Blood Lines (43 page)

THEY
tried. Rule and Lily had to go to the CCU waiting room to keep the number of visitors within approved limits, but they didn’t have to wait long before Cullen came in. He shook his head.

“Dammit, Cullen!” Rule was ready to explode. “You have to be able to do something!”

“Maybe . . .” He took two quick steps, stopped, and ran a hand over his hair. “Maybe if I have long enough to study it, but . . . hell, Rule. By putting it on his skin, she’s tied it to him. It’s got threads running everywhere, woven deep into him. If I tug on the wrong one, I’ll stop his heart.”

GRANDMOTHER
was one floor up. Unlike Toby, she looked awful—shrunken and fragile and pale.

After Cynna’s cheery words about how well Grandmother was doing, Lily couldn’t quite hide her reaction as she bent to kiss the old woman on the cheek. If this was amazing, what kind of shape had she been in before? “Grandmother,” she said, her voice wobbly. “Fighting demons? At your age?”

Grandmother gave a one-shoulder shrug. Her other arm was in a sling. “He would not look in my eyes. If he had, I would not have needed to fight.” She looked at Rule. “The boy. They tell me he is all right, but he sleeps.”

“Yes. He’s all right physically. He’s enspelled.”

Madam Yu gave a single nod. “So. I couldn’t stop them. I tried, but . . . bah,” she said when her eyes sheened suddenly.

Lily knew better than to notice the tears. “Them? Was there more than one?”

“The demon and whoever controlled him.” She was testy. “He didn’t want to go upstairs. He wanted to finish killing me and enjoy the blood. Someone prevented that.” She looked away. “I tire. Go away now.”

Li Qin moved up beside Lily. She’d come with them to see Grandmother while Cynna stayed with Toby, Cullen checked on Timms, and Benedict went to see the two surviving guards. She spoke softly. “You may go, Lily, if you wish. I will stay with her.”

Grandmother glared at her. “I do not need my hand held.”

“Of course not.” Li Qin settled in the chair next to the bed and held out her hand. “I do.”

Grandmother stared at her. The corner of her lip tucked down, but it was the kind of down-tuck that hid amusement. They left the two women holding hands.

“I didn’t realize they were lovers,” Rule said as the door closed behind them. “I can usually tell.”

“I’m still not sure,” Lily said, “though I’ve wondered. There’s love there, but what kind? Not my business, I guess—which is the least of what Grandmother would say if I went insane and asked her. I did say something to my mother once—”

“I know she took that well.”

Lily’s laugh surprised her. It was brief, but she hadn’t thought she could laugh at all right now. “You could say that. I wouldn’t, but you could.”

“We’d better go get Toby now.”

“Go get . . .” She stopped and spoke carefully. “You don’t mean take him out of the hospital.”

“There’s no reason for him to stay here.” He was reasonable. Calm. “Hooked up to a bunch of machines that can’t do a thing for him . . . of course we’ll take him home with us. That’s where he should be. At home. It will be easier for Cullen to figure out how to undo the spell there.”

In the hall, in the elevator, she gently pointed out why Toby needed to stay in the hospital. Yes, he was physically fine, and could probably be moved out of CCU. But they didn’t know if he’d stay fine. He needed to be where they could keep an IV in him, at the very least. Besides, they didn’t have a home to take him to; Nokolai’s house was boarded up. There was blood all over.

Rule continued to sound reasonable. Home was wherever they were—a hotel, the borrowed Suburban, it didn’t matter. If she thought Toby needed an IV, they’d leave that in. But it would be easier for Cullen to study the spell and undo it away from the hospital.

He hadn’t touched Toby, she realized as they approached the doors to CCU. He hadn’t touched Toby’s face or reached for his hand as he lay there sleeping amid the beeps and tubes of critical care. She should have known he’d slipped around some inner corner. He and Toby touched often, easily . . . a hug, a pat, a snuggle. She’d envied that sometimes. Her own family didn’t touch that way.

She’d thought he was dealing. He’d clamped down hard on his anxiety to keep functioning, she’d seen that, but he’d seemed to be dealing with the situation okay. She looked at him closely as they approached the cubicle that held his son.

He still looked okay. But he wasn’t.

Visitors had changed places again. Benedict and Cullen were with Toby now. The CCU nurses wouldn’t let them all in at once, of course, so Lily told Benedict and Cullen to come with her and give Rule a few minutes alone with Toby. He was talking to his son when they left . . . but not touching him.

Touching him might make it too real.

On the other side of the swinging doors, she told them about Rule’s determination to take Toby out of the hospital. Her voice broke.

Benedict just nodded. “I’ll talk to him. Outside.”

“Talk isn’t working.” She felt frantic, close to tears, and she hated that, hated the utter uselessness of crying.

“Hey.” Cullen put an arm around her, startling her. He gave her shoulders a squeeze. “We’ll talk a little differently than you have been.” He looked at Benedict. “You’re the best, but Rule’s not bad, either. I’ll go with you. I’m fast enough, and we don’t need any more injuries.”

Benedict nodded and pushed on the CCU door.

“You’re not talking about talking,” Lily said stupidly.

Benedict paused. “We’ll talk. Then he’ll hit us. It’s what he needs. He’s too exhausted to do much damage, but Cullen’s right. Two of us can make sure of that without damaging him.”

THIRTY-FOUR

THERE
were no chairs in CCU. Lily stood by Toby’s bed, holding his hand and wishing she believed in prayer.

Death wasn’t the end. Souls existed. She knew that beyond any doubt, but she didn’t know if anyone was in charge—but if so, He or She wasn’t doing a very good job. The inmates were running the asylum and had been for a long time.

But it couldn’t hurt to ask. Even if she wasn’t sure who or what she prayed to, it couldn’t hurt to ask.
Please. Please help him. Help us.

“He looks okay, doesn’t he?”

She turned. Cynna stood in the open entry, sipping from a steaming cup. Lily smelled coffee. “You don’t like coffee.”

“Tastes like crap,” she agreed, stepping into the glass-walled cubicle. “Where’s Rule?”

“Getting some fight therapy, I think. He . . .” She chewed on her lip, uncertain how much to say. “I thought he was dealing. I didn’t look closely enough. I guess a psychologist would say he was repressing, or in denial, or something like that. Benedict said he needed to hit someone. He and Cullen took him outside to talk, lupus style.”

“Fight therapy. Huh. I could use some of that.”

Beneath the inky filigree, Cynna’s face was tight. No, Lily realized, she was tight all over, as if she were made of overwound springs ready to snap. “I guess I’m more like Timms. I’d rather shoot than punch.”

“You know how to fight, though.”

“I’m too mad to fight well right now.” Lily hadn’t known that was true until she said it, but she was aware of the anger now—a hot, hard knot of it in her belly. “You make mistakes when the anger’s in charge.”

“Guess that’s why you’re black belt and I’m just brown. When I’m mad, I like to fight. When I’m not mad, I don’t see the point, so I don’t practice.” Cynna sipped from her cup, grimaced. “Here. You might as well drink this.”

Lily accepted the cup. Milk had turned it to a paler shade of sludge she wasn’t desperate enough to drink. “How much did that mess you up?” she asked softly. “What Jiri did, I mean. Making you ride again, having to witness everything.”

“Witness.” Cynna’s voice was ripe with bitterness. “Riding’s not like that. It isn’t just watching.”

“You’ve never talked about it.”

“Not going to now, either.”

“You didn’t do this, you know. You didn’t attack the others or do this to Toby.”

Cynna took two steps as if she wanted to pace, but there was no room for it. “She kicked me out before I could see what she did to Toby. Didn’t want me getting a clue about how to undo it. But for the rest . . . I might as well have done it. It didn’t feel like the demon’s hands reached in and dragged Brown out of the car. It was
our
hands that killed him.
W
e broke down that door.
We
were pissed when the tiger attacked and . . .” She swallowed and raised miserable eyes to Lily’s. “A rider doesn’t just get the physical stuff. You get the feelings, too. Not thoughts, but I felt what the demon felt.”

“It wasn’t your will, your intent, in charge.”

“Yeah, intent matters. I know that, but . . .” Her gaze jumped from Toby to the IV stand to the heart monitor. “Why did she do it that way? Why force me to ride? That’s what I don’t get. It didn’t give her any advantage. Hell, it took some of her advantage away. I’ve got her pattern now, a current pattern.”

“Vengeance. Threat. I—” Lily broke off. She felt Rule approaching. A moment later the doors to CCU opened and Rule, Cullen, and Benedict came in.

They were a bit worse for wear.

Cullen was limping. Benedict had a cut over one eye. Rule was the worst mess, though, with his jacket gone, his shirt torn, and a doozy of a black eye. It had already aged to the greenish yellow phase, but was still swollen.

He came straight to Lily. One of the nurses darted out from their central station, telling them they had to leave—they couldn’t have this many in CCU at one time. Rule didn’t seem to notice, but Benedict spoke politely to her.

Rule stopped in front of Lily. For a long moment they just looked at each other, each seeking something too large to fit neatly into words. Then the corner of his mouth kicked up and she reached for him, or he reached for her, and they were holding on. Holding on tight.

Benedict told her the rest of them would be in the CCU waiting room. She nodded without stirring. Rule loosened his grip just as the CCU doors opened. Cynna had paused in the doorway, looking back at them. And for a second Lily saw too much in her face. A hard sorrow. Longing. Envy.

Then Cynna turned. The door closed, and Rule went to Toby’s bed and took his son’s hand.

THEY
stayed at the hospital another three hours. Toby was moved from CCU to a room in pediatrics. He didn’t stir. Timms was upgraded from serious to stable. Cynna told them about her interview in Chicago and Jiri’s other apprentice, Tommy Cordoba; they filled her in on events at Leidolf Clanhome.

Jiri didn’t call.

Ruben did. The Bureau’s computers were still wonky, so they couldn’t run a trace on Cordoba, but Ruben promised he’d put a priority on it.

After some discussion, they settled that Benedict would take the night shift with Toby. Or rather, Benedict settled it—he told Rule and Lily to go away and get some rest. To Cynna’s amazement, they listened. Then they had to almost drag Cullen out. He seemed to feel responsible for Timms.

They adjourned to a hotel near the hospital, where Rule got a two-bedroom suite for him, Lily, and Cullen, with an adjoining single for Cynna, and ordered room service hamburgers.

Not that anyone seemed hungry. When the food arrived, all of them except Cullen sat at the round table and tried to eat. Cullen slouched in the big armchair in front of the TV with his plate, absorbed in CNN or his own thoughts.

“But what does it mean?” Cynna asked Rule, dragging a fat home fry through ketchup. “You’ve got two mantles, or part of two mantles. What does that do to you?”

His expression was odd. Baffled. “I can’t describe it, but . . . I’m okay.”

Lily grimaced. “The mate bond didn’t do us any good, after all. I guess with the power wind—”

“No,” he said. “It did help. It’s still helping. I don’t know how to explain, but it helped the two mantles settle in together.”

“Two-mantled,” Cullen murmured.

Cynna looked at him, surprised he’d followed their conversation. He was frowning at the TV.

“The Rhej used that phrase,” Lily said. “She made it sound like some sort of title.”

Cullen didn’t look at them. “It’s from a legend. A very old legend.”

“I never heard of it,” Rule said.

“It’s an Etorri tale.”

“What’s Etorri?” Cynna asked.

There was one of those silences, like when someone farts and everyone pretends not to notice. At last Cullen answered. “My former clan. The one that kicked me out.”

Oh.

“Power’s back on up North,” he said in an obvious change of subject. “And some asshole’s decided to let commercial flights resume.”

“You don’t think it’s safe?”

He snorted. “More like an extreme solution to overpopulation. There’s too much loose magic for computerized systems to be dependable.”

Lily and Rule joined him in front of the television. Cynna paced but listened. Fire still raged in Houston. An earthquake in Italy had left thousands homeless. The nuclear meltdown in Poland had been confirmed, but details were sketchy. Wall Street expected to reopen in the morning. And phone service remained problematical, but landlines worked better than cellular.