If Mullins did need backup, he’d be getting it. Lily hadn’t waited for Rule to tell her to take guards with her. She’d asked for Scott and three men of his choosing, one of whom was really good at sneaking. The sneak he picked was Shannon, a skinny young guy they’d dropped off a couple blocks up. The other two were a Nokolai she knew and liked named Chris . . . and Mike of the bad attitude and broken table.
She thought she knew what Scott was doing. Rule had taken Mike down hard and publically. This was his chance to redeem himself. But Mike must also be nearly as good as he thought he was, or Scott wouldn’t have taken the chance.
At least she hoped so.
The abandoned house didn’t offer much in the way of cover, so Lily hoped Scott and Chris were good at sneaking, too. She wanted them as close as possible. They couldn’t use phones to stay in touch; even texts were out, since the lit screen would give away their positions. But Scott had said five minutes, and she trusted him.
Unlike most lupi, Scott was good with a gun, plus he’d learned the basic hand signals Nokolai used. Chris, being Nokolai, knew them all, including ASL, which was more than Lily did. But she knew enough to direct them silently, if necessary ... and if they could keep a visual on her.
That was why Mike walked beside her down the dirty sidewalk instead of one of the others. He didn’t know the hand signals. He didn’t have a gun, either, but he made a fine display of strength—which wasn’t his main purpose, but it didn’t hurt.
Lily had her weapon out, though she kept it at her side. Even if someone in the houses they passed could see what she held, she didn’t think they’d call the cops. “You have any problems taking orders from a woman, Mike? You could take me in a fight. Maybe you think you should be in charge here.”
“You’re a Chosen. My Rho’s Chosen.”
“Which means you think I’m cool as cream cheese, but doesn’t answer the question.”
He was silent a moment. “Rule said we are to obey you as long as your orders do not contradict his. He also said you are a warrior. LeBron said that, too. I don’t know Rule well enough to know what he means by that word, but I knew LeBron. I can take orders from a warrior.”
Startled, she glanced up at him. Way up. “You knew LeBron?”
“We trained together. Fought together. He was a good man.”
“He was.” And she wished fiercely and futilely he was walking beside her now . . . but in a way, he was. In a way he was still watching out for her. It was his word that inclined Mike to trust her to lead.
Across the street a dog barked over and over—the endless repetitive barking of a bored and lonely animal. The wind was up, blowing Lily’s hair in her face. Should’ve grabbed an elastic to hold it back. It wasn’t doing much to dispel the cloud cover, though; Lily could see a glow behind those clouds where the full moon rode low in the west, but it was dark down here.
Mike could probably see pretty well. Lots better than she could, anyway. “You ever worked with a human?”
“Not this kind of work.”
“Compared to you, I’m scent-blind. I don’t hear half what you do, and to me it’s still too dark to see much. Don’t assume I see, smell, or hear what you do.”
“Maybe you don’t see the guy leaning against the wall of the house next to our target, then. He’s in the shadow.”
“Ah—no. Wait. Now I do.” He’d moved toward the front of the house. The houses were spaced closely, with only a narrow strip between; that strip was completely black to Lily’s eyes.
“Can’t see his face well, but what I see matches the description you gave me of Mullins.”
The man beckoned urgently at them. Lily broke into a quick jog. “If he draws, take him down.”
A whisper reached her as she drew near. “Jesus. Who’s the mountain?”
Lily stopped a couple paces away. It was Mullins, all right. She kept her voice low. “You said you wanted backup. He’s mine. This is 1223 Hammond, not 1225.”
“So sue me. I lied. I picked you to call because they wanted to take you out, so you’re probably not one of them, but I don’t know for sure.”
“Who’s they?”
“I wish to hell I knew. The house behind us”—he gave a quick jerk of his head to indicate the rear of the house—“I think that’s where they’ve been conducting their rites. That death magic shit. They’ve got Sjorensen and fourteen others stashed there, drugged and unconscious. There’s four thugs watching the place—three in the house, one out back.”
“How do you know all this?”
“How do you think? I got a tip, checked it out. We’ve got to move fast. Come on.” He turned, easing back into the deep shadow between the houses.
Lily didn’t really trust him. She followed anyway. It was so dark she trailed a hand along the side of the house to keep her bearings. A couple steps in, it occurred to her she was being stupid. One of them was able to see a lot better than the others. “Mike. Take point.”
She couldn’t see Mullins, but the sound of his footsteps stopped. She felt more than heard Mike move past—and keep going.
Maybe Mike had heard something. It wasn’t smell that tipped him off, not with the wind at their backs. Maybe he just decided to show initiative. He rushed to the back of the house, where he turned and leaped at someone or something out of sight.
“Shit,” Mullins whispered.
Lily took two quick steps forward and jammed her gun into Mullins’s back. “Keep moving.”
He sighed heavily, but obeyed. They rounded the corner, Mullins first. Lily’s heart pounded madly.
Mike had a man on the ground, pinned with an armlock. Lily couldn’t see the man’s face, but something about the build was familiar.
A low voice grated, “Get this son of a bitch off me.”
Drummond. It was Al Drummond.
“Look,” Mullins whispered, “I didn’t tell you about Drummond because you wouldn’t have come. But he’s the one who tipped me.”
She grimaced. “He’s with them. The death magic, the attack on Ruben—he’s part of all that.”
“Yeah.” The single syllable ached with sadness. “I know.”
EN route, Rule tried and failed to reach Deborah. He called his father and told him about the elementals—maybe D.C. wasn’t the only city where they’d been summoned. He called the guards who’d been stationed at Ruben’s house, and—because Lily had insisted—he called Abel Karonski. And he called Harry.
Parking was always a problem near the Mall, and it was impossible today. They ended up leaving the van in an illegal spot four blocks from Pennsylvania and running the rest of the way—across Constitution Avenue, which took some expert dodging, and between the Natural History Museum and the American History Museum. When they reached Madison Drive, they stopped.
Madison had been closed to traffic for the occasion. Just past it lay a stretch of grass, then the broad pedestrian path that outlined the central area; imitation gas streetlights provided plenty of light for lupus eyes.
The dawn prayer service that would kick off the daylong rally would start in forty minutes or so, and the Humans Firsters were gathering. At the east end of the Mall, a tall stage had been erected. Unlike most, it was closed on the front and sides, giving it a very finished appearance. The stage was backed by the Capitol Building—which was partly obscured by an enormous Jumbotron screen so distant ralliers wouldn’t miss a single twitch of their leaders’ faces.
It all looked very peaceful at the moment . . . and crowded. Rule didn’t know how to estimate crowd size the way Lily could have, if she’d been here. If only—
Enough. She was doing what she had to do. So was he. She’d promised to live. And by all that was holy, he would hold her to that promise.