Blood Lines (13 page)

Cynna nodded.

Xitil was the demon prince who’d made an ally of
Her
avatar, then fought her, then eaten her—and promptly gone insane. Demons didn’t just eat the flesh of those they consumed. They absorbed something of the essence.

How much of the lupi’s ancient enemy now lived inside a demon prince? Had someone here allied with that prince?

Lily pressed her fingers into the hollow where neck met skull, trying to dig out an incipient headache. “It makes too damned much sense. Xitil is controlled or strongly influenced by
Her.
Killing lupus heirs would suit Her. The one thing I can’t figure is how She was able to track her targets. She’s not supposed to be able to see lupi with her X-ray vision—or whatever it is She uses to see into our realm.”

“Maybe the human perp has a strong farseeing Gift.”

Lily frowned, mentally running through what little was in the dossier on Jiri. “What’s Jiri’s Gift?”

“I don’t know. No one did, though we all tried to guess. I can say for certain it’s a strong Gift, and it isn’t Finding. I always thought she might be a precog—it was uncanny the way she could make things work out the way she wanted. But her Gift could be farseeing.”

Lily heard the reluctance in Cynna’s voice. “You don’t want our perp to be Jiri.”

“She wasn’t . . . when I knew her; she wasn’t a person who could do something like this.”

“But you left.”

“Yeah.” After a moment Cynna shrugged. “I left, and I don’t know what she’s like now. If half the street talk about her is true, she’s turned into a major badass.”

Lily’s brain felt sluggish, unable to keep up with the thoughts skittering around in it. She’d only gotten about three hours of sleep. But she could see Cynna was hurting.

New subject. “You don’t have a coffeepot in here.”

“Never touch the stuff, but there’s a pot down the hall. You need a cup?”

Yes.
“It can wait. Ruben is proceeding on the assumption the demons who weren’t killed are still around. He’s informed the authorities in Canada.”

“What about the U.S. attacks? Where were they?”

“Montana and Virginia. The one in Montana occurred on federal land, so the Billings FBI office will handle it with some help from MCD. At least, Ruben hopes they can handle it.” Lily was glad that call wasn’t hers to make.

“And in the one in Virginia?”

“Near a little town called Nutley, on land owned by the Leidolf clan. That one’s ours. Actually, it’s yours for now, but I’ll be joining you there as soon as possible.”

Lily told Cynna about Leidolf and Nokolai and Rule’s duty to escort Paul’s body home. There was plenty for her to do while she waited for the body to be released—Dr. Fagin wanted to ask her some questions, and she had some for him and the other task force members. And she needed to pry some information out of the Secret Service. They’d traced some of Jiri’s former associates in the course of their investigation—people who’d been students, hangers-on, or lovers, according to Cynna. Not apprentices. As far as Cynna knew, she’d been Jiri’s only true apprentice.

Cynna seemed to think Lily’s delay was reasonable, even necessary. And it was, dammit. But reason didn’t ease her guilt. All those good, solid reasons weren’t the only thing holding her in D.C.

There were details to settle: the need for a warrant if the Leidolf Rho didn’t cooperate; the type of weapons to take; the type of backup. Cynna tried to argue about that. She didn’t have a high opinion of MCD agents, and no one from the Unit could be spared.

Lily wasn’t having it. “You’re not going without backup. You need someone who can shoot an M-16. If they can use a rocket launcher, even better.”

“They won’t be much help if they get themselves possessed.”

“You can’t be the only Catholic with the Bureau. Or the only person of faith. That’s what counts, right? Anyone with a strong, personal faith is protected.”

“Yeah, yeah, but—”

“You mentioned coffee down the hall.”

“And you’d like me to shut up and quit arguing.” Instead of being offended, Cynna grinned. “See? This is why you’re in charge, not me. Who’d I argue with if I was heading up the case? Come on. Let’s get you some caffeine.”

The break room smelled of old, burned-to-bitter coffee. Lily felt right at home. The cops she used to work with never made fresh, either. “In Virginia, I’ve notified the local police chief and the state cops, as required. But I told the state troopers not to go in yet.”

“Good.” Cynna nodded emphatically. “The last thing we need is a possessed state trooper.”

“Which could happen if the demon’s still there. Also, Rule says Leidolf is pretty territorial. If a dozen gun-toting heroes charge into their clanhome—”

“Could be a bloodbath.”

“That was my thinking.” She blew on her coffee, then took a sip. Tasted as bad as it smelled. “You’ll need to check in with Chief Mann in Nutley when you get there. When I told him of a possible demon outbreak in his jurisdiction, he was inclined to doubt my sanity, but he did agree to speak to the Leidolf Rho.”

“I guess the lupi didn’t report the attacks.”

“Good guess,” she said dryly. Lupi weren’t exactly known for cooperating with the authorities. “If the Virginia demon is still there, how hard will it be for you to Find it?”

“My range will be limited—probably closer to ten miles than a hundred. The pattern I got last night will let me Find other demons of the same type, but it won’t be an exact match.”

“Because they’re different individuals?”

“Mostly because I took it from a corpse. Death doesn’t resonate strongly with life, even when the patterns match otherwise.”

That made a grisly sort of sense. “There’s one more thing you should know before you leave.”

“What’s that?”

“These demons are different from the red-eyes we tangled with in hell.”

“Yeah, we covered that. They’ve got claws on those stubby little arms.”

“That’s right. They may . . .” Lily had to stop, take a breath. “Those claws seem to carry some kind of poison. Rule’s wound . . . it isn’t healing.”

NINE

CYNNA
insisted on going home with Lily before leaving for Virginia. Lily didn’t argue as much as she should have.

Rule hadn’t told her, dammit. She’d found out the wound wasn’t healing when she saw blood on the sheet this morning. Not until then had he admitted something was wrong, and he still refused to see a doctor. He didn’t think traditional medicine would help.

He was probably right. When she’d touched the ripped flesh, she’d touched magic. Orange magic, coating his wound like sticky syrup. Demon magic.

“The stickiness reminds me of a curse I touched once,” she said as she climbed out of her car.

“You think it’s a curse, then?” Cynna shut the passenger door.

“Gan doesn’t think so.” Unlike a lot of the others in Lily’s life, Gan liked talking on the phone. The little demon had returned her call that morning.

Cynna followed her out of the garage. “So you talked to it? Ah—her, I mean. Do you believe her?”

“She can’t lie.” Yet. That was one of the treats in store for Gan if she converted to a more terrestrial body.

“Demons may not be able to lie outright, but they love to deceive.”

“I don’t see any advantage for her in deceiving me about this.”

“So what did she say?”

“She says the . . . I can’t pronounce the word she used. It’s all consonants. But she meant the red-eyes. They’re foot soldiers, bred to fight in demon wars. A few of them—the elite troops, like Special Forces—have something extra. Their claws exude . . . call it a poison. It interferes with magic, which blocks healing. She said . . .”

“Huh,” Gan had said when Lily told her about Rule’s wound. “You mean he isn’t dead yet? I would’ve thought he’d have bled out by now.”

Gan was nothing if not tactless.

Lily jammed her key in the back door. “The magic poison is fatal for less powerful demons. The stronger ones eventually throw it off. She thinks it probably works differently in a lupus, because your magic is different from a demon’s. Or even,” she added neutrally as she swung the door open, “that Rule’s Lady is blocking some of it.”

Lily preferred to ignore the subject of religion, but to Gan the Lady was fact, not belief. So were souls. Demons didn’t understand souls, but they were fascinated by them.

She and Gan had that much in common. Lily didn’t understand souls, either, though she knew now that something continued after death. Might as well call it a soul. She supposed the Lady was real, too . . . but she could think about that later.

“Back, Harry.” She blocked her cat with her foot and edged inside, juggling messenger bag and laptop so she could punch the code into the alarm system.

Rule was upstairs. She didn’t call to let him know she was home. He’d know.

“Even though the magic isn’t a curse, it might work enough like one to be lifted that way. Or antihex spells might work.” Cynna bent to give Harry a rub behind his ears. “Hey, big guy. These folks treating you okay?”

“Never well enough, in his opinion.” Lily set her burdens on the table, slipped out of her coat, and draped it on the back of a chair.

“What did you mean about hexes and curses?”

“Hexes have a physical component. Curses don’t. So if this poison is partly physical, it might respond to the same techniques that remove a hex. Any decent Vodun priestess can lift a hex—I can give you someone to call. If it’s more like a curse, though, you want a faith-based practitioner like Abel or Sherry.”

“Both of whom are going to be busy. Who else could do it?”

“Well, some Catholic priests are trained in removing curses, but these days it’s rare. And I think their method works best if you’re Catholic.”

“What about Nettie, then? Or the Rhej? If faith-based healing works—”

“Isen is going to speak to her about it,” Rule said from the doorway. He wore khaki slacks and nothing else. Even his feet were bare. Lupi didn’t much feel the cold. “She may have something in the memories that will help.”

“Will she come here if she does?”

The Rhejes were pretty much laws unto themselves, and the Nokolai Rhej in particular was known for never leaving Clanhome. She had reason for that, though, being over eighty and blind.

He shrugged. “We’ll find out. Hello, Cynna.”

“Hey, Rule. Would you believe Lily wants you to take off your pants for me?”

His eyebrow quirked up. “You do like to live on the edge.”

“That’s me. Edgy.” Cynna grinned. “So drop ’em.”

What flashed through his eyes wasn’t as obvious as temper. “I appreciate the offer, but it isn’t needed. I’m inconvenienced, not incapacitated . . . as I’ve pointed out more than once. If my body can’t clear the poison on its own, in a week or so Nettie will fly out.” He looked at Lily as if the subject were closed. “How did the big meeting go?”

“It turned out to be even bigger than I expected. I’ll tell you about it, but first you tell me why Nettie can’t leave Clanhome for a week.”

“She’s in Oregon, not Clanhome.”

Lily’s breath sucked in. “The twins?”

“Their mother went into labor last night . . . about the time the Change hit Paul.”

There could be no arguing with Nettie’s priorities. The entire clan had been worried about the fate of twins due to be born to a Nokolai man this month. The babies would need every ounce of skill the shaman—who was also a Harvard-trained physician—could offer. On the very rare occasions when a lupus sired twins, one or both babies almost always died right after birth.

Lupi kept more than one secret from the humans around them, but the one they guarded most closely was the effect their innate magic had on their fertility. Some were completely sterile; many were nearly so. This was the reason for their promiscuity, their taboo against marriage, even the way their leaders derived their authority. A Rho and his heir had to be fertile.

Technically, Rule was fertile. He had a son. But Toby was the only child he’d sired in a lifespan almost twice Lily’s, and he’d not play the bumblebee anymore, flitting from flower to flower to scatter his seed. Toby was probably the only child he’d ever have.

“Okay.” Lily nodded. “I see why Nettie can’t come. That makes it even more important to let Cynna see if she can help.”

His eyebrow did that little lift that turned his expression mocking. “And is Cynna taking up healing now?”

Lily looked at Cynna. “You’ll have to excuse him. I think the poison is leaking into this brain—testosterone poisoning, that is. He’s turned all male and I’m-fine-don’t-fuss.”

Then again, he could mock without budging a brow. “You wouldn’t know anything about that sort of thinking, of course.”

“I’m no healer.” Cynna was cheerful, as if she could ignore his sarcasm out of existence. “I probably can’t fix this magical poison, or poisonous magic, or whatever it is. And Lily can tell quicker than anyone if it starts spreading, just by touching you. But I’m well-stocked with holy water, since I’m heading off to hunt a demon. It might work.”

“I’m not Catholic.”

“But I am, and I’m the one who will use it, so we’ve got the faith thing covered. Now, it’s true that holy water doesn’t work on all demons, so it might not work on demon poison. But it’s worth a try, right?”