Ritual Magic

the spell that damaged these people that leads you to that assumption, you need to share that information. If you don’t, how can you assure me of any such thing?”
    He smiled with such vast superiority that she was reminded of an elf she’d once known and hadn’t killed. “I am a board-certified emergency room physician with over eighteen years of experience. You may rely on my assurance.”
    “I understand Mr. Liddel plans to go through detox.”
    “Ah—yes.” Plackett pursed his lips. They were puffy, too. “I will, of course, make the proper referral, but we are not set up for that here.”
    “It’s very important that I keep track of him. Please see that my office is informed of where you transfer him.” She handed him one of her cards. “While you’re looking for a spot for him, you’ll keep him here, of course. Given the possibility of coma, he must have ongoing medical supervision.”
    Plackett took her card and huffed out a breath. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a bed at a detox facility for an indigent? There are waiting lists. Long waiting lists.”
    “I understand that you are reluctant to admit him while you search for a bed, but—”
    “Reluctant? I can’t keep him here. Medicaid won’t pay for it. Unless there’s a new diagnostic category I don’t know about—one for admission based on magically induced trauma with medical repercussions?”
    “You’re pretty good at sarcasm. Not top of the line, but pretty good. Who has the authority to admit him, if you don’t?”
    That chapped his ass. “I have the authority. That doesn’t mean I’m going to jump when you say jump. If the FBI wants Festus Liddel hospitalized, the FBI can pay for it. Or you could put him up at the Hilton with a private nurse. Or take him home with you. I don’t care. Keeping track of him is your problem, and I will not be bullied into making it mine.”
    “He’s your patient. I’ve told you he’s at risk for coma, and that’s not your problem?” She shook her head. “If you have the authority but lack the willingness, I need to talk to your superior. Or maybe I should cut to the head of the line. I get to do that. Who’s the CEO here?”
    “You are not going to wake up the CEO.”
    “Be a shame if I had to do that, wouldn’t it? He might think one of his staff should’ve shown a little initiative so he could get in his eight hours without being pestered by rude federal agents.”
    Plackett caved. He knew he was caving and hated it and hated her, but he agreed to admit Liddel until the man could be transferred to a detox facility. Then he stomped out of the break room.
    Someone else entered. “You made an enemy there.”
    With a sigh of relief Lily turned to face Rule. She’d wanted him with her for hours. “Yeah, I’m all torn up about that. What are you doing here?” Her throat tried to close up. “If you have news—”
    “No, nothing like that.” He came to her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Julia is with Sam. We won’t hear from him for at least another twelve hours, probably longer. I came to get you.”
    “I don’t need to be fetched, but if you want to go with me, I’m headed back to St. Margaret’s next.”
    “It’s three thirty in the morning. You’re headed to bed.”
    “Oh, that’s going to work—pop in and tell me what to do. I’ve got . . .” Her brain felt sluggish. Too sluggish for math. “Last time I checked, thirty-two possible cases had been reported to the Unit. I’ve confirmed fourteen of them—no, fifteen with Liddel—and eliminated two, which means—”
    “That someone else will have to check out the other fifteen reports, plus however many more have come in.”
    “Who?” she snapped. “Cullen is tending to Sam’s mysterious security measures. No one else can tell if magic was involved. The traces left by whatever happened are too weak.”
    “But others can interview the victims and their families and make educated guesses, which you can confirm after you’ve slept. You can’t do it all yourself, Lily. If you try, you’ll make mistakes.”
    Because she was too tired to think straight, he meant. Rule could go all night and into the next day with no real problem. Sometimes that was handy. Sometimes it irked the hell out of her. “You’re right, and while that is deeply annoying, I’m not as mad as I should be. Why is that?”
    “Perhaps because you vented some of your spleen on the unfortunate