Mortal Ties (54 page)

Europe

Ansgar:
Scandinavian; Clanhome in Sweden. Ben Larson is Lu Nuncio. Not a large clan, but
three very small clans are subordinate to Ansgar, increasing its voice.

Cynyr:
A Celtic clan; most live in Ireland and Scotland, some in Wales. Lu Nuncio: Connolly
(Con) McGuire. One subordinate (English) clan.

Africa

Mondoyo:
The only African clan, started by a small group of lupi who went to northern Africa
after the Great War. Out of communication with other clans until eighteenth century
and have different customs. Lu Nuncio is Ato Tsegaye.

Subordinate Clans

Laban:
One of Nokolai’s subordinates; their small clanhome is near San Francisco. Their
mantle is unusually strong for a subordinate clan, but they do not do well without
a dominant. They like to fight too much.

Vochi:
Nokolai’s other subordinate clan in the United States, they are known for their financial
acumen. Vochi births few fighters.

S
HE
blinked and swayed, so dizzy she had to reach for the wall to prop herself up. Could
you pass out without falling down? That’s what it felt like—like she’d blacked out.
Which she’d never done, not in her whole life, and all of a sudden she was Sleeping
Beauty and years and years had passed. Except she was still on her feet, so obviously
years hadn’t passed. The ladies’ room was right behind her. She was still in the narrow
little hallway of…

Of where?

Fear struck, quick and hot and dark, flapping its wings in her throat like a trapped
bird. Where was she?

She didn’t know. She didn’t have any idea. She’d been…what? She couldn’t remember.
She remembered going to bed last night but not to sleep, not right away. She always
had trouble falling asleep the night before her birthday. She’d sat up past bedtime—a
sin overlooked on special nights—writing in her diary, with the light from her lamp
warm and yellow on the lined pages and her lavender bedspread pulled up to her waist.
She’d told her diary what she couldn’t tell anyone, not even Debbie, and for sure
not her
sisters. Everyone was so “I can’t wait” about being a teenager, but she’d been glad
tomorrow’s birthday was twelve, not thirteen. She wasn’t ready for thirteen, but that
was okay because she had a whole year of being twelve ahead of her. That gave her
lots of time.

But that was all she remembered. She didn’t remember waking up or eating breakfast
or lunch or supper. Was it suppertime? Had they come here instead of going to the
roller rink like they were supposed to?

Had she somehow missed her whole birthday?

A burst of indignation burned through some of the fear. That wasn’t fair. That wasn’t
fair at all, and she didn’t understand, but here she was in some kind of restaurant.
The air was thick with good smells—ginger and onions and fryer fat—and she could see
a smidge of the room the hall led to. A man sat at a small, cloth-draped table, leaning
forward and stabbing his finger at the air the way men did when they thought they
were important and people should listen. The woman with him looked bored. They were
both Caucasian, but this was a Chinese restaurant. She could tell from the smells
and the crimson walls. Out of sight from her vantage point, someone was laughing a
quick, barking sort of laugh:
HA
!
HA
!
HA
! Which made her think of Uncle Wu, who laughed in syllables like that, only quieter,
huffing it out: Ha. Ha. Ha.

She was breathing really fast. Huffing like Uncle Wu. She clenched her fists and tried
to make herself breathe normal. She needed something to be normal.

She felt tired. Tired and kind of heavy, the way she did when she had a cold. She
sniffed experimentally. She wasn’t stuffed up or anything. Had she been sick? Maybe
she’d had a real high fever. A brain fever. Could brain fevers make you forget stuff?
Maybe she’d had a terrible brain fever and got over it, but just now she’d had a relapse—that’s
why she’d been so dizzy—and—

“Excuse us, please,” someone said behind her.

She whirled.

Two women had come out of the restroom. They were
kind of old—maybe thirty—and they were dressed funny. Both wore jeans, which was weird.
Who wore jeans to a nice restaurant? One had on a big, sloppy sweater, but the other
one wore a tight, stretchy shirt that showed
everything
, like she was a hooker or something. That woman had great big earrings and super-short
hair like Mia Farrow and…good grief. She had a little gem in her nose, like it was
pierced there.

Her mother wouldn’t let her pierce her ears, and this woman had pierced her nose!

The two women were looking at her funny. She flushed. She was standing around like
an idiot, blocking the hall. She stepped aside. As she did, her foot bumped something.
She glanced down.

Someone had left her purse right there in the hall. It was a nice purse, too—black
leather, the kind that’s so soft you want to pet it. She should tell someone.

She’d taken one uncertain step when someone else came into the hall. A man. He was
tall and probably as old as the two women, and he was gorgeous. He looked like a movie
star—kind of like Clint Eastwood, in fact, who was still her favorite, and she hated
that
Rawhide
had gone off the air. Only this man’s hair was all dark and shaggy and he had really
dramatic eyebrows that weren’t like Clint’s at all.

The man looked right at her and tipped his head like he was puzzled. She felt a little
flutter in her stomach. Then he spoke to her.

“Julia? Are you okay?”

L
ILY
pushed the remains of her Kung Pao chicken around on her plate and tried to look
like she was paying attention to her cousin Freddie, who was excited about implied
rates and parity and agio. What the hell was agio? Was that even a word?

She didn’t ask. He’d tell her, and God knew how long that would take. It was some
kind of broker-speak, though. Probably currency trading, which was his specialty.
That
was a large part of what he did for Rule these days. Rule’s second clan wasn’t affluent
the way Nokolai was.

“…not convinced the baht is on the rise, but…” Freddie broke off and chuckled. “Your
eyes have glazed over.”

“Sorry.” She and Freddie got along better now that he’d stopped asking her to marry
him. She’d even forgiven him for doing so repeatedly without mentioning that he was
gay. Turned out he’d been in major denial about that and had only come out of the
closet with himself in the past year. He still wasn’t ready for the family to know…by
which he meant his mother.

Lily could understand that. Aunt Jei—who was technically Lily’s second cousin, but
Lily and her sisters called all their mother’s first cousins “aunt” or “uncle”—put
the passive in passive-aggressive. She was limp, needy, and full of sighs, a widow
with only one child who she doted on, clung to, and controlled ruthlessly.

Poor Freddie.

Aunt Jei was probably the reason Rule had excused himself to go to the restroom. He’d
been seated next to her and even Rule could only take so much.

“That’s all right,” Freddie said kindly, and patted her hand. “You’re probably daydreaming
about the big day. Only two weeks away now, isn’t it?” He beamed at her.

“Two weeks and one day.” After which, she thought with a smile, Rule would be officially
related to Aunt Jei, Freddie, and everyone else at this table. Poor man.

They were in the larger of the two private dining rooms at the Golden Dragon, where
they held most such celebrations, since it was owned by Uncle Chen—another “uncle”
who was really a cousin. The party was smaller than usual this year. None of the children
were here, and Grandmother’s companion, Li Qin, had broken her foot two days ago.
While she could get around on crutches, she was still in pain, so Grandmother had
insisted she stay home. Also, Lily’s younger sister wasn’t here, though for a very
different reason.

“I attended the wedding of a colleague’s daughter recently,” Freddie was saying. “Beautiful
girl. It was a very
modern sort of ceremony. They wrote their own vows, and when it was time for toasts…”

Lily nodded and let her mind drift. Her mother had told them firmly they were not
to make a fuss: “With your wedding so close, it’s too much to ask. Everyone is very
busy.” Lily’s father had wisely ignored her protests. Julia Yu loved being fussed
over on her birthday.

That fuss had damn well better include presents, too. Lily’s gaze slid to the table
behind Freddie. The table held over a dozen gaily wrapped packages. She grinned. Freddie
took her grin as tribute to his story about the groom’s toast and chuckled and launched
into a tale about someone else she’d never met.

Every year Julia Yu insisted she didn’t need a thing, not a thing, but they knew better.
She adored presents—the bright paper and bows, the whole unwrapping ritual. Lily would
miss it if they ever did skip the gifts. Her mother might be picky and perfectionistic
about all sorts of things, but presents were different. Her eyes lit with delight.
She exclaimed with pleasure over everything, no matter how odd or humble, and held
it up for everyone to admire.

“So what did you get Mother?” she asked when Freddie paused.

“Why, I got her a gift.”

That meant he was dying to tell, but she was supposed to coax him. She glanced at
her watch. Eight forty. “Guess I’ll find out soon. She’ll be finished primping any—”

The first scream was loud and piercing and terrified. So were the ones that followed.
Lily was on her feet and moving before the others got their dropped jaws working.
She’d grabbed her purse. She wasn’t wearing either shoulder or ankle holster, but
she didn’t go anywhere unarmed, not these days. By the time she slammed through the
door, she’d pulled her Glock from her purse.

Barnaby and Joe were on their feet, faced out. “Hold your positions,” she snapped.
The other two guards, Scott and Mark, were already on the other side of the dining
room and
moving as fast as only lupi can. They turned into the hall that led to the restrooms.
Lily followed at a quick jog, veering around startled diners and a couple servers.
The screaming stopped abruptly when she was halfway across.

Scott reappeared at the entrance to the hall and smiled at everyone. Scott cultivated
the geek look. He wore glasses he didn’t need and clothes a bit too large that turned
his wiry frame skinny. If you didn’t notice how well he moved, you’d think he never
did anything more strenuous than tote a laptop. “I think she saw a mouse or something.”

There were a couple of nervous laughs. Someone said, “Must have been a really big
mouse.” More laughter as the roomful of people began to relax.

Rule was in that hall. The mate sense told Lily that as clearly as if she could see
through the wall. Had some woman with a phobia about lupi seen him and freaked? Could
be. His face was well-known. Whatever kind of trouble had triggered the screaming,
though, she probably wouldn’t need her weapon. Scott had his back to it. He wouldn’t
do that if something needed shooting.

Still, she kept her Glock in her hand, but down at her side. Scott gave her a odd
look, but stepped aside without speaking. As soon as he did, she stopped dead.

Mark stood a couple feet into the hall. He hadn’t drawn his weapon, and he barely
glanced at her. A few feet beyond him, Rule stood with his arms around Lily’s mother.
She was sobbing. Her hands gripped his arms. He was stroking her back and murmuring
something. He looked up from his soothing to meet Lily’s eyes. He looked baffled.

“Mother?” Lily said, stepping forward cautiously. She’d never seen her mother come
apart like this. Never. To do so in public…“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

Julia Yu lifted her head from Rule’s shoulder. Mascara streaked her face in long black
runnels. “I’m old! I’m so old!”

“You…you look great.”

Julia shuddered and wailed.

“I was coming down the hall and saw Julia,” Rule said
carefully. “She looked upset, so I asked if she was all right. She reached up to touch
her hair, then started patting her face. Then she screamed.”

“Mother—”

“I’m not your mother! I’m not anyone’s mother! I’m twelve years old and someone has
stuck me in this old, old body!”

The last fifteen months had been difficult. Lily had killed. She’d died herself—or
part of her had—and she’d seen someone die for her. She’d dealt with a wraith, too
many demons, a Chimei, a crazy telepath, and a couple of really nasty elves. She had
literally been to hell and back. But this…

For a long moment her mind was simply blank. Then she thought of psychotic breaks.
Then she thought of magic. She swallowed hard and put her weapon back in her purse.
“You’re twelve, you said.”

A vigorous nod. “It’s my birthday.”

Yes, it was. Only Julia Yu had turned fifty-seven today, not twelve. “Do you recognize
me?”

“N-no. You look kind of familiar, though. Maybe we met some time?”

“My name is Lily. You’re Julia, right?”

Her mother sniffed. “Julia Lin.”

Lin. Her mothers’ maiden name. “I’m an FBI agent. Would you like to see my badge?”

“A real FBI agent?”

“The real thing.” Lily pulled her shield from her purse and held it out. “See?”

Julia Yu released her death grip on one of Rule’s arms so she could lean forward to
peer at Lily’s ID. She didn’t reach for it, though. “It looks real.”

“It is. Have you heard about—” Noise behind Lily had her turning. Her father and two
of her cousins were at the hall’s entrance. Edward Yu told Scott he’d better step
aside right now.