Mortal Ties (13 page)

Rule had been shunned for three days before he was named Lu Nuncio. Not because he’d
disobeyed. His father had wanted him to understand in his gut how serious a punishment
shunning was.

It had worked. Rule had had nightmares off and on for a year.

If a transgression was so severe that a week’s shunning
couldn’t expiate it, the punishment was death or removal from the clan. Of the two,
lupi considered death more merciful, but both were extremely rare. In Rule’s lifetime,
his father had had two Nokolai lupi killed for major offenses. None had ever been
banished.

But five female clan had.

One had been a thief. She’d stolen from the clan itself. Two had been simply troublemakers
and liars who couldn’t refrain from stirring up those around them. Another had nearly
caused the deaths of two children through a combination of willful disobedience, arrogance,
and stupidity. Each of those four had been driven to the destination of their choice,
given a couple thousand dollars, and cut off forever from Nokolai.

The fifth one had caused the tortuous death of a Nokolai lupus out of petty vindictiveness.

Twenty-two years ago, Nevada, Texas, Georgia, and Mississippi still had shoot-on-sight
laws for lupi who were in wolf form, though they were being challenged in court. Most
other states still had laws on the books for locking up lupi in either form, but by
then the lockup was only until they could be turned over to the feds. The federal
government was enthusiastically pursuing its more humane policy toward Rule’s people:
catch them, brand them, dose them with gado, then allow them to lead “normal” lives.

Gado weakens lupi, depriving them of both strength and healing. It also blocks moonsong,
preventing the Change. Lupi go crazy if deprived of the Change for too long. Different
lupi react differently to the drug; for a few, the effects of a single dose linger
for months.

Sheila had been angry at Carlos, a fellow clansman and former lover, and had turned
him in to the feds. He’d been caught, branded, and dosed. Nokolai found Carlos after
the feds released him, and hid him. That was no easy task back then. The brand on
his forehead wouldn’t heal until the gado was out of his system, and MCD liked to
keep a close watch on branded lupi, hoping to catch others.

It hadn’t helped. Four months later, Carlos still couldn’t hear moonsong. He’d committed
suicide.

Sheila was gone by then.

Isen couldn’t let her repeat her crime. She could have taken vengeance on too many
others by reporting them to the government, up to and including Isen himself. She’d
proven herself capable of doing just that. So he’d had her smuggled into Cuba, where
she was given the equivalent of five hundred dollars and left to survive. Or not.

Rule thought about Sheila as he stood beside Isen and watched clan obediently gather
in front of their Rho. Any lupus who had done what Sheila had would have been put
to death. But his people did not hurt women. Ever.

With one exception.

Their Lady understood her people. She’d never told them to protect women, no more
than she’d instructed them to love their children, fight their enemies, or revel in
the bliss of running four-footed. They did those things because they were as she’d
made them. Because she knew this, one of the very few laws she’d given them was that
any clan member who willfully and knowingly assisted the Great Enemy was to be put
to death. Any clan, male or female.

The Lady’s law must be followed. Isen had no choice. Neither did Rule.

What happened tonight depended on many things. It was possible a male clansman had
revealed details about Cullen’s workshop and his project, but it was far more likely
to have been a female clan. But who had she spoken to? What were her motives? Speaking
when she shouldn’t might result in benefit to the enemy, but stupidity wasn’t punishable
by death.

Rule breathed slowly and carefully and told himself he was not nauseous. His body
would heal nausea, so what he felt was tension, not illness. Isen understood the difference
between accidental aid and intentional. He was no fool.

But he was very angry.

“Squads Seven and Eight!” Isen called out. “Do you
smell guilt? Is anyone in your group lying by remaining behind?”

Rule couldn’t see what the four-footed guards did. Vochi blocked his view to the right,
Laban to the left, and those who’d been brought up front for questioning blocked the
rest. He didn’t turn around to look—not until Isen began to turn in a slow circle.
Then he kept pace, staying at his Rho’s side.

At the back of the crowd to the south, a wolf yipped. To the east and much closer,
another one did. Two reluctant witnesses had been identified.

“Bring them forward,” Isen commanded. Then, in an ordinary voice, he said, “Lily.”

She was behind Rule and to his right. “Yes?”

“I told you once that a Rho does not question his clan directly. That was an exaggeration,
but the basic principle is true. This is not yet a matter of trial and accusation.
I would like you to ask the questions.”

Rule’s hackles lifted. His ears flattened as he swung his head around to look first
at his Rho, then at Lily. He shook his head once.
No.

Lily met his eyes, her own dark and serious. “It will be all right,” she told him.

He shook his head again.

She walked up to him, knelt, and threaded her hand into the fur along his neck until
her fingertips touched skin. “It will be all right,” she repeated, but this time under
the tongue, so quietly that only he would hear. “You won’t have to kill anyone tonight.”

He stared at her, astonished that she understood. And upset that she didn’t.

“Oh. That’s not quite it, is it?” She bent and put her mouth close to his ear, her
voice so soft now it was barely more than a breath. “You won’t have to disobey your
Rho, either.”

“L
ILY
.”
Her name was a low rumble, like thunder in the distance. Isen’s voice was pure, deep
bass. Most of the time it seemed to rumble up from the depths of his barrel chest,
as if his lungs were located so deep in his body the sound had the time and space
to echo around in there. It was a voice well suited to menace when he wanted it to
be.

Lily wished she knew for sure he was aiming for menace instead of hitting it naturally
at the moment. She straightened, keeping one hand resting on Rule’s back. “I would
very much like to handle the questioning. Thank you.” Not that he was doing it to
please her. No, he had something else in mind, and maybe she’d guessed what that was.
One of his goals, anyway. Isen wasn’t a two birds with one stone kind of guy. More
like one stone, two birds, a rabbit, a fox, and maybe that deer will trip over the
fox and we can get him, too.

Which Rule knew very well. And he was still scared. Scared his Rho would ask something
of him he couldn’t do.

Something was going on Lily didn’t understand, but she knew what questions to ask.
She spoke to Isen. “I’d like to give the witnesses some directions first.”

His bushy eyebrows lifted a millimeter. “Very well.” He raised his voice, addressing
the tense group who’d come forward. “You will do as the Chosen bids.”

The Chosen. Lily ran her thumb over the other ring she wore. Not Rule’s ring, but
the one that held the charm the clan had entrusted to her when she accepted her place
in the clan. The lupi had considered her Nokolai from the moment the mate bond hit,
but the charm marked her acceptance of that joining.

The
toltoi
, they called the little charm. The
toltoi
wasn’t magic. Not exactly. Lily felt something when she touched it, something so
faint it almost wasn’t there, and that faint trace didn’t quite feel like magic. She
didn’t know what it was, and that was annoying, but she’d gotten used to not knowing.
Mostly.

Lily turned to look at her witnesses.

Maybe forty people waited to do as she bid. Six of them were male. All of them were
anxious. “First,” she said loudly, “does anyone have information that’s urgent? Not
just important, but urgent?” Some shook their heads. None spoke. “Okay, then. I want
everyone who spoke with or was questioned by someone from Laban to move to your right.
Everyone who spoke with or was questioned by someone from Vochi, go to your left.
If you’ve been questioned by people from more than one clan, get in the middle and
sit down. If you’ve been questioned by someone not from Vochi, Laban, or Nokolai,
get in the middle but don’t sit down.”

You sure couldn’t do this with witnesses anywhere else. They all did just what she’d
told them to do. There were a few murmurs as they determined where the perimeters
of each group lay, but otherwise they were quiet.

It was spooky as hell. “Thank you,” she said, taking a quick count. Only six on the
Laban side. Thirteen—no, fifteen on the Vochi side. Nine sat in the middle and eleven
stood. “I’m talking to the ones standing in the middle now,” Lily said. “If any of
you are up here because you talked to or were questioned by someone from Leidolf and
only
Leidolf, go sit…” She looked around. “Got sit on the west side, near Cynna.”

Everyone who’d been standing in the middle began moving. They were careful not to
encroach on the open area where Isen, Lily, Rule, and the others stood. Once they’d
gotten themselves over by Cynna she asked, “Is there anyone who was questioned by
someone who is not clan? Not from any of the clans?” She waited. No one spoke or moved.
“Okay. I’ll probably want to talk with each of you one-on-one, but not quite yet.
You can sit down while you wait, if you like, but stay in your groups and don’t talk
to each other.”

So much for the willing witnesses. The two reluctant ones had arrived, escorted by
two very large wolves, who prodded them to stand directly in front of their Rho. One
was thirty-ish, blond and blue, five-three, about one-twenty-five. That one-twenty-five
was arranged in a traditional hourglass shape. She looked miserable. The other was
younger—maybe twenty—with a narrow face, long dark hair, very straight, and olive
skin. Five-nine, but about the same weight as the other woman. Long and lean. Lily
couldn’t see her expression clearly. She kept her head lowered, letting that long
hair curtain her face.

“Isen,” the miserable one said, “I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“No?” he said. “You won’t mind answering Lily’s questions, then.” He made a small
gesture with one hand. Rule moved to stand between the two women.

“Cullen, would you bring the mage lights lower?” The lupi might go by scent, but Lily
needed to see faces. “Thanks,” she said as the lights bobbed down to hover at head
height. “We haven’t met,” Lily said to the two women, “but I guess you know who I
am. What are your names?”

“Sherrianne,” the blond said. “Sherrianne Jacobson. I’m Sam’s daughter.”

Lily blinked. Sam was a dragon…but obviously there was another Sam.

“Sam Posey,” Isen said. “He’s running the vineyard now,
but he lived here for many years. Sherrianne grew up at Clanhome, but moved away as
an adult. At her father’s urging she returned soon after the hostilities began—she
and her son, Will. He’s
ospi
, not lupus, and she and her ex share custody. I believe Will is with his father for
the holiday?”

Sherrianne nodded unhappily. “Can we talk privately?”

“You will talk to Lily now.”

Lily said, “In a moment.” Sherrianne might have started out reluctant, but she was
longing to confess now. Whether her confession would be helpful remained to be seen,
but Lily wanted to let her build up more steam. She looked at the dark-haired young
woman. “And you?”

She didn’t look up. Her voice was low. “Brenda Hyatt.”

“I’ve seen you around Clanhome.”

Brenda didn’t answer—but for the first time she glanced up at Lily. Her eyes were
dark and brimming with emotion. Anger, certainly. Defiance, too. She looked down again
quickly.

Defiance came with the territory at a certain age, but Brenda was beginning to interest
Lily. “How old are you, Brenda?”

“I don’t see why I have to answer your questions.”

Lily smiled. Oh, yes, Brenda interested her greatly. “If you aren’t impressed by Isen’s
order, maybe my badge will mean something to you. Special Agent Lily Yu, Unit Twelve,
FBI. You can think about your rights and responsibilities as a citizen while I talk
to Sherrianne.” She gave a little jerk of her head, indicating that the other woman
should follow her.

There was no way to talk privately, of course. Not with so many lupi ears nearby.
But she’d give the woman some semblance of it. Lily stopped a few feet away.

Sherrianne followed. Rule kept pace with her. He would act as a lie detector. Human
experts dithered over how to detect lies, or if it was even possible. Lupi were quite
sure it was—for them. The blend of stress, fear, and guilt from a lie had a subtle
chemical signature they could detect when in wolf form. It was easiest if the liar
was a lupus
confronted by his Rho or Lu Nuncio; supposedly lupi never lied successfully then.
Humans were harder to read, but high-stakes lies were easier to detect even for a
mere human. They produced more emotion.