Mortal Sins (11 page)

“Like Nettie?”

“Yes, though trained in a different tradition. We’ll have her take a look at you, see if you’re closer than I think.”

Lily looked at him sharply. “You’re still planning to go?”

“Yes.” God, yes—though he’d be calling Nettie, too. He trusted the Leidolf Rhej, but wanted his own clan’s healer to look at his son. “Today, I think. All else aside, it would be best to have Toby away from whatever or whoever is turning random people into killers.”

Her reaction was a sigh so faint even his hearing barely picked it up. She looked at Toby. “Then I’d better talk to you now, if it’s okay with your grandmother. I’d like to hear what you know about Franklin Hodge.” She glanced up at the woman still in the kitchen. “You, too, Mrs. Asteglio.”

SIXTEEN

RANDOM
killers. That’s what Rule had called them, but Lily wasn’t convinced Meacham and Hodge were truly random. There must be something connecting them, some commonality.

Probably some
person
. She wasn’t discounting Cullen’s theory about an out-realm creature being responsible, but that seemed more of a stretch than a human agent who’d stumbled across a previously unknown ability or ritual.

As she stepped out on the porch, she was hoping hard that Rule’s nose would turn up that connection, human or otherwise.

“I need to talk to Brown a minute,” she said to Rule as he closed the door behind them. The ERT techs were busy combing through Mrs. Asteglio’s grass, but almost everyone else had left. Nathan Brown stood in the next-door neighbor’s driveway, talking to a city cop. “He’s the most senior agent. Before I do, though, what’s worrying you about Toby?”

“Not now. Not here.”

She considered him. His eyes were hard, heavy-lidded—which meant he intended to shut her out. Or maybe he was shutting something else out. But what? Worry squeezed her like a boa softening up dinner, only she didn’t know what she needed to worry about. “All right. But I know something’s wrong.”

“Possibly wrong. Maybe. And I can’t discuss it here.”

Here, with all these pesky humans around . . . Well, she could understand that. “Okay. Meet me at Hodge’s place?”

His smile was small. “Certainly. I’ll Change into something more furry for the occasion.”

She headed for the neighbor’s drive. Nathan Brown was short, chubby, and pale, a Pillsbury Doughboy of a man with luxuriant hair the color of pecans and an oversize mustache. He had twenty-two years on the job, and he didn’t like her.

Lily didn’t assume his dislike arose from prejudice. It might, but she suspected his resentment was more generic. He was regular FBI; she was Unit. The Turning had led Congress to put a lot of authority into the hands of Unit agents. People like Brown, with all the experience and seniority Lily lacked, didn’t always appreciate being seconded to a newcomer. Especially one as young as Lily.

Tough. She motioned for him to step aside from the young officer he’d been talking with. He scowled, but did, joining her near the street. “You’ve got the city cops doing the knock-on-doors?”

“Partnered with our people, yeah. You got a problem with that?”

“No, it’s a good idea. People might be more comfortable, more forthcoming, with those they see as their own. I’m going to check out Hodge’s house before I let the ERT in. Anything I need to know before I do that?”

“Guess you don’t worry much about contaminating a scene.”

“I’ll take precautions. I need to know if there are magical traces in his house. He wasn’t Gifted himself, so anything I find along those lines could be meaningful.” She paused a beat. “Rule will be checking the place for scents, too.”

Brown’s gaze flickered to Rule, who was headed down the street for the single-story house on the corner. “You’re kidding me, right? You don’t really plan to walk your doggie around the house.”

“The attorney general will be formally issuing a new policy on scent next week. I’m anticipating it.”

His eyebrows lifted in exaggerated surprise. “Friend of yours, the AG? He keeps you posted on things?”

“No. He is friendly with my boss, and Ruben keeps me posted. As I was saying, the new policy will specifically allow the use of witnesses who are able to distinguish scents with great acuity.”

“Great acuity. Huh.” He reached inside his suit jacket and pulled out an opened package of gum. “Guess you are going to walk your doggie around the house.”

Lily drummed her fingers on her thigh. “Okay. I don’t need to know if you dislike me because I’m Unit, or because I’m Gifted, or if I just look like your ex-girlfriend. I do need to know if that dislike will interfere with you doing the job.”

Something flashed in his eyes—anger, maybe, or surprise. Hard to say when his scowl didn’t change. “I always do the job, ma’am. You don’t have to worry about that.” He held out the gum. “Want some? No? You’re probably wondering why the office sent you a son of a bitch with a lousy attitude who doesn’t know shit about magic, and doesn’t much care for those who do.”

“I’m hoping you do know shit about investigating.”

“I do.” He nodded. “I do. But what you really need me for is all these goddamned cops littering the landscape. We’ve got county cops from the previous case, city cops with this one, and no goddamn guarantee any of them will tell us one word more than they have to. But you lucked out. I’m a goddamned genius at keeping things straight with the goddammed locals.”

“Must be your inherent charm and charisma.”

“That’d be it. Now, I’ve got work to do, so unless you need me to hold your hand—”

“Go. Please.” She did, too.

Hodge’s house was a small, single-story frame structure set on a large, unfenced corner lot. There was a lovely mix of annuals, perennials, and small shrubs in the beds flanking the sidewalk that bisected the front yard; the grass was lush. She didn’t see Rule.

He must have decided to check out the yard. She headed for the side of the house, where a large, bushy cedar blocked the view.

His clothes were there, left in the dirt. Automatically she picked them up and folded them, then kept going to the back of the house. As soon as she rounded the corner, she saw him wiggling under the partly closed door of a detached garage. He stood, shook himself, and trotted toward her.

Rule made a very large, very beautiful wolf. His fur was a black and silver mix, heavy on the silver and palest on his face, where his eyes were rimmed in black like an Egyptian houri.

Good, so good, to see you like this.

The thought fluttered across her mind like a breath of smoke tattered by the air it rode—there; then wisp; then gone. But the place it came from wasn’t gone. Mostly she couldn’t touch those memories, but the part of her that had been through hell with Rule, knowing him only as wolf, was still there. Still her.

Lily stopped moving and found that a smile had settled on her face. Rule came to her and pushed his nose against her hand. She grinned.

He wasn’t much like a dog—too big, too smart, too wild—but he did love a good pet. She rubbed him briefly behind the ears. “Did you find anything interesting out here?”

He gave his head a single shake.

“Come on, then. I’ll bag your feet on the porch.”

They’d done this at a couple of other scenes, so had the routine down. Lily put plastic bags on Rule’s feet, securing them with covered rubber bands. Then she took off her shoes, cleaned her feet with an alcohol wipe, and pulled on her gloves.

Bare feet weren’t the preferred way to enter a scene you didn’t want contaminated, but they were the fastest way of picking up any magical traces inside. Lily checked the door, ready with the key she’d taken from Hodge’s pocket. But he hadn’t locked it before leaving home to kill people.

The door opened directly into the living room. It was small, cluttered, and dusty. The sofa was floral and faded; the La-Z-Boy recliner, newer and facing the television. Shelves along one wall held framed photos, books, a hodgepodge of inexpensive collectibles in glass and ceramic.

“He’s been a widower about ten years, according to Mrs. Asteglio. Looks like he kept things the way his wife had them.” Lily moved farther into the room. Here, yes—a prickly foulness on the soles of her feet, faint but unmistakable. “Check along here, where I’m standing. Traces of death magic.”

Rule sniffed. His lip curled back. He looked at her and waited.

The trick was to ask only yes-or-no questions. “You smell anything nonhuman?” He shook his head. “Human, then?” A nod. “Someone other than Hodge?” Negative. “Damn. Well, let’s keep looking.”

But twenty minutes later, the only magical traces Lily had found were the fading touches of death magic here and there, apparently left by Hodge himself after being possessed or constrained by something wielding death magic. That and a dim, indeterminate tingle on the old Bible on the table next to Hodge’s double bed.

It wasn’t the first time she’d run across a nondescript magical residue on objects of faith. You’d expect it with Wiccan holy symbols, given that religion’s connection with magic, but she’d found it on Bibles, Torahs, once on a small statue of Buddha. Magic sometimes built up in them over time, a slow, sedimentary accumulation, even when the individual who owned the object had no magic at all to confer upon it. She didn’t understand that, but it wasn’t unusual.

It was damned discouraging, though, in this case. Hodge was a man of faith, but his faith hadn’t protected him.

Still, it was confirmation that whatever they were dealing with, it wasn’t demonic. Those of strong faith couldn’t be possessed by demons.

“You find anything?” she asked Rule. He shook his head. She sighed. “Okay, let’s go. I’ll bring your clothes.”

They went to the old cedar so Rule could return to his usual form without giving the neighbors a thrill. The Change came more easily, she knew, when he had his feet planted literally on the ground. She held his clothes and waited.

Lily held a secret conviction that one day, if she watched carefully enough, she’d be able to make sense of what she saw when Rule Changed. Did his eyes alter first? Was his fur swallowed up by spreading skin? Did the bones melt before re-forming?

This wasn’t the day. If there was order in the process, her eyes refused to find it, reporting only unsynchronized snatches.

First he stood there on four feet; then the universe bent, folded, and folded again in directions that didn’t exist. Feet were two, four, and two again. Fur both was and wasn’t, but the “wasn’t” stuck. Prickles danced across her eyeballs as if the air were playing a tune on them.

Then he was a man, naked and magnificent. She handed him his underwear, not allowing herself to regret the necessity. She would see him naked again soon, she hoped. Not as soon as she’d like, with him heading for Leidolf Clanhome. But soon.

“I didn’t find any magical traces, except the nasty stuff. You?”

“Nothing.” He stepped into the shorts and accepted his pants. “I could swear no one has been in that house except Hodge himself for at least a week.”

“Then he was contaminated elsewhere.” A sigh sneaked out. It would be hard, maybe impossible, to learn who all Hodge had been in contact with away from his house. At least they had a limited time frame to work with—the four days since the other killings.

Or did they? Could the whatever-it-was have infected two people at the same time? More than two? “Maybe I’ll luck out and he’ll be able to tell me what happened to him.” If he lived. If he hadn’t been driven insane like Meacham. “I’m going to head for the hospital next, see if he made it. See if I can talk to him.”

“I’ll be gone when you return, then.” Half-dressed, Rule lost interest in completing the job, putting his hands on her shoulders. “I wish I could be in two places. I don’t like leaving you to deal with this alone.”

“I won’t be handling it alone.” But she didn’t want him to go. It was selfish, it was stupid, but she didn’t want him to go. She told herself to ignore that. “Rule . . . can you tell me about Toby now? Why you’re worried?”

He was silent, unmoving, for several heartbeats. When he spoke, his voice was carefully even. “A boy nearing First Change is kept segregated at the
terra tradis
. This is for the safety of the human members of the clan, of course, but also so that he’ll be surrounded by clan lupi at First Change, so the mantle will know him. Toby should not respond to either my Changing or the mantles this young. Do you remember when Cullen explained the type of cancer that sometimes afflicts us in old age?”

“Sure. That’s what the Leidolf Rho has. The magic in his system has separated from the pattern that should hold him to his proper shape. Cullen said . . . Oh. Oh,
shit
.” She’d just remembered the rest of it—the other time, aside from extreme old age, when a lupus might be struck down by this wild cancer.

“Yes.” Rule’s voice was soft now, almost a whisper. “Sometimes—rarely—it strikes in early adolescence, at or soon after First Change. We don’t know what goes wrong for those few, but some say . . . There are reports, anecdotal evidence . . .” He stopped. His jaw tightened.

Lily knew he was fighting for control—and that he needed it. Right now he needed the flat force of logic to keep the monsters at bay. So she waited, holding back her questions and fears to give him time.

Finally he swallowed and finished. “When a boy feels the tug of Change too young—when it pulls at him before he’s heard the moonsong—it may be a sign that First Change will trigger the cancer.”

SEVENTEEN

LILY
hated hospitals. Just pulling into the parking lot of one made her jaw set, kind of like lowering her butt into the dentist’s chair. She was a reasonable woman, she thought as she locked her car and strode toward the entrance. She was glad some people didn’t share her aversion. It would be hard to staff the places if everyone shuddered at the thought of walking into one.

Though she didn’t see why anyone would want to work in a hospital. Maybe it was like coffee—you started drinking it, despite the taste, because you needed something to pry your eyes open, and before you knew it, you were grinding beans or paying five bucks for fancy caffeinated froth.

Pritchard Memorial was midsize. She’d been assured it had good doctors, good tech, and at least some shielding for that tech. They didn’t have a separate cardiac unit, though, so Hodge was in ICU awaiting surgery tomorrow, when his pacemaker would be replaced.

She stopped in the ER first, where she found that Ed Eames was about to be released. “I’m one of those ‘treated and released’ victims,” he told her with a smile that missed the cockiness she thought he was aiming for. “The kind who don’t get mentioned in the story by name. You heard anything about that woman? The young mother?”

“She’s out of surgery,” Lily told him. “They’re sounding hopeful about her chances.”

“Helluva thing.” He shook his head and repeated himself. “Helluva thing. Guess people are saying Hodge was quiet, kept to himself?”

“More that he was an old grouch.”

“Huh. I’ve covered this sort of story before. Never been part of it.”

He was wrong about that. He’d never covered anything like this, but Lily didn’t tell him that.

She made her way to the second floor and, after speaking with a nurse, a small waiting room near the ICU. For company she had a television tuned to an all-news channel and an elderly man with skin the color of old teak who never took his eyes off the TV.

While she waited for Hodge’s doctor, she composed an informal report. She didn’t object to the brief wait; organizing her data and theories for Ruben clarified her thinking. She did object to the seating.

Whoever thought that molding plastic to fit a so-called average shape was a good idea? No one, Lily decided as she shifted yet again, was really average, which meant the seats were uncomfortable for everyone. Democracy was great for many things, but furniture wasn’t one of them.

She’d just sent the report off—she had a USB GPRS modem on her laptop—when her phone vibrated. She pulled it out of her pocket and slid her laptop into its silk-lined pocket in her tote. “Yes?”

It was Brown. The neighbors had confirmed that Hodge apparently hadn’t had any recent visitors. She told him to let everyone grab something to eat; she’d call him back with instructions after speaking with Hodge.

“All right. You want some advice?”

“Sure.”

He was silent a second, as if she’d surprised him. “You’re young, you’ve got a major goddamned investigation on your hands, and you’re a control freak. Don’t ask how I know. I know because everyone in law enforcement’s a control freak—that’s how we get off. You’re going to try to do everything yourself. Don’t.”

“That’s your advice? Delegate?”

“That’s it. You won’t do it,” he said glumly. “But I’m such a goddamned optimist I had to say it anyway.”

He disconnected. She started to put her phone up, but saw that she had a text message from Rule. When she opened it, she sighed. He was leaving now, heading for Leidolf Clanhome with Toby. He wanted her to call tonight.

“Some people!”

Lily looked up. The pair of women who stood in the doorway were twins. Had to be. They wore matching helmet-heads of iron gray curls and matching floral smocks with pink stretch pants. It was an unfortunate fashion choice, since each woman was at least a hundred pounds overweight—with about fifty percent of that in their boobs.

They had identical glares, too. The one on the left spoke. “Cell phones are not allowed in the hospital. Do you want to make all those machines quit working?”

“That’s unlikely,” Lily said patiently, “according the Mayo Clinic, which found no problems when cell phones were used near hospital equipment. Admittedly, Dutch researchers did find some interference, but that was at distances of five centimeters or so.”

The other sister snorted. “I suppose you know better than the doctors who make the rules, missy!”

Guilt twinged. It was never easy for Lily to ignore a rule, even one that was based on faulty assumptions. “My job requires me to stay in touch, ma’am.” She glanced at her watch. If that doctor didn’t show up soon—

“
Some
people think they’re too
important
to follow the rules everyone
else
has to follow, don’t they, Bessie?” Pink Pants on the left moved ponderously into the room.

Bessie? Oh, my. Lily managed not to grin.

“Ladies?” said a man’s voice with a hint of an accent. “Excuse me, please, ladies . . .” A second later the owner of the voice emerged from behind the women. He wore scrubs.

Lily rose. “Dr. Patel?”

“Yes, yes.” He came forward, beaming as if she were a long-lost cousin, one hand outstretched. He had teeth of news-anchor brilliance, a square face, and skin a rich, coppery brown that made her think of Rule’s older brother Benedict, though he came from the other side of the world.

What she immediately liked about him, though, was his height—maybe one inch above her own. It was a rare and admirable trait.

“You are Lily Yu?” he said.

“I am.” Dr. Patel, she discovered as she shook his hand, had a minor Finding Gift. This wasn’t a big surprise, as a disproportionately large number of physicians had some trace of magic, and not necessarily one connected with healing. Finding could be a handy diagnostic tool, she supposed, though given the meager nature of his Gift, he might just think he had excellent hunches.

“I am sorry for the delay,” he said, and looked truly apologetic. “I am the only cardiologist in Halo, you see.”

“Doctor,” one of the twins said, “I wish to make a complaint. This woman
insisted
on using her cell phone.”

Dr. Patel smiled gently. “Ladies, I hope you will do me the courtesy of sitting down and resting yourselves while you wait to speak with your own doctor, with whom you may register all the complaints you wish. Agent Yu . . . ?” He gestured at the doorway.

“Agent?” one of the twins gasped.

Lily slung her tote on her shoulder and preceded the doctor into the hall.

“Nicely done,” she told him. “You remind me of my grandmother.” Actually he was much nicer, but Grandmother could—when she wanted—cut someone off at the knees with such exquisite courtesy that he’d be thanking her even as he bled out. She didn’t usually bother, but she could.

Dr. Patel smiled. “I believe this is a compliment? Then thank you. Now, about Mr. Hodge . . . I believe you administered CPR at the scene? That was well-done. However, I must ask you to keep your questioning brief. His condition is good, under the circumstances, but his mental state is not.”

“About his mental state—is he rational? Does he remember what happened?”

“Rational? Yes, to the extent that he understands where he is and who he is, and can give permission for treatment. I don’t know what he remembers of recent events. He certainly remembers me, and the last time he was here.”

“When you implanted his pacemaker.”

“Yes. He had a major myocardial infarction. In fact, he died on the way to the operating room. Quite dramatic. I was most pleased to be able to bring him back, offer him perhaps many more years of life.”

Dr. Patel didn’t look pleased. He looked grieved and guilty, regretting what his patient had done. “This is not for broadcast, Doctor, but in a very real sense I don’t believe Hodge killed those people. I don’t think he was in charge of his body when the trigger was pulled.”

He stopped, staring at her. “But what, then—”

“I’m sorry. I can’t tell you more.”

“If he is possessed . . . Agent Yu, we cannot have someone here who might harm other patients or staff. Unless he’s been exorcised—”

“There’s no demon in him now. I can be sure of that. I don’t believe he’s a danger to others at this time, but I’ve asked the chief of police to keep officers stationed at his room.”

“Yes, they’re here. I thought . . . I assumed Mr. Hodge was under arrest.”

“At this time, I consider him a key witness. I don’t know if he was complicit in what was done to him, or if he is every bit as much a victim as those who were shot. I intend to find out.”

“I see.” His expression said he didn’t see, not at all, but mixed with the puzzlement was relief. “I must say I did not see any signs in him earlier of the sort of disturbance that could have led to today’s actions. No symptoms of mania or schizophrenia, no rage, no terrible grievance that might erupt in indiscriminate violence. I had wondered at my lack of perception.”

“You weren’t responsible in any way for what happened today. Not even in the vague ‘I should have known’ sort of way.”

He looked down as if embarrassed. After a moment he nodded slightly. “Yes. Thank you. I must still ask you to keep your questions brief. Ten minutes at most, and I will be present to monitor his condition.”

“I’d assumed you would be.” That’s why she’d felt free to tell him as much as she had. He was going to hear it anyway.

He started moving again, headed for the door at the end of the hall. “Perhaps your visit will not be as stressful for him as I had thought, however.”

Lily couldn’t assure him of that. She needed Hodge to remember, and remembering had pushed Meacham over his personal edge. “We’ll see. I will have to . . .” She stopped, staring at the neatly lettered sign taped to the door leading to ICU: no GIFTED persons allowed beyond this point. “What the hell?”

“The sign? It’s a new policy. The hospital board fears the disruption that magic might bring to delicate equipment.”

Lily reached out, ripped the sign off, and handed it to Patel. “Tell them they’d do better to fear the lawsuits that prejudice might bring to their delicate hospital.”

He blinked. “But this isn’t a matter of prejudice. Magic can affect some of our instruments. We lost several patients at the Turning. Mr. Hodge’s malfunctioning pacemaker proves that magic and technology do not mix well.”

“There’s a problem with raw magic, loose magic. The magic in someone with a Gift isn’t loose, dammit. And we don’t know what Hodge is an example of, but his pacemaker quit because of death magic, not because someone’s Gift leaked on him.”

“Unless we can guarantee that Gifted persons will not accidentally expose our patients to risk—”

“Guess what. You’ve probably got Gifted people in there right now, as patients or staff or both. You do still treat the Gifted, don’t you? Had any problems with your tech? We can find out for sure in a few seconds—as soon as you step through that door. We’ll see if you make the equipment turn wonky.”

“Me?” His voice rose. “I’m not—you’re mistaken.”

“You. A minor Gift, admittedly, but I bet you never lose your car keys.” She shoved the door open and stepped through.

How about that? Turned out some rules were real easy for her to break.

IT
was a good thing Dr. Patel had told her Hodge was doing okay. She wouldn’t have guessed it to look at him.

Franklin Hodge had a long face, deeply grooved, with short salt-and-pepper hair curled tightly against his skull. His skin was that rare shade that looks almost black, unlike most people of African descent, who come in so many hues of brown. At the moment he was ashy, grayed out by a tricky heartbeat.

Or by memory. “Mr. Hodge,” Lily said softly, “I’m Agent Lily Yu with the FBI. I need to ask you some questions. I’m going to record our conversation.” She set the recorder on his bedside table.

He turned his head away without speaking.

“I need to know what happened to you. I need to keep it from happening to anyone else.”

Slowly his head turned back toward her. His eyes were dull. “What do you mean?”

“Did it happen today? Or yesterday, or the day before?”

His throat moved as he swallowed. “You know. You know what it is, what did that to me.” One large, pink-palmed hand groped toward her.

Lily had to force herself to take that reaching hand. The slimy prickle of death magic was much less than it had been earlier—fading, but still present. “I need you to describe it for me.”

“I was tidying up the kitchen. I like things tidy. I was washing the coffeepot and then all at once . . . it was like winter came inside me and froze me and I was just watching. Watching myself holding that pot, and the water still running. I was so cold. I couldn’t move.” He licked his lips. “For the longest time all I could do was stand there and see that coffeepot. I couldn’t blink or look away. I couldn’t do one thing. Then I saw my hand stretch out and shut off the water.” He shuddered. “I saw it, but I didn’t do it.”

“That must have been terrifying.”

“Yes, ma’am. Yes, ma’am, it was. I . . . for a bit I just moved around the house, or my body moved and my mind went along. I had no choice in that. Then I started thinking about my gun.” The hand Lily held trembled. “Only it didn’t really feel like me thinking. More like something goosed me somehow and made me think about it, where it was and all. And once I did . . . once I did . . .”

“What happened?”

“My body turned itself around and tried to hurry. Stupid of it. I’ve got a bum knee. It gave out and I fell and banged it. Hurt like blazes, but that was okay, that would have been fine, if I could’ve just made myself blink. But all I could do was lie there, and for a second, just a second, it seemed like I heard someone. Like someone felt sorry for me, being old and hurting. I thought maybe God wanted to help me. I prayed so hard . . .” His eyes sheened with moisture. He blinked. “So hard, but it didn’t help. After a bit my body stood itself back up a bit and went . . . went to get my gun.”

“What time did you wash out your coffeepot, Mr. Hodge?”