Ritual Magic

SEVENTEEN

WHEN they went back into the plush little lounge, Benedict was pacing. Arjenie stood out of his path, watching him with worried eyes. Rule took one look at his brother and inhaled sharply. What he smelled told him more than simply watching the leashed ferocity of Benedict’s movements.

Benedict’s control was flawless, but it was not endless. “Benedict.”

Benedict kept moving without a word or a glance.

Rule pulled on the Nokolai mantle. “Benedict.”

This time Rule’s brother stopped and looked at him. His face was blank, all expression smoothed out. His eyes were wild. Wolf eyes.

“I give you a choice.” Only once had Rule felt the need to pull mantle on his older brother—when Benedict had been magically shoved into fuerta, a berserker state. He pulled just as hard this time. “Change now, and await news as a wolf, or go run.”

For a brief moment Benedict looked at him with the eyes of a wolf—keen, sharp, and thinking. But not thinking as a man does. Then relief shivered through those dark eyes. He lowered his head, acknowledging Rule’s authority. And Changed.

Humans weren’t able to see the Change fully. Perhaps you had to hear moonsong in order to see the way it threaded itself through a man, reaching out to grasp Earth so that together the two could fold him up through a place that was not here, yet was eternally present. For a second, the song of the moon reverberated through Rule, so clear, so pure . . .

Then a large black wolf stood atop Benedict’s clothes.

“I guess you didn’t want to risk missing the surgeon when he gets here,” Arjenie said briskly, stepping up to thread her fingers through Benedict’s ruff. “Is this better?” she asked her mate. Benedict nodded once.

“He probably also didn’t want to split our guards,” Rule said. He inhaled thoughtfully. Good. Benedict wasn’t easy, far from it, but he was better.

Arjenie looked at Rule. “He was okay, then suddenly he wasn’t.”

“He pushed himself too far. The problem with having excellent control is that we grow accustomed to it always being sufficient. We can confuse what we think should be true with what is.” Plus, Rule suspected that Benedict, whose mate bond with Arjenie was still new, had relied on it to shore up his control more than he should have. Rule pulled on the mantle again. Not hard, but enough to reassure his brother: If you can’t do what you know is necessary, I will make you. “Benedict, your duty now is to wait. I prefer you do so in this form. Scott will let us know when the surgeon approaches so you can Change to a less threatening form.”

Benedict nodded again, heaved a windy sigh, and lay down.

“I hope Scott can let us know in time for Benedict to pull on his pants after he Changes,” Lily said. “Dr. Sengupta might be rattled by a naked Benedict.”

“A lot of people would be,” Arjenie agreed. She’d folded herself to sit on the floor beside Benedict and was rubbing behind his ear.

Rule used his phone to let Scott know that they wanted a few moments’ warning of the surgeon’s arrival. Scott knew what the man looked like; he’d looked him up on Facebook earlier and confirmed it with the helpful Mr. Reddings. Rule put up his phone and repressed a sigh.

Respite was, by definition, temporary. Lily was pouring herself another cup of coffee, though caffeine was the last thing she needed. She looked like she needed the run Benedict hadn’t chosen. “Did you decide not to check on the ER doctor now?” he asked.

“Yes. I guess. I don’t know.” She ran a hand through her hair. Her other hand clutched the coffee cup as if it were a security blanket, but she didn’t drink. “I should trust Jack, I guess. Spells aren’t as precise as Gifts, so it’s possible he’d miss some tiny little trace, but that’s unlikely to be an issue. We have reason to think the contagion doesn’t transfer partially.”

“What reason?” Arjenie asked.

Lily’s gaze flicked to her. “While I was doing the trial-and-error thing, Karonski pulled the CSI team farther away from the body. He thought the contagion must have spread, seeing that it had reached Crown, who wasn’t that close to the body. Once we were pretty sure Crown could be treated, Karonski sent me to see how much it had spread. Turned out it hadn’t. It took awhile to confirm that. I had to cover a lot of ground barefoot, but in the end, I didn’t find any trace of it.”

“None?” Rule’s eyebrows shot up. “But the body—”

“That’s the thing. The body was gone.”

“If whoever stole the body caught the contagion—”

But Lily was shaking her head. “When I got back to the scene I found bones and hair and clothes, some scraps of sinew. No flesh or muscle. Creeped me out. By the time I left to come here, even the bones were dust. It’s like he was never there at all.”

“That’s—”

Mike spoke through the door. “Surgeon’s coming.”

Benedict Changed so quickly that, even as he thrust to his feet, he ended by standing on two of them, not four.

“Rule?” Lily asked.

“The surgeon,” he said tersely.

Lily moved to him and took his hand.

Arjenie handed Benedict his jeans. His thrust one foot in, then the other.

Mike opened the door.

Benedict pulled the jeans up.

Dr. Sengupta was short, wiry, and young. He smelled of blood, though his blue scrubs were clean. No doubt he’d changed. His eyes were bloodshot. If he was startled to find one of the family members zipping up his jeans, it didn’t show. He spoke quickly. “Dr. Two Horses made it through the surgery and is in recovery now. In addition to the pneumothorax, there was herniation and perforation of the left colonic angle in the pleural cavity and both diaphragmatic and abdominal damage. I chose to bring in a specialist for the abdominal repair. We were fortunate that Dr. Ransome was able to postpone the elective procedure he’d scheduled. He is a superb surgeon. You may speak with him later, if you wish, but he had another surgery and couldn’t meet with you now.”

Benedict’s voice was so low it was nearly a wolf’s growl. “What kind of abdominal injury?”

“Her stomach. Dr. Ransome believes that was the only area to sustain significant damage, and that he repaired it fully. Do you want a full description of the path the bullet took?”

“Not now,” Rule said. “What’s her prognosis?”

“Fair. Her injuries are grave, but surgery went well and she’s stable. It is possible she will make a full recovery, if we do not see any complications in the next few days. I understand she’s a healer.”

“Yes. A very good one.”

He nodded. “That works in her favor, certainly. Even without her conscious direction, her Gift is probably operating at a low level to sustain her. However, she must not attempt more.” The little surgeon frowned sternly. “Healing is physically draining. Her body cannot afford that drain. In a few days, I may allow her to attempt some limited healing under my supervision. That is very important. She is to wait until I am present.”

“I should be with her,” Benedict said. “In recovery. I can make sure she doesn’t try to use her Gift.”

Sengupta pursed his lips. “And you are . . . ?”

“Her father.”

The surgeon’s eyebrows shot up. Benedict looked slightly younger than Nettie. “That is . . . a remarkable claim.”

Benedict’s lip lifted in a snarl.

“He’s lupus,” Rule said smoothly. “Our age doesn’t always show. He would certainly be the best one to ensure that Nettie doesn’t try to use her Gift.”

Dr. Sengupta cast Rule a look, frowning but with some curiosity mixed in. “Very well. I will arrange it. Understand that she’ll be fuzzy-headed and in pain. Her instinct will be to heal herself. You must impress on her on how dangerous this would be. You must be firm.”

Benedict nodded once. “Where do I go?”

As the little surgeon gave directions, Rule considered the man’s surprising familiarity with the instincts and limitations of healers. He turned to ask Lily to find out if the man had a trace of that Gift.

She stood absolutely motionless, one hand still clutching the mug she’d filled and forgotten, her face a blank mask—save for the tears slipping from her eyes, shining damply on her cheeks.

Fear leaped up, lodging in his throat. His hand tightened on hers. “Lily?”

“I . . . it’s Sam. He just told me. My mother . . .” Now she turned to look at him. “He’s finished, and it worked. Her mind is stable.”