Blood Lines

NINE

CYNNA insisted on going home with Lily before leaving for Virginia. Lily didn't argue as much as she should have.

Rule hadn't told her, dammit. She'd found out the wound wasn't healing when she saw blood on the sheet this morning. Not until then had he admitted something was wrong, and he still refused to see a doctor. He didn't think traditional medicine would help.

He was probably right. When she'd touched the ripped flesh, she'd touched magic. Orange magic, coating his wound like sticky syrup. Demon magic.

"The stickiness reminds me of a curse I touched once," she said as she climbed out of her car.

"You think it's a curse, then?" Cynna shut the passenger door.

"Gan doesn't think so." Unlike a lot of the others in Lily's life, Gan liked talking on the phone. The little demon had returned her call that morning.

Cynna followed her out of the garage. "So you talked to it? Ah—her, I mean. Do you believe her?"

"She can't lie." Yet. That was one of the treats in store for Gan if she converted to a more terrestrial body.

"Demons may not be able to lie outright, but they love to deceive."

"I don't see any advantage for her in deceiving me about this."

"So what did she say?"

"She says the… I can't pronounce the word she used. It's all consonants. But she meant the red-eyes. They're foot soldiers, bred to fight in demon wars. A few of them—the elite troops, like Special Forces—have something extra. Their claws exude… call it a poison. It interferes with magic, which blocks healing. She said…"

"Huh," Gan had said when Lily told her about Rule's wound. "You mean he isn't dead yet? I would've thought he'd have bled out by now."

Gan was nothing if not tactless.

Lily jammed her key in the back door. "The magic poison is fatal for less powerful demons. The stronger ones eventually throw it off. She thinks it probably works differently in a lupus, because your magic is different from a demon's. Or even," she added neutrally as she swung the door open, "that Rule's Lady is blocking some of it."

Lily preferred to ignore the subject of religion, but to Gan the Lady was fact, not belief. So were souls. Demons didn't understand souls, but they were fascinated by them.

She and Gan had that much in common. Lily didn't understand souls, either, though she knew now that something continued after death. Might as well call it a soul. She supposed the Lady was real, too… but she could think about that later.

"Back, Harry." She blocked her cat with her foot and edged inside, juggling messenger bag and laptop so she could punch the code into the alarm system.

Rule was upstairs. She didn't call to let him know she was home. He'd know.

"Even though the magic isn't a curse, it might work enough like one to be lifted that way. Or antihex spells might work." Cynna bent to give Harry a rub behind his ears. "Hey, big guy. These folks treating you okay?"

"Never well enough, in his opinion." Lily set her burdens on the table, slipped out of her coat, and draped it on the back of a chair.

"What did you mean about hexes and curses?"

"Hexes have a physical component. Curses don't. So if this poison is partly physical, it might respond to the same techniques that remove a hex. Any decent Vodun priestess can lift a hex—I can give you someone to call. If it's more like a curse, though, you want a faith-based practitioner like Abel or Sherry."

"Both of whom are going to be busy. Who else could do it?"

"Well, some Catholic priests are trained in removing curses, but these days it's rare. And I think their method works best if you're Catholic."

"What about Nettie, then? Or the Rhej? If faith-based healing works—"

"Isen is going to speak to her about it," Rule said from the doorway. He wore khaki slacks and nothing else. Even his feet were bare. Lupi didn't much feel the cold. "She may have something in the memories that wüi help."

"Will she come here if she does?"

The Rhejes were pretty much laws unto themselves, and the Nokolai Rhej in particular was known for never leaving Clan-home. She had reason for that, though, being over eighty and blind.

He shrugged. "We'll find out. Hello, Cynna."

"Hey, Rule. Would you believe Lily wants you to take off your pants for me?"

His eyebrow quirked up. "You do like to live on the edge."

"That's me. Edgy." Cynna grinned. "So drop 'em."

What flashed through his eyes wasn't as obvious as temper. "I appreciate the offer, but it isn't needed. I'm inconvenienced, not incapacitated… as I've pointed out more than once. If my body can't clear the poison on its own, in a week or so Nettie will fly out." He looked at Lily as if the subject were closed. "How did the big meeting go?"

"It turned out to be even bigger than I expected. I'll tell you about it, but first you tell me why Nettie can't leave Clanhome for a week."

"She's in Oregon, not Clanhome."

Lily's breath sucked in. "The twins?"

"Their mother went into labor last night… about the time the Change hit Paul."

There could be no arguing with Nettie's priorities. The entire clan had been worried about the fate of twins due to be born to a Nokolai man this month. The babies would need every ounce of skill the shaman—who was also a Harvard-trained physician— could offer. On the very rare occasions when a lupus sired twins, one or both babies almost always died right after birth.

Lupi kept more than one secret from the humans around them, but the one they guarded most closely was the effect their innate magic had on their fertility. Some were completely sterile; many were nearly so. This was the reason for their promiscuity, their taboo against marriage, even the way their leaders derived their authority. A Rho and his heir had to be fertile.

Technically, Rule was fertile. He had a son. But Toby was the only child he'd sired in a lifespan almost twice Lily's, and he'd not play the bumblebee anymore, flitting from flower to flower to scatter his seed. Toby was probably the only child he'd ever have.

"Okay." Lily nodded. "I see why Nettie can't come. That makes it even more important to let Cynna see if she can help."

His eyebrow did that little lift that turned his expression mocking. "And is Cynna taking up healing now?"

Lily looked at Cynna. "You'll have to excuse him. I think the poison is leaking into this brain—testosterone poisoning, that is. He's turned all male and I'm-fine-don't-fuss."

Then again, he could mock without budging a brow. "You wouldn't know anything about that sort of thinking, of course."

"I'm no healer." Cynna was cheerful, as if she could ignore his sarcasm out of existence. "I probably can't fix this magical poison, or poisonous magic, or whatever it is. And Lily can tell quicker than anyone if it starts spreading, just by touching you. But I'm well-stocked with holy water, since I'm heading off to hunt a demon. It might work."

"I'm not Catholic."

"But I am, and I'm the one who will use it, so we've got the faith thing covered. Now, it's true that holy water doesn't work on all demons, so it might not work on demon poison. But it's worth a try, right?"

"I learned this morning," Lily said quietly, "that the demon's other victim—the man from the adult theater—died on the way to the hospital. They couldn't stop the bleeding."

"I believe he was human."

"Which is probably why he's dead and you're alive. But you're not healing."

His mouth flattened. For a second she thought he'd refuse, but he shrugged one shoulder. "Very well." His hands went to his belt.

Rule had about as much inherent modesty as her cat. He stepped out of his slacks as casually as Lily would slip off her shoes. At least he'd worn boxers today. "Do I need to remove the bandage?" he asked.

"Probably better." Cynna put her satchel-sized purse on the table and began rooting through it. "I need to get holy water directly on the wound."

So much for the boxers.

The demon had clawed his flank. Translated to this form, the wound ran from the top of his buttock diagonally across his hip, ending a few inches down his thigh. Awkward to bandage. She'd taped a pair of sanitary pads over it, that being the most absorbent thing she could find at six a.m.

There was only one pad now, taped on differently than before. And it was bright red, saturated with blood. "How many times have you had to change the bandage?" she asked quietly.

"Once. Which does not mean that I'm bleeding to death. Even a human wouldn't be bothered by such a small blood loss."

Lily bit her lip to keep back the sharp words she wanted to use and bent to pick up the slacks he'd dropped on the floor. Fear didn't bring out her best side.

Maybe he was afraid, too. Maybe that's why he was being such an ass about this.

He removed the pad. The wound looked fresh, with no trace of a scab. Blood welled up and trickled down his leg. A drop hit the floor.

"Question," Cynna said. "Is the poison carried by blood? If so, I'd better wear gloves. I'd rather not pick up a little demon poison accidentally."

"I didn't notice." When she'd inspected the wound earlier, it hadn't been bleeding this freely. "I'll check."

She went to him and bent to touch the rivulet of blood running down his thigh. "It's clean. While I'm here, though…" As gently as possible, she touched the flesh near the wound. Her breath hitched. "The contagion is spreading. I'm picking it up in the flesh around the wound now."

Rule touched her cheek. She looked up. His eyes were very dark, opaque to her. "Then it's a good thing you and Cynna thought of holy water. I apologize for my churlishness."

She swallowed. Nodded. And moved aside to make room for Cynna.

"You shouldn't feel anything other than wet," Cynna said as she came to stand in front of him, carrying a small glass vial. "But we're in experimental territory here."

He gave her a single nod.

She frowned, looking down at his bare hip. Her lips moved, but if she was praying, Lily couldn't hear it. She uncapped the vial and poured its contents directly on his wound.

Rule's face contorted. His hand swung out so fast it was a blur. And Cynna went flying backward.