Including him, of course. Cullen was right. It should be a lively meeting. “In pace convenio,” he said formally. “Let us begin.”
“You can start with an explanation,” Rikard said. “Why is that one—” he jerked his head toward Cullen— “acting as gatekeeper?”
Rikard was the oldest of them, but age had never mellowed him. He remained fiery and prone to saying what others might leave unsaid out of caution or simple courtesy. “Because Nokolai’s Rhej doesn’t leave Clanhome. Because Cullen has the necessary skills. And because I chose him.”
One of the nonheris muttered something Rule ignored. Rikard snorted. “Obviously you chose him. But—”
Stephen Andros interrupted. “We waste time arguing about what we’ve already accepted by sitting in circle. Nokolai called the circle. Nokolai therefore has the right to choose the gatekeeper.”
Rule didn’t thank him. That would be insult, implying that Stephen supported him—a subordinate position. But he met the Etorri heir’s eyes for a moment in acknowledgment. Stephen Andros was built like a fullback, but he had the otherworldly eyes of a monk, a sage… or a sorcerer.
Rule had wondered if it was that taint of otherness in Cullen’s heritage that had made the impossible possible. There had never been a lupus sorcerer; their innate magic was said to crowd out any other type. He’d never asked. Cullen didn’t speak of his life as Etorri.
“I would know more about why I am here.” That was Ito Tsegaye of Mendoyo—dark, thin, and very tall. His English was heavily accented, tuned to melodies distant and strange. The Mendoyo had lived apart from the other clans for centuries while Africa was cut off from the European world; more than their accents were strange to Rule.
“You’re here to take information back to your clan— and, I hope, some of you are here to join the fight against Her. Something has changed, and the realms aren’t as distant as before. She’s able to reach into our world once more, and She intends to destroy us.”
Randall of Leidolf smiled. “That She would destroy us if She could, I don’t doubt. But the rest of it… we’ve only your word about that.”
Rule looked at him impassively. It took all his control to keep his own seru from spiking at the insult. “Yes, you have my word. All of you have heard of what happened— how Her followers were defeated and Her staff disappeared. But some of you have heard it only second- or third-hand. Do you wish to hear it from me?”
They did, though it took some discussion to reach agreement. Lily, Rule thought with a small smile, would have wanted him to take a vote.
“You are amused?” Ito asked.
“A private thought. My Chosen finds some of our ways strange, and for a moment I saw things through her eyes.” Reminding the others of Lily wouldn’t hurt. The Lady had never gifted a Lu Nuncio with a Chosen—not, at least, since the times of legend.
“Your Chosen… some say she’s a sensitive.”
Rule looked at the man who’d spoken. Con was a friend, but more, he was of the same mind as Rule. They had to organize now, while Her power in their realm was still limited. “Yes, she is.”
That raised eyebrows. “Uncanny,” Rikard announced.
“Not since Magya of Etorri—”
“Coincidence. It doesn’t mean—”
“A Lu Nuncio with a sensitive Chosen—coincidence?” Con snorted. “Sure, and the Lady’s just having a little joke on us.”
Ben flushed angrily. “So you’re an expert on the Lady’s intentions now?”
“I’m saying it isn’t coincidence. We don’t call our mates ‘Chosen’ because the Lady hands them out at random.”
“Very true,” Randall said, “but we don’t want to jump to conclusions, either.” He turned to Rule, smiling his toothpaste ad smile. He was a handsome man, younger than Rule by a decade, with streaky blond hair, a pianist’s long fingers, and more wiggles than a snake. “You aren’t trying to make us think you’re starring in a rerun of Senn and Magya, are you?”
“Randall.” Rule smiled back gently. “I respect your character too much to try to make you think anything at all.”
That brought grins and a couple of chuckles. Rule took advantage of the moment to begin his tale. It wasn’t their way to shear a story of its personality, turning it into the kind of impersonal report Lily might submit, so this took a while.
There were a few glances at Randall when Rule spoke of the attack on his father—and later, more glances at Cullen, who’d played a heroic part at the end. And when he finished, the questions hit. The first few were easy, but inevitably someone asked about Lily.
“She’s still a cop, yes, but with the FBI now.”
“One of your federal police, you mean?” Ito asked.
“That’s right.” Rule took a deep breath. He couldn’t put this off any longer—it was, after all, why he’d called the circle. “She’s in charge of the hunt for the staff. That’s how I learned today that the government doesn’t intend to destroy it.”
That brought outcries even from those who weren’t wholly convinced the staff existed. Rule gave them a moment before continuing. “Lily has been told to preserve it for study. I don’t know who wants the bloody thing, and it doesn’t matter. We can’t let them have it.”
Even though “they” included Lily.
FIFTEEN
AT ten-fifty-seven, Lily took the elevator down with her eyes closed, leaning against the wall. She was beyond tired, into the lightheaded stage when giggles or tears are equally easily come by.
Probably she should have left earlier. Okay, definitely she should have, but they had so little time—maybe a day. Then Harlowe would kill again.
The good news was that Rule wasn’t around to nag. And the bad news… well, the bad news was that Rule wasn’t around. She’d grown used to curling up with him at night. She’d miss that, at least for the few seconds between getting horizontal and falling asleep.
She got her eyes open and her back straight before the elevator door opened. The building had decent security, a mix of the old and the new—an electronically operated door plus a guard with a sign-in sheet. He teased her about having a “real patient date.” She looked out the heavy glass doors and saw Benedict waiting.
It had been tempting to take a taxi home. Tempting, but stupid. If they made another try at her tonight, she’d lose precious seconds yawning. So she’d sucked it in and done the sensible thing, calling Benedict to let him know she was leaving. Just as she’d been told to do.
Her lips tightened. Rule thought she was being stubborn about needing protection. There was a pinch of that, she admitted as the guard hit the button that unlocked the door. But it was his high-handedness that infuriated her. He’d made a decision for her this morning and then waited all day to spring it on her.
She stepped out into air with barely enough snap to qualify as fall, air that smelled of concrete and car exhaust, yet it perked her up. It hadn’t been groomed and filtered and pimped into a consumable product. It was just air being air.
Or maybe it was stepping from safety into possible danger that quickened her heartbeat. Whatever. She took a second to breathe in, feeling more awake than she had in hours.
“We’re exposed here. It would be best to get to the car.”
She glanced to her right at more than six solid feet of annoyed male. “Hello, Benedict. I’m pretty good, thanks. How are you?”
The smile that touched his mouth looked like an uncommon visitor. “It’s good to see you again. Especially when you aren’t bleeding. Can we go to the car now?”