Night Season (7 page)

"They'll come up with some way around it. They want this too much."

Trade with another realm… yeah, that was huge. Cynna didn't figure it could be kept quiet much longer. "What kind of spell is it?"

"Full draw."

That meant it drew on all four elements. "Balanced draw?" The more balanced the draw from the elements, the harder the spell, because spellcasters weren't themselves balanced. Cullen found Fire ridiculously easy and was good with both Water and Earth, not so good with Air. Cynna aced Air, did okay with Earth, and struggled with Water and Fire.

"It's ley line magic."

"Jesus!" She immediately felt guilty and apologized to God for using His son's name that way. She was trying to break herself of the habit. "Definitely a balanced draw, then. Uh… have you ever worked a ley line spell?"

"A few times. I'll in-blood the elements."

"That's—"

"The best way I know to do it."

Ley lines carried magic throughout the Earth, but as that magic left the nodes where it originated, it lost its uncolored intensity, splitting into the rainbow colors of the elements. That's why you had to use a balanced, full-draw invocation to tap one. In-blooding was a risky way to achieve balance, but so was every other technique if you were dealing with ley line energy. After a moment Cynna nodded. "You'd know what works best for you, I guess."

"I'm weak in Air. You're strong there. Keep an eye on me after the in-blooding. If I get distracted and lose the balance, I'll probably stop breathing. Remind me."

"I'll do that. What about the rest of the spell?"

He shrugged. "There are material components for the invocation. The list he gave me is interesting in one way—Edge must be Earthlike in some ways if we have the same herbs."

"Unlike Dis."

"Right. But he's not revealing more without payment. When I left, negotiations had stalled while they flew in some gnome expert who lived in the underways for a few years."

"So you're waiting for the government to pay this Councilor dude for his spell."

He tilted his head. "You're thinking that's why I left to stalk you—that I'd still be there if I had the whole spell to play with. You're wrong."

"And you are not telepathic." A good guesser, maybe. Uncomfortably good.

"This baby means more to me than the spell. More than anything."

It was the way he said it—matter-of-factly, no dramatics—that made her eyes water. Or maybe her hormones were already crazy. She took a second to answer so she could be sure her voice didn't wobble. "That's good. Every kid should have someone who puts him first."

"Did you?"

"Shut up, Cullen."

"For me it was my mother. She wasn't exactly June Cleaver, but she loved me all the way."

He'd started this, hadn't he? That made it okay to ask one of the questions she'd wondered about. "What about your father? Lupi are supposed to be nuts for children."

"Oh, sure, when I was a kid… but it turned out that he loved what he wanted me to be. Not what I was."

"A sorcerer."

"He thought I could give it up. He didn't…" The breath he drew was ragged. "He didn't fight for me. When the Rhej said I couldn't remain both Etorri and sorcerer, he didn't argue with her or the others. He argued with me. He fought me, not them. When I couldn't give up so much of what I am… after the
seco
, he didn't speak to me again."

"Jesus." Etorri was his former clan. The
seco
must be some kind of kick-him-out ceremony. Never to speak to him again after he'd lost his clan… that was a bigger betrayal than her own father's disappearance. Cullen had grown up believing the man
loved
him. "Never?"

He swiped a hand through the air, brushing away the past and her question. "I don't want any damned sympathy. I want you to know that it doesn't matter to me what this baby is—boy or girl, stupid or clever, clumsy, Gifted, whatever. It doesn't matter. I'm on his side."

"Or hers."

"Or hers. I don't want to just see her for a month or two in the summer, either. I want to be part of my child's life right from the start." His voice hardened. "I
will
be part of its life."

Did he think that things would have been different if his father had been a bigger part of his life? "How much did you stay with your father?"

"Point for Cynna." He licked his index finger and drew a 1 in the air. The numeral glowed faintly, then faded. "Summers, for a month. He lived in Canada. Mum and I lived in England."

"I thought I caught a bit of an accent. How long have you—"

"Cynna." He stopped and looked at her. "You're trying to steer the talk to me so you don't have to talk abut the baby."

"Well, yeah. Of course."

A smile tilted one side of his mouth and bled into his eyes. "Your turn. Did you… damn!" His phone was beeping. He pulled it from its holster on his belt and glanced at the screen. "It's just Timms."

"You still staying with him?"

"Yeah. He's okay. Doesn't bother me much." He frowned at the phone in his hand. "Doesn't call me much, either. Doesn't call me at all."

"Maybe you should answer it."

For some reason, that seemed to be a major decision, but finally Cullen shrugged and held the phone to his ear. "You better not be calling to ask me to bring a loaf of bread home." A long pause. "She said
what
? Shit! No, you handled it right… Yeah, tell me about it… Well, you were there. Did she… no? Now that's interesting… I will. With Rule, probably. Thanks." He disconnected with a scowl.

"What? What is it?"

"A reporter from the
Post
has called him twice, asking for to talk to his 'stripper friend.' Asking if I'm really a lupus. She's camped out across the street from Timms's place now."

CHAPTER SEVEN

Cynna dug in her purse. "I'd better call Ruben and warn him. You call Lily and Rule."

"She asked to talk to his
stripper
friend."

"I heard you." She hit 3 on speed dial. It was after eight o'clock, but she was betting Ruben hadn't gone home yet.

"You don't get it. The reporter didn't ask him about weird beings from another realm. They wanted to talk to the lupus who takes off his clothes for a living." Cullen frowned into space for a moment. "Guess I should let Rule know, though." He punched in a number.

"Ida? This is Cynna Weaver. Is Ruben there?… Okay, you decide if he should be interrupted. Some reporter has been calling Timms, asking about Cullen. Cullen Seabourne… Yeah. Okay." Cynna waited while Ruben's secretary got him out of a meeting and Cullen talked to Rule.

After a moment she heard Ruben's voice, calm and courteous as always. "Good evening, Cynna. Ida tells me there's a problem with the press."

"Maybe. They might be onto this Edge deal already. Some reporter is camped out by Steve Timms's place, waiting for Cullen. He's… yes, Agent Timms. Sure, I'll hold." She waited again, this time while Ruben had Ida get Timms on another line.

The friendship that had sprung up between Timms and Cullen had taken everyone by surprise—except maybe Rule. Rule said Cullen had a habit of picking up strays.

Steve Timms was an MCD agent—regular MCD, the ones who used to track and forcibly register lupi. He was also one hell of a good shooter. Just after the first power wind he'd been assigned to back up Cynna when she went hunting a demon. Cullen had elected himself her consultant, and he and Timms had not hit it off. Timms was more used to shooting lupi than palling around with them, and Cullen enjoyed annoying people.

Then Cullen saved Timms's life, and all of a sudden they were best buds—at least in Timms's mind. The strange thing was that Cullen didn't object. When he was injured and Timms offered him a place to stay, he'd accepted. He'd even put in a word for Timms, via Lily, when the president told Ruben he had to have bodyguards 24/7.

Ruben was back, asking to talk to Cullen. "Sure. Just a sec." Cullen had finished his own conversation, so she held her phone out. "Ruben wants to talk to you."

Not for the first time, Cynna wished for a lupus's hearing. All she got was Cullen's side of the conversation, which was mostly "hmm" and "He would, wouldn't he?" and "Yes, I thought so, too."

"Well?" she demanded as soon as he'd disconnected.

"Reporters are asking about the 'strange events' at the mall, but not about a diplomatic party from another realm. Brooks will warn his people, but he doesn't think the press has been tipped about the Edge delegation. He thinks this is personal."

"How so?"

"I met a couple MCD assholes today. One of them in particular didn't like me. Brooks thinks this guy knew about me staying with Timms from office gossip. He probably gave the reporter a juicy story about Brooks's personal bodyguard living in sin with a lupus stripper."

Cynna pursed her lips in a soundless whistle. There was no such thing as a gay lupus, but why let facts get in the way of a good scandal? "Ruben is not going to be happy."

"Nope." But Cullen was. He held out one hand and smacked the other into it. "
Whomp
! He'll come down on Asshole Number Two like a ton of bricks. He'd better, or Timms may decide to prove his manhood by shooting the idiot."

When he'd moved his hands, a flash had caught Cynna's eyes. "Hey, that's your new bring, isn't it? I want to see."

"Sure." He held out his right hand.

Cullen's hands were as close to ordinary as any part of him came. His palms were narrow, his fingers neither long or short. The nail beds were rounded, the nails cut blunt and short. No nicks or scars, of course, since he healed everything.

She had carnal knowledge of those hands.

Big deal
, Cynna told herself, ignoring the sweet, sharp tug of lust. Lots of women had intimate knowledge of Cullen's hands. Not an exclusive club, the number of females who'd tripped him and beat him to the floor. "Wow," she said, focusing on the big, fat diamond on his index finger. "Is it loaded? Can I scan it?"

He considered her request a moment, then nodded. "Carefully. I've taken the safety off."

"Safety?" She looked at him sharply. "If you mean you leave it locked down most of the time—"

"It wouldn't exactly be safe to walk around with it ready to trigger."

"It would if it was keyed to you."

He was curt. "I don't know how."

Man, he hated to admit that. She grinned. "I do. It's a pattern spell—Air, so it won't come easily to you, but I can teach you. But first I want a peek." Cynna shook her hands to clear them of any muddy energy, then held her left hand over his right one. She fed a trickle of power into the tattoo circling her wrist like a dainty bracelet.

Finding was Cynna's Gift. She didn't need a spell to do that. Being a Finder meant she had an affinity for patterns, but her Gift didn't read, interpret, or remember them. For that she needed spells. She had several scanning spells scribed on her skin; the
kilingo
she'd activated would tell her how much magic was stored in Cullen's diamond.

Her wrist turned searing hot. "Son of a bitch!" She snatched her hand back, shutting down the
kilingo
. "You planning to burn down the city?"

"I didn't store it as Fire energy."

"No, that's how I measure power. As heat. You've got one hell of a lot of magic stuffed in that stone. Lots more than in the little one on your necklace." Which had held enough power to create mage fire on at least two occasions.

Cullen regarded his hand smugly. The diamond winked back at him. "I do, don't I?"

"There isn't that much stray magic around, not with Mika soaking it up."

"Makes a difference when you can see the sorcéri."

She supposed it did, and sighed. No denying the twist of envy. "Lily said you had a spell that lets others see sorcéri."

"It's not exactly a spell. I twist a few sorcéri together in a way that makes them visible to the eyes. It doesn't last long, and it's kind of tricky to do."

She stared at him, appalled. "You work with them
directly ? "

"What do you think mage fire is?"

"I thought you shaped it with a spell!"

"It's fire, isn't it? I call fire. I don't need spells for that, though it did take me awhile to get the knack of calling mage fire. It's a ticklish business, but'—"

"No duh!" Mage fire was one of the most dangerous of the forbidden arts. Supposedly a lost art, actually, which was the only reason no one had bothered making it illegal. Three months ago, Cullen had reinvented it. She knew that, knew why he'd done it, and agreed with the necessity, but… "You don't shape it all?"

"You might say I ride it. Mage fire has to be sourced from raw magic, which is why only sorcerers should attempt it. If you can't see the energies, see what you're doing with them…" His hands shaped a mushroom cloud in the air. "
Boom
."

"Sometimes you scare the shit out of me."

"How sensible of you." Cullen reached out, touched the collar of her coat. "Great coat."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Thanks."

His fingers, restless, moved to her face, then tugged at a strand of her hair. "You keep this short so it won't interfere with the spells on your skin, right?"

His touch stirred thoughts of an activity that worked great to calm the jitters, one more pleasant than fighting.
Down, girl
. She nodded.

"But why do you bleach it?"

"You've heard of style? I like it blond."

"It stinks."

Offended, Cynna jerked her head back. "My hair stinks?"

"Not to a human, I guess. But since it's a lupus you're involved with—"

"We aren't involved." She stressed the last word. Involved meant committed. Cullen seemed to be wholly committed to the…
oh, get over it. Use the word
. Cullen was committed to the
baby
. He wanted it, wanted it badly. He wasn't committed to her.

"No?" He smiled in an agreeable way she distrusted. "If you say so. Want to go visit Mika with me?"

"What?" She shook her head. "Your mind jumps around like a flea."

"I need to obtain one of the spell components. A dragon's scale."

That shouldn't pique her interest, not when she was so annoyed with him. "I hope you're not planning to steal one."

He laughed. "No, you were hoping I was, though you think you shouldn't. Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm after a trade, not a theft."

"I'm not disappointed." Much. It would be stupid to prefer sneaking a scale to bartering for one. Dragons were notoriously possessive. There hadn't been any incidents here in D.C., but the Toronto dragon had rebuked a hedge-witch who tried to steal a scale from his lair.

The witch had been lucky. Broken bones healed.

"If it cheers you any," he said, "we will have to sneak past a couple guards. The authorities don't think people should wander into a dragon's lair at night."

"I am the authorities." Strange as it still seemed.

"Are you going to badge your way into the park, then?"

"Well… I probably couldn't get you through that way." And it wouldn't be as much fun. She shook her head, disgusted with herself, and turned to head back. "So what are you going to trade? What do you have that a dragon might swap for?"

"Not me. You."

"You're dreaming. I don't have anything a dragon would want."

"You'll trade a service, not an object. Ever since that Canadian hedgewitch tried to swipe a scale, Mika's been fretting. If he sheds a scale in flight, how could he know? Anyone might pick it up. You can offer to Find any scales that aren't in his lair."

Cynna's eyebrows raised. "You've been chatting with Mika?"

"I amuse him. You'll take a fee for your Finding, a percentage of the scales you Find. We'll ask for one in three, but I doubt he'll let us have that many."

"Us? What's this 'us' I'm hearing?"

Cullen ignored that. "He'll want you to hunt scales every day. We can't agree to that, obviously, and there's no need. Mika's paranoia aside, dragons don't shed many scales. I'm thinking a Finding once a week should be enough, with flexibility built into the agreement for the times your duties take you away from the capital. And of course you won't be able to start until we get back."

Without any input from her brain, her feet quit moving. She spoke carefully. "There's another 'we.' You'd better explain this one."

He stopped a pace ahead and looked back at her, irritated. "You're an idiot sometimes, but you aren't stupid. Surely you didn't think I'd let you go traipsing off to Edge without me."

There was an odd constriction in her chest. "You're assuming I'm going, then. And you aren't trying to stop me?"

He snorted. "Are you crazy? I'm not Superman, able to stop a locomotive with a flex of my biceps. That little bastard waves a father in front of you, you'll go. The trick will be persuading them that I'm going, too, but I've got an idea about that."

Relief hit so fast and dizzy it felt almost like joy. Cullen's determination was about the baby, not her. She knew that. She didn't care. She wouldn't have to do this alone. She'd have a friend with her—an annoying, sometimes obsessive friend, but a friend nevertheless.

Cynna grinned, high on that soaring relief. "Of course you've got an idea. You always do when it comes to getting what you want. Wait. Shit!" Her grin slipped. "Is there a moon in Edge? What if there's no moon?"

"I'd go anyway, but I asked. They have a moon."

"Okay, then." She nodded like a bobblehead doll. "That's okay. So what's the dragon's scale for?"

"Part of the elemental invocation." Cullen frowned. "You aren't angry."

"Nope. I will be, I'm sure, off and on during the trip—you'll see to that."

"I'm not giving you a choice about this, and you aren't mad."

She shrugged. "There's always a choice. Come on. Let's go negotiate with a dragon."

In spite of the dragon living in its southern end, most of Rock Creek Park remained open to the public during daylight hours. The park was a long, woodsy sprawl of nature covering better than seventeen hundred acres, with some parts groomed, some as close to wild as humans ever permitted within their urban sprawl. There were bike trails, paths, buildings, and bridges… trees, birds, and the occasional raccoon, deer, or coyote.

But it wasn't daylight, and the area around Mika's lair was off-limits at all hours. Which made things fun… mostly.

"Ow!" Cynna stumbled, then slapped at Cullen's back. "Damn branches. Slow down. It's a lot darker under these trees for me than it is for you."

He obeyed. Cynna had a hand hooked into the waist of his jeans so she could follow him in what was, for her, nearly pitch blackness. He was enjoying that hand. "Not a nature girl, are you?"

"I like nature fine in small, orderly amounts. Are you sure Mika won't mind us dropping in?"

"He hasn't offered to eat me since my first visit. Like I said, I amuse him."

"Maybe he isn't there now."

"If he…" A sound caught Cullen's attention. He stopped beside a large oak, cocking his head.

"What?" she whispered.

"Shh." Yes, those were footsteps on a paved path, not the random rustlings of some animal in the brush. He pivoted on one crutch so he could bend close and whisper near her ear. "Park police about fifty yards downwind. We'd best wait a moment."

He didn't mind waiting. The moon was just past new, her song all but inaudible, but the touch of wilderness here called to him almost as sweetly. The air was full of lovely smells—earth, vegetation, the musky traces of wild creatures that had passed this way recently.

And woman. Cynna always smelled delicious to him in spite of the chemical assault she waged on her hair. She was standing deliriously close, too. He let one crutch rest against the trunk of the oak, leaned in and ran his free hand up her arm to her throat, letting his fingers drift across her pulse there. "Mmm. It occurs to me we don't have an appointment, so we can't be late."