Tempting Danger (11 page)

Rule shrugged, ignoring the ugly tangle in his gut as best he could. “Isen always has reasons for what he does.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Mick said, “I’m not allowed to see him yet, either.” He gave Benedict a sour look.

Benedict was unmoved. “I let you tag along so I wouldn’t have to say everything twice. So listen.”

Anger flashed in Mick’s eyes. “So speak.”

“It looks as if Nokolai has a traitor. That’s the main reason Rule is banned from Clanhome while our father heals.”

Rule felt sick. “The attack. They didn’t know you planned to meet Isen on his return, but they knew you hadn’t accompanied him.”

“Wait a minute,” Mick said. “First, Benedict is good, but his mere presence doesn’t magically ward off attack.”

“There were five of them,” Rule said. “Would you be willing to go against Benedict and our father with only four at your back?”

“Okay, you have a point. But we know who did it. Leidolf. Three of the attackers were definitely theirs. The two who got away probably were, too.”

“Clan Leidolf has been contacted,” Benedict said. “The Council issued a formal complaint and demand. Their Rho disavowed the attackers.”

“The Council?” Rule frowned. “If the complaint didn’t come from Isen, they’ll know he’s badly injured.”

“That’s how he wanted it.”

Rule chewed that over. Apparently Isen wanted to present the appearance of weakness—make it seem he didn’t trust his heir, let their enemies know he was badly hurt. But what did that gain them when the pretense was at least half true? He looked at Benedict, worried, and got back the smallest of shrugs.

So Benedict didn’t know what their father was up to, either. “I don’t suppose Leidolf offered reparation.”

“No, though they must realize they’ll have to, eventually. For now the Council is willing to let them drag things out. Both sides are growling. No one is challenging.”

Rule nodded. Leidolf and Nokolai were enemies from way back but had managed to avoid Clan Challenge for the better part of the last sixty years.

War was too wasteful; Isen preferred more devious means to his ends. Leidolf, being more numerous, might think the all-or-nothing justice of war favored them, but Nokolai had too many friends. They wouldn’t fight alone. Even Leidolf could see what a disaster a widespread conflict would be.

“The point is,” Benedict said, “the attack was timed too well. Very few knew about the meeting between Nokolai and Kyffin. On our side, just the three of us and the Council. I told no one other than the guard I sent with Isen, and he’s dead.”

“Leidolf is notoriously sloppy about their word,” Rule said, “so it’s conceivable they’d kill their tool to keep him from talking—”

“Rule,” Mick said, shocked. “You’re talking about Frederick.”

Rule shook his head. “I know. Instinct rebels at the idea, but I’d still like Benedict’s opinion. He was there.”

“Frederick died defending his Rho,” Benedict said flatly. “There is no room for doubt. Did you mention the meeting to anyone, Mick?”

“Of course not.”

“Rule?”

One person outside the clan had learned about the meeting, though not from Rule. Cullen. Rule phrased his answer carefully. “I spoke to no one about it before it took place.”

“I’ve spoken with the Councilors,” Benedict said. “None of them admits to having told anyone.”

Mick snorted. “Which proves nothing, since you won’t let Rule into Clanhome to put the question to them.”

Rule lifted his brows. “You’d have me put the question to
Council
members? Without the Rho’s orders?”

Mick grimaced. “All right, all right. I wasn’t thinking. But we’re getting sidetracked. Even if the Councilors kept their mouths shut, there were two clans at that meeting. What about Kyffin?”

“Jasper’s a hothead,” Rule said, “but an honest one.”

“I’m not accusing their Rho of anything except talking to the wrong person.”

Benedict shook his head. “Jasper kept the meeting even more secret than we did. He says only he and his Lu Nuncio knew about it in advance—and he is willing to back his word. He has agreed to submit to Nokolai in formal ceremony.”

“Merde!” Rule exclaimed. He shook his head in rueful admiration. “Isen manages to land on his feet even when they’ve been bitten off. This isn’t the way he’d planned to obtain Kyffin’s support, but I’ll wager he’ll be pleased. Restrictions?”

“Nothing unusual. Year-and-a-day term.”

“You’ll have to let Rule into Clanhome, then,” Mick said. “Unless you plan to keep Jasper kicking his heels until our father is well enough to participate.”

“The Lu Nuncio must accept for Nokolai, of course. Jasper arrived an hour ago with seven from Kyffin plus two from other clans to bear witness. The ceremony is set for two o’clock. Rule will return to Clanhome with us.”

“Now?” Rule said, startled. “Was there some reason you needed to arrange this without contacting me?”

“You’ve a peculiar idea of my authority. I didn’t arrange it. The Council did.”

Of course. Rule felt foolish. Had his desire to see Lily addled his thinking? He’d have to call her, postpone their date. Not that she was thinking of it as a date. . . . “It’s lousy timing, but I suppose that can’t be helped.”

“You had something more important to do than accept Kyffin’s submission to Nokolai?”

“If I were sure it was more important, I’d ask the Council to reschedule,” he snapped. “But I am trying to avoid being arrested for murder. Aside from my own feelings on the matter, California is a death penalty state. It wouldn’t be good for the clan for the heir to be executed.”

A flicker of emotion disturbed Benedict’s face. “Who did you kill?”

“No one lately. Bloody hell. You don’t know, do you? Does no one at Clanhome ever listen to the news?”

“We’ve been a little preoccupied,” Benedict said dryly.

Rule ran a hand through his hair. His question had been largely rhetorical. Many of those lucky enough to live at Clanhome did shut out the human world. The Council couldn’t afford to, but, as Benedict said, they’d had other things on their minds. “It looks like I’ve been set up,” he said, and hit the high points.

“So they’re after you, too.” Mick scowled. “They want to destroy Nokolai. And we know why, don’t we? Isen’s damned political maneuvering! Why can’t he see that meddling in human politics never pays off for us?”

Rule said nothing. As Lu Nuncio, he wasn’t allowed the luxury of opinions.

Benedict didn’t comment either, but that was typical. He would have made a perfect Lu Nuncio, had things been different. “You need bodyguards,” he told Rule.

“Killing me would disarrange their plans.”

“They may prefer getting you arrested to killing you, but what happens if you aren’t arrested?”

Rule nodded, conceding the point. If they couldn’t get rid of him one way, they might try something more direct. “Understood. But I can’t do what I need to do while trailing bodyguards. And it’s not as if I would be easy to kill.”

Benedict gave him a hard look but dropped the subject. He might rule over security within Clanhome, but he couldn’t force Rule to accept bodyguards outside its boundaries. He dug in his pocket and tossed a set of keys to Mick. “I need to talk to Rule. Take my Jeep back.”

Mick’s expression darkened with temper, but there wasn’t much point in arguing with Benedict. After a moment he shrugged one shoulder and nodded at Rule. “See you shortly,” he said and headed for the Jeep.

Benedict waited until Mick pulled away. “All right. What’s going on? That cryptic warning you gave me this morning needs explaining.”

“That’s why we’re here.” Benedict was responsible for protecting the Rho. He had to know what he might be up against. “Do you remember Cullen Seabourne?”

“Seabourne . . .” Benedict paused, frowning. “You used to hang out with him, back when you were younger and dumber. But that one . . . wasn’t he clanless?”

“Yes. And also my friend.”

“You have some peculiar friends.” Something like bafflement overtook his dour expression. “I remember now. He had a cat.”

That made Rule smile, if fleetingly. Lupi and cats generally avoided each other. “So he did. What I’m going to tell you is for your ears only, Benedict. Isen knows about this. The Council doesn’t.”

Benedict nodded. “You’re itchy,” he observed.

“Moonchange is close, and it’s been awhile. And . . .” He thrust a hand through his hair. “There’s a lot to be itchy about right now.”

“You need a workout, but there isn’t time. We’ll walk.” He started for the road.

One of the annoying things about Benedict was how often he was right. It did feel better to move. “Cullen is only one of those I’ve kept in touch with from my younger and dumber days. Not just lupi, either. Too often, those of us of the Blood operate like little islands in the sea of humanity. We don’t talk to each other, much less cooperate.”

“I’ll assume you’re not suggesting we make common cause with banshees.”

“I think that was a joke.”

“Let me know when you’re sure.”

They turned together just short of the road, automatically moving against the wind. The ground along the shoulder was hard and dusty. Rule’s footfalls were soft; Benedict’s were all but silent, even to Rule’s ears.

“We’re used to hiding,” Benedict said. “All of us. Plus there’s a few centuries of dislike and distrust involved in some cases. There are reasons for that.”

“Some of those reasons should have stopped mattering after the Sundering. Most of the rest have been asleep for centuries.”

“You’d have me believe that’s no longer true.”

Rule nodded. “Not that I’m certain, but Cullen is.”

“You have some reason other than friendship to believe him?”

“You remembered his cat. She was his familiar.”

“He’s not a witch. He can’t be. He’s of the Blood.”

“Not a witch, no. A sorcerer.”

Benedict’s breath sucked in. “I take it you mean a real one, not some idiot dabbler. But . . . how? That path is closed to us.”

“I don’t know, except that his mother was a witch.”

“Which also shouldn’t be possible. A lone wolf sorcerer . . .” He shook his head. “You’re scaring me.”

“I haven’t gotten to the scary part yet,” he said grimly. “Cullen came to me a few weeks ago. He’d noticed some odd things about the energies he uses—turbulence, he called it. I won’t go into detail. Well, I can’t, because I didn’t understand the half of it. But basically he suspects a conflict between forces in other realms is being reflected here, and Nokolai is somehow involved—or our enemies are, with the same result.”

Benedict shook his head. “There’s not enough congruence between the realms for that. Not anymore.”

“That’s what we’ve believed. But there have been rumors of things sighted that shouldn’t have been able to cross—a banshee in Texas, a gryphon in Wales.”

“Rumors,” Benedict said dismissively.

“I know, I know—rumors don’t prove anything. But Cullen came to me because . . . damn. I almost forgot to tell you.” Rule inhaled slowly, trying to calm himself. Movement had only helped for a few moments. The restlessness was back, and getting worse. There was an odd crawling sensation in his belly. “In return for Cullen’s warning, Isen extended him the aid and comfort of the clan for a month. I doubt he’ll show up, but if he does—”

“I’ll see he gets in. Finish explaining.”

“Right.”
Keep moving,
he told himself. But he was going the wrong way. He was headed for Clanhome, and he wanted . . . needed . . . “Cullen came to me after an elemental took up residence in his scrying flame. It was frightened.”

Benedict made a scoffing sound. “Isn’t that how scrying works? In return for the flame—or water, or whatever is used—the elemental shows pictures. Mostly lies,” he added. “Or useless. Elementals are too simple to sustain a thought or much of an emotion.”

“Normally, yes. But this was a very old, very
large
elemental. And, according to Cullen, it was not from our earth.”

“You’re right,” Benedict said after a moment. “That’s scarier.”

Rule’s head was growing light, as if he weren’t getting enough air. His feet drifted to a halt. “Last night Cullen cast the bones. I saw them afterward, Benedict. Snake eyes, every one, on every side.”

Benedict never cursed, but his expression suggested he wanted to. “I’m not swallowing his story whole, understand, but if even half of it—what’s wrong?”

“I can’t . . .”
Breathe. Can’t . . .
“I have to go back.” He turned—and wobbled so badly he might have fallen if Benedict’s hand hadn’t closed over his arm, steadying him. “I have to get back.” He started walking. Yes, this was right—this was the right direction. The dizziness eased, but the urgency increased. He picked up his pace until he was running, with Benedict running silently beside him.

He must think I’m crazy. He’d be about half right.
But Rule didn’t stop to explain. Seconds later he reached his car and stopped, bending over with his hands on his thighs, dragging in air in gulps.

Such a brief run shouldn’t have elevated his heart rate, much less winded him.
Damn, damn, damn
. . .

Benedict scowled. “You’re going to tell me what’s wrong. Now. Right now.”

“Sorry.” Rule straightened. He had to call Lily—to change the time for their lunch, for one thing. And to make sure she was okay. If she’d been driving just now . . . “I can’t enter Clanhome. You’ll have to bring Jasper here. No, maybe he’d better come to my apartment in the city. We have to settle how we’ll handle the ritual.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I wasn’t sure until now, but . . . it seems the Lady has chosen for me.”

Benedict’s eyes widened. “Who?”

He took one more breath and held it, letting it out slowly as his heartbeat settled. “The police detective investigating the murder I’m supposed to have committed.”

“Bloody hell,” said the man who never cursed.

EIGHT