Mortal Ties

FORTY-FOUR

ON New Year’s Eve, at three thirty, Lily said goodbye to her new friend of the fifth degree. Alycithin had healed almost completely from her terrible wounds. She was going home via the gate in D.C. The powers that be had decided the least embarrassing thing was to agree with Alycithin that she could take custody of the criminals and return them to their realm.

They might not have come to that decision, diplomatic immunity or no, if Lily hadn’t edited her official report carefully. If she had not, in fact, left some things out completely. Sean didn’t object. He’d grown to like Alycithin, too.

Sam had returned to his lair without speaking to her.

Lily knew now why he’d shut her out so abruptly. Grandmother had explained. Part of Benessarai’s payment to Robert Friar had included three psi bombs—something she’d never heard of—that an agent of Friar’s had been taking back east aboard a 747. The man had accidentally detonated them. Sam had foreseen this and reached the plane in time, but he’d had to hold a shield around the blast to keep it from driving everyone aboard insane, including the pilot. Had he faltered for even a second, the plane would have crashed.

In other words, Sam was a hero and Lily had no excuse for holding a grudge. Four hundred lives had hung in the balance, and she had been a distraction he could not afford. In her head, Lily knew there was nothing to forgive. He’d done the right thing. All of which left her confused and not liking herself much. She didn’t know if she was angry or hurt or just pouting, but she couldn’t seem to let it go. She couldn’t forget that slammed door.

Otherwise, things were pretty good. The day after tomorrow, on the second day of the new year, she and Rule had an appointment. With a real estate agent. They’d be looking for a property with a fair amount of land, something not too far from the city, but also not too far from Clanhome. Toby had been shuffled around enough. They wanted him to be able to continue his schooling at Clanhome.

But Rule couldn’t live there anymore. Not now that he was fully Leidolf Rho. They would find a property with land enough for wolves to run and either a really large house or two houses. They’d still need plenty of security, and besides, Rule wanted to bring more Leidolf out here. Time, he said, he started training more of them away from certain habits their old Rho had instilled.

The whole thing made Lily nervous. Rule had considered paying cash, but decided it would leave him with too little cushion. This purchase was on him, mostly. Lily sure couldn’t afford the kind of place they needed, Leidolf didn’t have the funds, and it was not something Nokolai could help with. So they’d be signing a mortgage. One whopping big mortgage, even with Rule making a whopping big down payment. Land did not come cheap.

Tonight, though—tonight was for Rule. Rule and Nokolai.

Lupi made a big deal about New Year’s Eve. At least Nokolai did. Christmas they considered more of a private time, one you spent with family or friends, but New Year’s Eve was for clan. They had a big bonfire, lots of food, dancing, and music, and everyone came who could. You were supposed to bring something to toss on the bonfire, something that stood for whatever you wanted to let go of along with the old year. People starting adding their whatevers around eleven so everyone would have a chance to finish before midnight, when the Rhej would ring a big old cowbell to let everyone know.

This was Cynna’s first time to have that duty. She was kind of nervous about it.

Some of the letting-go objects were funny, like Hostess cupcakes Emma tossed on the fire with a shout of “Junk food!” Some were a mystery to everyone else, like the small rubber ball José contributed. Several lupi gave him a hard time for stinking up the place—rubber smells awful when it burns—but he just smiled. A lot of people simply brought a piece of paper with something written on it.

That’s what Rule did. Lily didn’t know what he’d written on it, but he’d nodded as it turned black and burned.

Lily brought a stone from her necklace—the one that was supposed to keep ghosts away. It wouldn’t burn, but it was the idea that counted, she figured. She knew what she was letting go of as she chunked it on the flames. If she’d had to put a word to it, she would have said, “judgment,” but it was both more and less than that.

Drummond hadn’t come back.

When Lily was nine years old, a monster had stolen her and her friend. He’d raped and killed Sarah. Lily was alive because of a cop who got there in time. Since she was nine years old, she’d known two things: there were monsters who looked like people. And one day she would become a cop and protect the real people from the monsters. By the time she joined the force, she’d understood that the monsters were real people, too—twisted and warped and bad, but people. But her goal hadn’t changed.

When Lily was eight years old, she’d wanted the monster who killed Sarah dead. She’d wanted to be the one who killed him. That was one of the few things she’d been able to say about what happened to her, and it had alarmed her mother. The therapist they’d sent her to had wanted to talk about feelings, not actions. She hadn’t known what to say to a child who dreamed of murder.

Grandmother had. She’d patted Lily on the back and said, “Of course you wish to kill him. However, you cannot. Now go kill the weeds in my garden. Pull them out by the roots. Pull out the grass, too. Kill as much of it as you can.”

Lily still loved to garden.

It had taken another twenty years for her to understand there had been another reason for her to become a cop. She’d needed the rules. She was capable of killing, and she’d needed to know exactly what the rules were so she wouldn’t kill unless it was absolutely necessary.

She stood in the circle of Rule’s arm and watched the bonfire, feeling its heat on her face. Two people had brought fiddles and were starting to play. She’d dance in a bit. Her head hadn’t been concussed, and if her ribs were still bruised, that wouldn’t matter. Rule’s gunshot wound—which he had not told her about until she saw it—was fully healed. So she’d dance with Rule, and with others, too. She’d lived, and he had, and everyone here tonight had made it through this year in spite of the war. They would celebrate that.

Some hadn’t made it through the year. Too many.

Lily wasn’t sure if she would have killed Benessarai if Drummond hadn’t shown up to exact that promise, but maybe. Maybe she would. That was not a comfortable thing to know about herself. If she’d killed him, it wouldn’t have been because she had to, or even for the pragmatic reason that it was damn hard to imprison a sidhe with his skills. She’d have done it because she could, and he deserved death for what he’d done.

She still thought he deserved to die, but it wasn’t up to her. It never had been up to her. That’s what she’d tossed on the fire a few minutes ago.

Sometimes the bad guys did redeem themselves, wholly and completely. That’s what she’d learned from Drummond. That’s why it wasn’t up to her.

“This is going to sound stupid,” she said, “but I kind of miss him.”

“Miss who?”

“Drummond.”

“You’re right. That sounds pretty stupid.”

She elbowed him. “You’re supposed to reassure me.”

“Can’t. I tossed that sort of thing on the fire just now.”

She turned in his arms to look at him directly, looping her arms around his neck loosely. “I’m guessing you don’t mean you’ve given up reassuring me.”

He ran a finger along the side of her face, which was still a bit swollen. “I gave up thinking I can make better choices for you than you can. Being less than honest with you. And in all honesty, it does sound pretty dumb for you to—”

Rule was really ticklish under his arms. She got him good, and of course he retaliated, so they were both laughing when Cynna rang the cowbell good and loud, welcoming in the new year.