Mortal Danger (14 page)

He tilted his head, surprised. “Henry has several albums. I’m sure he’d share them with you, if you asked.”

Henry? Who… oh. “Your father’s houseman or cook or whatever. He keeps the family pictures?”

“Henry has been part of my family for many years. He helped raised me.”

Rule hadn’t sprung from his father’s seed alone, but she couldn’t remember him ever referring to a second parent. That gaping absence warned her to go lightly. “You never mention your mother.”

“You might say that I’ve had many mothers. Our people make much of children.”

Okay, he wanted that door shut. She’d go along for now. This wasn’t the best time for such personal stuff, anyway. “I guess Nettie was one of those motherly…” Her voice drifted off as realization struck. “Or not. She, uh, must be your age, or close to it. You probably played together.”

“Ah… the gray hair is misleading. Nettie’s only forty-four.” He hesitated. “She’s my niece.”

“Your… niece?”

He nodded. “She was raised with her mother’s people but came to Clanhome to stay with Benedict most summers.”

Nettie looked older than Rule. She looked older than her own father. What did it do to families when half of them—the female half—aged so much faster than the others? “How old is Benedict?”

“Sixty-four.”

God. He did look older than Rule, but she’d have guessed him at about forty. Yet he had another eighty or more years ahead of him, while his daughter… “Damn,” she said softly. “He’ll watch her get old. And she’ll never see him as an old man.”

“It isn’t easy for one of us to have a daughter when he’s young.”

A sudden thought struck her. “Is that why you don’t marry—why lupi don’t believe in marriage? You couldn’t keep your secret from a wife. She’d age and you wouldn’t, at least not as much. And she’d die. That would be hard.”

Rule’s face was all mask, no expression. “That’s part of it.”

“I’ll get old and die before you will.” There, she’d said it. Her heart beat unsteadily.

“Possibly.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “If you live to twice the human lifespan, that’s a hundred and fifty or more. I might get eighty-five or ninety years, if I stay healthy. So when I’m eighty and creaky, you’ll be a lively one-oh-six.”

“Sometimes a Chosen ages more like one of us. Not always. We don’t know why.”

He didn’t know if he’d lose her while he still had years and years left. Not knowing… that could be as hard to handle as despair. She touched his hand.

He gripped hers suddenly, as if he knew her thoughts. As if he’d keep her young by force of will. After a moment his grip eased. He gave his head a little shake and released her hand. “I’ve enough to worry about in the present without tackling what-ifs that are years away. Most immediately, I’m afraid I’ve some clan business to take care of tonight.”

“Okay. What’s up?”

“The Rho has decided to call for an All-Clan.” He began brushing the crumbs from the pizza into his palm and then dumped them in the box. “I’m needed to make some of the contacts.”

“What’s an All-Clan? Some kind of gathering of the clans?”

“Yes. It’s held roughly every seven years. The last one was only two years ago, so we aren’t due for one yet. But there are mechanisms for calling an All-Clan in an emergency. The Rho believes we’re facing just that.”

“Because of Her, you mean. The goddess. She has it in for lupi.”

“That’s right. We’ve already passed the word about Her, of course, but it’s easy to disbelieve such a tale.”

“So what does your father hope to accomplish? Does he think you’ll be able to convince more of your people there’s a real threat?”

“I never try to guess what Isen intends,” Rule said dryly. “But one of his goals is certainly to persuade the doubters that the threat is real. That She is active in our realm again.”

Lily frowned, tapping one finger against the table. Rule had said once that the lupi had been created to fight this goddess. Whether that was true or not, he believed it. So, apparently, did most lupi—even Cullen, who wasn’t one to take much on faith. “What will it mean if the other clans believe you? What will they do?”

Rule hesitated, his dark eyes troubled. “
Thranga
,” he said at last. “Perhaps.”

“Well, now I understand completely. If you…”

Rule’s head turned, alerting her that he’d heard something. A second later she did, too—footsteps.

Baxter appeared in the doorway. “Hastings tracked down the bartender at his girlfriend’s place and is bringing him up. I told him we’d use my office. Might put the man more at ease than one of the interrogation rooms.” He eyed the pizza box. “Any leftovers?”

“Nope.” Lily pushed her chair back. “I’ll be right there.”

Baxter nodded and headed back down the hall. Lily took the empty pizza box to the trash can. They were out of time—again. There never seemed to be enough time for the questions that mattered.

Still, she could hit one of them. “What was your favorite TV show when you were a kid?”

“You ask the oddest things.”

“I watched
Sesame Street
. Was that on when you were little?”

“No, I was a Mouseketeer.”

“A Mouseketeer.” A grin spread across her face. “Really? Did you have the hat?”

“I don’t remember. No, I don’t think I did.” He came to her and put his hand on her good shoulder. “You’ll be here awhile longer, I take it.”

“Looks like. I tell you what. If it will make you feel better, I’ll call you when I’m ready to leave.” Lily was pleased with herself. Who said she couldn’t compromise?

The twist to his mouth didn’t look happy. ‘“I expect my meeting to last awhile. I’m likely to be later than you will be.”

“Okay. If you need to take your car, I’ll get a ride.”

“I can’t leave unless you’ll accept another guard in my place.”

“Rule.”
Don’t overreact
, she told herself. Naturally he worried, with the way she’d been targeted. “I’m not claiming to be invulnerable, but I am a good shot. I can get myself home just fine.”

“A gun is little defense if you’re asleep when an attack comes.”

She glanced at the hall. Was that the elevator? “You sleep, too.”

“Sentry sleep is different.”

“What’s that? No, wait, I don’t have time for explanations. I need to get back.”

“Indulge me a moment first. I’ll keep this brief.” He took her face in his hands and bent to kiss her.

That was another great thing about him, she thought after he stepped back and she could think again. When he kissed, he gave it his complete attention. Maybe she’d been wrong about that “half-a-beer” analogy. “Remind me to ask you about sentry sleep.”

“All right. Benedict’s waiting in the parking lot to give you a ride when you’re ready.”

“What?”

“He thought it best to wait for you outside the building so he didn’t have to disarm. He agrees about the value of bullets where demons are concerned.”

“That’s gratifying, but—”

“You might call downstairs and let the guard know so he doesn’t think Benedict is lurking outside so he can bomb the building or something.” He turned to go.

“Wait! Wait a minute! I didn”t say I’d let him play bodyguard.“

“Play?” Rule paused in the doorway, smiling. “You say that, yet you’ve met my brother.”

She stared at him, unamused.

He sighed. “Lily, the Rho uses bodyguards. It doesn’t diminish him.”

“The Rho agrees to use them. I didn’t agree to a damned thing.”

“But you aren’t stupid, so you will. Besides, you’ll need a ride home. Why not use Benedict? He’s here.”

“He’s here because you arranged it. You didn’t ask me.” She heard voices in the hall—the bartender, complaining about having his night off interrupted, and one of the agents soothing him.

“You’ve been busy. I took the liberty of entering Benedict’s cell phone number on your phone’s speed dial—number twelve. If you’ll let him know when you’re ready to leave, he’ll be ready.”

Which meant he’d planned this hours and hours ago, when she’d handed him her phone to call Cullen. Then sprung it on her at the last minute. “Dammit, I have to go. But we are going to talk about this.”

He smiled. “Of course. Until later,
nadia
.”

FOURTEEN

AT eight o’clock on Saturday night, Club Hell was packed and noisy. Rule felt the vibration from the music in the soles of his feet, even back in the cubbyhole Cullen used for a dressing room. He had no idea how the human patrons of the place could hear each other out there.

Of course, that was one of the reasons he’d chosen Club Hell for the circle. They needed to come together on neutral ground, and the club had supplied that many times over the years for less formal meetings than the one tonight. No one could eavesdrop on them physically. “Max said the others are already here.”

“I saw a few of them.” Cullen wiped his face with a towel. He was sweaty and as naked as the law allowed, having just finished his performance. “Including Leidolf.”

That name jolted Rule. Max hadn’t mentioned that, damn him. “Who did they send?”

“Dear Randy.”

Randall Frey, the other clan’s Lu Nuncio. Rule’s counterpart. That was good, a sign they were taking this seriously… but he wouldn’t turn his back on the man.

“I don’t put much stock in Leidolf’s decision to participate,” Cullen said, tossing the towel on the shelf that served as his dressing table. “They want to know what you’re up to, that’s all.”

Leidolf and Nokolai had a long, unhappy history. Most recently it included an attack on Rule’s father that had left him badly injured and one Nokolai dead… along with three members of Leidolf. “That’s true of others as well. We knew that once we convinced a certain number to come, others would decide they couldn’t afford to be left out. Leidolf did send the heir.”

“Status.” Cullen grabbed his jeans. “Can’t let their representative be outranked by you.”

“Perhaps.” Rule leaned against the wall, fighting an urge to fling open the door. Cullen was annoyingly impervious to the usual lupus distaste for small, enclosed spaces. “How many agreed to come tonight? Max was in a lather about something when he let me in the back door. He didn’t hang around long enough to give me a head count.”‘

Cullen grinned and stepped into his jeans. “1 can imagine. Poor Max. He likes to be in the middle of things almost as much as he likes to play it safe.”

Rule’s eyebrows lifted. “You know something I don’t?”

“Five more are attending this circle than came to the first one, in spite of the short notice—and they include a bumper crop of Lu Nuncios. Ought to make for a lively meeting. I can almost smell the
seru
now.”

“What’s changed?”

“Etorri is here.”

Etorri… the most honored of them all. In the long centuries since the Great War, the clan had nearly winked out of existence more than once. The single Etorri who’d survived that conflict had been altered in ways that set him and his descendents apart; the magic was too wild in them, diminishing fertility. Somehow the clan had persisted, though. Equally amazing, perhaps, was their persistent integrity. They lived up to their
du
.

Etorri. The clutch of pride-blinded, self-righteous fools who had expelled Cullen from their ranks for practicing sorcery, dooming him to life as an outcast… if he lived. The clanless usually committed suicide or went insane.

For whatever reason, Cullen had done neither. Three weeks ago, his life as a lone wolf had ended when Nokolai claimed him with blood, earth, and fire. If Rule’s feelings about the Etorri were mixed, Cullen’s were volatile. “Who did they send?” he asked carefully.

“Who else?” Cullen’s mouth twisted in what might have been meant for a smile. “My dear cousin. Oh, don’t look so wary. No need to tiptoe around my tender feelings.” Cullen yanked up his zipper and opened the door, not bothering with a shirt. Because he considered pants optional after a performance, that wasn’t surprising. “I’ll survive seeing Stephen again, and God knows he’s too pure to be harmed by contact with us lesser beings.”

“I’m glad you’re not bitter.”

Cullen gave a single bark of laughter.

Rule was glad to leave the closet-sized dressing room. The hall they entered wasn’t a big improvement, though, being dim and narrow. One end opened onto the squalor Max called his office. They went the other way, into the scents and din of the club proper.

The cavernous room occupied both the basement and first floor of the building, with its upper reaches vanishing in the overhead gloom. Max took great delight in the decor. He’d borrowed from every hellish cliche he could find, creating a three-dimensional cartoon of the underworld complete with stony walls, fake fires, and a scent he insisted was brimstone.

Most of the club’s patrons were human, of course. That lupi frequented the place made it a draw for thrill seekers, and for seekers of another sort. Several women tried to claim Rule’s attention—some he knew, some he didn’t. Several more tried to stop Cullen.

It must have been a good performance tonight. The two of them made their way between the tables, managing to get by with a smile, a word, a nod, looking for the ones who weren’t human.

There, at the bar. Rule caught the man’s eye and gave a small nod. Across the room, another man saw them and gave the woman beside him a kiss and then stood. A pair of men at a table with several women created vast disappointment by taking their leave. All around the room, one and two at a time, men who resembled each other mainly by their unusual fitness began drifting toward the back of the room, where a spiral staircase wound up into a shadowed loft, invisible from below.

Rule and Cullen reached the stairs first. Rule started up, with Cullen behind him.

“Did you have any trouble getting away?” Cullen asked.

“No.” He hadn’t even had to lie. Not that he’d told her the truth, but he hadn’t spoken a direct lie.

“Even if the tracking spell doesn’t work—and I may have fixed it—Benedict’s got the panic button, right?”

“Yes.”

“My, but you’re in a monosyllabic mood all of a sudden. I suppose you’re feeling all squirmy with guilt. Bad habit, guilt.”

“Shut up, Cullen.”

“Right. You’re making too much of this, you know. Lily’s sensible. She’ll be upset, but once she thinks about it—”

“Are we talking about the same woman?” Rule demanded. ‘The one who won’t have bodyguards, so you have to invent a whole new spell so I can be sure she’s protected? The one I had to trick into letting Benedict stay with her while I’m gone? She was attacked by a bloody demon last night, but oh, no, she doesn’t need protection. That’s sensible?“

They’d reached the loft, an open, unfurnished stretch that ran the length of the back wall. All the pillows had been chased to the edges of the carpeted floor to make room. There were no lights; the only illumination came from below.

With a glance, Cullen changed that. Twelve black candles set in a wide circle suddenly sported flames. Then he looked at Rule. “Maybe she doesn’t like Benedict. I don’t, myself.”

Rule snorted.

Someone was coming up the stairs, making more noise than strictly necessary. That was courtesy. Rule took note and stuffed his regrets—and yes, dammit, his guilt—down where it wouldn’t intrude on tonight’s business.

Cullen took a white candle, still unlit, from a small tote and started for the head of the stairs. He stopped beside Rule and put a hand on his arm—a rare gesture. Lupi usually touched easily and often, but Cullen had spent most of his life apart. He’d stopped reaching out decades ago.

He spoke under the tongue now, so low that, even this close, Rule barely heard him. “
There’s no point in punishing yourself, you know. Lily will do a fine job of that when the time comes
.”

A smile ghosted across Rule’s face. “
The funny thing is, you mean that as a comfort
.”

Cullen’s answering smile was swift and fleeting. He turned just as the first of the others reached the top of the stairs—Ben Larson of Ansgar, the largest of the Scandinavian clans. Ben was a fine fighter, but he could be overly deliberate, seeking certainty when none existed.

He frowned at the sight of Cullen. Perhaps he’d hoped Rule would have switched gatekeepers. Tough. They were all going to have to adjust to changes. The realms were shifting, and
She
was active once again.

“A moment,” Cullen said to Ben. This time he waved his hand over the candle he held and murmured a few words to dance a flame onto the wick. That was theater, and Rule’s idea. He wanted the others to get used to Cullen but saw no point in rubbing their noses in just how different his friend really was. Some of the Gifted could summon fire through ritual. Cullen called it by mind alone.

He held the candle out to Rule first. “
Accipisne alios in pace ? ”

“
Accipio in pace
.” Rule held his palm over the flame without quite touching it for a slow count of three—long enough to seal the pledge, briefly enough that by the time he left the burn would be healed. Then he moved to the nearest black candle and sat tailor-fashion, the candle at his back.

Cullen held the white candle out to Ben. “
Accipiaris in pace
.”

“
Advenio in pace
.” Ben held his hand over the flame as Rule had done and then took his place within the circle of candles.

One by one the rest entered, held one hand to the flame, and pledged peace. Con McGuire of Cynir. Stephen Andros, the Etorri Lu Nuncio, with the oddly pale eyes typical of his lineage and hair the color of dust. Ito Tsegaye of Mendoyo. Randall Frey of Leidolf—a smiling villain, that one. Ybirra’s Javiero Mendozo, almost as dark-skinned as Ito. Rikard Demeny of Szós. The Kerberos heir, Jon Sebastian, who looked like an accountant and fought like a madman. Kyffin’s Sean Masters.

Altogether, fifteen of the twenty-two dominant clans were directly represented, eight by their Lu Nuncios. One of the heirs and two of the
nonheris
sons had crossed an ocean to attend the first circle. For this one, Stephen Andros had traveled almost as far—the Etorri lands were in northern Canada.

Rule tried not to resent the fact that it had taken Etorri’s lead to persuade many of them to attend. They were here. That’s what mattered.

Once everyone was seated, Cullen extinguished his candle and sat apart, near the wall. He was responsible for guarding the circle from intrusions both physical and magical.
She
couldn’t spy on them directly, but her agents might be able to.

Rule was responsible for what happened within the circle. No easy task, that. He began with silence, allowing them all a few moments to gather the inner stillness necessary for control.

Candles burned behind each man, leaving faces shadowed and laying their waxy scent heavily on the air. Music and voices washed up from below. And yes, beneath the heavy scent of the candles and the mingled personal scents of those present, Rule found more than a trace of
seru
.

Lu Nuncios were by definition dominant. Closing up so many together in a
pace
circle and getting them to listen, to cooperate, would be tricky. Outright violence was forbidden, as were challenges to later combat. But each of them would instinctively seek to dominate the others.

Including him, of course. Cullen was right. It should be a lively meeting. “
In pace convenio
,” he said formally. “Let us begin.”

“You can start with an explanation,” Rikard said. “Why is that one—” he jerked his head toward Cullen— “acting as gatekeeper?”

Rikard was the oldest of them, but age had never mellowed him. He remained fiery and prone to saying what others might leave unsaid out of caution or simple courtesy. “Because Nokolai’s Rhej doesn’t leave Clanhome. Because Cullen has the necessary skills. And because I chose him.”

One of the
nonheris
muttered something Rule ignored. Rikard snorted. “Obviously you chose him. But—”

Stephen Andros interrupted. “We waste time arguing about what we’ve already accepted by sitting in circle. Nokolai called the circle. Nokolai therefore has the right to choose the gatekeeper.”

Rule didn’t thank him. That would be insult, implying that Stephen supported him—a subordinate position. But he met the Etorri heir’s eyes for a moment in acknowledgment. Stephen Andros was built like a fullback, but he had the otherworldly eyes of a monk, a sage… or a sorcerer.

Rule had wondered if it was that taint of otherness in Cullen’s heritage that had made the impossible possible. There had never been a lupus sorcerer; their innate magic was said to crowd out any other type. He’d never asked. Cullen didn’t speak of his life as Etorri.

“I would know more about why I am here.” That was Ito Tsegaye of Mendoyo—dark, thin, and very tall. His English was heavily accented, tuned to melodies distant and strange. The Mendoyo had lived apart from the other clans for centuries while Africa was cut off from the European world; more than their accents were strange to Rule.

“You’re here to take information back to your clan— and, I hope, some of you are here to join the fight against Her. Something has changed, and the realms aren’t as distant as before. She’s able to reach into our world once more, and She intends to destroy us.”

Randall of Leidolf smiled. “That She would destroy us if She could, I don’t doubt. But the rest of it… we’ve only your word about that.”

Rule looked at him impassively. It took all his control to keep his own
seru
from spiking at the insult. “Yes, you have my word. All of you have heard of what happened— how Her followers were defeated and Her staff disappeared. But some of you have heard it only second- or third-hand. Do you wish to hear it from me?”

They did, though it took some discussion to reach agreement. Lily, Rule thought with a small smile, would have wanted him to take a vote.

“You are amused?” Ito asked.

“A private thought. My Chosen finds some of our ways strange, and for a moment I saw things through her eyes.” Reminding the others of Lily wouldn’t hurt. The Lady had never gifted a Lu Nuncio with a Chosen—not, at least, since the times of legend.

“Your Chosen… some say she’s a sensitive.”

Rule looked at the man who’d spoken. Con was a friend, but more, he was of the same mind as Rule. They had to organize now, while Her power in their realm was still limited. “Yes, she is.”