“Are you holding up okay?” he asked.
“I’m tired, pissed, but my head doesn’t hurt. How about you?”
“Me?” His eyebrows lifted. “I’m fine.”
He sounded fine. His body looked loose and relaxed. But his eyes . . . there was too much black in his eyes, she realized. Not a big difference. If you didn’t look closely, you’d think his pupils were slightly enlarged, but she knew better. Black was trying to eat the irises and spread itself out over his eyes.
The Change. That’s what that meant. When black swallowed Rule’s eyes, he was fighting the Change. But why? They weren’t in immediate danger. And maybe why wasn’t as important as doing something about it. She got up and went to sit beside him. His arm came around her, and she leaned into him.
If this felt as much better to him as it did to her . . . “Full moon tomorrow night,” she said casually.
“I’m okay, Lily.”
When she looked at his eyes, they were normal again. So maybe he was okay, now. She wasn’t sure he had been a minute ago.
At the moment, he literally had his hands full—one arm around Lily, the other hand resting on Cullen’s shoulder. It allowed Cullen to relax, he’d said. Lily wasn’t sure relax was the right word, but she knew what Rule meant. The contact let Cullen know all the way down that his Lu Nuncio was with him. He didn’t have to fight to retain control of himself or cling to consciousness. He was safe.
They were, too—as long as they didn’t try to leave. Fortunately, Cullen had told them what to do before unconsciousness claimed him. Call Sherry. Get some of Fagin’s blood.
Sherry was on her way. Lily was on hold. She put her phone on speaker so she’d hear it when Croft returned and set it in her lap.
“You think they were after Fagin or Cullen or the library?” she asked. “Cullen thought it was the library.”
“Hard to guess until we know what Cullen was doing here.”
“True.”
Rule never had trouble controlling the Change as full moon drew near. Even on the night of the full moon when, he said, moonsong was so pure and sweet it made a mountain spring seem tainted, he could refuse the Change if he needed to. But it was taking effort for him to hold it off now, with a day still to go. “Rule—”
“Sorry that took so long,” said a voice from her lap.
It was Croft. She picked up the phone and took it off speaker. Not that it mattered—Rule would hear both sides of the conversation anyway. “No problem. I’m here.”
“I’ve got people heading for the hospital to guard Dr. Fagin. One of them will bring you the vial of blood, assuming Fagin gives consent—either Matthew Cates or Royce Richards. Do you know them?”
“I don’t know Richards. Cates is . . .” She searched her memory. “Late twenties, shaggy hair, very slight charisma Gift?”
“That’s him. Richards is in his early fifties, brown and black, mustache, small half-moon scar on his jaw. Wiccan with a teleport Gift. Ida is sending you their phone numbers so you can get in touch if you need to.”
“Any word on Fagin’s condition?”
“Just that he’s reached the hospital. Do you think Sherry can get you out without Fagin’s presence?”
“Cullen thought so. Sherry does, too. She knows the specifics of the bargain Fagin has with the elemental. She knows how to contact it.”
“For which she needs Fagin’s blood.”
“Apparently.”
“How’s Seabourne doing?”
Lily glanced at the pale face of the unconscious man stretched out between her and Rule. Rule had used the pillows to get Cullen’s feet higher than his head. While it was rare for a lupus to go into shock, taking steps to prevent it kept his healing from having to work on that as well as the burns. “Second- and third-degree burns over an estimated nine percent of his body. Breathing shallow, but not labored. He’s hurting, he needs fluids, but he’s lupi. He should be okay.”
“Good. You’re cleared to collect evidence. Ida is setting up the expert consult you requested.”
Evidence collection was not Lily’s job. Sure, she’d had training, but a patrol cop’s job was to secure the scene, not wander around picking up cigarette butts. Homicide cops and FBI agents didn’t play CSI, either. There were specialists for that. At the moment, though, Lily was all they had. She wanted help, advice, questions answered. “Thanks.”
“You should get a call soon about that. Oh, and I’ll have someone waiting to take custody of whatever you collect once you’re able to leave. Hannah, probably. The press is out in force.”
As if to underline that thought, the news copter dipped close enough for her to see faces and a camera behind the glass bubble. No doubt there were plenty of the earthbound version of the press waiting to pounce on the other side of the barricades the police had set up on Fagin’s street. “You need to tell them to keep their damn helicopter higher. No saying what the elemental might do if it decides they’re a threat.”
“They’ve been warned. I’ll repeat it. When the press descends on you—”
“I’m good at ignoring them.”
“I don’t want you to. Tell them that the elemental is not dangerous as long as it isn’t disturbed. Emphasize the need to keep back. Emphasize that it hasn’t harmed anyone. You can add that we’re pursuing all leads regarding the bombing, and I’ll be giving a press conference at three thirty.”
“Bless you.”
“You’re welcome.” He sighed. “What the hell was Fagin thinking, dealing with an elemental?”
Lily didn’t try to answer that one. It was a good question, though, so after she disconnected she repeated it. “What the hell was Fagin thinking?”
The unconscious man spoke. “Thought it was little.”
Lily jumped. “You’re awake.”
“Unfortunately. Thirsty.”
“I’ve got water,” Rule said. “No, hold still.” He lifted Cullen’s head and shoulders with one arm and held a glass to his lips.
Cullen drank the entire glassful without opening his eyes. “Ah. Good. That’s good.” Rule lowered him back to flat. “Fagin thought the elemental was little. Sherry probably told him that. I thought so, too. Looked small, not much power. Turns out most of it was asleep. They don’t sleep here.”
Lily frowned. “Here . . . you mean in our realm?”
“Yeah. We need Fagin’s computer. I’ve got the journal, but we need the other one. The book.”
Rule spoke. “What book?”
“Ars Magicka. A grimoire. By Eberhardus Czypsser.”
“Gesundheit,” Lily said.
“It’s in medieval German. The translation’s on Fagin’s computer.”
“The one on his desk?”
“Yeah, it . . . shit. Fire’s probably not good for computers.”
“I’m guessing it isn’t. But—”
“Original’s in his safety-deposit box. Cambridge. You can get a warrant or something.” His eyes came open, burning blue in his pale face. “I need that book.”
“I was about to say that Fagin is not an idiot. He’s bound to have backed up his work. Even if he didn’t, it may be possible to recover the data from his hard drive.”
“Get everything. I need . . .” He winced. His eyes closed again. “Dammit,” he muttered. “Think some of the nerve endings are coming back online.”
Lily glanced at Rule, who shook his head. “He needs to shut up and rest.”
“I need,” Cullen said, his voice faint but adamant, “to see that damn grimoire.”
“Does this have something to do with the dagger?”
Blue eyes popped open. “That’s mostly Vodun work. I’ve got the reference I need for that. But there’s something else.”
She waited. When he didn’t continue, she prodded. “What?”
“Don’t know. It looks almost like elf work, though.”