She gave him a level look. "You mean argue, not discuss, and I'm too tired for it."
Guilt bit. He took a slow breath and pulled out into the street. Needs coiled in his stomach, a restless serpent with the sweetest of venom. The hairs on his arms stirred with the serpent's breath, and its tail wrapped round his heart, controlling the beat.
He needed to Change. Still. Again.
Hell has no moon. Rule had entered that realm in wolf form, so wolf he'd remained. But lupi who stay too long in wolf form eventually lose the human in the beguiling simplicity of the beast. Rule hadn't been lost, not quite. But returned to Earth and his human form, he wasn't the man he used to be. The balance between man and wolf had shifted, and the control he'd spent his life building had thinned to tissue, easily torn.
Tonight it had torn.
The demon had come at them from upwind, and in damnable silence. He'd had no warning until he saw it—and in seeing it, he'd lost the power of choice. Instinct had ruled, and instinct craved teeth and claws for that enemy, four legs for speed and senses keened to a pitch no human could know. Not even a part-time human.
Twenty minutes, he told himself as he pulled into the traffic on I-295. It should take no more than twenty minutes to reach their temporary home. By then he'd be back in control.
Rule's father had been pleased when the Bureau sent Lily to Washington. After the Supreme Court put an end to centuries of legal persecution of the lupi, Nokolai had joined with two other clans to purchase a row house in Georgetown. Isen had wanted a presence in the capital, both for show and for lobbying.
Most of the time, Rule was that presence, the public face of a people accustomed to the shadows. To put it another way—as Lily once had—he was the lupus poster boy, the safe, almost tame image they presented to the public. He understood the image, how to use it, what was needed. A whiff of danger made him exotic, intriguing enough to be invited to all the best parties.
All the best beds, too, though he no longer accepted that sort of invitation.
Rule glanced at the woman beside him. The tilt of her head toward her laptop swung her hair forward, hiding her face. Her hair was beautiful, black and lustrous by day, keeping its secrets at night. Absently she lifted a hand and tucked a strand behind her ear, gifting him with her profile. The glow of her skin in the monitor's light reminded him of the moon—cool and pale.
She smelled of blood. Paul's blood.
Rule gave his attention to the road once more.
Lily had fought for him tonight. The demon had come to kill him—a fact she'd recognized before he did. He thought of the way she'd moved, weapon ready, focused on her target. If she'd felt fear, she'd ignored it.
It wasn't the first time he'd seen her fight. It wouldn't be the last. The thought terrified him. She was small, easily damaged, and slow to heal. Yet mixed with the fear was pride. That, he would never have expected.
Who would have thought a warrior would suit him so well?
Lily closed her computer. "You okay?"
"What do you mean?"
"You're obeying the speed limit. You've got to be either vastly preoccupied or exhausted."
He smiled because she'd expect it. "A bit of both, I think. When will—"
"There's something—" she said at the same time.
They stopped, exchanged a smile. His was more genuine this time. "Ladies and federal agents first. You have questions." Questions were the way she dealt with the world's cruelties and confusions.
Lily said, "Yes, and my first one is, what were you about to ask?"
"I should have seen that coming. All right. When will Paul's body be released?"
"Hard to say. The lab won't be able to learn much, but they have to go through the motions."
Rule nodded. Those of the Blood—lupi, gnomes, and others— had magic woven into their cells, which played hell with laboratory results. That didn't mean the authorities would omit one jot from their usual procedures. "When it is, I'll escort it back to his people."
"But… you? They won't release it to you. His family will have to claim the body."
"Isen is arranging matters with the Leidolf Rho. He'll see that your legalities are observed, and I will take Paul's body to his clanhome. You'll have to accompany me, but you won't be in any danger. Leidolf is ruled by a cur, but even he doesn't make war on women."
"Well, that was certainly my first concern." She shoved her hair back with both hands. "Why? Why do you want to do this?"
"The susmussio." That was part of the serpent in his belly, the coils of need and rage and ragged ends. "Paul died because of it. Because of me."
"You don't know that! He might have helped us even without the, uh, susmussio. Or he might have figured the fight was too good to miss, or that the demon would come after him anyway. Or that he had to protect the female—your crowd is bent that way."
Rule shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Even if I'm wrong about his motives, his actions were those of an honorable lupus who'd accepted submission in combat. He was exhausted, ill-equipped through training or experience to fight a demon, yet he came to my aid." Rule bit out the next: "He felt responsible for me."
"But…" She was silent for a long moment. Rule knew the problems she'd be ticking off in her head: the investigation, the enmity between Nokolai and Leidolf, the enemy who'd apparently reached out from hell to attack them.
To attack him. It was her poor luck to be nearby… but that wasn't something either of them could change.
Her voice was quiet. "You don't feel you have a choice."
"No more than you could choose not to hunt whoever sent the demon that killed Paul."
"All right, then." She took a deep breath, let it out. "We'll work something out."
He touched her hand briefly, a thank-you. "You're in luck on one count. Our trip won't take long. Leidolf Clanhome is in Virginia."
"How far is it from Halo?"
Halo, North Carolina… where his son lived. "It doesn't matter. You know I can't go there."
"I know you're convinced of that. We'll have to ditch the press anyway so they don't follow us to Leidolf's Clanhome."
"The press are only part of the problem. Any of his friends or neighbors could recognize me. His grandmother agrees. She doesn't want me there."
"Toby does."
A muscle jumped in his jaw. Toby had come up to spend the weekend with them shortly after they arrived in D.C. They'd spent their time together indoors, unable to see the sights together. Toby hadn't liked that. "He's a child still. He doesn't understand what the consequences would be if he were known to be my son."
"The clans don't harm children."
"His neighbors might. Some of those he thought were friends suddenly wouldn't be, or their parents wouldn't let them be. His life would never be the same. It would be different if…" If he could be raised at Clanhome, surrounded by his clan.
Rule shut the door quickly on that thought. Toby's mother would never agree. She might not want to raise their son herself, but that didn't mean she'd let Rule have him.
"His life won't be the same anyway," Lily said quietly, "once he hits puberty."
"That's years away still. Leave it alone."
She said nothing, but held out her hand. After a second's hesitation, he took it. For a time they were both silent.
She spoke again as they passed the Arlington exit. "About this susmussio thing… you didn't get to undo it. What does that mean? Are there consequences for you or for the clan?"
She was learning, he thought with a flick of pleasure. She was beginning to think of the clan. As his Chosen, she was Nokolai, too, though she sometimes forgot. "Though things are never simple between Leidolf and Nokolai, there should be few consequences to the clan." As long as he handled things correctly, that is. "For myself… there are two rituals that may be observed. One is part of the burial service. Normally I would be expected to present an account of Paul's death in a formal response to questions."