Mortal Ties (49 page)

Rule took out his phone to make his own call…to Cullen. Who had a helicopter. Much
faster than cars in San Francisco’s appalling traffic.

And Drummond’s last word had been
hurry
.

S
AN
Francisco traffic sucked. Lily had never been so glad for a traffic jam in her life.

The gun-toting elf drove the CR-V. The other elf had stayed at the apartment to keep
an eye on the sleeping Sean. Alycithin rode in the backseat so she could keep an eye
on Lily, who was stashed in the back. They’d added a rope to her ankles to go with
the restraints holding her arms behind her back. It wasn’t comfortable, but considering
what waited for her, she thought she should at least try to enjoy the ride.

Mostly she thought about Rule. Had he been injured last night? Had any of the men
been killed? Was Jasper okay? Several times she tried to reach Rule, but she could
tell she wasn’t budging her dial. Whatever fuel mindspeech burned, hers was used up.

He would come. As soon as Alycithin left and took her damn Gift with her, the mate
bond should start working properly again. He’d feel her, and he’d come, but it didn’t
make sense to just charge in. Plans took time. So the question was: Did Friar want
to take his time with her? Or would he gloat briefly, then make her quickly dead in
some hideous ceremony?

He might skip the gloating and the ceremony and go straight to the killing. She didn’t
think so. She didn’t think that would please the one he served.

Drummond was still gone. Of course, he couldn’t show up when she was in the car anyway,
from what he’d said, so maybe he was here but unable to materialize. What did he think
he could do? That “thing between the two of you,” he’d said. Was he talking about
the mate bond? He’d never said anything before about being able to see or touch it.

What would happen to Drummond if she died in the next couple of hours? The thought
startled her. Surely they wouldn’t still be bound. Even the mate bond didn’t endure
past death. What would happen to him?

The CR-V speeded up as whatever traffic snarl had had them crawling loosened up.

“I have been thinking,” Alycithin said. “If Robert Friar does intend to use you to
fuel death magic, he will not kill you while Benessarai is present. Nor will Benessarai
allow him to abuse a hostage. However he feels about me, he has too much pride to
so abandon his honor. Benessarai will be here at least another twenty-four hours.
Our flight leaves at eight in the evening tomorrow…unless he has
lied
to me about that, too.” She laid a gently sarcastic stress on the word.

“Alycithin, I appreciate you wanting to make me feel better, but why would Benessarai
be at this warehouse? Robert Friar won’t want him around when you’re exchanging the
prototype for me. He won’t want Benessarai to know he isn’t getting the prototype.”

“No, he won’t be present now, but he will be there soon. This is why I had to hurry
you. We must complete the exchange before Benessarai returns.”

“And Benessarai is going to jet back to D.C. with you tomorrow without the prototype?”

“Ah, but he will believe he has it. Sadly, it will turn out that the skull used for
the device was damaged at some point in its adventures, so it isn’t working properly
now. Robert Friar will apologize profusely for this. But I am assured your sorcerer
does not know how to hide his spells,
so the spellwork will seem to be intact. Benessarai will give the device to his father,
expecting him to be able to duplicate it. Lord Thierath is highly skilled. He could
certainly do so if he were given the actual device.”

Lily thought that over. “Wrong skull?”

“I do not have Lord Thierath’s skill, but once I have the original in my possession
I can create a close enough facsimile to fool Benessarai.”

“If this device could destabilize your realm, wouldn’t Lord Thierath know that?”

“Your people have a saying—like father, like son.”

“He’s a fool, too.”

“I am sure I did not say that.”

The CR-V slowed. Slowed more, and turned. And stopped. Lily’s heart began to pound.

“We are here,” Alycithin said.

She wasn’t ready. Her stomach went queasy, and her mind went blank.

The halfling used the knife on her belt to slash the rope at Lily’s ankles and seized
her foot before she could lash out with it. Alycithin was brisk, efficient, and absurdly
strong. She dragged Lily out effortlessly. Lily barely managed to get her feet under
her in time to keep from landing on her butt. Dinalaran stood close by with his gun,
and Alycithin seized Lily by the restraints and nudged her forward.

They were parked in front of a bare-bones style warehouse—concrete blocks painted
a dingy yellow, with a regular door directly ahead and a dock and high-loading door
several feet away. There was room for a semi to pull up at the dock.

A car drove by on the street behind them. She wondered what the elf looked like to
its driver.

That driver wasn’t the only person around. The warehouse next to theirs was bigger
and bustling—two trucks were being unloaded and another waited its turn. Lily had
already tried getting the attention of passersby, though, on her way out of the apartment
building. Alycithin was too damn good with her Gift.

Alycithin said something in her language.

The people-size door opened. A large, fat man stood in the doorway. He wore a trench
coat, T-shirt, jeans, and boots. He was bald with a tattoo on his forehead, and he
carried a sawed-off shotgun in one hand.

This wasn’t quite the way she’d intended to find Hugo.

“She’s here,” he said loudly, “with her half of the deal.”

Wait a minute. “How come he noticed you?” she asked Alycithin.

“Does your friend not know how to use her Gift selectively? I suppose little training
is available to her here.”

Hugo moved out of the way, and a second man emerged.

Robert Friar was looking good. His deep tan hadn’t faded. The silver in his dark hair
was as dramatic and attractive as ever. He wore tailored slacks and a good-quality
cotton shirt, open at the throat. It was a deep, rich shade of blue that complemented
his coloring. He carried a black bowling-ball bag.

He looked at Lily. Delight lit his eyes. Anticipation. Then his gaze shifted to the
woman holding her. “Alycithin, how good to see you again. I hope you will excuse my
haste, but we have only a short time before Benessarai and the others return.”

“I do not object to haste, but you must take down the wards on the building so I can
confirm that we are alone save for our agreed-upon attendants.”

“I’m afraid I failed in part of my task. Benessarai refused to show me how to take
down the wards.”

“Then we will not exchange here and now, Robert Friar. Dinalaran,” she said, adding
something in her language as she took a quick step back, pulling Lily with her.

Lily didn’t see it happen. One second she was being tugged backward. The next a huge,
hard shove sent her flying—and a gunshot shattered the air. A second shot boomed almost
immediately as Lily landed on her knees, still falling, but she rolled so she ended
on her side—and saw Alycithin facedown on the concrete, her back a bloody mess. With
Dinalaran standing over her, gun in hand.

He’d shot her in the back. Her own man had shot her.

She’d shoved Lily out of the way. Whatever sense had alerted her, she’d used that
split second to save Lily, not herself. The rounds in that SIG would likely have gone
right through Alycithin and into Lily.

“That,” Friar said disapprovingly as he stepped forward, “was poorly done, Dinalaran.
Do you know anything about that weapon in your hand? If Alycithin hadn’t quixotically
chosen to— Hugo,” he snapped. “Get her.”

It was awkward to get to your feet quickly with your hands bound behind your back,
but Lily managed it—only to be confronted by the elf’s SIG Sauer, all too quickly
followed by the oversize Hugo, who pinned her to him with a forearm around her neck.
He felt a lot harder and more muscular than he looked. He smelled like pizza.

Lily glanced quickly at the other warehouse. It was only fifty feet away, but everyone
there continued to unload trucks. No one had heard the shots. No one had seen a thing.
Someone was still hiding them. If not Alycithin, then who? She’d thought Dinalaran
was one of the body-magic guys. Could he be that good at illusion, too?

Something dropped to the concrete with a metallic thud. She looked quickly that way
and saw Dinalaran sink to his knees, tears streaming down his face. He’d dropped his
weapon. He looked up and began to sing.

He had a high, pure voice. His song was clearly a lament, the melody simple and haunting.

“Can’t have that,” someone else said. “It is not fitting that my cousin’s murderer
sing her death song.”

Another person had emerged from the warehouse. He was tall and slim and beautiful
and dressed all in white—loose white tunic-length shirt, white leather pants, white
boots. His long hair was loose and the color of a new penny. It shone brightly in
the winter sun, as if it were indeed made of metal instead of collagen. The tips of
his pointy ears poked through that copper curtain. He wore what looked like an enormous
blue sapphire on a chain around his neck. One slender hand rose gracefully to touch
the stone. He murmured a few words.

Dinalaran hushed and stiffened. Slowly his hand moved to his boot. He pulled a knife
from it and closed his eyes and rested the tip of the knife on one eyelid. He adjusted
the angle slightly and plunged it up into his brain.

His own body fell across Alycithin’s.

“Poor Dinalaran. He has atoned as much as he was able,” the copper-haired Benessarai
murmured.

“Ah, well,” Friar said. “We have a saying: all’s well that ends well.”

“Time to tidy up.” Benessarai stepped away from the doorway and gestured. Four more
elves flowed out the door. They wore leather pants in a variety of hues, but their
shirts all matched his—white and long and flowing. They had great, long knives sheathed
on their backs. He spoke to them in his language and gestured at the bodies.

None of the four spoke. Their lovely faces were serene, unmoved by what was supposed
to look like a murder-suicide. But when they reached the bodies, they handled them
with great care. Dinalaran was shifted off Alycithin. Both were lifted, moved several
feet away, and laid down once more. The elves began arranging their clothing and their
limbs with finicky precision.

Benessarai spoke sharply. The elves stopped and backed away.

Friar looked at him and raised one lazy eyebrow. “You do not want the bodies placed
in stasis?”

“I must first assure myself that she is dead.”

“Ah. You aren’t confident your people can tell the dead from the living.”

The insult rolled off the thick armor of Benessarai’s arrogance. He answered with
the sublime indifference of one who knows that little can be expected of the lesser
beings around him. “You would not, of course, understand. She was an abomination,
but half that abomination was Rekklat. With Rekklat, one always makes sure.” He glided
forward.

Robert Friar approached Lily. Behind him drifted a white, indistinct cloud.

Drummond was back. It was ridiculous to be so relieved.

Friar stopped in front of her. “Much has changed since we last spoke.”

“Yeah, the last time I saw you, you were too busy escaping to stop and chat.”

“Strange. I seem to recall you doing the running. You and all your wolfish friends.”
His stroked her cheek with one finger and lowered his voice. “You won’t be running
this time.”

Lily’s mouth went dry. He sounded relaxed. He looked calm and at ease, but his eyes
burned with feverish intensity. And with that single casual touch of his finger, he’d
let her know he was brimming with power. Overflowing with it, power like nothing she’d
ever touched before.

She didn’t want to fear this man, but she did. “Benessarai did something to make Dinalaran
kill Alycithin. A compulsion spell, maybe.”

“Very good,” he said, as if she were his pupil and eager for his approval. “He is
a wonderfully talented
seurthurin
. That is one who practices the arts of the mind. Benessarai would say that today’s
events were Alycithin’s own fault. She failed to make sure her people took adequate
precautions.”

“Blame the victim? How very human of him.”

“You may not want to say so where Benessarai can hear. I’m afraid he’s quite shortsighted
about our species.”

The copper-haired elf had knelt beside Alycithin’s body and was drawing shapes in
the air over her open, staring eyes. He uttered some syllables, paused, then nodded
with satisfaction, stood, and spoke to his people in his own language.

“Really most completely dead,” Friar murmured.

Lily hadn’t needed the confirmation. The mate bond was working freely again. She knew
where Rule was—and he was close. Very close, but not yet here. They needed to stay
out in the open a little longer. “Where’s Adam King?”