He remembered something else and looked at Rule. "I said that the village is called Los Lobos. That puzzled me at first—it's pretty far south for wolves. I figured out where the name came from just before I left. There's a lost one there, almost surely a throwback."
"Shit. How old?"
"Hasn't hit puberty yet, but he's close. We need to tell someone. Ybirra?"
Rule nodded and stood. "I'll take care of it. You have his name?"
He shook his head. "When I went back to the village for my things, I asked about him, but either my Spanish wasn't up to the job or they didn't want to tell the crazy man about one of their kids."
"Describe him."
"Five feet or thereabouts and skinny as a post. Probably had a recent growth spurt—his pants don't reach his ankles. Black hair, skin the same color as Sarita's… you remember her, don't you? Used to dance with me? Had the prettiest little ass, and—"
"Cullen," Rule said.
"Right. He's mestizo, of course, but looks pure Indian. You can't see the European side of his heritage in his face, though it shows in his height."
Lily was looking from one to the other of them. "Someone want to tell me what you're talking about?"
"Cullen can explain. I need to call the Ybirra Rho." Rule left the room.
Cullen looked at Rule's Chosen, the stubborn cop who'd been to hell and back for her mate. He felt a twinge of… something. Not jealousy, nothing so obvious or demeaning, but… Never mind. It will go away. "Basically, a lost one is a lupus who doesn't know what he is."
She frowned. "I thought the clans made sure of their children. Since you always know if you've sired a child—"
"We do, but there are two ways a lupus child can be born without the clan knowing. First, the father might die before registering the conception. Second, a lupus can be born to apparently human parents." A gossamer glow drifted by near Cullen's foot. He snagged it.
"Quit playing with your invisible friends and explain. Lupi can't be born to human parents."
"Apparently human." The sorceü clung to his palm, but he couldn't hold it there long. Sorceri were cobwebby strands of pure magic usually generated by a node, though the ocean or a storm could throw them, too. This one would either dissipate or soak into him in another couple seconds.
He wrapped his hand around his diamond. "Just a sec. If I don't feed it in right, I'll get dissonance."
"As in something might blow up?"
"Not yet." Blasting the demon had emptied his diamond, and it took days to refill the thing one wisp at a time. For that he needed raw magic; mage fire turned treacherous if fed by filtered magic. "There. Recessive genes," he said, looking up. "You know that only our male children are lupi. The girls still carry that heritage in their genes, however."
"Ah. I get it. You called that boy a throwback—the product of some recessives meeting up. But why doesn't anyone know this is possible?"
"Oh, you think we should make it public knowledge? Then they could develop a test, and mothers-to-be who didn't want occasionally furry offspring could abort any fetuses that—"
"You know very well that's not what I meant. Never mind. I assume this doesn't happen often."
"It's rare. The descendants of female clan are seldom fertile with each other. But if they do manage to get a zygote started, there's a decent chance the offspring will be lupus. These days we keep track of our children's children, but the conquistadores settled Los Lobos long before anyone knew about recessives."
"The Inquisition," she said suddenly. "Mexico was conquered before the Purge, but the Inquisition was getting going about then."
Her apparent non sequitur made him raise his brows. "Very good. You've been studying our history."
"I'm Nokolai now. I'm supposed to know this stuff." She drummed her fingers on her thigh. "Not that it's easy. Your people don't keep much written history. But the Rhej gave me an English translation of a sixteenth-century journal, and the lupus who kept it was worried about the Inquisition."
"With good reason," Cullen said. "Nokolai was centered in France then, but the inquisitors stuck their big noses in everywhere. The Spanish Inquisition was the worst. Spain mostly deported Muslims and Jews who wouldn't convert. Us, they killed. Extra points for burning us alive."
"They killed the Gifted, too," Rule said from the doorway.
Cullen didn't jump. He hadn't heard Rule—the son of a bitch was almost as good as his big brother at silent sneaking—but he'd caught Rule's scent. "And anyone else who was a little odd, on the chance they might be Gifted, but both Spanish clans were essentially wiped out. The boy?"
"Ybirra will see to him."
Cullen exhaled in relief. Harry jumped up on the couch and informed him with a head bump that petting was now allowed. Cullen complied.
"Wait a minute," Lily said. "If they had killed all the Spanish lupi, there wouldn't have been any to sire a lost one in the New World."
"Not all the lupi," Rule said. "Many, but not all. But somehow the Church learned the identities of the Rhos. They killed them and their sons—all of their sons, not just the heirs. Without a Rho, there is no clan, only lone wolves and a scattering of packs."
Lily's brow creased. "Packs. Wouldn't they be just small clans?"
"Packs are unstable. Without a Rho, most lupi go feral."
"Surely you have some system for a new Rho to be chosen in an emergency."
"Rhos aren't chosen," Rule said patiently. "They simply are. Each clan has some not in the direct line who can claim the clan's founder among their ancestors, but if the Rho and all his line are killed, those of collateral lines are unlikely to withstand the death shock."
"The what?'
"We're bound by blood to blood," Cullen said. "Didn't Rule explain that when I was brought into Nokolai?" You are called to Nokolai by blood, by earth, and by fire… The ritual words flamed in Cullen's mind, igniting a spasm of memory and emotion he fought to keep from his face.
Simplest to change the subject, and there were so many juicy ones to choose from. "You think that's the Great Bitch's goal?" he asked Rule. "Kill enough heirs and the clans are in trouble."
"So far, no Rhos have been attacked, however. And you aren't an heir."
"But I'm handy to have around."
Amusement glimmered in Rule's eyes. "True. Isen believes Her main goal is to block the All-Clan he's called."
"Isen sees everything in terms of his own goals. Doesn't mean he's wrong, of course. The Rhos aren't likely to risk their people by gathering so many of us in one spot for Her to attack."
A grim silence fell. Harry broke it to complain that Cullen had stopped petting. Rebuked, Cullen rubbed the beast's jawbone, and Harry cranked up his buzz saw.
Rule's eyebrows lifted. "That cat actually likes you."
"I'm a charming fellow."
Rule shook his head and settled on the floor beside Lily again. She laid a hand on his shoulder as she spoke. "There's still one Spanish clan, though, right? The one you just contacted. Ybirra."
Rule leaned back against her chair and rested a hand on her foot. "Ybirra is our newest clan. It wasn't recognized until long after the Spanish diaspora. Tomas Ybirra proved his claim at the 1882 All-Clan."
Touching. The two of them kept doing that. And why would that bother him? It didn't, he decided, and carried on with the history lesson. "Tomas Ybirra was born Leidolf. He was a full alpha who disagreed frequently with his Rho, especially over the need to gather the lost ones. Rather than Challenge, he went lone wolf until he'd collected enough strays to form his own clan."
"A lone wolf?" Lily said, surprised. "I thought—"
"We don't all go mad," he snapped.