Mortal Danger

TWENTY-THREE

Cynna hated hospitals. So did everyone who didn’t work in one, she supposed, and maybe some who did. Just the smell of this one made her want to turn around and head the other way.

But there were things she hated worse, so she stepped out of the elevator and scowled at the wall with arrows pointing this way and that, depending on which room number you wanted.

Okay, three-fourteen was to the left. She headed that way at a good clip, her tote tucked under one arm, the flowers she’d picked up at the grocery store gripped firmly in her other hand. She hadn’t been raised within whiffing distance of any social graces, but she’d picked up a few along the way. When you visited someone in the hospital, you took flowers.

Cynna had never been one to dawdle, and with a good head of anger steaming her brain, she chugged past the nurse’s station pretty quickly. A nurse with a bouncy pony-tail called out something about stopping. She ignored that.

Damned bureaucrats. She’d thought Ruben was different, but he’d caved, turned belly-up under the pressure. Well, she wasn’t about to go along with it.

She was reaching for the door of three-fourteen when the nurse—persistent little shit—put a hand on her arm. “Miss! I’ve been trying to stop you. You can’t go in there.”

Cynna turned around slowly. “Don’t touch.”

It was the first good look the woman had gotten at Cynna’s face. Her baby-blues opened wide.

There had been a time when Cynna enjoyed the stares—at least she wasn’t invisible. There’d been a time when they annoyed her. These days she mostly didn’t notice, but she was a little testy at the moment.

“What’s the matter?” she asked. “Have I got dirt on my cheek? Is my lipstick smeared?”

“Uh…” The woman blinked. “You aren’t wearing lipstick.”

“No shit.” Cynna grinned in a way she knew made people nervous. “So what’re you staring at?”

Nurse Ponytail was made of stronger stuff than she looked. “Your tattoos. I shouldn’t have. Excuse me for that, but you didn’t stop. You can’t go in there, miss. Visiting hours aren’t for another two hours.”

“You’re full of assumptions, aren’t you, Miss Nurse? How do you know I don’t have three or four husbands scattered around? Here. Hold this.” She thrust the flowers at the nurse so she could dig out her badge. “Happy?”

Damned if the woman didn’t take the badge and examine it before handing it back. “It looks legitimate. Did you clear this visit with the head nurse?”

“No.” Cynna stuffed her badge in her jacket pocket and took back the flowers. “Why don’t you run along and tattle on me?” She turned away and shoved open the door. And stopped, letting her tote fall to the floor as she held her hands away from her sides.

The .38 aimed her way had an effect on her heart rate, too.

It was held by an aging Santa Claus in gold-rimmed glasses, a cheap sports jacket, and ugly black shoes. Cop shoes. Cop eyes, too, behind those glasses.

She relaxed a bit. “Guess I should have knocked first.”

“It’s okay, T.J.,” Lily said from the bed. “She’s MCD.”

“Knocking would be a good idea,” he said, sliding his weapon back into a shoulder holster that was in a lot better shape than his shoes. “People keep trying to kill Yu. Makes me edgy.”

“Understandable.”

“They might miss and hit me,” he explained.

She grinned and came farther into the room. It was typical hospital fare—semi-private, no window, two stiff, vinyl-covered chairs for visitors. No one was in the other bed. No flowers, Cynna noticed. Well, Lily hadn’t been here long and would probably be turned loose soon.

If they didn’t decide to lock her away somewhere else, that is. Someplace where she could be medicated and watched.

Lily didn’t look bad. Pale, tired, and all-over tense, but otherwise okay. Not noticeably nutty… not grieving, either, from what Cynna could tell. But she had her face closed up tight, so Cynna might have been wrong about that.

Lily lifted a hand. “T.J., this is Agent Cynna Weaver. Cynna, this quivering mass of Jell-O is Detective Thomas James. I worked homicide with him.”

“Make it T.J.” He grinned, revealing a gold tooth and more charm than she’d expected from an old, fat white dude. “Only civilians call me Detective James.”

“Sure, if you call me Cynna. When I hear ‘Agent Weaver’ I start looking for some suit with a briefcase.”

“I hear you. Good to meet you, Cynna.” He glanced at Lily. “Guess I’ll be heading out.”

“Uh… don’t rush off on my account.” Cynna knew she sounded insincere, probably because she was. Some things couldn’t be said with an outsider around, even if he was a cop.

“I was ready to leave. Yu here has already heard all my stories, and the strain of trying to look interested is wearing her out.”

“T.J.” Lily gave him a long, level look. “Thanks.”

He gave her a nod. “Still think you ought to come back, but I’ll admit we can’t offer you all the thrills you’re getting with the feds. Shot, burned… think you could arrange to be stabbed next time, just for a little variety?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she said dryly.

Cynna moved aside to let him by. On impulse she asked, “Did the ponytail nurse give you a hard time about showing up before visiting hours?”

“You mean Sally?” There was a knowing look in his eyes. “Nah, Sally likes me. Cute little thing, isn’t she?”

She sighed. “Not my type.”

“Never know, these days,” he said vaguely. “Later.”

Cynna wasn’t sure what it was about her that gave people the idea she played on her own side of the fence, but this wasn’t the first time she’d run up against that notion. Not just from men, either. She’d been hit on plenty by the DC-types of her own sex.

After the door closed behind T.J., Cynna sighed. “Maybe I need to wear a button. Something discreet like, ‘No, I’m not lesbian.’”

The door opened again. “And I, for one, am pleased to hear it. Do you fool around?”

Cynna turned around. And fell in love.

“You must be Lily’s Finder,” said the most beautiful man in the world. “I’ve been wanting to meet you.”

“I am so shallow,” she muttered. Then, louder, “Listen, about fooling around… I’ve got some things to do first, but if you’d like to wait until after I’ve talked to Yu—to Lily, I mean—I’m up for a discussion of the subject.”

“Should I tell you who he is before you jump him?‘ Lily asked from the bed. ”Or would that detract from the mystery?“

“I’ve got this theory that it’s classier to know a man’s name before you get naked together, so shoot.”

“Cullen Seabourne.”

Shit. She should have known he was too good to be true. “The sorcerer.” Her right hand was still full of flowers, so she used the left one to run a quick diagnostic, barely moving her fingers.

He noticed. It amused him. “Thank you. I’m afraid I haven’t rediscovered the trick to creating a full, mobile illusion, however. Nor am I running any charm spells.”

“He really does look like that.” Lily didn’t sound amused. More like weary. “As for charm, I haven’t noticed any.”

“Ouch.” He came farther into the room, and oh, man, but he did know how to move. He had one of those lean bodies, all muscle and grace, like a Siamese cat. And knew how to display it—tight black jeans, a snug T-shirt the same startling blue as his eyes. His hair was a spicy brown.

She was pretty sure there were horses that color—rich and reddish, not quite auburn. He wore it too long, but Cynna wasn’t complaining. And his face… God, what a face. She could have hung him on the wall and just looked at him all day. After they had sex, that is. Hot, sweaty sex for maybe five, six hours.

“Wait a minute,” she said, scowling at a sudden thought. “You aren’t gay, are you?”

His eyebrows lifted. “Didn’t Lily tell you? I’m lupus.”

And that, of course, was that. Lupi simply didn’t produce homosexuals. The so-called experts coughed up all sorts of reasons, but Cynna considered it an argument in favor of a genetic link for sexual orientation. “And I’m very glad to meet you. Cynna Weaver.” She held out her hand… and saw the flowers she was still clutching.

She turned to Lily. “Uh, these are for you.”

“Thank you. I’m afraid I don’t have a vase, but there should be a water pitcher around here somewhere.”

“That’ll do.” God, how lame. Why hadn’t she gotten a vase with the flowers? She looked around.

“Here.” The love of her life handed her an ugly plastic pitcher.

“Great. I’ll just fill this up with water.”

The bathroom was tiny. Cynna turned on the water, but not too high. She didn’t want to miss anything.

Lily said one word to Cullen—a name. “Benedict?”

“He’s hanging in there. Beth was treated and released, I understand. She’s okay?”

“As far as I know. Mother said…” Lily hesitated, as if she didn’t want to repeat whatever her mother had said. “Beth will be staying with her and my father for a few days.”

“What about you? Any change?”

Cynna returned, ugly plastic pitcher in hand, in time to see Lily shake her head.

The gorgeous Cullen didn’t even notice her, intent on Lily and his questions. “Did they find the toltoi?”

“No.”

“What’s a toltoi?” Cynna asked, setting the improvised vase on the hospital table by the bed.

Cullen answered absently. “A charm. Her necklace got broken during the fight.”

“Easy to see how that could happen.” Harder to see why Cullen was so tense about a missing bauble. He was a sorcerer, though. Maybe he meant “charm” literally. “Change in what?”

“What do you mean?”

“You asked her if there was any change.”

He was surprised. “I wanted to know if she felt better.”

“Uh-uh.” She shook her head. “You’re good, but I’m not buying. I’m here because Lily is about to get dumped on, and I don’t like that. But 1 don’t like being kepi in the dark, either. And that’s happened right from the start.”

The other two didn’t exchange telling glances, but their silence said plenty. Cullen broke it to ask, “Who’s about to dump on Lily?”

“Have you seen the headlines?”

“Some of them.”

“They aren’t exactly good PR for any of us.” The ones in the more respectable media ranged from “Gang Slaughtered in FBI Bust” to “Wolves on the Rampage?” Cynna’s favorite tabloid had the FBI signing a demonic pact to wipe out all gangs, with the lupi acting as the demons’ hit men. Talk radio was going with pretty much the same slant, only without the demonic middlemen.

“They were bound to be all over this one,” Lily said. “Fourteen people killed, the lupi implicated, the FBI definitely involved… have they picked up on the death magic angle?”

“The Times mentions it. References an anonymous source on the San Diego PD.”

Lily grimaced. “It’s a reporter’s wet dream, even if they don’t yet know just what went down.”

“They will soon,” Cynna said grimly. “The Big Dick has scheduled a press conference for six p.m. Eastern. Just in time for the evening news.” Dick Hayes was the FBI’s acting director while the real boss recuperated from open heart surgery. The nickname given him by the rank-and-file was not a token of fondness. “He’s going to throw you to the wolves.”

Lily’s sharp laugh surprised her. “No throwing required. I’m pretty much with the wolves already. Thanks for the warning, though.”

“I don’t think you get it. He’s going to give them your name and tell them you’re scheduled for psychiatric evaluation. They’ll be all over you. Plus, he’s got this idea you faked your Gift to get in the Unit. As if that…” She paused, frowning. “You aren’t upset.”

Lily shrugged one shoulder. “I’m not happy, but it was only a matter of time before the media got my name. It was my investigation. Besides, I’m an easy sacrifice, considering how short a time I’ve been with the Bureau. The psych evaluation is news,” she admitted. “But not a big surprise.”

“He ordered Ruben not to tell you.” Cynna simmered over that a moment. “I can’t believe Ruben agreed, but he did.”

“I don’t imagine he had much choice. He made sure I learned about it.”

Cynna felt suddenly foolish. “I guess he figured I’d tell you.”

“I guess he did.”

Cynna decided to sit down. The chair was as uncomfortable as it looked. “Hayes wants you to be surprised so you’ll look bad on camera.”

“I’ll have to talk to the press at some point, but maybe not yet. Maybe I should check out of here.” She looked at Cullen. “Isen called a couple of hours ago.”

“Oh?”

“He wants me to see the Rhej. Though it sounded more like he was passing on a summons from her.”

Cullen’s eyebrows lifted.

“Who or what is the Rhej?” Cynna asked.

“A holy woman. I wonder…” He shook his head, apparently unwilling to say more.

“He also wants me to come stay with him for a while. He was very gentle, very careful with me. Didn’t believe me for a minute about Rule.”

“You wouldn’t be bothered by reporters at Clanhome.”

“No.” She chewed on her lip. “I’m going to tell Cynna.”

“Lily—”

“About my Gift,” she said, turning to Cynna. “It’s gone.”

Cynna blinked. “Can’t be.”

“That’s conventional wisdom. It’s impossible to lose a Gift, right? But I can’t touch magic now.”

Cynna couldn’t think of anything to say. Losing her own Gift… she couldn’t get her mind around that. She was a Finder. She couldn’t imagine who she’d be if that were suddenly not true. “The staff?” she said hesitantly. “You think it somehow zapped your Gift?”

“It felt… when Harlowe used it on me…” Her face wasn’t closed anymore. More like haunted. “It felt as if something was clawing my skin off. I think it pried my Gift loose.”

“Shit.”

“Pretty much, yeah.” She didn’t say anything for a moment, looking down at the sheet drawn neatly over her legs. The head of the bed was raised, pillows propped behind her.

She looked so small in that bed. That shouldn’t come as a surprise—she was a little bitty thing, after all. But something about the woman had made Cynna forget there just wasn’t much of her, physically.

Lily looked up then and met her eyes. “Losing my Gift… that’s one reason they think I’m nuts.”

“Uh…”

“The way everyone sees it, either I really did lose my Gift and it sent me round the bend, or I’m blocking it as part of my denial.” She glanced at Cullen. “That’s what you think, isn’t it?”

“I’m keeping an open mind,” he said lightly.

Lily shook her head. “If you really thought there was a chance Rule was alive, you’d be looking for him.”

His expression flattened. “Where? Your former compatriots searched the area, didn’t they?”

“You’ve got ways of looking they lack.”

“I’m no Finder.”

“No,” she said. And looked at Cynna.

“I wondered when you’d think of that. Rule…” Saying his name made her throat unhappy. She swallowed. “Ruben told me you’re insisting that he’s alive. I want to know why.”

“If I tell you—”

“Lily,” Cullen’s voice was sharp. She ignored him. “If I tell you what you want to know, will you try to Find him?”

“I already have.”