned forward, head down, rubbing his hands together as if they ached. “I want,”
     he began. Stopped, and muttered, “No, I’m making this too complicated.