There was only one way to dissolve the mate bond, but it was one that lay within Benedict’s power to grant. Death did the trick neatly. Only this time, he wouldn’t be the one death left behind.
TWENTY-SIX
RULE rented a limousine to take them from the airport to Clanhome.
The flight itself wasn’t as bad as Lily expected, probably because she didn’t remember much of it. Nettie loaded her up on painkillers. Getting dressed for it had been a bitch, though. Most of Lily’s tops were tanks and tees meant to be pulled on over her head. That didn’t work now. Rule had bought her some button-down tanks that were much easier to get into, though she still needed help, dammit.
Much to Lily’s surprise, Nettie hadn’t argued when Lily told her she wanted to fly home. Oh, Nettie got her pound of flesh in the form of a promise—Lily was to stay off her feet on the day they traveled, and we’ll see after that—but she didn’t have a problem with the flight itself.
Dr. Skinny had. At first it had looked like he wouldn’t release Lily, but Nettie had handled him. Most patients didn’t have a personal physician in attendance for such a flight, after all. Lily might have felt pretty damn pampered if she’d been able to stay awake long enough.
A personal physician who was also a shaman and could put Lily in sleep whenever she woke up for two seconds. Which she did, because of her bladder. Lily had been jumped in the ladies’ room once and didn’t want to repeat the experience, so she had Rule wake her up a couple times so she could use the facilities on the plane rather than at the airport after they landed.
Jeff flew back with them. The other Leidolf guards stayed behind … as did LeBron, in a very different way. Or maybe he didn’t. Lily knew that something lasted beyond the body. Might as well call it a soul. She also knew that ghosts were real. A medium had told her once that a ghost was more like a side effect of dying—the shadow cast by a soul, not the soul itself, no more than a physical body was a soul. Ghosts winked out when the soul completed its transition, and most souls moved on pretty quickly.
Most, not all. Some ghosts lasted for days, weeks, even years.
Could LeBron’s ghost have tagged along at thirty thousand feet?
Who knew?
The painkillers started wearing off shortly before they landed. Lily’s arm throbbed as she was wheeled off the plane, then deposited in one of those motorized carts the airports use. But at least she was awake.
No one attacked them. They were met on the other side of security by five Nokolai guards with another wheelchair. Rule had taken her at her word when she said he could guard the hell out of her—and Nettie had meant it when she said Lily was to stay off her feet.
Lily gritted her teeth and put up with it. She hated being treated as incapable of taking care of herself, even if it was true right now. She hated the spectacle of being wheeled through the airport surrounded by bodyguards. Most of all, she hated the idea of anyone else dying because of her. For her.
It was a stretch limo.
That surprised a laugh out of her. It made her think of Grandmother, and that helped her put up with all the assistance Rule was determined to give her. She was capable of walking a few feet, dammit. Admittedly, she was annoyingly weak, but she could walk if anyone would let her do it.
She might have mentioned that a little too vehemently.
“Don’t worry,” Nettie said as she slid into the ridiculously long vehicle. “I’ll have you up and walking. Just not today.”
One of the bodyguards got up front with the driver. The others went with José, who would follow them in his car. Rule managed to climb into the limo while carrying Lily without banging her head or feet on anything, which probably ought to qualify him for an Olympic something-or-other.
He deposited her on the rear seat, then sat beside Nettie on the facing seat. There were pillows she could prop herself up with so she could stretch out without lying down. There was a cat carrier, too, on the floor. Inside, a thoroughly sedated Dirty Harry snoozed away.
“You’re being perfect again,” she told Rule as they pulled away. She gestured at the cat carrier. “Did anyone get hurt?”
“José is sure he can get the blood out of the carpet.”
He wasn’t kidding. She sighed. “I don’t know how Harry will take to Clanhome. It must smell like wolf everywhere.”
“Harry’s tough. He’ll adjust. Besides, Toby will be there.”
She frowned. “Did you tell me that already and I was too doped up to notice?”
“Briefly. You asked if school was out already, but fell asleep again before I could answer.”
“School isn’t out.”
“He’ll be homeschooled for now. At least until we know for sure if she was behind the attack on you.”
Toby wouldn’t like that. Sure, he loved Clanhome. But he also loved school, little though he might admit it. He was a thoroughly social little being, thriving on having lots of kids around, and he was already finding ways to fit in at his new school in spite of the notoriety of being Rule’s son. He’d tried out for soccer and been accepted. He was excited about that, and about the music program at the school. They’d bought him an oboe.
Public school had seemed safe enough. It didn’t matter what enemies Rule might have himself. No lupus would harm a child. But she didn’t play by the same rules. “Toby’s at Clanhome already, then.”
“He isn’t happy about it, but he’s there. If it’s any consolation, he was mollified when he learned you’d be at Clanhome for a time, too. That helped him accept that the threat was serious.”
That was something, she supposed. Another point in favor of Clanhome: her mother wouldn’t be dropping by constantly. It was unfair, but Lily liked knowing her mother wanted to come fuss over her. She just didn’t want her to actually do it.
“Has anyone talked to—” She cut herself off, frowning. If Friar could eavesdrop, she didn’t want to mention Sam and the possibility of having a binding removed. Or did she? Would it matter?
Dammit, her head was still fuzzy from the drugs. And her back ached. Lily used her good arm to prop herself up better—and her other arm yelled at her to be still. She told it to shut up.
“You can have more pain medication,” Nettie said.
“I don’t want it,” she snapped and shifted again, but slowly. This time the pain was more of an annoyed mutter than a shriek, and the new position did support her back better. “Um … was I rude just now?”
“Yes. You aren’t the worst patient I’ve ever had, though.”
Nettie’s voice was dry, but her expression was abstracted, almost uncertain. That was unusual enough to get Lily’s attention. “What is it?”
“You know Arjenie Fox?”
Oh. Lily glanced at Rule. Did Nettie know that Arjenie was Benedict’s Chosen? Or that the woman had sidhe blood? “I’ve never met her in person. I’ve worked with her, but it’s all been by phone or e-mail. I guess I’ll be meeting her soon. She’s staying with Isen, isn’t she?”
Nettie nodded, her lips tight with worry or temper or both. “There’s something Benedict hasn’t told me about her. Something important. I’m not reading between the lines,” she added dryly. “He told me there was, and that he would explain when I was at Clanhome, not over the phone. Security reasons, he said.”