“The Unit isn’t handling the investigation?”
“The killer used bullets, not magic, so the Unit lacks jurisdiction. If Ruben were in charge … but he isn’t, and that, too, may be intentional. The healer Nettie sent believes that Ruben’s heart attack was caused by magic.”
Benedict’s eyebrows lifted. “That makes the nutcase theory a lot less likely. Sounds more like an organized effort against the Unit.”
“To me, also. So far the Unit’s coven hasn’t been able to confirm the healer’s claim about the use of magic. And the person who could find out for sure was nearly killed last night.”
Lily, in other words. “I’m not a big believer in coincidence. It happens, but I’d suggest you proceed on the assumption that she’s still in danger.”
“I am,” Rule said grimly. “Have you learned anything more about your visitor?”
“She knows too much about us.”
“What do you mean?”
“Little things, mostly. I wondered if she might be clan-descended—the daughter of one of our daughters, maybe, who’d heard stories from her grandmother. Our daughters are taught to be careful about what they reveal, but they do pass on stories. However, I didn’t find her in the database. She could be there under another name, but—” The shower water cut off. “I can’t talk freely anymore.”
“All right. Benedict, I know you’re even less likely to want to talk out your feelings than my nadia, which means that normally you’d rather take a dip in boiling oil. But this is not a normal time for you. If a talk-it-out fit should overtake you, I’m here. I listen fairly well.”
Benedict surprised himself by smiling. “You’re a diplomatic son of a bitch. I’ll remember your offer.”
“T’eius ven, brother.”
“T’eius ven.” Benedict ended the call. Talking to Rule had been good. It had helped. Even though they hadn’t spoken directly of the source of Benedict’s fear, it had hung there between them. Somehow Rule had made that okay.
One more reason his father had chosen wisely when he made Rule his heir. Benedict didn’t belittle himself or his abilities, but he was incapable of managing people the way Rule did … though maybe manage wasn’t the right word. That implied manipulation and power, while Rule drew more on empathy and an innate understanding of what to say, when to say it. He didn’t shove.
Benedict was good at shoving, not so good at talking.
The bathroom door opened. Arjenie stood in the doorway, frowning and smelling of soap and wet hair and her own, heady scent. She must have washed away the last of the potion. Benedict’s nostrils flared as he drank her in.
She frowned as she ran her fingers through the wet, cork-screwy mass she’d pulled over her shoulder. It made a damp spot on her shirt over the swell of her left breast. “I could have sworn I locked this door.”
“I popped the lock while you were in the shower. I needed to be sure I’d hear if you decided to go out the window.”
The frown remained. “I have a strong sense of privacy. I don’t like having that intruded upon.”
“Understandable. But I’m responsible for the Rho’s safety, and you haven’t told us anything to explain your presence here.”
She considered that, then nodded. “I suppose that’s reasonable, from your point of view. I hope you don’t mind my using your shampoo and soap. I didn’t see a comb, or I would have borrowed that, too. I was wondering if you got my purse out of the car. There’s a pick in it, and picks work better on curly hair than a brush, because they don’t frizz it up so much. Do you know what a pick is? It looks like—”
“It’s on top of the bureau in your room, along with a few other things from your purse.” The ones Seabourne had had time to check out to be sure they had no magical function.
“It is? Oh, good. I didn’t notice.” She started limping down the hall. She wasn’t leaning on the cane as heavily as she had last night. Good.
He followed. “You wanted a snack.”
“I really do. I still need to call my aunt, too.”
“You have three voice mails on your phone. One is from a woman named Robin. Is that your aunt? She wants you to call her immediately.”
She stopped and turned to face him. “You listened to my voice mail?”
She was so indignant he had to smile. Being caught had scared her, but she’d gotten over that fast. Being coerced into remaining here struck her as reasonable. She peppered him with questions, avoided answering his, and apologized for using the shampoo without asking first.
But listening to her voice mail? That riled her. “I also read your e-mail. A Nigerian official has a deal you won’t want to pass up. You can call your aunt.” He handed her his phone.
“This isn’t my phone.”
“No, it isn’t. I’ll need it back. I’ll be listening while you speak with your aunt, so you want to be careful with what you say.” He’d be able to hear both sides of that conversation, too, which she probably didn’t realize.
She gave him a dirty look and touched the screen, then turned around and limped toward her room. “Maybe I’ll read your e-mail.”
“I’ll have to take the phone away if you try.”
“It’s intensely annoying when someone who’s stronger than you uses his strength to get his way.”
“I imagine it is. Are you going to call?” He was close enough to watch over her shoulder and see what number she used.
She sniffed and used her thumb to tap in the number of the Robin who’d called earlier.
A man answered. “Hey. You got me. Now what?”
“Hi, Uncle Clay, it’s Arjenie. I’m using a friend’s phone. Is Aunt Robin there?”
“Are you okay? Robin’s been having tingles.”
“I’m fine. Well, I sprained my ankle, but there’s nothing new about that.”
“What happened? Or what is happening, because—okay, okay.” The last was fainter, as if he’d spoken to someone else. “Hang on. Your aunt is a grabby, greedy woman. I have to pass her the phone.” A second later a woman’s voice took over. “Arjenie? What’s wrong? And don’t tell me ‘nothing,’ because I know there’s something.”
“It’s complicated, but I’m getting things sorted out. Don’t worry.”
“That’s not much of an answer.”
“I can’t tell you anything else right now. Oh, but guess what? Part of the sorting out means that I was invited to stay with the Nokolai Rho.” At the door of her room she paused to shoot Benedict a glance gleaming with purpose and a hint of humor. The purpose he understood. She’d made sure her people knew where she was, just in case Isen started talking about bodies again. That was smart. The humor?
Maybe she didn’t really believe she needed to protect herself that way. Which was not so smart. She had no reason to trust him.
“You’re what?” her aunt exclaimed.
“Staying with their Rho for a few days. Reception’s spotty—you know that their clanhome is in the mountains, right?—plus my phone’s acting up. If you have trouble reaching me, don’t worry. I’ll check in with you every day.”
Another smart move. She’d made sure he knew her aunt would expect a call every day.
“Why are staying there?” Aunt Robin didn’t sound panicked, but she wasn’t comforted, either. “You don’t know this Rho, do you? Does this have anything to do with—”
“I really can’t talk about it,” Arjenie said firmly. “Did Serri and Sammy make it down for the weekend?”
Serri and Sammy were apparently in college, but came home regularly. Serri had a new boyfriend. Sammy had aced his calculus test, but was considering changing his major. After that, the conversation veered to a piece of equipment her uncle had acquired—a swage block. Benedict had heard the term, but couldn’t remember what it was.