Blood Lines

SEVENTEEN

THAT afternoon, Lily developed a deeper appreciation for the problems of working parents.

Right after Cullen left, she did, too, heading for the Secret Service's headquarters on Murray Drive. She wanted everything they had on the perp they'd tagged for demonic dealings. She wanted copies of whatever they'd learned about Jiri and the others on the list Cynna had given her, too.

She struck out. The two men she'd worked with still wouldn't tell her a damned thing, so she insisted on being passed up the food chain to the assistant chief muckety-muck. He made her wait, then made vague promises of cooperation, claiming he wanted to help but had to clear it "at the highest level" first. But his face and body language said he'd die and rot before he gave freaks like her and the others in the Unit one jot of information.

She wondered if the presidential adviser would take her phone call, maybe goose the jerk a bit. Didn't hurt to try, she decided, so she called Ida on the way back to the row house, requesting the number. Ida wouldn't give it to her.

So Lily wasn't in the best of moods when she headed back to the row house. Next up was a meet with the task force at five, and she wanted Rule there. They'd have questions about the lupi's ancient enemy and Her role in the demons sprouting up like spring flowers. Plus he needed to get the last of the poison removed, and at least two of the task force members should be able to handle that.

But Toby was there—scrubbing the kitchen floor, at the moment, as penance.

"I don't see why he can't come with us," she said for the second time.

"To FBI headquarters." He was incredulous.

"It's secure."

"And what do you plan to do with him? You don't have an office to park him in—not that I'd recommend that, anyway. The number of things a kid his age can get into—"

"Like an airplane, but he managed to get here okay, didn't he? He's a bright kid."

"He's a bright eight-year-old. Last summer he decided to make a pair of wings modeled after da Vinci's sketches. I found out before he tested them, thank God."

"Maybe we can find someone there to keep an eye on him while we talk to the task force."

"Ruben, maybe?"

"Very good." She nodded. "You don't have anything reasonable to say, so you use sarcasm."

"Reasonable. You think it's reasonable to insist I leave my son—"

"Have I once said you should leave him?"

"—with strangers because you're determined to manage my life. You don't trust me to take care of my leg. You don't trust a solution you haven't come up with yourself, so—"

"Waiting is not a solution!" That's what he'd suggested—that he wait until the bodyguards arrived to deal with his wound.

"—you want to drag me with you and make sure it's done on your schedule."

She flushed. "I do have other priorities, like trying to find out how these demons are being summoned and who's behind it. Plus the task force needs to know about the conclusions we've drawn and the goddess we don't name."

"So go."

She stared at him a long moment, then shoved her hair back with both hands. "Why are we arguing? Do you even know why? I don't."

"I'm arguing because my hip hurts and I'm an ass. You're arguing because you're worried about me. And because I'm an ass."

"At least there's a good reason." She went to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. He put his arms around her, too, and rested his cheek on the top of her head. Within a few breaths, they were okay again.

"You didn't mention the other reason we were fighting," she said.

"Which is… ?"

"The way I turn into a control freak when I'm scared."

"Oh, that. I was being tactful."

She snorted. "If we don't—" The doorbell chimed. She repressed a sigh. The world never gave them much time before poking its nose in. "Guess we should see who that is."

"We should," he agreed without moving.

Feet thudded on the stairs. "I'll get it!" Toby called.

"No, you won't," Rule said, disengaging and starting for the stairs.

Lily headed for the door. "Have you told him what's going on?"

"Not yet. I will as soon as I see who our caller is. Toby, go back upstairs."

Lily didn't listen to the argument that followed. She'd applied her eye to the peephole again and received an even bigger shock than finding Cullen on her doorstep. After a stunned pause, she unlocked and opened the door.

This time it was two women who stood there, both Chinese.

One was middle-aged, plain, and wore a simple dark-blue pantsuit with a wool jacket. The other was old, tiny, and as proudly erect as a queen. Her black hair was winged with white and drawn into a ruthless bun; her dress was crimson and reached her ankles; her jacket was quilted silk of many colors.

Lily sighed. "Grandmother. Of course you would show up now."

"You are not moving aside so we may come in," Li Lei Yu pointed out severely.

Automatically Lily complied.

Grandmother brushed past. "Our bags are in the car. Your Rule Turner may see to them. Do you still have that cat?"

Grandmother was using English instead of insisting Lily speak Chinese. No doubt that was meant to convey some sort of message, but Lily was in no mood to decode it. "Harry's around someplace. Grandmother, why have you—"

"Not now," she said, giving the living room a disapproving eye. "Ugly. I suppose that is not your fault, however."

Li Qin paused on the threshold to give Lily an apologetic smile. "The limousine driver can bring in the bags, Lily. Are you well?"

"Mostly." She watched, resigned to her fate, as her grandmother seated herself on the sofa. Her feet didn't reach the floor.

"I will need a footstool," the old woman announced, "but later. I have been in airplanes and airports for seventy-two hours. You have no Christmas tree."

"We expected to go home for Christmas, so we didn't put one up. Grandmother—"

"Your plans have changed? Ha! I am not surprised," she said darkly. "Later you will tell me. Now you may tell me where my room is. Li Qin will wish to go to her room, also. We have eaten. Abominable food, but we do not require a meal."

Lily's conscience nipped at her. It was easy to forget that Grandmother was old. She sat as erect as ever, but the skin around her eyes looked bruised with fatigue.

But why exhaust herself so? Why had Grandmother cut her trip short and flown here instead of home to San Diego? "Upstairs," she said automatically. "Your room will be upstairs. But, ah, we weren't expecting you, and we have to—"

"Madam Yu," Rule said, entering with Toby trailing behind. Toby hung back in the doorway while Rule crossed the room. He bent, taking the old woman's hand to press a kiss there. "You honor us. May I present to you my son, Toby Asteglio?"

Grandmother gave an approving nod. "You may. You are Toby," she informed the boy. "You may greet me."

Toby gave his father a panicky glance but came forward a few steps, offered a jerky little bow, and said, "Madam Yu. H-how do you do?"

"I am well, thank you. Do you stay here, also?"

He nodded uncertainly. "I wasn't supposed to, and I'm in trouble about it."

"I will teach you to play mah-jongg. You will not enjoy it at first because I will win, but you will like it later, when you find players you can defeat. Lily." She turned imperious black eyes on her granddaughter. "I have much to say to you and Rule Turner, but I will rest first. Why are you not at work?"

"I'm trying to work," she said dryly. "People keep showing up, expecting to stay here."

A gleam of amusement brightened the tired eyes. Grandmother enjoyed being outrageous, but at least she knew she was doing it. Mostly. "You require a Christmas tree."

Oh, Lord, she was right. With Toby here… "Maybe you'd like to take care of that for us."

"I will call," she announced, as if making a great concession. "You want one with candy. Sugarplums. No Santas. I do not like Santas. Someone will deliver it." The painted eyebrows arched. "I think you have much to tell me."

They shared a look of understanding affection. "As you say, later. I've an appointment I—"

"We have an appointment," Rule said smoothly. "Madam Yu, I have a great favor to ask of you."

"SHE'S not a stranger," Lily said as she punched the elevator button. "But do you really feel good about leaving Toby with Grandmother?"

Rule grinned. "He may consider it part of his punishment, but he's safe with her."

She couldn't argue. Grandmother was a real tiger when it came to protecting children.

A real tiger.

No one outside the family knew about that, of course… well, aside from two members of the Unit, and they would keep the secret. And even the family didn't know how Grandmother had come to possess her unique ability. She discouraged questions. Sure, there were stories of adepts in pre-Purge times who'd been able to take a beast form or curse someone into an animal's body. But who knew if those tales were true? The days of the adepts were long over. Today the only werebeasts were the lupi… and Grandmother.

"I expect Li Qin will do any actual work," Lily said as they climbed into a little box already nearly full of people she didn't know.

"You forget. She's going to teach him mah-jongg."

She grinned. "That's a mark of high approval. She normally refuses to play with anyone not up to her standards." If Lily hadn't known him so well, she wouldn't have seen the tension in Rule's body. He didn't like elevators. He didn't like anyone noticing his discomfort, either, so she kept talking. "We should do something for Li Qin as a thank-you."

"A vacation? Without your grandmother, that is."

"Surprising as it may seem, Li Qin is devoted to Grandmother. I doubt she'd go. But Christmas is nearly here."

"Yes, and it looks like we'll have family around for the holiday, after all. Not to mention a Christmas tree. With sugarplums."

"But no Santas. I hope you realize you're paying for that. Grandmother will feel she's done more than her share by condescending to use the phone."

"I certainly wouldn't let her pay for it. You need to call your mother."

That had sure come out of left field. It took her a second to recover. "She'll just refuse to talk to me."

The elevator doors opened on someone else's floor. Two men got off. "Then leave a message. You know better than most that we aren't guaranteed the time we think we need to mend fences with those we love."

She stared at the closing doors. "Wrong time, wrong place. Nag me later."

He lowered his voice. "You haven't told me what's wrong between the two of you. But does it matter? Does it matter as much as spending the holiday without speaking to her? She's difficult, but she loves you."

Lily didn't answer. He meant well, but so did her mother. Every time she told Lily how she ought to be running her life, Julia Yu meant well.

Almost every time. When Lily had desperately needed her support… "This is our floor," she said, as glad as Rule must be to escape the crowded elevator.

Before she and Rule left San Diego, Lily had gone to her parents' house to say goodbye to her father and her younger sister… and to apologize to her mother. She owed her that much, though she'd known damned well she'd get no apology in return.

She'd managed two out of three. Her mother hadn't been home.

Five weeks ago Lily and her younger sister had both been in the emergency room. Lily had been injured physically; Rule was missing and presumed dead, and Lily's Gift had been reft from her. She'd needed her mother, and Julia Yu had come… to hover over her youngest daughter and blame Lily for everything.

"Your sister could have been killed! And why? Because of him! Him and your job, the stupid job you insisted on, no matter how many times I told you I didn't like it. And now you've brought hurt to your family, you and that—that wolf man you're sleeping with. I'm glad he's dead! I—"

That's when Lily had slapped her.

"Lily," Rule said.

Yanked back to the present, Lily noticed the woman hurrying toward them—fortyish, with dust-colored hair, glasses, and a bright pink shirt straining over generous breasts. Sandy McPherson was an analyst in data collection with a wicked sense of humor, and one of the few people Lily knew in Headquarters.

"You sleepwalking?" Sandy said. "I called you twice."

"Sorry. What's up?"

"Ida is looking for you."

"Is it urgent?" Lily glanced at her watch. "We're due in a meeting in two and half minutes."

"She didn't say, but…" Sandy shrugged. "It's Ida."

"Right." Ruben's secretary wasn't likely to make a fuss if it wasn't important. "Thanks, Sandy."

"You can thank me by introducing me to the sexiest man I've ever seen."

She was looking at Rule with a familiar expression on her face. Lily grinned. "Mine."

"I can still drool, can't I? You're Rule Turner. Not only can I read your visitor's badge, I read the gossip mags, and… no, better not go there. I'm supposed to be somewhere myself as of…" She checked her own watch. "Twelve minutes ago."

"It's good to almost meet you, Sandy," Rule said.

She grinned, sighed, and bustled off down the hall. They headed for the next intersection in the maze, took a left, and arrived at Ida's lair.

Ida was speaking into her headset, tapping away at a keyboard, and passing a file to the woman standing by her desk. "Take that in to Ruben," she said without missing a keystroke. The other woman hurried to the door on the far wall.

Lily waited a moment, but Ida didn't look up. "Cynna suspects she's an alien," she whispered, "but I think she has three brains. Has to, to multitask that way."

"I heard that," Ida said without looking away from the screen, adding—presumably into the headset—"You're booked on the 4:30 flight. Yes. I'll ask. For now, use the Morrison ID."

"She also has supernaturally keen hearing," Lily said in a normal voice. "I can't figure out why I don't get a buzz of magic from her."

"Call Jules. No, not yet—I'll let you know when we do. All right. Goodbye." Ida stopped typing long enough to remove her headset. She spared Lily a glance. "The report you wanted is in the blue folder. I thought you might need it before your meeting."

"And she's supernaturally quick with flashes of omniscience." Lily picked up the folder. "Thanks, Ida."

"You've got thirty seconds to make it to the conference room."

Lily hurried.

"Friendly soul," Rule said.

"Maybe not, but she's devoted to Ruben and the Unit—"

"How can you tell?"

"—and she's got a better memory than my computer. You're miffed because she didn't drool."

"I don't expect drool. A glance, maybe, some hint of awareness… Do you think she's a robot?"

Lily grinned and pushed open the door.

They walked in on a fierce argument. Sherry O'Shaunessy was stabbing her finger in the air at a man Lily didn't recognize, who scowled back at her. The archbishop was nowhere in sight.

Sherry didn't look like either of Hollywood's versions of witches—the cackling crone or the nubile young Wiccan. Aside from the hair, that is. Her hair flowed in a gray and silver cascade to her hips, held out of her face by a silver headband. Otherwise she might have been someone's suburban grandma: short, chubby, with rosy cheeks and blue eyes set off by plenty of smile lines. She wore tailored slacks and a sky-blue twinset.

Not that she was smiling now. The object of her stabbing finger was a man of about forty: skinny, wide mouth, rimless glasses, and thick eyebrows. Japanese or Korean descent, probably; wrinkled white dress shirt, conservative haircut, no tie, brown slacks.

The third person in the room, Dr. Xavier Fagin, wore cargo pants—an interesting sight on a man of his age and girth—a black T-shirt, and a tweed jacket. His white hair poked up in all directions like dandelion fluff. He was leaning back in his chair, fingers laced together over a comfortable paunch, smiling on the others like an aging hippie, still stoned after all these years.

"We can't possibly accept the Dante Protocols as the basis for inter-realm transcorporation," the unknown man insisted. "Its provenance is riddled with flaws. Flaws and outright deception."

The high priestess threw up both hands. "Then where do we start? Because we have to make a start. Xavier…" She turned to Dr. Fagin.

"We have company," the professor said mildly.

Sherry blinked, then smiled at them. "Sorry. We get intense. Since you're Lily," she said, her gaze flicking between them, "you must be Rule."

He gave her back a smile. "I am. And you must be Sherry O'Shaunessy. Though we haven't met, I've heard of your beauty."

Rule could get away with saying things like that because he meant them. Lily wasn't sure what his standards for beauty were, but they didn't match with the usual ones. Maybe he just found women beautiful, period.

Dr. Fagin unlaced his lingers and pushed to his feet, holding out a hand. "Rule Turner? Pleased to meet you, sir, and glad you survived last night's encounter. I'm Xavier Fagin."

The older man kept right on talking as they shook. "One of our members is absent—Archbishop Brown—but he should rejoin us shortly. You've now met Sherry, who insists on calling me by my first name when everyone else calls me Fagin… among other, less repeatable things. Sherry's co-combatant is Hikaru Ito. Ms. Yu, you won't have met him, either. He arrived this afternoon."

The name was Japanese, as were his features—second generation, probably. No accent, but a traditional first name.

Rule turned to Ito, smiling. "I've read your book on substitu-tionary symbology."

Ito was still simmering over inter-realm transcorporation, but he made an effort ta be civil. "Have you, now. And what did you think?"

"That it was way over my head. I passed it to a friend of mine who understands the lingo."

"And did he offer an opinion?" Ito's tone made it clear he doubted that anyone Rule knew could have understood his work.

"He called you brilliant but misguided."

Ito snorted. "That's better than many of my critics will concede. Fagin thinks I'm—"

"Brilliant but misguided," Fagin said, chuckling. "About the Pythagorean linkage, that is. Liked what you did with Hambly's translation. Neat. Very neat. Dr. Ito," he added with a sleepy smile aimed in Lily's direction, "is a symbolist, specializing in prophecies."

Lily had no intention of letting the handshaking part of the introductions lag. Several people had summoned demons. It would be a bitch if one of the perps turned out to be on the task force. She held out her hand. "Pleased to met you, Dr. Ito. You've worked on Nostradamus's prophecies as well, I think?"

He looked surprised but accepted her hand. "My one and only attempt at writing for the popular market. Didn't sell well, I'm afraid."

The tingle of magic was very faint, almost nonexistent. Lily dropped his hand and turned to Sherry, smiling. "We didn't exactly meet earlier. I'm glad you're here." She extended her hand.

Sherry's eyebrows lifted. "Checking us out?"

"Any reason I shouldn't?"

"You sound like a cop." But that was observation, not complaint. Sherry took Lily's hand.

Good grip; the magic was strong, cool, flowing—a major water Gift. No trace of the demonic. Lily released the woman's hand just as the door opened.

It was Archbishop Brown, looking intense. Lily suspected that was his usual expression. "I've cleared my calendar for two days," he said abruptly. "That's as much as I can… oh. Hello, Ms., ah… sorry. I've forgotten your last name."

"Lily Yu," she said, moving forward and holding out her hand. "And this is Rule Turner. Rule, Archbishop Brown."

"Call me Patrick." The cleric's grip was firm, his palm dry. No magic. He gave Rule a sharp glance. "You're the Nokolai prince."

"Heir," Rule said mildly. " 'Prince' is the press's term, and not particularly apt."

He nodded once. "The press gets most things wrong. I've some questions for you about the demon you encountered."

"I have questions for you, too," Lily said. The archbishop was possibly the foremost demonologist in the Catholic Church. "Dr. Fagin?" She held out her hand again.

"Clean sweep, eh?" He wiggled his eyebrows as if she'd suggested something naughty. "Why not?"

His palm was wide, the knuckles prominent. There was enough coarse hair on the back of his hand and fingers to have gotten him in trouble fifty years ago, when people still believed werewolves sprouted extra hair, even in human form.

She took it. For a split second she felt nothing, then magic itched along her palm. Which was weird. She'd never had any sort of delayed read before. What—

Dr. Fagin's eyes rolled back in his head. He toppled slowly, like an old elm.