"Things are popping," she said, glancing at her watch as Rule came into the kitchen. "Come on, Cynna, pick up," she told the ringing phone, continuing to Rule without a pause, "I've got a lead. I'm going to have to go to Chicago, so I guess some of the guards will—damn." Cynna's voice mail invited her to leave a message.
She did, telling her to call back ASAP, then explaining to Rule as she slipped off her bulky jacket. "The woman I talked to in Baltimore was scared—Jiri's done quite a number on her followers—but she finally gave me a name. This one's new—the Secret Service didn't have it. Hamid Franklin joined the movement well after Cynna left. Apparently he was one of Jiri's favorites, so…"
His stillness and lack of expression finally sank in. "What is it? What's wrong?" Dumb question, when so much was wrong— but there could always be more.
There was.
"I can't go to Chicago," he told her. "Paul's body is being released to me today."
TWENTY-EIGHT
THE hearse ahead of them was black and shiny in the late afternoon sun. For this, the sun had finally deigned to come out. That just pissed her off.
Lily was hungry, tired, worried… all right, not worried. Scared. She was scared on so many levels it was hard to keep track of them all. Rule was infected with demon stuff. Her mother wasn't speaking to her. Her older sister was, unfortunately. The world was set up to be blasted with repeated doses of magic, changing everything, probably killing people. Demons were popping up all over, and an Old One who'd been around since before the big bang wanted to destroy the lupi, seize the Book of All Magic, and rule the world.
Her feet hurt.
She'd found Alexia Morgan, but she'd had to walk over half of Baltimore to do it. The woman hadn't been at home, at work, or at her favorite bar. Lily had finally tracked her to a laundry center. But she'd struck gold once she found her, and now…
Now Cynna was handling the Chicago trip, she reminded herself. Cynna was perfectly capable of doing mat while she, Rule, his brawny brother, and his sorcerous buddy followed a damned hearse whose driver thought it respectful to go fifty in a seventy-miles-per-hour zone.
Rule had just finished telling her Cullen's theory.
"You waited on purpose." She tried to keep her voice low. She really did. "You didn't tell me about this Michael character and his possible connection to the Codex until we left. You wanted to keep me from telling Ruben or the task force." This couldn't be reported over the phone. No line was sufficiently secure to discuss the Codex Arcanum.
He didn't deny it, which did nothing for her temper. "Goddammit, Rule, we can't just sit on this! Admittedly it's only a theory, but it fits. I have to—"
"Think," he said coolly. "You need to stop and think before you do anything, which is why I waited. I wanted you to have time to chew over the options."
She threw up her hands. "I'm an FBI agent. My option is to tell Ruben."
"That's one of them. He'll have to tell the president, of course, who will need to speak of this with a few trusted advisers. Who will all advise her to get her hands on the Codex without delay."
"And your point is?"
"What might the Pentagon do with the Book of All Magic?"
That stopped her for a moment. "What else can we do? Assuming it is here, and that we find it—pretty big assumptions, but let's go with them for now. It isn't up to us to decide."
"Passing on what we know is a decision, and makes us culpable, in part, for what happens later… if your faith in the authorities turns out to be misplaced."
"I trust Ruben."
He thought that over, then nodded. "I do, too. I might even be willing to trust him with the Codex, if he, in turn, were willing to tell no one he had it. But whoever possesses it must be not only honorable but able to defend it against everyone who wants it. Which will include much of the rest of the world, once word gets out."
"Other worlds, too," Cullen put in from the backseat.
She drummed her fingers on her thigh, counted to ten, and said to Rule, "Why don't you yell when you get mad?"
"I prefer to throw things," he said dryly.
Cullen snorted.
She turned to glare at him. "And why are you here, anyway? I understand why Benedict's with us." And was damned glad of it. Benedict had agreed to leave the other bodyguards at the house— Toby needed protection, too—but he'd flatly refused to let Rule travel to Leidolf territory without him. "But you don't serve any purpose on this little outing."
That amused him. "Sure I do. Decoration. I may be useless, but I'm pretty."
"You're not useless. Annoying, infuriating, arrogant, but not useless. But I don't see why it's okay for you to accompany Rule if other Nokolai can't."
He shrugged. "Leidolf may object, but I'm not seen as a threat. They'll probably shrug and let me in."
"But they know you're a sorcerer."
"Most lupi disdain magic, aside from the Change."
Benedict's deep voice came as a surprise. It often did, both because of the bass rumble of it and because he so seldom spoke. "Cullen will try to learn the extent of Victor's illness."
"You sound like you already know what his illness is."
"There aren't many possibilities," Rule said, slowing as the hearse did. They were nearing the turn-off for Nutley. "Cancer is the most likely."
"Cancer? But I thought lupi healed malignant cells along with everything else."
"Normal malignancies, yes," Cullen said. "But there's a form of cancer peculiar to our species. It only occurs at two points— early adolescence, when puberty and the first Change make wild alterations in the body, or in old age."
Adolescence? She thought of Toby, and glanced at Rule.
He was watching the road or the hearse or maybe listening to his own thoughts, but he must have felt her looking at him. "It's much more rare in adolescence than old age, fortunately. Nettie says that at the first Change our magic seeks a balance between rapid healing and cellular immortality. Since the only truly immortal cells are cancerous—"
"Cancer is immortal?"
"On a cellular level, yes," Cullen said. "Do you want the geneticist's explanation, or the simple one?"
"Simple, by all means."
"Cells replace themselves through division. Cellular senescence—old age—is basically the loss of information needed for the cell to divide. Normal cells have what's called a Hayflick limit. That's the number of times they can divide to reproduce themselves, and it more or less determines how long an organism can live. Cancer cells duck this limit through an enzyme called telomerase. Telomerase keeps adding six-letter units to the telomeres—that's the bit at the end of the chromosomal chain— so the cell can continue dividing, which means—"
"You're sure this is the simple explanation."
"Simplified to the point of absurdity. I haven't even mentioned cross-linked proteins, AGEs—"
"Don't."
"Okay, okay. The point is that cancerous cells can divide indefinitely; regular cells can't. We can't study lupus cells in the lab to determine how they manage to duck the Hayflick limit, of course."
"Cells from those of the Blood produce wacky test results."
"Right. Separated from its organizing principle, our magic reverts to chaos. So, with no clinical tests possible, all we can do is theorize, but the most likely theory is that magic does what the telomerase enzyme does. It allows our cells to divide without losing information."
Lily thought she followed his reasoning. "And that's what you said cancer does, only it uses this enzyme instead of magic. So if something's a little off with the magic, you get cancer instead of mega-healing."
"Bet your teachers loved you. Yep, our magic works great as long as it conforms to its organizing principle. When it doesn't, we sprout cancers. Multiple, systemic cancers."