World of Lupi 10 - Ritual Magic (32 page)

“You can’t trust him,” Rule said the instant she disconnected.

“I don’t. That doesn’t mean I can’t use him.” That sounded way too close to what Friar had said. She hated the idea that she and he were alike in any way. “It fits. Everything he said fits. He may be lying about some of it, but we know the knife is bad news. We know we need to stop whoever has it from using it. And we don’t have a clue how to do that, how to find the blasted thing.”

“Dark moon,” Cullen said.

“What are you talking about?” Rule snapped.

He shrugged. “That’s the obvious reason for the rite to take place tonight. It’s the dark of the moon. If I were summoning a god of madness, that’s when I’d do it.”

Lily felt she had to point something out. “Friar wasn’t summoning a crazy dead god, though. He was trying to make enough of a rip in reality to bring
her
in.”

“Magically speaking, dark moon means two things—the period when the moon isn’t visible, which lasts from one-and-a-half to three-and-a-half days, and the distinct moment when the moon and sun are in conjunction. We haven’t hit that moment yet, so Friar must have opted for the broader period, when reality thins out.”

“Which doesn’t make anything he said true,” Rule said evenly. “We don’t even know for sure that someone stole the knife. He may be luring us to him so he can use it on one of us.”

Lily opened her mouth to argue . . . and closed it again. He was right. He was right, and she’d missed that possibility entirely. They’d assumed that because the knife was missing, the shooter—Miriam—had taken it. But Friar was missing, too. He’d been hurt, sure, but he’d gotten away. What if he’d held on to the knife?

Her mind clicked through the possibilities that thought opened up . . . and came up with the same answer. “If he’s got the knife and is luring us to him, we still have to go. It doesn’t matter who has the knife. We can’t let them use it.”

“I could go alone.”

“If you’re serious—which is hard to believe—then remember that Friar called me, not you. Do you think he’d agree to a deal that left me free to arrest him or shoot him or whatever? He’ll want me under his eye.”

“Because he wants you dead.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure he’d honor any deal he made with you and let you just walk away with the knife.”

“The knife we aren’t supposed to come in range of, you mean?”

She just looked at him. He wasn’t really trying to talk her out of this. He knew the stakes . . . the ones she was trying hard not to think about. Phrases like “the fabric of the realm” and “destroy the world” were likely to set loose the gibbering fool at the back of her brain if she let her attention pause there. Finally she said, “You make the deal when he calls. You’re good at that sort of thing.” She held out her phone.

After a long moment, Rule sighed and accepted both the phone and the necessity. “All right, but you seem to be pretty good at closing a deal yourself.”

THIRTY-SIX

L
ILY
was glad she’d handed the phone to Rule. It would never have occurred to her to have Friar swear by his mistress’s name. One of her names, anyway.

The deal consisted of three terms that applied to both sides and two just for Friar. First term: If any of them broke their word, the deal was off. Second term: The deal lasted until the knife was recovered and placed in the custody of a saint—a stipulation that startled Friar. Either he didn’t know about Hardy, or he faked surprise really well. Third term: Everyone agreed not to harm or cause harm to the other side. Harm included physical harm, magical assault, arrest, drugging and other forms of incapacitation, imprisonment, and duress. In addition, Friar would allow them to search him, and he would not engage in any illegal actions except with Lily’s express consent. “You don’t jaywalk unless I say it’s okay,” she told him.

That had made him wheeze with what might have been amusement. “I don’t walk at all at the moment.”

Friar swore to abide by those terms, swore using a name Lily didn’t know. Rule did, though. Then Friar gave them an address and Rule disconnected.

Lily said, “He never mentioned the ‘compel, persuade, corrupt’ deal.”

“I noticed that. Nor did he say that the knife is named. Either he doesn’t know, he doesn’t understand the significance, or he’s hoping to use his knowledge in some way.” Rule put his fingers in his mouth and let out two loud, piercing whistles. That was the recall. Lupi could hear such a whistle for miles.

They started back to the lookout. “Do you think swearing by one of
her
names will really make Friar hold to the deal?”

“It may. He’s tied to
her
strongly now, and she doesn’t forswear herself.”

That startled Lily. “That’s oddly virtuous of her.”

Cullen, a few paces ahead, said, “Words shape magic, create a flow. Those with a great deal of power experience repercussions if they break their sworn word.
She
might be really unhappy with him if he broke a vow made in her name.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t mean he won’t, but he’ll avoid it if he can.”

“If he does,” Rule said, his voice dropping into something close to a growl, “I’ll no longer be bound by my word. Apparently he can now survive and heal bullet wounds. He wouldn’t survive what I would do if my word didn’t hold me back.”

How desperate did Friar have to be to place himself in their hands? Unless, of course, he had no intention of doing that. They might show up at the address he’d given them and have it blow up. She reminded herself to keep in mind that Friar might still have the knife, but she didn’t believe it. Her gut said he was genuinely, deeply pissed about having the knife stolen. “If he can go out-of-phase whenever he wants, he’s going to be hard to sink your teeth into.”

“I’d have to be quick, wouldn’t I?” He said that softly, maybe because there were cops around them now. Maybe because he was warning his wolf not to linger over the kill.

“T.J.,” she said as he turned to look at them, “I’ve got to go. Woo-woo stuff.”

His eyebrows lifted. “You and Turner taking all your sniffers with you?”

“I am, yes,” Rule answered without stopping.

As they reached the trail, Cullen pulled ahead and Rule dropped behind. No room to go abreast. Together all three of them shifted into an easy lope. Lily couldn’t take the trail fast, not at night . . . but she wanted to. She wanted to race as fast as she could. She felt twitchy, as if she’d drunk way too much coffee.

Nerves. Jitters. This wasn’t like her. Normally at this point in an operation she’d be tense but focused—on what she was doing, what her next step needed to be. She had the tense part down. It was focus she lacked. She couldn’t seem to get her mind to pay attention. “If Friar doesn’t have the knife, he means to use us to get it back. Once we get it away from Miriam, he’ll try to take it.”

“I’m still trying to work out how we’ll get it away from Miriam.”

“There is that.” Maybe that’s why she was so jumpy. They didn’t have a plan. Showing up was necessary, but it wasn’t a plan. Only she couldn’t think of where to start.

They hit the first sharp bend. Scott and Mike joined them. Rule told Scott to have the rest of the men meet them at the cars.

From a few feet ahead of them, Cullen said, “Polyester.”

“What?”

“The contagion couldn’t pass through inorganics, and it came from the knife, so maybe the knife has trouble working through inorganics. We need polyester.”

“I’ve got latex gloves.”

“That’s a start. We need more.”

Lily’s phone started on the opening bars of the polka tune she used for Karonski. She pulled it from her pocket just as Barnaby joined them at the rear. “Yes?” Her heart kicked once and started pounding, which made no sense. She could run at this pace a lot longer without her heartbeat going crazy.

“Fairchild’s not at her condo. I’ve got an APB out. Can you get over here? I’d like you to check the place out with your magical fingers. Maybe Rule could sniff around, too.”

“Can’t. I’m headed off on . . . urgent Unit business.”

He was silent a moment. “I see. Advise me when you can.”

“Will do.” She disconnected, feeling vaguely dizzy.

Karonski had known what she meant right away when she said “Unit business.” She hadn’t referred to the legal Unit Twelve, whose investigation he was heading, but to the one that operated in the shadows. The Shadow Unit.

Cullen was right. They couldn’t touch the knife. They had to stop Miriam from using it, but they couldn’t touch it. It would be best if they didn’t get near it. And that was why she’d had trouble focusing. She didn’t want to go where the facts led her. But her unconscious had gotten there just fine, without the rest of her noticing. She’d told Karonski this was now something for the Shadow Unit to handle. That, in effect, she planned to act outside the law.

The best way to stop Miriam without getting close was obvious, wasn’t it? Shoot her from a distance. Don’t risk letting the knife take over any of them. Kill Miriam and leave the knife wherever it fell. Maybe have Cullen put up wards around it. Keep everyone away—could they leave Hardy near to keep an eye on it?—until Sam got back with the Queen’s Hound.

Lily had killed to save her own life. She’d killed to stop someone from killing others. But to kill someone who was a victim herself . . . Miriam had been taken over by the knife or by the god it was linked to. Just like Officer Crown. That made her a victim, not a bad guy. Could making Miriam a victim twice over possibly be the right thing to do?

Lily wasn’t sure. She was deeply, desperately unsure. Stack up the fate of the world against one woman’s life, and it ought to be obvious. It wasn’t.

Ruben had put her in charge of the Shadow Unit’s role in this because she would try her damnedest not to see killing as the only solution . . . but he expected her to do that if she had to. Or order it done.

Did she have to? Wasn’t there always a choice?

Behind her, Rule was giving crisp instructions to Scott for the men. Bound by his word, he said nothing about Friar or a crazy god or the deal they’d just made. He told Scott that he and the rest were to follow him, Lily, and Cullen to an address he could not give out at this time. Earlier, on the way to the scene, Rule had briefed the men on what Sam had told them; now he asked Scott to emphasize to the others that the knife was their most urgent priority. He said there was a good chance that Miriam Faircastle had the knife, but it was not a certainty. Yet.

When he finished, she told him that the call had been from Karonski. “Miriam isn’t at her condo.”

Rule was silent a moment. “That tends to support the information we just received.”

It did, though it wasn’t proof. But if Miriam did have the knife . . . Rule had said he was trying to think of how to stop her. Either he hadn’t seen the obvious, either, or he meant that he was trying to find another way. One that didn’t involve a rifle. Rule saw nothing inherently wrong with assassination, but he didn’t hurt women. Killing one would rip him up inside. It would rip up any of the lupi.

What was right?

What do you believe?
That’s the gist of what Karonski had said when Lily picked him up at the airport.
What do you know in your gut about goodness?
She hadn’t known how to answer. Maybe it was time she figured that out.

She believed in the rule of law. Individual laws might be wrongheaded, but the rule of law was a definite good.

And yet that wasn’t her bedrock. At one time she thought it was, but she couldn’t see it in that black-and-white way anymore. She’d been brought to accept the need for a Shadow Unit to deal with matters the law couldn’t. Tonight she’d indicated to Karonski that this was a matter for that Unit, not the legal one. She’d been happy to circumvent the law, too, about the Uzi José had used on the dworg. She didn’t want him jailed for using the only weapon he’d had that stopped the monsters.

Stopping the monsters. Yes. She believed in that. Heart, gut, and mind, she knew that was right.

But
stopping
was not another word for
killing
. Sometimes that was what it came down to, the only way she could stop them, but killing monsters was not the goal. Stopping them was.

And Miriam wasn’t a monster. At least, not of her own free will.

Sam had told Lily once that the fundamental value for dragons was freedom of will. She believed in that, in free will and choices. That was what lay behind the whole rule-of-law thing, wasn’t it? People got together and decided that those who made bad choices, ones that harmed others, were subject to consequences. Cops, laws, courts, prison . . . if you didn’t believe that every person was responsible for his or her choices, there was no point in any of it.

They’d reached the road where their car was parked. Gray and Joel were there, but Ronnie hadn’t made it yet. He’d been the farthest away, but he’d be there any minute, Rule said. They’d wait.

And with that, another piece of her beliefs fell into place. Lily wasn’t a dragon. Free will mattered hugely, but so did teamwork. Cops, like soldiers and lupi, knew about working as a team. Other groups did, too. Families, churches, nonprofits, even businesses . . . at their core, each was about people getting together to do things no one could on their own. About working together. Helping each other the best they knew how. Their best was a long way from perfect. Even the good guys were full of flaws and foibles, and they swam in a society made up of people—every one of whom thought they didn’t have enough of something. Beauty, friends, love, sex, money, food, whatever.

Sometimes you truly didn’t have enough. Sometimes all the choices open to you were bad. That was what the law called mitigating circumstances, wasn’t it? You were responsible for your choices, but sometimes those choices were so limited you couldn’t find any good options.

You did the best you could. You
tried.
And you kept trying.

Ronnie showed up running flat-out in wolf form. Rule told him to stay four-footed for now and get in the van. Cullen was going to drive Rule’s car. He’d heard the address.

Lily slid into the backseat beside Rule and shut the door. She fastened her seat belt and said, “Ruben put me in charge of the Shadow Unit for this case.”

Rule gave her a long look. “He did.”

“Which of the men with us is the best with a rifle?”

“Gray. I don’t think he’d ever fired a handgun before he joined us on this side of the country, but he’s excellent with a rifle.”

She nodded. “If Miriam has the knife, we’ll do our damnedest to save her. She isn’t one of the monsters by choice, is she? But if we can’t . . . if the knife gets its claws in us, or if Friar tricks us somehow . . . I want Gray stationed well back with a rifle. Far enough that he should be safe from the knife’s effects. He’s to take her out if I signal him, or if it’s obvious I’ve fallen under the spell of the knife.”

“I agree with you in theory, but in practice . . . if Miriam can use that knife to compel or corrupt us, we don’t have any business getting close to it.”

He wasn’t going to like this. “It can’t compel me. It tried. The contagion tried to get into me, and it couldn’t. As for the corrupt or persuade part . . . either the mate bond or the
toltoi
gives me some protection. We don’t know how much, but some. Miriam’s no fighter. If I can take her down quickly, get the knife away from her—”

“You don’t seriously think I’m going to let you go in alone.”

“If you’re with me, what’s to stop her from compelling you to stop me from stopping her?” That came out tangled. “You know what I mean. What’s to stop her?”

Rule’s face turned dark. His eyes did, too, in the way that said he was fighting for control. He didn’t speak.

Into his grim silence, Cullen chirped, “Polyester?”