“So you’re saying he has mother issues.”
“That’s one way to put it, yes.”
And Lily was at risk now because of the Lady. Because of what Rule’s mother figure was doing with the mantle. “You haven’t gotten to the advice part.”
“Rule’s wolf still accepts and expects your need to be part of any necessary fights. But Rule the man grew out of that boy who idealized the Lady. He may not be reasonable about your safety. Be patient with him. You can’t fix this for him. You can’t be less than an equal partner. But you can be patient.”
It sounded like fortune cookie advice. That didn’t make it bad advice—just annoyingly vague. The rest of what he’d said, though . . . Isen knew people. He knew his son. She nodded slowly. “I’ll keep all that in mind.”
“Good.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Now, are you going to tell me what’s hurting you?”
“I’m not harboring any secret troubles. Just the obvious ones.”
“No?”
“I am curious about something.” It wasn’t what she’d meant to ask him about when she finagled this semiprivate moment, but... “When lupi hear moonsong, is it the Lady you hear? Her voice?”
He took his time answering. Finally he said, “This question is difficult for me to answer. We don’t usually speak of our personal experience of moonsong.”
“I’ve trespassed.”
“No.” He added a pat of his hand to his reassuring smile. “We don’t speak of it because the experience is intensely personal, so I don’t know if others would answer as I do. For me, it is not a voice, yet it is the Lady’s song. The moon is her instrument, or perhaps she is the moon’s instrument.”
“You don’t hear her in words.”
“No. If light were music, it might sound something like moonsong. One thing I know is common to all lupi. We don’t hear moonsong with our ears, yet it is very much heard, not sensed in some other way.”
Yes. Yes, that’s what it was like. Something ripped and words came spilling out. “I never wanted to be Rho. That would’ve made a mess of my life I don’t even want to think about. So I didn’t want to keep the mantle. I don’t need to turn into a wolf. I’m happy with who I am. Only I guess I’ll never hear her voice again, and that . . .” She blinked fast. Dammit. She was not going to cry. “I guess it’s pretty wonderful to hear moonsong all the time.”
Isen being Isen, he didn’t answer her with words. He folded her up in a hug, making it really hard for her to keep back the damn tears, which was stupid. Crying was just stupid. “It’s not like I’ve been longing to be lupus.”
“Mmm,” he said, and stroked her hair gently.
“It’s not like that,” she insisted. Her head rested on one broad, burly shoulder. He smelled like laundry soap and warmth. Somehow he just smelled warm. “But I wondered . . . I thought maybe that’s what the mantle was doing. Trying to turn me into a lupus. Not succeeding, and maybe damaging me in the attempt, but trying. And part of me . . . part of me thought . . .” A deep sigh shuddered out of her. “But it didn’t happen. I don’t have the bloodline, do I?” She straightened away from him. “You are not to tell Rule about me getting weepy about this.”
“Not if you don’t wish me to.”
“I don’t. And this wasn’t at all what I wanted to tell you.”
“No?” He waited, benign and patient. Buddha-wolf.
“I’m pretty sure you know about the other Unit. The Shadow Unit.”
He nodded.
“Last week Ruben asked me to join. I turned him down. I don’t know who to tell that I’ve changed my mind, but I have. I want in.”
Isen smiled slowly. “Ruben is incommunicado at the moment, of course. But he has a second-in-command. I’ll make sure Ruben’s second is aware of your offer.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
THE Rhej turned out to be right. Dammit.
After Isen left, Lily headed back to the kitchen, where the Rhej was putting Deborah through Lupi 101. They were talking about what made a clan a clan—the mantles, in other words. “Rule gave me a dirty look when I told Deborah about mantles,” Lily said, “but no one has yelled at me about it.”
The Rhej gave her a lazy smile. “You’re a Chosen. I’m a Rhej. We’re Lady-touched, so we’ve got the authority to reveal the Lady’s secret. Most lupi will figure you were just doin’ what the Lady wanted.”
“The Lady doesn’t goose me every time I open my mouth. I’ve only heard her once.”
“Once that you know of,” the Rhej said agreeably, and turned back to Deborah.
Deborah didn’t need Lily’s two cents when she had the Rhej to brief her, so Lily went to the parlor and got it over with. She called her parents.
That was both better and worse than she’d expected. Her father actually overrode her mother, insisting on speaking to her first. He asked her quietly, “In your deepest heart, do you feel you did the right thing?” Lily told him yes. “Then I am proud of you. Do not be a victim or a martyr. Fight, but choose your fights wisely.” Her mother claimed the phone while Lily was still tearing up and laid out an ambitious plan of lawsuits—against the Bureau, the arresting officer, the jail where she’d stayed, and possibly the U.S. Senate, though Lily never did figure out why her mother thought the Senate might be particularly culpable for Lily’s unjust imprisonment.
So she cried a little, then laughed—her mother did not understand what she was laughing about—and after that it seemed as if she might as well take the rest of her medicine, so she called Grandmother and both her sisters. And then she called Toby. Isen had told him she was out of jail, but it seemed like he ought to hear from her.
Toby wanted to know what jail was like, and did she meet any murderers, and was her arm really all better now? And wasn’t that cool about Mr. Brooks becoming lupus? And would she and Dad be able to come home soon?
Her arm was really all better. Jail smelled awful and was the most boring place possible, and the people there were mostly sad people who’d screwed up, not killers, though some of them were mad about being there and thought it was all someone else’s fault. And no, she didn’t think they’d be able to come home soon.
About the time she got off the phone for the last time, Deborah was ready to leave. Lily tried to persuade her to stay the night, just to be safe, but she refused, though she did agree to meet Lily at Fagin’s hospital room the next day.
Deborah left at 7:10 ... and Lily was exhausted. She got to work anyway. She needed to get her thoughts down on paper. Her time in jail might have been mostly boring, but she had put a few things together. She also needed to line out her investigation . . . the one she’d be conducting with or without a badge. Because dammit, that’s what she did.
About an hour and a half in, her brain quit cooperating. She gave up on that and turned on the TV and brooded over the news.
One of Friar’s lieutenants was talking to a right-wing pundit. Paul Chittenden was very blond, very well-groomed; he reminded her a bit of Dennis Parrott, though they didn’t look alike aside from the gloss. He was assuring the very blond interviewer that the demonstrations Humans First was holding would be peaceful—“While Humans First supports our members’ Second Amendment rights, we do not support violence.” He talked about how vital these demonstrations were, given how corrupt the government’s secretive Unit had proven to be. That was a reference to Ruben’s fleeing arrest, of course.