Thus the kneepads. They’d found a pair of gloves for her, too.
Benedict knelt and wrapped a pad around Arjenie’s left knee. She bent and whispered, “I’m kind of worried about Lucas. It seems like you gave him an awfully big incentive to not believe you.”
Benedict tightened the pad, checked to make sure it was secure, looked up, and smiled. He whispered back, “He can hear us.”
“Oh.” She flushed and looked over at the tall, quiet man standing beside Rule—who was looking at her now, one eyebrow raised. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize … but since I’ve already got my foot in my mouth, I might as well explain.”
“No need,” Lucas said pleasantly. “I realize humans have different standards.”
“Did you just insult me back? If so, I probably deserved it.”
Benedict fastened the second kneepad in place and stood. “You’re afraid Lucas or his father will prefer keeping the apartment building to publicly acknowledging that Nokolai has been blameless, and that the clans are in danger from her.”
“Um … yes.”
Lucas’s presence was Isen’s idea. He was a superb fighter, coolheaded and experienced, and so made a valuable addition to their team. But the main reason Isen wanted him along was to bear witness to the other clans. To obtain his Rho’s consent to this, Isen had applied what Rule called blunt force bribery: he’d given the other clan Rule’s apartment building. Temporarily.
It would serve as a monetary hostage. A very large monetary hostage. Benedict didn’t know what the building was worth—that was Rule’s department—but he’d heard Rule assure Andor that Nokolai’s equity exceeded ten million. If anything happened to Lucas, that equity belonged to Szøs. If Lucas lived but still didn’t believe Nokolai was right about her, that equity belonged to Szøs. Only if what Lucas saw tonight convinced him that Nokolai was right would his Rho sell the building back to Isen for a token amount.
“If this were a business deal,” Rule said, exchanging a smile with Lucas, “I’d be suitably wary. In such a case I’d expect Andor and Lucas to take any advantage they could of Nokolai—short of outright lying, that is. That would be discourteous. But this isn’t business. It’s a matter of honor.”
Arjenie nodded seriously. “In many tribal societies, honor is more important than wealth. A Cherokee brave’s status wasn’t dependent on what he owned, for example, because he didn’t own anything. Family property all belonged to the wife. Then there’s the potlach, which is …”
Benedict stopped listening as he bent and pulled off his shoes, then stuffed them in the backpack Arjenie would carry. The lecture on tribal customs was her way of coping with nerves. Facts comforted her, and she was very nervous. Benedict pulled his T-shirt off and wished fiercely and futilely she wasn’t here. Wasn’t going to be part of this. It was too dangerous, and she was no warrior. But the mate bond meant that where he went, she had to go. And reason and the dictates of the mission said she would be extremely useful, given her Gift.
To hell with the mission. That’s what he’d wanted to say earlier when they were planning this. He hadn’t.
Her voice drifted off in the middle of something about Australian Aborigines. A frown creased her brows. “I guess it’s time.”
“Yes.” As his hands went to the snap on his jeans, Rule and Lucas began stripping. Arjenie hadn’t batted an eye earlier when the others stripped before Changing. Her coven, she said, conducted many rituals sky-clad. Group nudity didn’t unsettle her the way it did most humans. Benedict removed his jeans and rolled them up. They’d travel in Arjenie’s backpack.
He paused and looked at her. For a moment he just looked. She’d braided her hair to keep it out of the way, rendering it temporarily more orderly than he’d ever seen it. Her eyes were large and worried. She smelled like heaven and home and he wanted badly to say something, to give her something to take down into the dark.
He touched her cheek. “You’ll be careful.”
“That’s what I’m supposed to say to you. Benedict …” She laid her hand over his. “You didn’t want me along, but I need to do this. I can help. I know it.”
“Yes.” He accepted that. Hated it, but accepted it, just as he accepted his fear for her. He wished he knew what to say … oh. Of course. He smiled. “I love you,” he told her, and smiled, and dropped his hand. And Changed.
A frisky breeze blew in the open windows of Lily’s government Ford. They were parked about a mile from Friar’s house. Waiting.
Cullen was behind the wheel with Cynna in the front seat beside him. Lily didn’t think she’d ever ridden in her own backseat before, and she didn’t like it. She’d wanted to drive, but had succumbed to reason. The guy with two working arms and no baby in the tummy should do the steering and braking.
Waiting sucked.
They’d settled on ten o’clock—the onset of the Challenge—as the best time for Lily to present Friar with the warrant. Rule would fit his party’s efforts into that timeline, if he could. They wanted Friar as distracted as possible during the retrieval.
As soon as they’d parked, Cullen had started fidgeting like a three-year-old. Cynna had dug a crossword puzzle magazine out of her purse. He’d been working it ever since. In the dark.
Lily couldn’t do that, dammit, or much of anything else. If this had been a stakeout, at least she’d have had a focus. But someone else had that duty—one of Benedict’s guards. She’d checked with him when she arrived. Friar hadn’t left his house since he returned late yesterday afternoon.
Robert Friar lived at the end of a short gravel lane off a narrow county road. There was a gate and a sign warning people that the lane was private, but according to Benedict, the gate was usually left open. It was open tonight. She’d had Cullen drive by so she could check before parking on the shoulder of the county road to wait.
Waiting gave her way too much time to think.
She was afraid for Rule. It rode in her gut, that fear, like a ball of maggots. Every now and then one of those maggots wormed its way up to her brain and she started thinking about all the things that could go wrong … about Rule trapped beneath the earth and how he hated small, tight spaces, and how shaky this whole plan was when they knew so damn little …
Shut up, she told herself, and stuffed those maggot-thoughts back down. “Are you napping?” she asked Cynna.
“Huh?” Cynna’s head jolted up from the headrest. “Oh—guess I did doze off. Happens all the time these days.” She twisted around to look at Lily. “I’d offer you a crossword puzzle book, too, but …”
“Since I can’t read in the dark, it wouldn’t be much of a distraction.”
Her arm itched horribly. Not on the wound, but between it and her elbow—a spot she could not possibly reach. The wound itself wasn’t hurting much. After talking to Benedict, Lily had asked Nettie to put her in sleep for a bit, knowing she needed to be as rested and alert as possible. Then they’d all eaten a light supper, then she’d stolen a few minutes alone with Rule, then he’d had to leave, then Isen did, then at last it had been time for her, Cullen, and Cynna to leave. So they could sit here. And wait.
Maybe she should have brought someone else with her. Cullen’s quasi-official status was a plus for her, but Rule might need him. Sure, Arjenie could sense wards, but she couldn’t see them or throw fire or fight or …
Did she really want to make herself crazy? Second-guessing everything was a great way to do that. She drummed on her thigh.
“What’s a nine-letter word for flawed?” the man in the front seat asked.