Blood Magic

EIGHT

BY the time the deputies arrived, Lily had checked out the trampled grass near the spot where Cullen had fallen. She’d also done preliminary interviews with seven witnesses and was about to start on number eight.

Working with Isen was different from working with Rule. Efficient as hell, but different. For one thing, Lily had never seen Isen in wolf form until today—an omission that surprised her once she noticed it. Was that a courtesy on his part, to always meet her in the form she best understood? Or did he just not Change all that often? If so, was that a matter of age or personal inclination, or connected to his position as Rho?

She banked those questions for now.

Isen made a gorgeous wolf. Smaller than Rule, though still larger than a normal wolf, and very strong through the chest and shoulders. His coat was a reddish brown, almost foxy, which struck her as appropriate. But he was very much a wolf.

When Rule was wolf, Lily was so conscious of who he was that what he was seemed secondary. With Isen, she was aware every second that a large, strong wolf stood beside her. She wasn’t frightened. Just really aware.

The witnesses were uniformly courteous and responsive. And—as Isen had said they would—they told the truth.

The truth as they knew it.

Lily had two witnesses—Mike Hemmings and Sandra Metlock—who had seen Rule stab his best friend with a poisoned blade. She had a witness who’d seen Cynna do it. Three others had seen three different attackers—Mike Hemmings, Piers, and “some stranger. Never saw the guy before.” And yet another wit was convinced the knife had been thrown because no one had been standing behind Cullen when he collapsed. He was sure of that.

No one had seen an Asian man anywhere near Cullen.

The knife itself was still missing.

The grass and ground where the perp must have stood gave off the kind of furry tingles she associated with lupi. Normally lupi didn’t leave traces of magic on objects, not unless they Changed, but strong emotion sometimes made them leak a bit, maybe because they pushed the lupus toward Change. There was a very faint trace of the dancing tickle she associated with sorcery, but that wasn’t surprising. Cullen was a sorcerer.

Shannon brought the next witness to her. This one didn’t come solo, but hand in hand with another wit. Lily sighed. “Jason, I’ll speak with you separately.”

“I’d like him to stay with me,” Beth said. Her chin had a defiant tilt.

“Sorry, that’s not possible—not unless he has a law degree and you’re wanting a lawyer present.”

“Maybe I do want a lawyer.”

Lily looked at her sister for a long moment, then gestured at Jason. “Go back and wait. Shannon, escort him, please.”

Jason started to protest. The big, reddish wolf standing beside Lily gave him a single glance. He left, Shannon trailing him.

Lily moved close to Beth and spoke quietly, though Isen would hear every word anyway. “All right. What’s going on?”

“I just . . . I don’t want to say, that’s all.”

“Did you see what happened?”

Beth didn’t answer out loud, but the wincing around her eyes said “yes” pretty clearly.

Lily took her arm, running her hand up and down in a light, soothing way. “Beth. You know you have to tell me.”

Beth swallowed and looked away. “It was Freddie,” she whispered. “I told you he was here. F-Freddie stabbed Cullen. I saw him. I know it doesn’t make sense, because why . . . But he did.”

“Never mind about that now. You’re sure? Where were you standing?” Lily took Beth through the same questions she’d used with the other wits, getting her sister to place everyone she remembered in a diagram. “Okay. Okay, that’s good. Listen, Beth.” She gripped her sister’s shoulder. “You’ve helped. You’ve helped a lot. Don’t worry about Freddie. He wasn’t here.”

“But I saw—”

“I know, but trust me, okay?” She glanced at her watch. “Shit. I need to call Ruben.”

Benedict came up. “You wanted to know when the sheriff’s department showed up. They just passed the gate.”

Thirty-eight minutes. Thirty-eight damned minutes it had taken them to respond to an attempted homicide. Never mind that their absence made things smoother for her. “Thanks. Ah—Isen, I’ll need to talk to the deputies before I question anyone else, so if you want to . . .” She made the little circular motion she’d seen lupi use to refer to the Change.

He did. By the time she’d pulled her phone out of her bag, a two-legged and entirely naked Isen Turner stood beside her. He was less hairy in this form, but not by a lot.

Lily pretended she was fine with people standing around naked. She pressed seven on her speed dial.

Cynna picked up right away. “We’re not there yet. We’re about six blocks away.”

“I hear a siren.”

“We’ve got an escort. Police escort. I called Ida before we left Clanhome and she arranged it. They caught up with us on the highway and Rule wasn’t crazy about it because he had to slow down some—either their cars aren’t as fast as his or they just won’t drive that fast—but it helped once we got off the highway.”

“You’re holding up. You’re okay.”

“He’s not dead. I made Nettie promise to call if he—if he got worse. She hasn’t called, so I know he’s not dead.” Lily heard Rule speaking in the background, then Cynna added with a thread of humor in her voice, “Rule says Cullen would almost have to try to die for him to kick off at this point.”

If a lupus lived through the first thirty minutes after an injury, he usually made it—especially if he had Nettie watching over him. The problem was, Cullen’s healing was being affected by an unknown poison. The thirty-minute deal might not apply.

Lily forced a smile so Cynna would hear it in her voice. “I’m not going to worry. Cullen’s too ornery to die.”

A single sheriff’s car pulled into the parking area along the east side of the field. She told Cynna to hold on a sec, then asked Benedict to have one of his people bring the officers to her. Normally she’d have met them halfway—but not when it had taken them nearly forty minutes to show up. And they’d sent a single car?

She bit back her anger. For now. “Listen, the locals have finally arrived, so I don’t have time to explain, but there’s reason to suspect the perp is capable of changing his or her appearance radically. I know illusion isn’t supposed to be possible—”

“Not in this century. Not unless we’ve got a killer elf hanging around. One with a grudge against Cullen—which, admittedly, is possible. The grudge part, I mean.”

“I don’t know what we’ve got. It isn’t making sense yet. But for now, I want you to be paranoid. Stay with Cullen and . . . is there some way you can check out everyone who comes in contact with him? Use those spell patterns of yours somehow to make sure they’re who they seem to be?”

Cynna was the best Finder in North America. Her Gift allowed her to track what she sought, but for most things she first had to create a pattern. She did that with a spell.

“Hmm. Maybe. It would help if I knew something about the perp—his age, whether or not he’s human. Something specific to check for.”

“I don’t have anything for you. I can’t even say ‘he’ for certain. But . . .” Lily hesitated, then tossed the dice. “The perp may be an Asian male. Does that help?”

“Asian?” Cynna’s surprise was supplanted by haste. “I didn’t see—okay,” she said, possibly to Rule. “Listen, we’re there. I’ve got to go. I’ll stick with Cullen—well, except for surgery. I don’t think they’ll let me in there. But I’ve got to go.”

The line went dead. Lily put up her phone, frowning. Had she helped, or added a ridiculous complication?

Why had Cullen been attacked in the first place? He had enemies, sure. But why this enemy, at this time and place? Why come after him in the middle of a few hundred lupi?

The deputies were headed across the field toward her. She frowned. She needed to interview the people Rule said he’d been speaking with when Cynna cried out. She knew he was telling the truth, but she had to confirm it.

Not yet, though. She had to go be diplomatic with the uniformed assholes headed her way.

“Lily,” Isen said.

“What?” she snapped.

“Don’t bite the nice officers.” Someone had brought him a pair of jeans, which he’d pulled on while she was talking to Cynna. He zipped them now. “We haven’t encouraged the sheriff’s department to come calling.”

“You have some kind of understanding with them so they won’t rush out to investigate?”

“Of course not.” He was bland. “That would be wrong.”

She snorted and returned her attention to the two men crossing the field.

She couldn’t see faces. There wasn’t enough light. But she could see that both deputies were male; one was white, the other black. Both looked fit. The white guy was tall, maybe six-two, and slim; the black guy was shorter and wider. Not fat, not a bit of it, but built husky, like a smaller version of Benedict. He moved like a big cat, smooth and effortless.

Lily’s body caught on before her mind did. She was still wondering why the black guy looked familiar when her breath hitched. A second later, she knew.

From ten feet away she could see that the taller deputy had sandy hair, a rookie’s spit and polish, and the stiff expression of someone who hopes he looks tough. The other man had a wide nose, deep-set eyes, no hat, and hair buzzed close to the skull. He didn’t have to try to look tough. He was the real deal . . . even if he did have a butterfly tattooed on his left cheek.

Not the cheek on his face. The one currently covered by his crisp khakis.

Lily waited until they stopped in front of her. She didn’t bother wishing Isen away, but she did wish—fleetingly but fervently—that her sister wasn’t here. “Hello, Cody. It’s been a while.”