“I’m not sure Sam would care for the parallel, but you’re right.” Rule set the filled kettle on the stovetop. “What Friar does tell his hypothetical allies is probably a mix of lies and misdirection with just enough truth to get what he wants from them.”
“So let’s assume Direct Guy knows Cullen’s a sorcerer. He finds out that Cullen’s here. He could be having the place watched, or he may have been keeping track of flights to D.C. If he—”
“Wait a minute,” Cullen said. “You think one of our villains could get the airlines to watch for flights booked in my name?”
“The Bureau can do that sort of thing, and there’s a traitor in the Bureau. So yeah, I do.”
Rule moved up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Drummond?”
“He’s top of my list, but it could be Mullins. Or Sjorensen, though she’s unlikely. At her level, she shouldn’t be able to add someone to the watch list.” She paused, then got it said. “The one who could do it the easiest is Croft.”
Silence.
She kept going. “He knows Cullen’s a sorcerer. That’s something people might figure out from reading some of my reports, so it’s only suggestive, not conclusive. But we need to keep it in mind.” She twisted her head to look up at Rule. “I need to know if Croft is part of the Shadow Unit. One of the ghosts.”
Rule shook his head. His lips were tight. “Ruben had a feeling Croft shouldn’t be told anything. He doesn’t know about the ghosts or Ruben’s visions. Ruben emphasized that he does not have a hunch that Croft is less than trustworthy, or he’d take steps to remove him. Foreknowledge can alter the way someone responds. Ruben believes that’s the case with Croft.”
“He believes that, or he had a hunch about it?”
“I’ve given you his words.”
“I don’t want it to be Croft. I like him. But we have to keep it in mind.”
Rule gave a single nod. The kettle started whistling. He turned to deal with it.
“I wish I knew who was working the bombing.” She opened her spiral, frowning at the notes she’d made. “There’s a lot of strings to tug on there, but they’re the sort that need a lot of manpower. A badge helps, too.”
Rule poured the steaming water into the French press. “That I can’t provide. Not directly. But I believe one of your resources has arrived.”
The doorbell rang.
She shoved her chair back. “How do you do that? We’re all the way at the back of the house. You couldn’t hear anyone walking up to the door from back here.”
“José told me.”
“You aren’t wearing your earbud.”
“He spoke from the backyard.”
She shook her head and headed for the door.
The man standing on her front stoop wore a wrinkled shirt, a mud-brown suit, and a bright orange tie. His hairline was receding, his waistline increasing, and she was really glad to see him. Also surprised. “Uh . . . are you my resource?”
“That’s not how you do it,” Abel Karonski told her disapprovingly. He dug one hand into his pocket and pulled out a small black rock. It glowed for two seconds, then quit.
“Am I supposed to show you mine?” She stood aside so he could come in.
“Nah. Rule told me. Well, technically it was Mika, but the message came from Rule. Took you long enough to make up your mind.”
So he’d known Ruben had asked her to join the ghosts. And that she hadn’t agreed ... not until her career was toast. “You found it an easy decision?”
He snorted. “Not easy, maybe, but simple. If the country’s survival hangs in the balance, it makes things pretty damn simple.”
“I didn’t find it either easy or simple.”
“I guess you’re at that in-between age. Too old to jump off just any old cliff. Not old enough to spot the one cliff in a hundred that’s worth the leap.”
Jumping off cliffs was not a reassuring metaphor for joining the ghosts. Accurate, maybe, but not reassuring. So why did she feel better? “With your people skills, you should have been a therapist.”
“That’s me, Mr. Sensitive. Want to tell me all about your feelings?”
“Now there’s a cliff you want to steer clear of.”
Karonski stopped when they were halfway through the dining room. He sighed. “Lily.”
She stopped, too. The parlor, dining room, and kitchen of the row house were shot-gunned, so there were no windows in this dim, interior room. But she could see Karonski’s expression well enough. Her stomach went tight. “Yes?”
“I’m here for two reasons. Two units, two different duties. I need to deal with the official duties first. You have to turn in your badge and service weapon, pending the results of the administrative hearing. Croft thought it would be easier this way—me picking them up instead of you coming to HQ to do it.”
She swallowed. Swallowed again. Her mouth tasted foul. “My service-issue weapon’s back in San Diego. I never carry it. It’s too big for my hand. I . . .” Her voice wobbled. She forced it steady. “I can get someone to bring it to the Bureau’s office there.”
“That should work. Have them do it pretty quick, though.”
She nodded jerkily. “My badge. That’s in my purse. It’s in the kitchen.” She turned, moving on automatic. She wouldn’t think about this. She’d do it and wouldn’t think.
When Karonski’s hand fell on her shoulder, she jolted.
His voice was low and rough. “You got Ruben out. Even before you decided to join us, you got Ruben out. You did the right thing, and it cost you a helluva lot.”
She swallowed again. Dammit, she was not going to be sick. “I warned him. Rule got him out.”
“And I’d sure like to know how he did that.”
“I’m not sure I can tell you.”
“I can,” Rule said from the doorway to the kitchen. He had her purse in one hand. “And will, but it’s need-to-know, Abel, and I get to pick who needs to know. Not you.” He looked at her. “I can do this. You don’t have to.”
“No.” It was hers to do. Hers to get through. She took the purse from him. Her badge was in a leather folder in the outside pocket. Her fingers were so thick and clumsy it took two tries to pull it out. She held it out to Karonski without speaking.
He sighed heavily. And took it.
Rule moved behind her. She was afraid he’d hug her, try to comfort her. She’d come apart if he did. Maybe he knew that, or maybe he saw her stiff shoulders. He rested one hand there lightly and spoke to Karonski. “Coffee?”
“Sure.”
Lily’s heart continued to beat too hard as she and the two men went into the kitchen. Something seemed lodged in her throat. But she’d be okay. This would pass and she’d be okay . . . for some value of okay. At some time in the future that she couldn’t see at the moment.
Cullen had gone back to messing with his glowing glyphs or runes or whatever they were. The battered journal was open in front of him. Freshly made coffee perfumed the air.
Lily poured herself a cup. Her hands were steady enough for that. Rule handed a mug to Karonski and gestured at the table. They sat. Cullen ignored them.
“So?” Karonski said to Rule. “About that explanation.”
“A brief preface for Lily first.” Rule looked at her. “The communications staff”—his lips twitched—“sent out word that everyone is to report to me rather than Ruben. I didn’t explain. Most will assume it’s because he’s in hiding. I haven’t yet decided who and how much to tell the real reason.” He looked at Karonski. “But you need to know, Abel. Ruben is now lupus and the Rho of Wythe clan.”
Karonski didn’t fall out of his chair. Quite. He wanted explanations. Rule didn’t offer them, save to say that Ruben was well, but as a new wolf he wouldn’t be able to function as a man for some time—impossible to say how long. There had never been a new wolf who came to First Change as an adult. That might make a difference . . . or it might be years before Ruben could rejoin human society.