Ritual Magic

in Welsh—a beautiful, lilting language she didn’t know, but that soothed her in one way even as it roused her in another. It was the language he used for lovemaking. She forgot to be shaky and upset and licked her lips. “That both helps and doesn’t.”
    He chuckled.
There was a man you were eyeing earlier.
    “The one in charge of security?” She’d forgotten his name, but she remembered him quite well otherwise. Long and lean, very masculine, with straw-colored hair and the most beautiful way of moving . . . she turned, knowing exactly where he was.
    Everything had gone perfectly, and all she’d had to do was follow Dafydd’s plan . . . which was just as well, because for some reason she couldn’t plan well herself right now. But Dafydd had thought of everything. First put Isen Turner to sleep, then have the guards nearby come in. They’d told her who was in charge of security; they’d summoned the man by saying his Rho wanted him. The security man—what was his name?—had done as he was told, too. He’d brought twenty of the guards here and made sure those currently patrolling wouldn’t interfere. The knife could control more than that, but Dafydd was reserving most of its power for the ritual. Miriam had given those twenty guards her instructions—Dafydd’s instructions—and told the security man to wait right there, next to the table.
    And so, of course, he had.
    Go work out your fidgets, little one.
And he goosed her right between her legs with a flare of heat.
    She laughed out loud and wiggled, delighted with the hunger that spread out from his touch, and walked up to the tall man watching her silently. She ran a hand up his chest. “Mmm. What was your name again?”
    “Pete,” he said, never taking his eyes off her.
    “Well, Pete, I have something else I’d like you to do.” She took his hand and led him to the closest bedroom.
    * * *
    L ILY stopped the car beside the sign that notified people they were about to run out of public road. Just ahead, the road swerved around a tall, stony outcrop, then ran straight for a half mile, right up to the gate to Clanhome. Rule leaned forward to squeeze her shoulder, then climbed out. Cullen got out, too. The van pulled in behind her, but Joel didn’t shut off its engine. Everyone but him piled out; Mike, Barnaby, Gray, and Ronnie headed off with Rule and Cullen into the brush. Scott joined Lily in the Mercedes. He sat in back with Friar and pulled out his knife to have it ready. Just in case.
    The gate guards would have heard them coming, but with luck the van’s louder engine had hidden the sound of the Mercedes. The last turnoff before Clanhome was about four miles back, and people who’d missed it sometimes noticed the sign and turned around here. Joel would imitate them, turning the van around and heading back up the road for seven minutes. He’d then turn around again and drive back, timing his arrival for fifteen minutes from now.
    Fifteen minutes had to be enough. The conjunction was only an hour and twenty minutes away. Lily settled herself to wait, her phone in one hand.
    When they started making plans, it was immediately obvious that they didn’t know enough. Friar still wouldn’t tell them more than “turn left” or “go straight.” That had to change, but they also had to find out more about the situation at Clanhome. Any or all of its residents might be under Miriam’s control, and they didn’t know enough about how that worked. So they’d decided to grab a couple of Nokolai and find out.
    The gate guards, to be specific. The gate was far enough from any of the houses that no one would see what happened there. There were always two guards there, one four-footed and one on two legs. The four-footed guard often patrolled along the fence, staying within hearing range of the gate so he could speed back if needed. He would have heard their cars, so if he wasn’t at the gate now, he soon would be.
    It was really hard to subdue a wolf without hurting him. Lily didn’t know how Rule planned to handle that, but he and his men shouldn’t have a problem capturing the two-legged guard. When he had both of them, he’d call Lily. All she had to do was wait. And wait. And try not to keep checking her watch because that would make her crazy, but . . .
    Her phone vibrated. She checked the screen, huffed out a sigh of relief, and started the car. “On my way,” she told him.
    The gate was open. Rule stood near it. Gray