“Probably.” He set the backboard down beside Billy but headed to George.
“Lily.” Rule’s voice was sharp. “Who do you mean to call?”
“9-1-1. We need ambulances, stat.”
“9-1-1 will give us police, also. If you call this in, Benedict goes to prison—probably for life, though only if they allow us to continue applying the sleep charm. If not, he’ll probably kill more people and they’ll shoot him. If he lives, Arjenie will have to take the cell next to his. She’ll spend her life in prison as well. The mate bond will no longer be secret.”
Lily scowled. “There are two people dead. There are others in need of immediate medical attention. We’ll have to sort it out later, prove that Benedict wasn’t acting under his own volition.” Using magic in the commission of a felony was a felony. Investigating that, finding the real perp—that’s what her job was about.
Rule just looked at her. “Arjenie said her sister’s potions were undetectable. How will you prove Benedict’s innocence to the law’s satisfaction?”
“I—” She wanted to say the potion was not undetectable, dammit. She was detecting it right now. But her word wasn’t evidence. No doubt there’d be screams about conflict of interest again, too. She might not be allowed to handle the investigation. “I don’t know yet. That doesn’t mean I won’t figure it out.”
And someone could die while they argued about it. Lily flicked on her phone.
“Lily.” Rule moved with that eerie speed he seldom used when he wasn’t fighting. He crouched next to her and placed one hand on her wrist. “I had to make a difficult decision in Nashville when we spoke with Cobb. I’m asking you to make a difficult decision now.”
“You’re asking me to cover up a crime.”
“Yes.”
She looked at his hand on her wrist. He applied no pressure. He could have easily wrested her phone away, taken the decision from her. He could have said that if she failed to prove Benedict innocent, he’d be convicted and given gado. He might survive with his sanity intact … for the first few years. Rule could have pointed out how little Benedict deserved that, no more than Arjenie deserved what would happen to her. Or that with the Great Bitch active in their world, Nokolai and all the lupi needed Benedict.
He could have told her he couldn’t stand to lose his brother.
Instead he waited. He trusted her to know these things. He trusted her to make the right decision.
Lily put her phone back to sleep and slipped it in her pocket. Nausea twisted in her belly. She didn’t know if she’d made the right decision. She didn’t know. “We need medical help. And someone could have seen the fight and called it in already.”
“I’m the medical help, for now.” Cullen studied the unconscious George. “I think I got his jaw back in place, but I should tape it up.”
“You can’t set a jaw that way.”
“You can’t. I can. I’m not saying I did it right, but the bones are lined up better than they were. Wouldn’t try it on a …” His voice drifted off. He bent closer, then looked at Rule. “Rule.”
Rule moved quickly to crouch next to Cullen. His back was to her, and the two men kept her from seeing George. “Is he—”
“Awake,” Rule said curtly. He bent lower as if the man had said something, though Lily didn’t hear anything. “No. Edgar is dead.”
This time Lily heard George. He keened, a high-pitched sound of grief.
One of the other bodies groaned. Lily looked over and saw Myron stirring. She pushed to her feet and headed to him, arriving just as he sat up, holding his head in both hands.
“If this is what humans feel with a hangover, I don’t see why any of them would drink. What happened?”
“I believe George used some kind of topical potion on Benedict that induced the fury.”
Myron’s eyebrows flew up. “You do? Ah, that would explain things. But what I meant was what knocked us all out?”
“Oh. That was Arjenie. She’s Gifted. She knocked herself out, too, doing it. Rule woke up a couple minutes ago.”
“That’s quite a trick. Wish she’d used it earlier.” He looked around, his eyes bleary. “How many of those bodies are dead?”
“Edgar and Gil.”
Myron winced. “Poor Gil. I never liked him much—he’s always been a bit of an ass, to tell the truth, but … I suppose you’re thinking Edgar was an ass, too. He wasn’t really. Just stubborn. Once he got hold of an idea—”
“Myron, I’m sorry to interrupt, but we have to move quickly. I don’t have Stephen’s number. Do you? Can you call him, get him to bring his men?”
“Guess we’d better tidy up before your compatriots arrive, hadn’t we?” Myron got to his feet. “I’ll call.”
Myron assumed she’d want to “tidy up” instead of cooperating with her compatriots. That bothered her. Everything about this bothered her. She looked around. “Everyone else is still out.”
Myron flipped his phone open and offered her the sickly cousin of his charming smile. “I may be a lousy fighter, but I’m a fast healer. If—”
“Myron,” Rule said. “I need you over here. I need you to listen to what George has to say. To serve as witness.”
“You’d do better to wait for Lucas,” Myron said, but he started toward Rule. Lily kept pace with him.
“You’re awake. He isn’t.”
George lay flat on the ground. Cullen had straightened him, Lily supposed. His face was tight with pain, but his color was good and his eyes tracked them, so he was focusing.
“Maybe,” Myron said, “but no one will be amazed if Kyffin backs you up when … yes, Stephen. This is Myron. We’ve got a situation. The circle won’t be happening and you’re needed here with your men.” A pause. “Well, you can talk to Rule, but everyone else is either unconscious or dead. Except Lily, of course, because the knockout was delivered magically, but that was after Benedict went into the fury. Lily says he was dosed with some sort of potion, and George is the likely culprit. We could use some help getting … certainly.” He held out the phone to Rule. “Here.”
Rule grimaced but took it. “Stephen. We have two seriously injured and two dead. We need to get everyone away before—shit.”
George had blanched suddenly, his face turning pale and sweaty. His eyes went frantic. Cullen laid his fingers on George’s neck, scowling.
“Cullen, what’s—”
“Shut up.” He bent and rested his ear on George’s chest. He stayed there a few seconds, then straightened. “Acute myocardial infarction. Maybe.”
“Brian,” George gasped. “Brian. You have to …” He reached out weakly.
Rule gripped that seeking hand. “We’ll rescue him. Be still.” Without looking around, he held the phone out to Lily. Automatically she took it. “You’re having a heart attack. You need to lie quietly.”
George’s head turned toward Rule. “Benedict. Tell him … sorry. Had to. Had …”
“I know,” Rule said soothingly. “I’ll tell him. Don’t try to—”
“Watch out!” Myron yelled—a second before someone slammed into Lily, knocking her down. The phone went flying. She landed badly on her hip and her elbow. The elbow of her bad arm. Shock waves whited out her brain.
“Whoops,” a vaguely familiar voice said, and a pair of hands seized her rib cage just below her arms and hauled her several feet backward. “There. Out of the way now.”
Lily blinked her eyes back into focus. Javier and Rule were faced off, crouched and circling. Rule had a new trickle of blood from a cut lip.
“Traitor,” Javier spat. “Oath-broke coward. You won’t walk away from this.”
Myron—it was Myron who’d dragged Lily away from the fight—said reassuringly, “Don’t worry. I’m sure Rule can clear everything up. Though it may be hard to make Javier listen. He and Gil were close.”