Ritual Magic

breath unimportant. He stood ten feet away, pale god of the dark forest, garbed in his own glowing skin over muscles taut with life’s heat. His hair was tousled and friendly, hair one might touch, or at least dream of touching. And he saw her and smiled.
    His smile lit his face with whimsy and mischief, and his eyes were the dark of the sky overhead, his full lips curved up—oh, full, yes, ripe and full his mouth was. Full of wicked suggestions. She fell to her knees, smitten by awe and the rush of desire.
    He walked up to her, and his penis was full and engorged, saluting her merrily as he crouched on one knee. “You came,” he said softly, and his voice echoed inside her as he reached for her hand.
    Why had she thought it her foot she’d hurt? It was her hand that bled, throbbing along with the heat in her loins. She tried to pull it back, embarrassed by the untidy blood welling up.
    “No,” he told her. “No shame, nothing held back.” He kissed her hand gently and pulled her to him, whispering, “You can share anything . . . everything . . . with me.”

TWELVE

    T HE San Diego International Airport handled fifty thousand passengers a day. It cozied up to the ocean without being quite on the shore; international flights came in over the water. And it looked, Lily thought, pretty much like every other airport. Lots of glass, lots of concrete, lots of cars jockeying for position on that portion of the concrete designated for passenger pickup.
    She swerved in front of a bright yellow muscle truck to snag a spot by the curb. The pickup’s driver didn’t appreciate her vehicular dexterity. He leaned on his horn. She did not shoot him the finger. FBI agents don’t do that sort of thing. Besides, she didn’t need to. She’d won. He’d lost. Ha ha.
    The white Toyota following her lacked a parking spot. Mike was driving it, with Todd riding shotgun . . . well, not literally shotgun. Todd had a Smith and Wesson M&P9. Nice weapon, if a bit large for her hand, but not a shotgun. Mike stopped smack in the traffic lane, forcing the line of cars to veer around him. Those drivers didn’t appreciate him, either.
    She could have let Mike drive her. Probably should have. But she’d wanted to be alone. Just for a couple-three hours, she’d wanted to be alone. Being alone in San Diego traffic might not be optimal, but it was better than nothing.
    After five hours’ sleep, she’d woken up to another twenty-seven reports of possible victims. Ackleford—who’d apparently not even gone home last night, grabbing a nap on the couch in his office—had flagged those cases she needed to check out personally. The rest fit so well in terms of symptoms and time of onset that she could skip them for now. She’d checked out six victims this morning before heading to the airport to pick up Karonski. Four of the six got added to their victim tally.
    Her mother was still at Sam’s lair. Her sister Beth had arrived and was staying with their father, who still wasn’t speaking to Lily. Her sister Susan was staying with him, too. Susan was speaking to Lily. She’d had plenty to say, mostly about how Lily had stabbed their father in the back and how it was all on Lily’s head if Mother didn’t do well following Sam’s so-called treatment.
    Lily had suggested Susan yell at Grandmother, too. Susan had hung up.
    Rule had just left Clanhome, according to the mate bond. Headed for St. Margaret’s Hospital, according to the text he’d sent. He was bringing Nettie with him. Nettie Two Horses was Rule’s niece and age-mate. She was also a physician, healer, and shaman with ways of examining patients not available to her medical colleagues.
    Rule had spent the morning at Nokolai Clanhome handling a disciplinary action. Discipline was one of his duties as Lu Nuncio, and there were a pair of young Nokolai in need of formal rebuking. His father would have let him reschedule, but Lily had told him not to bother, not on her behalf, at least. Then she’d had to persuade him she wasn’t playing martyr by urging him to follow through with his duties. Rule didn’t really understand her need for time alone. He accepted it, but he didn’t share it. Lupi don’t feel crowded by the presence of other clan.
    Lily glanced at the dash clock. Five till noon. Karonski’s flight was on time, so he’d be out PDQ. Alone time was almost up. She sent Karonski a quick text so he’d know where to find her.
    She could easily have