Ritual Magic

Earth witch, and Abby is that, but she’s inexperienced at this sort of thing. He has to teach her the spell first, plus there’s a lot of prep involved. He said not to expect him until I saw him.”
    “Why didn’t he have Miriam do it with Abby? Surely she knows the spell.”
    “She’s at the hospital trying to figure out a way to remove the contagion from Officer Crown. He . . .” Her voice drifted off as the door to the conference room opened. Her eyebrows shot up. “You look like hell. Are you what Isen sent me against his better judgment?”
    “I doubt it,” Cullen said. “That’s probably the person right behind . . . no, she’s stopped to talk to someone.”
    “Is that Cullen?” Rule asked.
    “Unless we’ve got more doppelgangers running around.”
    “Not funny.” A short pause. “I hear Mark downstairs. That will be lunch, so I’d better go pry Toby and Julia away from the computer. You need to eat, too.”
    Lily had given up trying to persuade Rule that she ate regularly even without being reminded. For lupi, staying well-fed meant staying in control. One of the most basic things they did for each other was to offer food. Frequently. “Sure. You, too. See you whenever.” She disconnected.
    Cullen had wandered to the end of the room where she’d set up her murder board. He was studying the photos taken before the body dissolved. “How come you’re awake?” she asked. “Sam thought you’d be unconscious at least twenty-four hours.”
    “That would be my doing,” said a familiar voice from the doorway. An amazon stood there grinning at her through the spiderweb whorls tattooed on her face and pretty much every other bit of skin that showed.
    “Cynna!” Lily’s heart lifted. She and Cynna hadn’t started out as friends, which just went to show how lousy first impressions can be as predictors of anything important. She shoved back her chair, suddenly sick of sitting. “I’m glad you’re here, but why are you? I thought you’d be in lockdown, under the circumstances. Where’s Ryder?”
    “To answer your first question first, I gave Cullen a pick-me-up. He might come in handy, even if he is still too weak to light a candle.”
    “Hey,” Cullen said without turning away from the murder board. “I could handle a candle. Maybe even a piece of paper.”
    Cynna’s grin flickered. “Besides, he’d be royally pissed if I came here without him. Answering question two—or was it three?—I pumped out some milk for Ryder, who’s staying at Clanhome with the tenders. I’d be there, too, if Isen had his way. But he ain’t the boss of me.” Her smile was impish. “He needs to be reminded of that sometimes.”
    “What she means,” Cullen said dryly, “is that neither Isen nor I could argue her out of coming. She claimed she had a nudge from the Lady.”
    “I did not. I said I had a feeling I was needed. It might be the Lady giving me a nudge, it might not, but either way, she didn’t nudge me to stay put. So it’s okay for me to get out of Clanhome for a while.”
    Cynna Weaver was a Finder who wore her spells on her skin. She was also Cullen’s wife, a new mother, former Dizzy, practicing Catholic, former FBI agent, and the Nokolai Rhej. A Rhej was the clan’s connection to the Lady, more wisewoman than priestess, and keeper of the clan memories. She was able to draw on the magic of the entire clan, though Lily wasn’t clear on whether that power came from the mantle or from each clan member. “You zapped Cullen with clan power?”
    “I did. He’s still as weak as a sweet little butterfly—”
    Cullen snorted. “You could make that weak as a tired old tyrannosaurus or a gorilla with a bad cold. But no. You—”
    “Grumpy as a gorilla with a bad cold, maybe. Anyway, it seemed like with him being able to see magic and me being able to use it, we might be useful. And I needed to tell you something.” She came closer and held out her hands.
    Puzzled, Lily took them and touched leaves and moss. That was how Cynna’s Gift felt—like the intricate patterns found in a leaf, the organic growth of moss.
    “I’m so sorry about your mother.”
    Lily’s eyes stung. She blinked fiercely. “I know. I mean, of course you are. I mean . . . dammit.”
    “And it’s pissing you off that you’re about to cry, and I get that, so I won’t say anything more. We’re going to figure this out. So, ah . . . do have something in mind for me to do? Anything I could