Blood Magic (25 page)

Lily touched the app that gave her the Yellow Pages—and on impulse, searched for a different listing from “taxicabs.” A smile tugged at her mouth. “How about a limo instead?”

“A limousine.” Grandmother’s eyes lit with humor and delight. “A very large one.”

“Long and shiny.”

“And black. I do not care for the white ones.”

“Long, shiny, and black. With a uniformed driver.”

Grandmother approved this with a nod. “Your mother,” she announced, “will be surprised.”

Oh, God, yes. Was it terrible of her to want to watch?

It took a few moments to arrange—moments she probably shouldn’t have used this way. But Grandmother’s childlike delight was impossible to resist. Lily prepaid with her credit card—Grandmother didn’t have a purse with her, and there were no pockets for a wallet in those slacks.

Besides, this was her gift. “They’ll pick you up on Vista Hill,” she said after disconnecting. She grabbed her jacket, but didn’t put it on. “I’m afraid the nearer roads are still closed, but maybe I can get you a lift to the pickup spot. I’ll walk downstairs with you.”

“You have far too much to do to escort me.”

“True,” Lily said, unreasonably cheerful. “But I need to do some of it with Hennessey and Dreyer, who are downstairs.”

“Very well.”

They left the room together. As they reached the door to the stairwell Lily said, “There’s one more thing I’d like to ask.”

“Yes?” Grandmother waited for Lily to open the door for her.

She did. It was still stinking hot in the stairwell, she noted glumly. “Where have you been? Where could you hide that this Chimei couldn’t find you?”

“I would think you could figure that out.” This was said with great satisfaction. She moved ahead of Lily to the stairs. “I have been at the zoo.”

Incredulous, Lily repeated, “The zoo?”

“Of course.” Grandmother started down the stairs as nimbly as if heat and age were equally unimportant. “The Chimei never knew me in my other form. I did not possess that ability until long after we defeated her in Luan, so she could not find me once I transformed. And where else may a tiger hide comfortably in San Diego?”

THIRTY-ONE

IT
was hours before Lily was able to leave the hospital. When she did, it was still too damned hot.

She carried her jacket as she headed for her car. Her shirt stuck to her. Normally she didn’t even notice her shoulder harness, no more than she’d notice she was wearing shoes. At the moment she was aware of every inch of it pressing against her, holding in the heat.

To the west, out over the ocean, clouds were piling up, dark mounds capped by incandescent white. She sneered at them. Twice during the current heat wave, storms had built up out at sea—and busted their guts without coming in to land, leaving the city as hot and parched as ever.

Damned teasing clouds.

She’d made sure the FBI’s crime scene people played nicely with the local arson investigators. Both teams might come up with useful evidence, and even if the plan was to evict the sorcerer from their realm, they’d need to prove they had the right perp. She’d made sure Dreyer’s people asked witnesses about an Asian man in scrubs. Unsurprisingly, some people had seen such a man. Lily had spoken with some of them to see if he might be her perp.

Mostly, no. There were plenty of Asian doctors on staff, and most of the reported sightings were either of a physician the person knew, or they were in the wrong place. Some were possible, though.

She really needed a picture of him. A name would be good. While she was wishing, she might as well toss in a call from Zhou Xing giving her the hitter’s contact info. She . . .

Her phone played harp music. That was Cynna. She grabbed it. “This is Lily. What’s up?”

“He fixed it! Sam undid the spell on Cullen’s heart.”

“He did? Already?”

“Well, Cullen and Sam did it together. Sam studied the spell for a couple hours. He just lay there staring at Cullen, not moving, not even a twitch. Every now and then he’d sort of hum. Finally he said he had the key to the spell, but it would be difficult to unsing because of the spell’s blood-tie to Cullen. But Cullen had an idea about using this
wan chi
spell—that’s way cool, by the way. He learned it from your grandmother, and it’s a carrier spell, and they’re usually just used as part of another spell so it will go where you want it. But this
wan chi
spell is different because you can use it on someone else’s spell, which makes it good for defense. If you have it ready, you can deflect the other guy’s spell. Uh—where was I?”

Lily grinned. “Sounding like Cullen.” Who loved to talk about the theory and nuances of spellcraft.

“I do, don’t I? Anyway, the other thing about the
wan chi
spell is it’s powered by blood. So Cullen pricked his finger and Sam sang this note—he can hold a note a really long time—and Cullen used the
wan chi
spell to carry Sam’s unsinging into his heart. Blood to blood, see? And the bad spell just fell apart.”

“That’s good. That’s really, really good.” Lily struggled to find words. “That’s damned wonderfully, marvelously good. So Cullen’s going to heal now? His body’s doing its lupus thing?”

Cynna laughed. “Nettie says he doesn’t need her anymore. She put him back in sleep and she’s going to hang around another hour or two, just to be sure, then go home and go to sleep herself. For a day or two, she said. The damage is pretty small, really, not like when he had to regrow a whole foot and ankle. Regrowing parts takes a lot longer than closing up a cut.”

It wasn’t just a cut. It was a cut to the heart, so some of his healing magic would be spent keeping him alive while he healed it, which meant it would heal more slowly than a cut to the leg or arm. But Lily knew what Cynna meant. “It won’t be long before he’s driving you crazy, trying to do stuff he shouldn’t.”

“Ha! I’ve got a dragon keeping an eye on him. Let him argue with Sam.”

He probably would. Lily’s grin spread even wider. “Yeah, but Li Qin is there, too. Even Cullen won’t argue with her. You just can’t, somehow. Have you called Rule yet?”

“I don’t—yeah, wait. Nettie’s signaling me that she’s got him on the phone now. She called Isen already. It’s a clan thing,” Cynna said apologetically, as if she were responsible. “The Rho had to hear first.”

“I guess.” Isen had declared clan-offense, after all. Lily wasn’t sure that made up for not telling Rule first, but Rule probably wouldn’t agree.

She paused to look around. She’d reached the street where her car was supposed to be, according to the patrol officer T.J. had coerced into bringing it to her. Where . . . Oh, there it was.

Things were looking up. She updated Cynna briefly on the investigation while she climbed into the oven that was her front seat, wincing when she touched the steering wheel. She got the engine started—and with it, the a/c. “Um . . . could I ask you a personal question?”

“Sure.” Cynna was still riding the cheerful wave.

“Why did you decide to marry Cullen? I mean, as opposed to living with him. Was it for the baby?”

“Yes and no, and I’ll give you more if you tell me why you’re asking.”

No mistaking the curiosity in Cynna’s voice. “I’m not having doubts,” she said firmly. “I know that marrying Rule is right. I just don’t know why.”

“Uh . . . because you love him?”

“That’s true whether I marry him or not.” Lily grabbed her headset, touched the RECEIVE button, and slid it on so she could drive. The car wasn’t anything like cool yet, but the steering wheel wouldn’t burn her fingers now. Probably. She slipped the phone into its dashboard holder and said, “With the mate bond, we’ve already got the forever thing. So why marriage, when it’s going to cause who knows how much trouble with the clans?”

“But you’re not having doubts.”

“It’s more like I need to get everything lined up.”

“Like in your closet.” Cynna chuckled. “Okay. I don’t know if it will help, but I married Cullen . . . well, two reasons, really. He needed the forever promise, so I wanted to give that to him. And I wanted us to be a family. An official family. We’d be the baby’s family without that piece of paper, but we wouldn’t be each other’s family, if you see what I mean.”

Lily had more family than she wanted sometimes. Cynna had no one. No family at all, save for a father she’d never known until a few months ago—a father who lived in another realm. “That makes good sense. Excellent sense.”

“So did I help?”

“Yes.” Not that everything had clicked into place. Lily didn’t have Cynna’s craving for family. She wasn’t convinced families were made only with official sanction, anyway. So Cynna’s reason wasn’t her reason, not exactly. But it gave her a line to tug on—just like with an investigation, really. She felt that little stirring that said she was headed in the right direction. “It did. I . . .” Her phone beeped. She glanced at the display. “Ida’s calling. I’d better take it.”

“Okay. If you need me to Find something, though—” Cynna interrupted herself with a yawn.

Lily chuckled. “Maybe later.” She accepted the call. “Lily Yu here.”

Ruben’s secretary was one of those people with a voice that didn’t match anything else about her. She spoke crisply, which fit, but the voice itself should have belonged to a torch singer or a longtime smoker. “Interpol is sending you information on a Chinese man who is suspected of performing multiple hits over at least a decade,” she said briskly. “There is no photo, but there is a composite sketch which is included as a JPEG file. Would you like me to send that to the state and local law enforcement agencies with a description, noting that he is a person of interest in this investigation?”

“Yes. Hot damn. Yes.”

“Very well. He is thought to have used various names, which will be listed in the file you receive. They believe he’s been using Johnny Chou most recently, though that was over a year ago. His preferred style is a single knife-thrust to the heart. Shall I contact Homeland Security to see if they have any record of him entering the country?”

“Absolutely. Though without a photo . . . will they have any way of checking records for him?”

“The facial recognition software won’t work with a sketch. You are correct that it’s a long shot, but they should be made aware.” She paused. “I apologize for not having extended your original search to include international agencies. You are new to this work. I should have offered you more direction.”

An apology from Scary Ida? Lily automatically responded with the kind of formality she might have used with Grandmother—had Grandmother ever done something as outrageous as apologize. “If you want me to accept your apology, I will, but I’m aware that the failure was mine. Thank you, Ida.”

Ida cleared her throat. “I would like to ask a favor.”

The mind just kept boggling. “Sure.”

“Agent Weaver was kind enough to allow me to be a hostess for her shower, even though I was unable to attend. And then this—this terrible thing happened. I’m reluctant to contact her myself when she must be terribly worried, but I am anxious for her. Would you let me know when you have news about her husband?”

So Lily got to share the good news first with, of all people, Ida.

Once she ended that call, she made another. To Rule. He picked up right away. “You heard?” she said.

“I did, and God and the Lady bless Sam for it.”

She laughed. “That’s very ecumenical of you. Cynna said Cullen used a spell Grandmother taught him.”

“Hmm. Yes, I think it was the spell Cullen traded his unlocking spell for, several months ago. This was when she told him about the Chimei.”

Lily contemplated that in silence for a moment. “No,” she said at last. “Grandmother is many things, but she isn’t pre-cognitive or prescient or any of that fortune-teller stuff. It has to be coincidence.”

“Madame Yu may not be prescient,” Rule said slowly, “but what about Sam?”

“Why does that creep me out? Ruben doesn’t creep me out.”

“Maybe because you know that Ruben doesn’t see specific, detailed events that are months or years in the future. He doesn’t manipulate the rest of us to meet those events in a specific way.”

“Oh, geez, yeah, that’s it. You think Sam could have known that much, that far ahead?”

“I have no idea. But the possibility creeps me out, too. I’ve decided not to think about it.”

Probably a good approach, she decided. “How’s Toby?”

“Busy. Excited. He and several others in his age group will be sleeping under the stars tonight. Supervised, of course. They left with Travis a couple hours ago.”

“He’s doing okay, then.” Toby had been through a lot, including being kidnapped by a nutcase who thought she could put her dead son into Toby’s body. He’d been in a drugged sleep during the rescue, so he hadn’t seen the woman killed—which was high on Lily’s list of things to be grateful for.

For a while, Toby had clung to Rule, feeling safe only when his father was near. Once they got to San Diego, though, he’d seemed to relax. “He’s felt safe at Clanhome. I hate to think that’s changed.”

Rule thought Toby was finding his footing, although, as he said, it was impossible to know what a nine-year-old was thinking. But he considered it a good sign that Toby was so keen on the hike and campout. “Though he’s annoyed that he can’t go visit Cullen yet. Ah . . . he hasn’t heard about the fire. You know what Clanhome’s like—people don’t have the news on 24/7. I . . .” Rule paused. “I feel guilty for not leveling with him.”

“Parenting seems to be mostly taking your best guess and going with it. Is your best guess that Toby’s better off not knowing anything about what’s going on? If so, can you be sure he won’t hear about it elsewhere? And when should he learn about it?”

“You ask damned uncomfortable questions sometimes.” Rule was silent a moment, then sighed. “I need to tell him some of it. I wanted him to have his campout without this hanging over him, but sparing him now makes problems for him later. Did you learn anything helpful at the hospital?”

“Not really, but . . .” And she told him about Ida’s call. “Interpol’s sending the file electronically, so I’ll be checking that as soon as I get to the apartment. What did you need to talk to Isen about, anyway?”

“You’re headed for our apartment?”

“I’m headed for the shower, which happens to be at the apartment. I can’t tell you how much I crave a shower. I’m sticky. Are you dodging my question about your father?”

“I spoke with him about the Chimei, of course. Also, Sam made a suggestion about my mantles that may be valuable, but he doesn’t . . . It’s like talking to a meteorologist who understands weather theoretically, but has never experienced snow. His insights are sound but limited. I wanted to talk to my father about Sam’s suggestion.”

“Which so far you haven’t repeated to me.”

“I lack words. If I understood Sam correctly, it has to do with . . . a way of listening. Or experiencing. I also spoke with the Rhej. The memories go back a long ways. I’d hoped there might be something in them about the Chimei, but apparently their race fought in a different corner of the Great War than we did. She couldn’t locate anything relevant.”

“Pity. She wouldn’t have been bound by the restrictions Grandmother and Sam have. And me,” she added, though it pissed her off to have to do that. “Ruben’s coming in tonight. Are you going to fill him in on the Chimei?”

“I haven’t decided yet. I considered asking your grandmother or Sam for advice, but on reflection decided that was likely to increase the weight on the treaty, if you see what I mean.”

“Not really.”

“Sam said that indirect actions have a cumulative effect on the treaty which can, potentially, break it. It seems likely that the more closely those bound by the treaty participate in an action—the more their words or acts affect or precipitate someone else’s action—the greater the chance that the treaty will be broken. Asking Sam’s advice would tie my decision to involve Ruben—and therefore, the government—more closely to Sam.”

She drummed the steering wheel with her fingers. “I almost understood that. You know what I want.”

“And that will factor in my decision.”

“Um . . . I just realized that I’m one of the ones affected by the treaty, so I must affect the treaty, too, so my urging you to do it my way might add to that weight you mentioned.”