“Hmm.” Isen could stuff a lot of doubt into a single sound. “How could such a potion be timed to work at exactly the right moment?”
“Maybe it wasn’t triggered by the elapsed time, but by some other factor. Like when his healing went into overdrive because he was injured. I don’t know diddly about potions, but supposedly Dya’s people are really good at causing heart attacks.”
“You’re thinking of Ruben Brooks,” Isen said. “But Brooks’s heart attack didn’t kill him. It’s a stretch to believe that he’s tougher than a lupus.”
“Dya wouldn’t have known that Ruben has a trace of sidhe blood. That could make a difference.”
Rule was hit by a thought. “Edgar didn’t die right away.”
Lily looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“He took a blow to the head, a hard one. But he was moving, trying to get up, shortly after that. Maybe it wasn’t the blow to the head that killed him. His injury would have triggered his healing. Maybe that in turn triggered a potion he’d been given. Maybe he died from a heart attack, too.”
“Do you have his body?” Isen asked.
“Yes. George’s, also.”
“I assume Nettie will be able to tell if there’s heart damage. I’m getting an idea I don’t like.”
Rule started to laugh, but stopped because it hurt. “I haven’t liked much about today so far.”
“So far, our enemy has held the high cards,” Isen agreed. “But there may be a joker in the deck. Shortly before Lily called, I received a call from a young woman who wouldn’t give her name. She spoke English with an odd accent and claimed that Brian of Wythe asked her to call me. No doubt you’re making the same leap I did—that my mysterious caller was Arjenie’s mysterious sister. I believe we’re right about that. I kept a log, of course—”
“A log?” Lily said.
Rule answered briefly. “Shorthand.” Isen might routinely forget he owned a cell phone, but he was excellent with older information technology. He routinely jotted notes in Gregg shorthand during a call. “Go on,” he told his father.
“First she asked me to confirm that I was Isen Turner. I did. Next she asked me not to interrupt or ask questions because she didn’t know how long the telephone lines would cooperate. I didn’t. She then said she’d been trying to call for some time, but … I’ll give her exact phrasing. ‘Phones and magic do not agree. Easy enough to disrupt, hard to make clear.’ She then said Brian named me because I was nearby and an ally, and was this true? I told her yes, and slipped in one question: Who was she? She said she was a friend of Brian’s who didn’t want him to die.”
“Friar,” Lily said. “Robert Friar has him.”
“You interrupt again—but then, unlike her, I didn’t ask you not to. Yes. She said it would be best if Robert Friar died instead of Brian, and perhaps I would kill him, and I was not to tell the authorities about Brian because Friar would very likely know and would kill him and possibly her, also. She said that if I act, I must act quickly. I will quote her again. ‘Friar does not listen to me. He makes his own experiments, and I think Brian is dying too quickly for my potions to help. Tomorrow I think will be too late. We are …’ Unfortunately, the call ended then in a burst of static.”
No one spoke for a moment. “Well,” Lily said, “that’s definitely a joker. The big question is whether Friar dealt it to us.”
Rule glanced quickly at her. “Her story agrees with George’s.”
“Which could mean it’s true. Or it could mean Friar fed Edgar that story and made sure Dya pitched hers to match.”
“You credit him with an amazing degree of cleverness.”
“So far he’s winning. He probably did grab Brian, but we don’t know that Brian’s still alive. If—”
“Of course we do,” Isen said. “If Friar had killed him instead of kidnapping him, the heir’s portion of the mantle would have returned to Edgar, who could not then have been blackmailed. We know, therefore, that Brian was alive at the time of Edgar’s death, because Edgar wouldn’t have staged things the way he did if his heir was dead. Now that Edgar is dead, Brian has inherited the full mantle. If anything happens to him, the Wythe mantle is lost forever.”
Vexation crossed Lily’s face. “I should have thought of that.”
“Such knowledge is not yet instinctive for you. Knowing that Brian is alive, our duty is clear. We can’t allow Wythe lupi to descend into pack-lost beasts. Also, Brian’s testimony will persuade the other clans as nothing else could.”
“Dammit.” Rule’s hands tightened on the steering wheel as if he had Javier’s neck there to wring. “I don’t see any way out of the Challenge. Javier won’t believe anything we tell him, so he won’t agree to a postponement. Maybe his father would listen to you.” The Ybirra Rho, Manuel, was as calm as Javier was fiery.
“Hmm. I could try speaking with Manuel, but … no, I think not. We’ll want to make sure Friar is aware of the Challenge. It will provide an excellent distraction for us to rescue Brian.”
“How?” Rule demanded. “Hole-in-the-Wall is too far from Friar’s place for me to do both, and I don’t know if Benedict will be in any shape to lead a rescue party tonight.”
“We’ll need Lucas, I think,” Isen said thoughtfully. “I’ve an idea how we can encourage him to help, despite whatever doubts he may have about Nokolai’s integrity. And Stephen, of course. I imagine he’s agreed to witness?”
“Yes, but—”
“With or without Benedict, you’ll have to lead the rescue party.”
His throat closed up. He forced out two words: “Father. No.”
Lily looked worried. “I don’t understand.”
Isen said what Rule could not bring himself to. “Javier Challenged Nokolai, not Rule. Such Challenges are usually settled by the two Lu Nuncios, but there is another way. I will fight Javier.”
FORTY
ARJENIE woke up as they passed Clanhome’s gates. Lily gave her the high points—or low points—of what they knew as quickly as possible, but she wasn’t sure how much Arjenie took in. She was quiet, anxious, maybe shocky.
Many people went through most of their lives without ever seeing someone die, much less by violence. Arjenie had watched her lover kill. It was going to affect her, it was going to affect Benedict, and it would damn sure affect how they were with each other. Lily didn’t know how and was trying not to think about it. None of her guesses came out happy.
Nettie met them at door. She checked Cullen out briefly, told him his head would stop hurting sooner or later, then began unwrapping the elastic bandage around Rule’s ribs. While she did, Lily checked on Benedict.
They’d put him on a couch in the living room, with two guards—one who made sure a sleep charm stayed in contact with his skin, the other ten feet away with a weapon drawn. Just in case. Interestingly, none of the lupi smelled the fury on him now, and hadn’t since he was knocked out. Whatever chemical exudation their noses picked up, it only kicked in when he was awake. But when Lily touched him, she still felt that oily magic.
Less of it, though. That was a relief. Cobb had apparently thrown off the effects of the potion within a couple hours, but a sample of one didn’t guarantee anything. Of course, Cobb had also woken up suicidal.
Sample of one, Lily reminded herself. Probably not applicable. Benedict wouldn’t be waking up in a tiny cell with no hope of freedom.
When she straightened, Arjenie was talking to Isen, who’d put an arm around her. Nettie was standing in front of Rule with both hands on his bare rib cage, her eyes closed, muttering a chant.