There were all sorts of things she might have said or done to defuse the situation, ways she could show respect for his position while insisting on her own authority.
Lily didn’t even try. She planted her hands on his desk and leaned forward until her face was a foot from his. His breath smelled like stale chili. The veins stood out in his neck and forehead, and his freckles were pale splotches in his red face.
Her lips curled up. Softly she said, “Try me.”
Hatred burned in his eyes. “You’ll regret this. You’re going to regret this for a real long time.”
The Del Cielo jail was larger than expected for a town this small, but the city rented spaces to the state—and given the state’s overcrowded system, it had no trouble funding the operation of its jail this way.
The setup was pretty standard. Probably built in the fifties, Lily thought, with cinderblock walls and cement floors. There were two cell blocks, each opening off a small control center with three screens—one for the hall splitting each cell bock, apparently. The third was dark.
Lily had suspicions about that dark screen. “Got a problem with your cameras?” she asked as Daly jammed a key into the old-fashioned lock on a heavy steel door.
He didn’t answer. Didn’t even look at her.
The moment the door opened, she heard the growling. Daly stepped aside and gestured for her to precede him.
She didn’t like that, didn’t want the man at her back. He hated too much; she didn’t know his limits. But neither could she afford to look weak. She walked through the door.
There were three cells plus a shower on one side, four cells on the other. And two officers with high-powered rifles trained on the occupant of the fourth cell.
Something too pure to be called anger sizzled through Lily. She felt as if her hair should have bristled. She felt as if she could growl, too.
The sonofabitch. The stinking sonofabitch had intended to do it. He’d meant to arrange Chance’s death. The stage was all set.
Unconsciously she brushed the large shirt she’d donned in lieu of her jacket. Rule’s shirt, imbued with his scent. How far would Daly’s hatred take him? Lily walked slowly down the short hall, watching the men with the guns. They were nervous. Their eyes flicked to her. One said, “Chief—”
“Shut up, Mills,” Daly said from behind her.
“Agent Yu, FBI,” Lily said crisply. “Your chief isn’t happy with me right now, or he would have introduced us. Stand down with your weapons.”
The two men looked at their boss. “No,” he said tersely. “You don’t command my men, Agent.”
“Idiot,” she said just as crisply. Then she reached the cell.
The wolf was small, for a lupus—which meant he was only twenty or so pounds heavier than an average wolf. His teeth were whiter than usual for a canid—but then, he brushed them in his other form. They were also large and bared. He had a lovely coat, brindled gray, with the hackles raised fully. His ears were flat. A continuous growl issued from deep in his chest.
He was backed up against the far wall.
A beta, Rule had said. He’d fight if threatened. He felt extremely threatened at the moment, and who wouldn’t? He was also a man, even if the man was buried deep at the moment. He knew what those rifles meant.
Lily moved close to the bars of the cell, positioning herself carefully.
“Agent Yu?” one of the officers said. “You’re blocking my shot.”
“That’s the idea. If you shoot that wolf, I will arrest you.”
“He’s dangerous, ma’am.”
“He wouldn’t be, if he’d been handled correctly. I’m sorry to say that your chief is a bloody, bigoted fool. If he’s given you orders to shoot if the wolf moves”—and he had, the craven bastard; she saw it in the way the officer’s gaze flickered—“you will disregard those orders. Jason Chance is my witness, and I will not allow you to tamper with my witness.”
The man was confused, uncertain. The other one was cut more from Daly’s cloth. He sneered and shifted position, keeping his rifle trained.
She moved with him, blocking his shot—and took her phone out of the shirt pocket. “Perhaps I should mention that I’m on an open line right now, transmitting images to FBI headquarters in Washington. Smile for the camera.” She held out her phone.
Daly took an involuntary step back. “That’s a phone, not a web cam.”
“That’s right. It’s my new iPhone. Cool, isn’t it? Want to see?” She turned it so he could see the screen—which showed his two men with their rifles trained on the cell’s bars.
The rest was anticlimax.
Daly left. His men stayed, but lowered their weapons. She sat on the floor and waited, carefully not looking at the wolf. Sure enough, after about five minutes he approached—still bristling, still growling, but with his ears pricked.
He wanted to know why she smelled like his Lu Nuncio. She told him, subvocalizing—which both kept the officers from hearing and let him know she was clan. No one outside the clans would think to do it.
He stopped growling.
She showed him the necklace she wore, the toltoi charm she’d been given to mark her status as Chosen.
He dropped to the floor, whining submissively.
“You’re getting out,” she assured him. “Rule’s here. Your lawyer’s here, and bail’s been posted. But we need you two-legged. Can you Change back?”
Ten minutes later, Lily left the cell block with a young man who looked like every cliché of a California surfer dude—sun-streaked blond hair, athletic body, and a quick, white grin. He wore ragged jeans and a blue T-shirt with a stylized wave.
The clothes had been on the floor of his cell. And he probably wasn’t as young as he looked.
6
BOBBIE’S Grill was Rule’s suggestion. The food, he said, was nothing special, but it arrived quickly and the portions were generous. Speed and portion size mattered for the same reason they were eating supper so early: the Change burns calories, and a hungry wolf is an edgy wolf.
Besides, his stomach was on the same clock as hers, and hers said it was after eight. On the way there, Lily checked her official email and found that the request for the police reports on Hilliard’s death was still pending. Big surprise.
She also saw that the photos she’d sent of the tattoo had been passed to Arjenie Fox, a young witch who worked in research. Arjenie was good. Lily sent her a quick note asking to be contacted as soon as she knew anything.
Once they arrived, Lily saw one more reason Rule had chosen Bobbie’s. It had outdoor seating. At this hour, the majority of customers were rushing home from work and opting for take-out, so they had the patio to themselves. The low wall around the patch of cement didn’t do much to reduce traffic noise or provide privacy, but the openness would be soothing to a claustrophobic lupus newly released from a cell.
Another plus: fish tacos. “Did you know they don’t have fish tacos in D.C.?” she asked Jason as Rule put down the plastic trays with their order.
“You’re kidding.” He shook his head and reached for the salsa. “How could they not, a cosmopolitan place like that?”
“They’ve never even heard of fish tacos.” Lily grabbed her tacos and began doctoring them with extra shredded cabbage, a generous dollop of salsa, and pickles. Rule had had to ask for the pickles; for some reason they weren’t a universally approved accompaniment for fish tacos.
“Go figure.” Jason said that around a healthy mouthful of tortilla and batter-fried fish. He swallowed. “That was so cool, what you did with the phone. I didn’t know you could do that—make it work like a web cam.”
“I don’t think you can.” Lily decided the tacos needed more salsa and spooned it on. “At least, I know I can’t.”