Blood Lines (23 page)

Merilee howled. A heavy weight landed on Cynna’s back, smashing her to the floor. Her breath whooshed out. Someone yelled. Feet thudded down the hall. A sledgehammer hit the side of her head, and everything went black.

SEVENTEEN

THAT
afternoon, Lily developed a deeper appreciation for the problems of working parents.

Right after Cullen left, she did, too, heading for the Secret Service’s headquarters on Murray Drive. She wanted everything they had on the perp they’d tagged for demonic dealings. She wanted copies of whatever they’d learned about Jiri and the others on the list Cynna had given her, too.

She struck out. The two men she’d worked with still wouldn’t tell her a damned thing, so she insisted on being passed up the food chain to the assistant chief muckety-muck. He made her wait, then made vague promises of cooperation, claiming he wanted to help but had to clear it “at the highest level” first. But his face and body language said he’d die and rot before he gave freaks like her and the others in the Unit one jot of information.

She wondered if the presidential adviser would take her phone call, maybe goose the jerk a bit. Didn’t hurt to try, she decided, so she called Ida on the way back to the row house, requesting the number. Ida wouldn’t give it to her.

So Lily wasn’t in the best of moods when she headed back to the row house. Next up was a meet with the task force at five, and she wanted Rule there. They’d have questions about the lupi’s ancient enemy and
Her
role in the demons sprouting up like spring flowers. Plus he needed to get the last of the poison removed, and at least two of the task force members should be able to handle that.

But Toby was there—scrubbing the kitchen floor, at the moment, as penance.

“I don’t see why he can’t come with us,” she said for the second time.

“To FBI headquarters.” He was incredulous.

“It’s secure.”

“And what do you plan to do with him? You don’t have an office to park him in—not that I’d recommend that, anyway. The number of things a kid his age can get into—”

“Like an airplane, but he managed to get here okay, didn’t he? He’s a bright kid.”

“He’s a bright eight-year-old. Last summer he decided to make a pair of wings modeled after da Vinci’s sketches. I found out before he tested them, thank God.”

“Maybe we can find someone there to keep an eye on him while we talk to the task force.”

“Ruben, maybe?”

“Very good.” She nodded. “You don’t have anything reasonable to say, so you use sarcasm.”

“Reasonable. You think it’s reasonable to insist I leave my son—”

“Have I once said you should leave him?”

“—with strangers because you’re determined to manage my life. You don’t trust me to take care of my leg. You don’t trust a solution you haven’t come up with yourself, so—”

“Waiting is not a solution!” That’s what he’d suggested—that he wait until the bodyguards arrived to deal with his wound.

“—you want to drag me with you and make sure it’s done on your schedule.”

She flushed. “I do have other priorities, like trying to find out how these demons are being summoned and who’s behind it. Plus the task force needs to know about the conclusions we’ve drawn and the goddess we don’t name.”

“So go.”

She stared at him a long moment, then shoved her hair back with both hands. “Why are we arguing? Do you even know why? I don’t.”

“I’m arguing because my hip hurts and I’m an ass. You’re arguing because you’re worried about me. And because I’m an ass.”

“At least there’s a good reason.” She went to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. He put his arms around her, too, and rested his cheek on the top of her head. Within a few breaths, they were okay again.

“You didn’t mention the other reason we were fighting,” she said.

“Which is . . . ?”

“The way I turn into a control freak when I’m scared.”

“Oh, that. I was being tactful.”

She snorted. “If we don’t—” The doorbell chimed. She repressed a sigh. The world never gave them much time before poking its nose in. “Guess we should see who that is.”

“We should,” he agreed without moving.

Feet thudded on the stairs. “I’ll get it!” Toby called.

“No, you won’t,” Rule said, disengaging and starting for the stairs.

Lily headed for the door. “Have you told him what’s going on?”

“Not yet. I will as soon as I see who our caller is. Toby, go back upstairs.”

Lily didn’t listen to the argument that followed. She’d applied her eye to the peephole again and received an even bigger shock than finding Cullen on her doorstep. After a stunned pause, she unlocked and opened the door.

This time it was two women who stood there, both Chinese.

One was middle-aged, plain, and wore a simple dark-blue pantsuit with a wool jacket. The other was old, tiny, and as proudly erect as a queen. Her black hair was winged with white and drawn into a ruthless bun; her dress was crimson and reached her ankles; her jacket was quilted silk of many colors.

Lily sighed. “Grandmother. Of course you would show up now.”

“You are not moving aside so we may come in,” Li Lei Yu pointed out severely.

Automatically Lily complied.

Grandmother brushed past. “Our bags are in the car. Your Rule Turner may see to them. Do you still have that cat?”

Grandmother was using English instead of insisting Lily speak Chinese. No doubt that was meant to convey some sort of message, but Lily was in no mood to decode it. “Harry’s around someplace. Grandmother, why have you—”

“Not now,” she said, giving the living room a disapproving eye. “Ugly. I suppose that is not your fault, however.”

Li Qin paused on the threshold to give Lily an apologetic smile. “The limousine driver can bring in the bags, Lily. Are you well?”

“Mostly.” She watched, resigned to her fate, as her grandmother seated herself on the sofa. Her feet didn’t reach the floor.

“I will need a footstool,” the old woman announced, “but later. I have been in airplanes and airports for seventy-two hours. You have no Christmas tree.”

“We expected to go home for Christmas, so we didn’t put one up. Grandmother—”

“Your plans have changed? Ha! I am not surprised,” she said darkly. “Later you will tell me. Now you may tell me where my room is. Li Qin will wish to go to her room, also. We have eaten. Abominable food, but we do not require a meal.”

Lily’s conscience nipped at her. It was easy to forget that Grandmother was
old
. She sat as erect as ever, but the skin around her eyes looked bruised with fatigue.

But why exhaust herself so? Why had Grandmother cut her trip short and flown here instead of home to San Diego? “Upstairs,” she said automatically. “Your room will be upstairs. But, ah, we weren’t expecting you, and we have to—”

“Madam Yu,” Rule said, entering with Toby trailing behind. Toby hung back in the doorway while Rule crossed the room. He bent, taking the old woman’s hand to press a kiss there. “You honor us. May I present to you my son, Toby Asteglio?”

Grandmother gave an approving nod. “You may. You are Toby,” she informed the boy. “You may greet me.”

Toby gave his father a panicky glance but came forward a few steps, offered a jerky little bow, and said, “Madam Yu. H-how do you do?”

“I am well, thank you. Do you stay here, also?”

He nodded uncertainly. “I wasn’t supposed to, and I’m in trouble about it.”

“I will teach you to play mah-jongg. You will not enjoy it at first because I will win, but you will like it later, when you find players you can defeat. Lily.” She turned imperious black eyes on her granddaughter. “I have much to say to you and Rule Turner, but I will rest first. Why are you not at work?”

“I’m trying to work,” she said dryly. “People keep showing up, expecting to stay here.”

A gleam of amusement brightened the tired eyes. Grandmother enjoyed being outrageous, but at least she knew she was doing it. Mostly. “You require a Christmas tree.”

Oh, Lord, she was right. With Toby here . . . “Maybe you’d like to take care of that for us.”

“I will call,” she announced, as if making a great concession. “You want one with candy. Sugarplums. No Santas. I do not like Santas. Someone will deliver it.” The painted eyebrows arched. “I think you have much to tell me.”

They shared a look of understanding affection. “As you say, later. I’ve an appointment I—”

“
We
have an appointment,” Rule said smoothly. “Madam Yu, I have a great favor to ask of you.”

“
SHE’S
not a stranger,” Lily said as she punched the elevator button. “But do you really feel good about leaving Toby with Grandmother?”

Rule grinned. “He may consider it part of his punishment, but he’s safe with her.”

She couldn’t argue. Grandmother was a real tiger when it came to protecting children.

A
real
tiger.

No one outside the family knew about that, of course . . . well, aside from two members of the Unit, and they would keep the secret. And even the family didn’t know how Grandmother had come to possess her unique ability. She discouraged questions. Sure, there were stories of adepts in pre-Purge times who’d been able to take a beast form or curse someone into an animal’s body. But who knew if those tales were true? The days of the adepts were long over. Today the only werebeasts were the lupi . . . and Grandmother.

“I expect Li Qin will do any actual work,” Lily said as they climbed into a little box already nearly full of people she didn’t know.

“You forget. She’s going to teach him mah-jongg.”

She grinned. “That’s a mark of high approval. She normally refuses to play with anyone not up to her standards.” If Lily hadn’t known him so well, she wouldn’t have seen the tension in Rule’s body. He didn’t like elevators. He didn’t like anyone noticing his discomfort, either, so she kept talking. “We should do something for Li Qin as a thank-you.”

“A vacation? Without your grandmother, that is.”

“Surprising as it may seem, Li Qin is devoted to Grandmother. I doubt she’d go. But Christmas is nearly here.”

“Yes, and it looks like we’ll have family around for the holiday, after all. Not to mention a Christmas tree. With sugarplums.”

“But no Santas. I hope you realize you’re paying for that. Grandmother will feel she’s done more than her share by condescending to use the phone.”

“I certainly wouldn’t let her pay for it. You need to call your mother.”

That had sure come out of left field. It took her a second to recover. “She’ll just refuse to talk to me.”

The elevator doors opened on someone else’s floor. Two men got off. “Then leave a message. You know better than most that we aren’t guaranteed the time we think we need to mend fences with those we love.”

She stared at the closing doors. “Wrong time, wrong place. Nag me later.”

He lowered his voice. “You haven’t told me what’s wrong between the two of you. But does it matter? Does it matter as much as spending the holiday without speaking to her? She’s difficult, but she loves you.”

Lily didn’t answer. He meant well, but so did her mother. Every time she told Lily how she ought to be running her life, Julia Yu meant well.

Almost every time. When Lily had desperately needed her support . . . “This is our floor,” she said, as glad as Rule must be to escape the crowded elevator.

Before she and Rule left San Diego, Lily had gone to her parents’ house to say goodbye to her father and her younger sister . . . and to apologize to her mother. She owed her that much, though she’d known damned well she’d get no apology in return.

She’d managed two out of three. Her mother hadn’t been home.

Five weeks ago Lily and her younger sister had both been in the emergency room. Lily had been injured physically; Rule was missing and presumed dead, and Lily’s Gift had been reft from her. She’d needed her mother, and Julia Yu had come . . . to hover over her youngest daughter and blame Lily for everything.

“Your sister could have been killed! And why? Because of him! Him and your job, the stupid job you insisted on, no matter how many times I told you I didn’t like it. And now you’ve brought hurt to your family, you and that—that wolf man you’re sleeping with. I’m glad he’s dead! I—”

That’s when Lily had slapped her.

“Lily,” Rule said.

Yanked back to the present, Lily noticed the woman hurrying toward them—fortyish, with dust-colored hair, glasses, and a bright pink shirt straining over generous breasts. Sandy McPherson was an analyst in data collection with a wicked sense of humor, and one of the few people Lily knew in Headquarters.

“You sleepwalking?” Sandy said. “I called you twice.”

“Sorry. What’s up?”

“Ida is looking for you.”

“Is it urgent?” Lily glanced at her watch. “We’re due in a meeting in two and half minutes.”

“She didn’t say, but . . .” Sandy shrugged. “It’s Ida.”

“Right.” Ruben’s secretary wasn’t likely to make a fuss if it wasn’t important. “Thanks, Sandy.”

“You can thank me by introducing me to the sexiest man I’ve ever seen.”