Ritual Magic

should be with her,” Benedict said. “In recovery. I can make sure she doesn’t try to use her Gift.”
    Sengupta pursed his lips. “And you are . . . ?”
    “Her father.”
    The surgeon’s eyebrows shot up. Benedict looked slightly younger than Nettie. “That is . . . a remarkable claim.”
    Benedict’s lip lifted in a snarl.
    “He’s lupus,” Rule said smoothly. “Our age doesn’t always show. He would certainly be the best one to ensure that Nettie doesn’t try to use her Gift.”
    Dr. Sengupta cast Rule a look, frowning but with some curiosity mixed in. “Very well. I will arrange it. Understand that she’ll be fuzzy-headed and in pain. Her instinct will be to heal herself. You must impress on her on how dangerous this would be. You must be firm.”
    Benedict nodded once. “Where do I go?”
    As the little surgeon gave directions, Rule considered the man’s surprising familiarity with the instincts and limitations of healers. He turned to ask Lily to find out if the man had a trace of that Gift.
    She stood absolutely motionless, one hand still clutching the mug she’d filled and forgotten, her face a blank mask—save for the tears slipping from her eyes, shining damply on her cheeks.
    Fear leaped up, lodging in his throat. His hand tightened on hers. “Lily?”
    “I . . . it’s Sam. He just told me. My mother . . .” Now she turned to look at him. “He’s finished, and it worked. Her mind is stable.”

EIGHTEEN

    L ILY rubbed the back of her head with one hand and tried to concentrate on the copy of Karonski’s report she’d gotten from Ida. It appended reports from the Big A, Erskine, the crime scene squad, and the coven. She had it spread out in hard copy with the database about the amnesia victims called up on her laptop.
    Her head hurt.
    It was one of those sneaky headaches that starts small so you won’t notice it and take action, but the little guy with the big crowbar had clocked in at some point and was hard at work prying open her skull. The little guy is industrious. As long as you’re still, he can keep working. If you move, it jostles him. That makes him mad and he whacks you with the damn crowbar.
    The doorbell chimed, Lily raised her head and the little guy whacked her. She winced. Maybe she’d better take something.
    She was in a tiny corner bedroom of the house that would get around to feeling like home one of these days. The bedroom on one side of her held Grandmother and Li Qin. Apparently Grandmother was no longer pretending Li Qin was just a companion; that room had a double bed. On the other side was the temporary master bedroom, with Toby’s room just beyond. They were using this one as an office, though instead of a desk it held the dining table that used to sit at one end of their apartment. Lily still didn’t understand how they’d gotten the table in here. It barely fit. Rule’s stuff was spread out over one end of the table. Lily sat at the other.
    Downstairs she heard voices. Rule’s, for one. The other one was too faint for her to identify, but it was male. She listened intently a moment, but no one sounded upset. Not bad news about Nettie, then.
    Benedict and Arjenie had stayed at the hospital along with a half dozen guards, whose presence was probably stressing the hospital personnel. Nettie had come around in recovery and done exactly what the surgeon had said she would—tried to use her Gift. But Benedict had been there and told her to stop it. Nettie wasn’t one to take orders and she’d been too fogged by drugs and pain to listen to reason, but he was her father. That voice had reached her on a level no one else’s could. She’d stopped.
    It must be one of Rule’s men downstairs, Lily thought, rubbing the back of her neck. Though they didn’t usually ring the bell. She frowned, wondering if she ought to go find out, but the question didn’t seem as pressing as her headache. She had a bottle of water already and there were ibuprofen pills in her purse. She dug them out, swallowed two, and forced her attention back to the report.
    Several minutes later, the stairs creaked as Rule came up. He didn’t come into their makeshift office, though; she heard a door open and felt him move into the bedroom at the other end of the hall. The one that held her mother.
    Rule could move silently when he wanted, but it wasn’t necessary. Normal noises wouldn’t wake Julia up. Grandmother had said she would sleep at least eight hours