Night Season (2 page)

Cynna gave her a dark look. She did not care for fertility deity references.

"Add in the butch haircut and tattoos, and I'm thinking we need to go for simple but dramatic. Whatever we get will probably have to be tailored, but—"

"Tailored?" Cynna squeaked.

"Most likely. We'll start with two jackets, like I said, and four pairs of slacks to mix and match. You could add a skirt, but I've never seen you wear one, so I thought we'd stay in your comfort zone and go with slacks."

"You've got a weird notion of my comfort zone."

"And of course you'll need things to wear under the jackets. Tees, a long-sleeved shirt, a sweater or—"

"There's a Wal-Mart about a mile from here."

"You didn't buy those jeans at Wal-Mart. They're killer."

"Thanks. But jeans aren't like suits. They have to fit exactly right, and most of them aren't long enough, so… quit looking at me that way."

"Uh-huh. How much did you pay for the jeans?"

Too much. "Sales. There are bound to be sales."

CHAPTER TWO

THE Fashion Center turned out to be a three-story temple to consumerism. It was midweek and the middle of the day—somehow Lily had persuaded her to take a day off for this insanity—so the teens and tweens were missing. But everywhere Cynna looked, a mom had stuffed a baby in one of those enormous touring devices they called strollers.

There was a muffled little lump of infant in one not ten feet away when Cynna emerged from the dressing room. It was staring at her with enormous, wary eyes.

It gave her the willies. She scowled at Lily. "They don't make clothes for people with breasts. Have you ever noticed that?" She tried tugging the jacket across her chest. The ends wouldn't meet. "See that? If you're more than a B-cup, forget it."

"Shut up, Cynna, and try this instead."

Maybe she'd been tactless. Lily was kind of small on top. Cynna slipped off the too-tight jacket and eyed the leather duster Lily was holding out. It was a dark, rich brown like baking chocolate, but… "It's not black."

"Black is so not your color."

She loved black. She'd always worn black. "You keep saying that, but black goes with my tattoos." They weren't precisely tattoos, but Cynna generally used the word other people recognized, not the Swahili that truly named the patterns overlaying her skin like heavy lace. The spells were
kilingo;
the core patterns she used to Find things were
kielezo
. Neither had been applied with ink and needles.

"Black makes people just see the tattoos, not the skin. Try on the duster."

Dubious, Cynna shrugged on the long duster. "Can you wear something like this to Headquarters?"

"I couldn't. I'd look ridiculous, like I was dressing up in my big sister's clothes. But on you, with those slacks…" Lily shook her head and sighed. "Check out the mirror."

Cynna turned. And stared. After a moment she felt a smile stretching her cheeks. The dangerous-looking woman in the mirror smirked right back at her. "Hey, is that me? I look hot."

"You do, except for the bag."

The brown slacks Cynna had been complaining about looked wicked cool now. So did the copper sweater, but her old denim bag was all wrong. Even she could see that. "I guess I could get a new one. Purses don't hold enough, so I usually get a tote or something, but… hey." While she spoke she'd tried buttoning the duster. Lo and behold, button met buttonhole, "It fits! How'd you find one that fits?"

"I asked one of those snooty clerks to help me. Ah… it didn't come from the sale rack."

Cynna gulped. Leather. Not on sale. And in this store… She grabbed her courage in both hands and looked at the price.

"Steady." Lily put a hand on her shoulder.

"I can't… there's no way I can afford this." Though part of her brain was scrambling to come up with a way… she had plenty of credit, but she hated paying interest. She had savings, too, but—

"If you're sure… ?"

"I am." No way was she compromising her security by pulling money out of savings for clothes.

"Then I guess you'll just have to accept it as a late Christmas present from me and Rule."

Cynna stared. "Get real. Christmas was weeks ago. Besides, this—this—no one gives Christmas presents that cost this much."

"Rule does. He gave me his card today and told me to buy you something you ought to have but were too cheap to spring for. Well… he put it more tactfully, but that was the gist." She nodded at the coat. "This would be it."

"It's too much. Way too much."

"Rule can afford it—and trust me, he'll be paying for the lion's share. He gave Cullen a diamond."

An image flashed into her head of Cullen Seabourne with a diamond winking in his ear. She ignored the quick flutter in her belly and cocked an eyebrow at Lily. "Right ear or left?"

Lily shook her head. "You can ask? Never mind. Your eyes are glazing over. I hate to mess with your fantasy, but the diamond is on a ring for his finger, not his ear. He has to be able to watch what he's doing when he feeds sorceri into it."

So it didn't go
bam
. She knew that. Feed raw magic into a diamond too fast or slightly wrong and you'd end up with diamond chips, which was why so few practitioners tried it. Cullen could pull it off because he could see the sorceri as he fed them in. That's what made him a sorcerer.

Envy bit again. Damn, she needed to go to confession. "Big bling?"

"Huge. Roughly five carats, but it's lab-grown, not natural. The outfit Rule bought it from has this new technique that makes big, clear diamonds that are atomically identical to natural diamonds. The process is so new the stones aren't on the market yet, but Rule got a deal on one because he promised a report on its magical properties. You haven't asked how Cullen is doing."

"He's got an ankle again and most of his foot." At Lily's raised brows she snapped, "He called, okay?"

"He said he hadn't spoken to you."

"He, uh, left a message." Lots of messages. Every night. Every blasted night he called, always between eight and nine, and left a message on her voice mail. Never putting pressure on her—oh, no, he was too canny for that. Most of the messages weren't seductive, either, though he'd left a couple that… never mind. Usually he said something funny or stupid or just
hi, checking in again
.

The man had no scruples. "Maybe I should try on a skirt with this," Cynna said brightly. "Get a new bag. You said… you said something about my bag." Weird. Her head was floating a foot over her shoulders all of a sudden.

"Are you hyperventilating?"

Could be. Her fingers were tingling and her lips were numb, "It was purple, not teal."

"What?"

"You know, that greeny-blue color. Teal." The words came out all rushed and shallow. "I was sure it would be teal, but I peed in a cup this morning and the tester came up purple."

Lily gave her one of those flat, appraising looks all cops master in cop school. "Okay. We're going to walk around now." She put an arm around Cynna's shoulders. "Hold your breath for three steps, let it out on the fourth, then hold it again."

"I'm not—"

"You can't talk and hold your breath at the same time."

True. Cynna counted steps and held her breath for half of them, her head floating along above her shoulders like a helium balloon on a short tether. They walked up to a sales clerk—short, skinny, and dressed in black.

Everyone got to wear black except her.

"We'll take the whole outfit," Lily told the woman and ripped the tags from the pants, the duster, and the t-shirt still on Cynna's body. She handed them to the clerk along with a charge card. "I'll be back for the card later."

The woman shook her head firmly. "You cannot—"

"We're having a health event here." Lily flashed her FBI ID. "Charge the clothes to the card and hold on to it for me."

The clerk yes-ma'am'ed her. Cynna didn't. Her breath whooshed out. "You are not buying the slacks and shirt."

"You'll pay me back. Keep counting."

A small, imperative hand at Cynna's back kept her moving past aisles of dresses and through the scented air of the cosmetics section, where Lily glared their way past the designated puffer trying to spritz them with cologne. Then they were in the concourse.

She remembered the place from some news story. There was supposed to be a small node near the fountain. At the Turning it had leaked, just like the rest of them—but this one had leaked a goblin along with the magic overflow. Shoppers had freaked.

So had the goblin. They were mean as hell in bunches, but didn't cope well outside the herd.

The incident didn't seem to have hurt business much, Cynna noted as they passed the fountain—dry now with an Under Repair sign parked in the middle basin. There were plenty of people out spending money or just hanging. She drew some stares, but she was used to that. Tattoos weren't uncommon these days, but Cynna's weren't the usual flowers or whatever. And there were a lot of them.

By the time they passed the escalators, Cynna's hands had almost stopped tingling and her head was back in a normal relationship with her shoulders. Funny, she hadn't realized panic felt so much like helium. "I'm okay."

"Good. Keep walking."

She didn't. She stopped and looked at Lily. "I didn't get you a Christmas present."

"I noticed that, and it was really tacky of you."

"Or Rule. I thought about it, but what do you get someone who has ninety times as much money as you do? Are you okay with this?"

"With Rule having more money than you do?"

"No, with him spending so much on a gift for me." Years ago, Cynna had been involved with Rule. That had caused a few problems when she and Lily first met—mostly, Cynna admitted, because she hadn't wanted to accept that Rule was taken. Who ever heard of a monogamous werewolf, after all? But that's just what Rule was, because of his mate bond with Lily… something Cynna hadn't known existed.

The rest of the world still didn't. Mate bonds were super secret. Cynna knew three things about them: the bond wouldn't let Rule and Lily be too far apart; it gave them a directional bead on each other; and they were rare. Really rare. She wouldn't know that much if the clan's priestess hadn't decided Cynna was her successor. Which was just crazy.

"Of course I'm okay with it. Like I said, he bought… can I say Cullen's name without you freaking?"

"It's not him, it's… well, he's involved, or was involved, but he… it isn't about him."

Lily nodded. "Purple, huh?"

Cynna gulped in a breath, held it, and started walking again without being told. After a moment she said, "They teach you that in cop school? What to do when a witness hyperventilates?"

"No, my sister used to have panic attacks, and of course she didn't want our folks to know, so I'd walk with her. Wonder if she still has them?" Lily tilted her head, considering that. "I haven't walked her through one in years, but maybe her new husband does. It's not easy being perfect."

"That's your older sister, then. The doctor."

"Uh-huh. Maybe I'll ask her about her panic attacks next time she calls."

"That seems like the kind of question a big sister might resent from a younger one."

Lily smiled. "Yeah."

"You're meaner than you look."

"She only calls to tell me to ditto whatever my mother's been saying—now that Mother's speaking to me again, that is. It usually involves a lot of criticism couched as advice. Why am I not married, what am I doing in DC instead of… hey, the food court's up ahead. Are you ready to stop for a minute, grab a Coke?"

That was girl-speak for
Are you ready to talk
? Cynna walked on in silence for a moment, then stopped and looked right at Lily. "I never boosted pantyhose because I didn't wear them. Copped some lipstick, though. Jewelry. A wallet once."

Lily didn't seem shocked or even surprised by the subject. "So did my cousin Jenny when she was fifteen. Makeup, I mean, not a wallet. I'm not supposed to know about it, but my cousin Freddy told me once when he was proposing."

Ick. "Your cousin
proposed
!"

"Second cousin, but we all just say cousin."

"You've got a lot of family."

Lily nodded and waited.

"I don't have any sisters or cousins. I had an aunt—she's the reason I'm not more messed up than I am—but she never had kids." Cynna jammed her hands in the pockets of her new coat. "I was pretty much a cliché growing up, you know? Not just poor, but ghetto poor. Funny how they don't call it that anymore. We have 'urban poor' these days."

"I guess some people think if they keep renaming it, maybe it will go away."

"Yeah. Doesn't work, does it? Kids still grow up like I did—absent father, drunk or junkie mother. I dodged some of the clichés, mostly because of Aunt Pat. I didn't drop out of school or do drugs or get… get…" She stopped, swallowed.

"Pregnant?" Lily said gently.

Cynna tipped her head up and stared at the girders crisscrossing the vaulted glass roof. The sky was blue and bright. After a moment she said, "I didn't hyperventilate. I guess that's progress."

"I guess it is. You want to go to the food court?"

Cynna shook her head. "We'd better head back and get Rule's card. I don't trust that clerk."

"Okay." They reversed direction. "Did you mean it about trying on a skirt?"

"No."

Lily grinned. "Temporary insanity does not constitute—oh, my God." She stopped moving. "What's
she
doing here?"

Cynna couldn't figure out who Lily was talking about. There were a number of "
she's"
directly ahead—an older woman with a Talbot's bag, a young mom with a toddler, two teens who should have been in school.

All at once a runty bald
something
was standing ten feet away. It had breasts, orange skin, and pointy teeth. It—she?—wore a tight yellow dress with purple polka dots, and it was grinning at them. "Hi, Lily Yu!"

The teens screamed. A nearby man in a suit gaped, then swung his briefcase at it.

"Hey!" It grabbed the case with both hands. That's when Cynna saw the tail—long and prehensile, it lashed around to grab the man's ankle. "Did you see that? He tried to hit me! Can I—"

"No," Lily said loudly, hurrying forward. "Turn loose of him and give him back his briefcase."

"But he—"

"Wasn't expecting you," Lily said, tugging on the briefcase. "You startled him."

"What in the hell is that thing?" the man demanded.

My words exactly
. Cynna didn't say them, though. Lily seemed to have the whatsit situation under control, so she dealt with the teens. One of them was sobbing and clinging to the other, who glared at Cynna suspiciously.

"Great effect, isn't it?" Cynna said cheerfully. "You didn't see… ah, her coming, did you?"

The dark-haired one frowned harder. "No."

"Great! And your name is—?"

"Shauna. And this is Deanna." Shauna was still suspicious, but her friend stopped crying long enough to protest Shauna's making free with their names, which Mom had told them never, ever to do.