Ritual Magic wotl-10, page 7
part #10 of World of the Lupi Series
I speak to you now in your dual capacities as Lu Nuncio of Nokolai and as second-in-command of the Shadow Unit. You are aware that I monitor my territory in ways unavailable to those who are not dragon. You are not aware of various defenses I have in place, or of the matrixes I have established to alert me to sudden shifts in the probabilities. While I am treating Julia I will be unable to monitor my territory, any magical defenses outside my lair, or those matrixes. I will pass to Li Lei the monitoring of my territory. I do not explain the mechanism, which would be meaningless to you, but the senses involved in such monitoring are ill suited to her current form. She will change to her other form and she will be at my lair. I expect the procedure to take between fifteen and twenty-two hours. She will need to eat far more than usual during this period. She tells me she would prefer deer—whole but skinned, as she dislikes the hair, and freshly killed. You may leave the antlers on. She enjoys gnawing on them. Two small deer should do. The carcasses should be left immediately in front of my lair. Arrange this.
Ah . . . all right.
Deborah finished by surprising Rule. After wandering through various tales, ending with the story of how Edward and Julia first met, she sniffed and said that of course they would allow the dragon to do what he could for Julia, and she for one was very grateful to him.
If you consider any debt to be incurred for arranging for the deer, Sam informed Rule, that is between you and Li Lei.
There could be no debt where Madame Yu was concerned . . . although finding, killing, and skinning two deer might take awhile.
I recommend haste.
Deborah’s husband, Feng, profoundly disagreed with her. No one should be allowed to go messing around in his sister-in-law’s head, however good their intentions might be, and how could a dragon know enough about human minds to tinker with them, anyway? He continued to say much the same thing for some time.
I also wish the use of Cullen Seaborne. Note that I make no request of you and will incur no debt. I offer you the chance to act in defense against our common enemy, Robert Friar, by providing me the use of your man. You can agree to this, in your capacity as Lu Nuncio of his clan?
He could, but why Cullen?
I wish to pass to Cullen Seaborne the monitoring and control of some of the magical defenses in my territory. He will not be able to carry all of them, but I judge him able to accept those sites I deem most vulnerable to attack. He will not be damaged by this task, but he will be incapacitated both during and afterward. I estimate that he will be unconscious for at least twenty-four hours and is likely to experience depletion for two or three subsequent days. If you agree to this, understand that I will not allow him to retain full knowledge of my defenses. I may permit him to retain some of what he learns if he does not annoy me too badly.
In spite of everything, Rule’s mouth crooked up. Cullen wouldn’t just be okay with this—he’d be furious if Rule didn’t give him the chance to drain himself into oblivion in exchange for learning something, anything, about Sam’s mysterious “magical defenses.”
Precisely. Sam’s mental voice was, for once, not wholly unflavored. A whiff of wryness came through.
At last Feng stopped repeating himself and sat. Madame Yu did not stand to make her case. She looked at Edward. “You know my counsel. I have offered it to you already. I add only that there is no benefit in delay and much danger.”
The room was silent as everyone looked at Edward.
He will not agree, Sam said coolly. He is very torn, very muddy. He is aware of his muddiness and will delay, hoping for clarity in the future. Julia’s condition deteriorates too quickly for such delay.
Rule looked at Madame Yu. She met his eyes and again gave a small nod. Maybe Sam had directed that last bit at her as well as Rule. Or maybe Sam had been talking separately to her all along. He was capable of carrying on multiple mental conversations.
Edward looked down at his hands, clasped on the table. He looked at his mother, then away. “I thank you all for sharing your thoughts,” he said slowly. “I appreciate Deborah’s reminder that we must be grateful for what Sun Mzao has offered and I understand why some of you urge me to accept that offer. I may do so later, but at this time I agree with Susan. I do not have enough information to make a decision. I will ask Dr. Babbitt to continue treating Julia here for now, and also to give me the names of other experts who may be helpful. Sun Mzao, you said . . . earlier you told me that sleep offers her mind some protection. If you can keep her asleep for now . . .”
I can.
“Thank you. I . . . she is confused by my presence, but I can at least be with her when she sleeps without upsetting her.” Abruptly he stood. “Dr. Babbitt, if you would get those names for me . . . but you can give them to me later. Text me or . . . I’m going to stay with Julia awhile.”
“Father?” Susan said. “Do you want me to—”
“Not now,” he said. “Not now.” He left quickly.
Chairs were scraped back. Voices were kept low, as if they were at a funeral. Paul began talking to Dr. Babbitt. Feng and Deborah formed their own little knot of disagreement as Rule made his way to Madame Yu. He quirked an eyebrow and spoke very softly. “Are we kidnapping her, or do we do this openly?”
“Openly.” She glanced at the door that had shut behind her son. “This will be difficult enough on Edward. I will be sure he lies down somewhere here to rest in an hour or so. Sam will need that long to prepare. Then it is up to you to convince Julia.”
“In the meantime, I will arrange for deer.”
“Good.” Her eyes were troubled, but her voice was as crisp as ever. “Skinned.”
“But with the antlers.”
She nodded, but he didn’t see the flash of mischief in her eyes he’d expected. “He is shutting me out,” she said abruptly. “Sons must do this with mothers sometimes.”
“Mothers don’t have to like it.”
“No.” The faintest of sighs. “I will speak with Mequi now. She is more vulnerable than the others.”
Mequi was more pigheadedly certain than anyone else in the room.
As if she’d read his mind—which he was almost positive she couldn’t do—Madame Yu patted his arm. “Certainty hides many things. You should know this. Mequi raised Julia after their mother died. She needs something to do.”
Mequi wasn’t the only one who needed that, he thought as he watched Madame Yu head for her daughter-in-law’s sister.
He took out his phone. He’d speak with his father about the deer. There were three herds that included Nokolai Clanhome in their range, so the clan should be able to accommodate Madame’s requested menu. Then he’d call Cullen. But where was Cullen supposed to—
At my lair, Sam said. I will be there. I will now complete my warning.
There was more?
My territory and some of the defenses will be monitored. There is no one who can monitor the probability matrixes. As second-in-command of the Shadow Unit, you need to be aware of this. There will be an increased vulnerability to attack by Friar and his organization while I am incapacitated.
Rule wondered if Sam had told Ruben . . . Lily’s boss at the FBI, the head of Unit Twelve, who was also the creator and first-in-command of the Shadow Unit.
Mika has informed him.
Mika was the D.C. dragon. Rule frowned. Sam was going to an immense amount of trouble for Julia. Rule knew he’d already delayed his departure for some important gathering of dragons. He meant to render himself vulnerable, leave a possible opening for their enemy. If Sam considered that a debt was owed him for all this, it would be one whopping huge debt.
I do this for Li Lei, that cold, crystalline voice said. There is no debt. There can never be debt between myself and Li Lei.
SEVEN
THE coffee in Lily’s cup was black, burned, and bitter. Suited her just fine. Maybe that was because it fit her mood, or maybe it was the comfort of the familiar. How many cups of bad coffee had she drunk when she was a local cop like the man who’d just handed her this one?
“If that doesn’t work, you’re gonna need toothpicks,” Officer Perez said.
“It’ll do. Thanks.” They were in the tiny alcove of a room where visitors to the patients on this floor could get coffee or a soft drink. Scott and Mark—her designated bodyguards, though she preferred to think of them as mobile backup—were just down the hall. Lily had snarled her way into this abbreviated privacy after interviewing the newest vic, needing a moment alone to gather her thoughts.
A moment was all she’d gotten, too.
The second victim, Ronnie Winsome, was being moved up here from the emergency room, but hadn’t arrived yet. Lily sipped nasty coffee. “Your sergeant clear you to help me out?”
“She did,” Perez said. “She cursed, but she cleared it. She wants to be kept informed.”
“She can know what you know. She won’t be brought into the case further at this point.”
Officer Ramon Perez wasn’t quite a rookie, but his big brown eyes hadn’t turned cop yet. He was a patrol officer, but he wanted to be more, and probably would be. Called to the scene of an ordinary rear-end collision with no injuries, he’d realized that the at-fault driver was confused. Lots of cops would have noticed that much, but Perez hadn’t thought he seemed intoxicated, and the man had passed the breath test. Winsome hadn’t wanted to go to the hospital, but Perez had persuaded him he needed to be evaluated.
Meanwhile, unknown to Lily, Ruben had been hit with one of his hunches. He’d instructed the SDPD to put out an alert for all units to watch for “impairment or memory loss of an unusual nature.” They were to report same to FBI Unit Twelve. Perez had heard the alert about an hour after the ambulance carried Winsome away and he’d gone the extra mile, heading for the hospital to reinterview the man.
That was when he discovered that Ronald Ralph Winsome, known to friends and family as Ronnie, didn’t know what year it was.
Winsome had only lost three years, not most of a lifetime. Lily didn’t know of any connection between him and her mother, and the accident had taken place more than ten miles from Uncle Chen’s restaurant, so there was no obvious geographical link. But the time fit. Winsome had rear-ended the car in front of him at roughly 8:15. Julia Yu had started screaming at 8:20.
Lily had just finished interviewing Winsome. He was upset by the memory loss, but otherwise seemed okay. She’d talked to his doctor, too. Amnesia was rare and the MRI didn’t show any head trauma. The ER doctor was mystified, but he would have released Winsome with a recommendation to seek counseling if Perez hadn’t persuaded him to hold off until Lily arrived.
Lily planned to take advantage of Perez’s competence, his big brown eyes, and his bilingual abilities. “Winsome’s wife is with him—Cara Winsome, fifty-one, brown and black, five-five and one fifty. She’s the second wife. First wife is Anna Caraway. Winsome and Number One have one son, thirty-two, named Brian. Brian lives in Santa Ana and is on his way here. Cara has two daughters, both grown, both living here in San Diego. She says he’s been under a lot of stress because of overwork—he’s in management at a national clothing chain—and he worked late tonight. He was presumably on his way home when he had the accident, though of course he doesn’t remember.”
Perez nodded.
“I know that much, and that’s all I know. I need more. Lots more. I want you to talk to the wife. She defaults to Spanish under stress. You said you’re fluent.”
He straightened unconsciously, looking very young and very serious. “You want me to conduct the interview in Spanish?”
“I want her comfortable so she’ll open up. I think using Spanish will help with that.”
“Anything in particular I’m looking for?”
“Connections. You know I’m a touch sensitive, right? When I interviewed Winsome I got his permission to check for magic. Found something, the same sort of something that was on my other vic. At this point, we’ve got nothing to connect the two of them but that vague trace of magic and memory loss. I want you to find out who Winsome knows socially. I need names, addresses, professions, and when and where Cara thinks her husband might have last seen each person. I want to know about his ex, her ex, and casual acquaintances. The guy who mows their lawn. Where they shop for groceries and go to church and fill up the gas tank. Find out where and how Winsome spends his time when he isn’t at the office. Does he read a lot? Work out? Go fishing? Haunt the home improvement center? You get her talking, you’ll get some of this without asking. Take your time. Get her comfortable with you. I’ll send someone else to talk to his boss and coworkers, see if there’s a work connection. You’re going to focus on the personal.”
“Okay. Who’s the first vic? You have someone cross-checking there?”
“Her name is Julia Yu. She’s my mother, so I’ll be cross-checking on that end.”
“Your . . . shit. I mean—I’m sorry, Special Agent. Is she okay?”
“She will be.” Somehow. Getting her to Sam was the first step, and Rule would handle that. Lily didn’t have a clue what the next steps were, but they’d find out. Somehow. “I’m going to—” Her phone buzzed. She glanced at it. “I have to take that. Get busy. You’ve got my number.”
Officer Perez nodded crisply and left. The call was from Ackleford, who’d already conducted the interview with Winsome’s boss. “She never heard of Julia Yu or any other Yu. I got the names of twelve of Winsome’s coworkers from her. My men are calling them.” One of Ackleford’s charming habits was referring to the agents in his command as his men, regardless of their sex.
“Good. I’ve got a local cop digging for more names from Mrs. Winsome. He speaks Spanish, and she’s more comfortable in that language. I’m going to contact more of my family to see if they know of any link to Winsome. I’m also going to alert area ERs to watch for cases of unusual impairment or memory loss.”
“Fuck. You think there’s more?”
“We’ll find out, won’t we?”
“Maybe this isn’t about you, after all.” He hung up.
Lily stood there a moment, holding her phone tightly. She needed to call Ruben, but she wanted to call Rule instead. There was no point in it. If Rule had persuaded her mother to let Sam treat her, he’d have let her know. He hadn’t, so there was no reason to call him . . . but he’d have texted instead of calling, wouldn’t he? Knowing she might be with the victim or a witness, he’d text so he didn’t interrupt, and sometimes texts were delayed. She could call him and check and . . . maybe interrupt him when he was talking to Julia.
Lily stood there and breathed and couldn’t make her phone ring no matter how hard she tried, so she did what she was supposed to do and called Ruben. She had the authority to put out the alert herself, but Ruben needed to know about it.
“I should have done that when I alerted the local police,” Ruben said as soon as she told him. “Any additional cases will probably be seen by the hospitals, not the PD. I’m relying too much on hunches, not enough on logic. I’ll take care of it from here.”
“You have any other logic or hunches to share?”
“I do. This is both. Karonski will be there at noon tomorrow to assume the lead, as I said. I’ve decided to place you in charge of the Shadow Unit’s operations regarding this situation.”
For a moment she had no idea what to say. Finally she managed, “You must be very confident that this line isn’t being monitored.” Normally Ruben didn’t refer even indirectly to the Shadow Unit over the phone. Normally the dragons handled most of the Shadow Unit’s communications. They weren’t part of the Shadow Unit—dragons weren’t exactly joiners—but they were allies, and mindspeech was perfect for a clandestine organization, being as untraceable and undetectable as it was uncanny.
Things were not normal, were they?
“Mika contacted me about what Sam plans to do to help your mother. While that is in process, Sam won’t be able to handle communications for us, so I took certain measures. These measures are temporary and cannot be used often. This is our only chance to talk freely until Sam is able to handle Shadow communications again.”
What measures? She didn’t ask, much as she wanted to. Ruben would have told her if it was okay for her to know. “All right, but why me? If Karonski’s in charge of the Bureau’s investigation, shouldn’t he be in charge of both? Or Rule could handle the Shadow end.” He was second-in– command and knew a lot more about Shadow stuff than she did.
“You and he will function as a team, no doubt, but I want you in charge. That’s both hunch and logic. I think the Shadow Unit will be needed, but in parallel to the official investigation rather than in support of it. Both investigations will share the goal of finding the person or persons responsible, but the official investigation will of necessity focus on acquiring evidence to prosecute and convict. Your goal will be to stop the perpetrator, period. If that can be done through official means, good. My hunch—a strong hunch—is that it cannot.”
“I’m not an executioner or assassin.” Unlike Rule. He considered assassination a valid and moral tactic in war. Lily understood his reasoning intellectually, but the idea made her insides roil. “I know this is a war, but I . . .” Could kill whoever had done this to her mother. Wanted to kill them. The realization jolted her, then, oddly, steadied her. “There’s a conflict of interest for me. Even more so than with the official investigation.”
“There are others who can kill should it prove necessary, and I can make that call if you can’t. But killing isn’t the only solution the Shadow Unit can provide that our legal system cannot, just the most obvious. That’s why I want you in charge of that end, Lily. Not in spite of what you call a conflict of interest, but because of it. Your awareness of that conflict, and your visceral distrust for such unilateral action, will make you work hard to find the less obvious solutions, if they exist.”
Again she didn’t know what to say. “Thank you” didn’t fit. “Damn you” did, but was a little too revealing.
