“You’d like to do lunch?” Lily kept her voice dry. “Gee, let me check my calendar.”
“Lunch won’t work for me.” There was laughter in his voice now. He was enjoying himself. “How about right now? It’s a bit late, but my schedule is so full these days.”
Lily glanced at Benedict. His face was wiped clean of everything but focus.
Of course. He was listening to Harlowe, too. “I’m free tonight. Where shall we meet?”
“You’ll have to come to me, I’m afraid. And I must insist that you don’t tell anyone. No one at all, Lily—other than your driver, of course.”
He knew someone was driving her? Lily looked at Benedict. She could still subvocalize, even if she couldn’t hear it anymore: “Are we being followed?”
He shook his head.
“That goes for your driver, too. No phone calls. If anyone finds out about our little rendezvous I’ll be hurt, and I’m afraid I don’t react well when my feelings are hurt. And I will know, Lily.” His voice dropped. “The One I serve may not be able to watch you directly, but She doesn’t have to. She can observe the others—any and all the others—you might be tempted to call. Like your associates at the FBI, or the police… or even your family.”
Lily’s nape was suddenly clammy, as if someone had touched it with a cold, damp cloth. “So where do we meet?”
“I’ll give you directions in a moment. First, there’s someone here who’d like to speak with you.”
“Wait—”
But he’d passed the phone to someone else. Someone whose voice struck Lily dumb and blind with fear.
“Lily?” Beth Yu spoke in her usual quick, lighthearted way. “Patrick wanted me to reassure you that I’m all right.
I’m not sure why. Really, I don’t even know why he wanted to come here—this is so not my kind of place. But it’s all right, you know. Patrick said so. He’ll take care of me.“
The candles had burned halfway down. They’d discussed much and settled little, and it was almost time for Cullen to leave for his second performance.
Not that he had to dance anymore. Not for money, at least, and Rule had expected him to quit when the Rho put him on retainer for the clan—“like a damned lawyer,” Cullen had said. But he continued to do two shows a night, two days a week. He’d told Rule he was hanging on to the part-time gig because the extra money helped.
Perhaps he believed that. Rule didn’t. Cullen had never been much interested in money, seeing it mostly as a means to acquire the scraps of paper that were real treasure to him—bits of old spellbooks and such. No, Rule had to believe that dance gave Cullen something he needed.
At the moment, though, it was a confounded nuisance. “We’ll need to wind this up soon,” he said when he was able to get a word in. “Remember to be cautious about what you discuss after the circle is broken.” There would be a number of meetings after this one, he was sure—less formal, but maybe more meaningful.
“I still don’t know what you want.” Ben was cranky. “What is it you want us to do? It’s all very well to talk about doing battle with Her, but She’s not here.”
“Keep your eyes open,” Rule said promptly, “and your noses to the ground. See if what I’ve said about the realms shifting, bringing changes, matches with what your clan is experiencing. I told you about the banshee sighting in Texas, for example.”
“Possible sighting,” Javiero corrected. “But I checked into it, and the stories of the witnesses hold up.”
“What’s happening in your own territories?” Rule asked. “Send word back about anything you learn that’s unusual. Try to find out what others of the Blood might know or guess, too. You, Ben, might send word to the trolls, see if they’re aware of any changes.” Ben’s clan was based in Scandinavia, which possessed the only remaining troll population of any size.
“Trolls.” Ben snorted. “You ever tried talking to one? Might as well talk to a tree.”
“Speaking of talking to trees,” someone said, “I’ll volunteer to check with the dryads.”
That sally earned several grins and chuckles. Dryads were notoriously shy… and notoriously amorous, if you could overcome their timidity.
Ito shook his head. “I don’t know dryads or trolls, but I know trees. With trees, you don’t talk. You listen.”
There was a moment’s silence, all of them mildly embarrassed on Ito’s behalf. He was well liked, but not well understood.
“We’re getting off-track,” Randall said. “Asking us to look for abnormalities is like telling us to pay attention to the letter s. Once your attention is called to it, you see it everywhere. Of course people will find oddities if they’re looking for them.”
“The letter 5 is common. Oddities are, by definition, uncommon. I’m not asking for news of, say, your sister’s new hairstyle… however odd it may be.” There were grins and a couple of chuckles. “But if you hear rumors of creatures or those of the Blood who shouldn’t be in our realm, the rest of us need to know.”
“So who do we tell? You?” Randall’s upper lip lifted in scorn. “There’s a plan. You can use everything you hear to further ‘prove’ your case, increasing your chances of being named war-leader if the clans fall into line with your father’s megalomaniacal—”
“Best stop there.” Rule held himself very still. “As 1 haven’t spoken about your father’s habit of killing from ambush, so you—”
“You may all tell me, if you like,” Stephen said calmly.
“I’m willing to act as clearinghouse for such reports. Unless any of you doubt Etorri’s ability to remain impartial?”
Randall didn’t dare go that far, but he narrowed his eyes as his head swung toward Stephen. “You’re buying into this absurd theory about the realms shifting?”
“Please,” Ito said to the man beside him, “what is ‘buying into’?”
Randall answered without taking his eyes off Stephen. “Believe. Agree with. Think it’s more than cat box scrapings.”
Stephen was unmoved. “Etorri was already considering the possibility that the realms were shifting when we received the invitation to a pax circle.”
“Why?” Randall exploded. “For God’s sake, what proof do you have?”
“First, it accords with the prophecy—” That set everyone off. “What prophecy?”
“—Etorri loves all that mystical mumbo-jumbo—”
“If you’ve been sitting on a prophecy and haven’t told anyone—”
“And second,” Stephen said, “I have myself seen the Great Hunt in the northern forests.”
Dead silence. Into that silence, Cullen’s voice. “Rule.” Rule’s head swung, his nostrils flared. “What?”
“We have to break circle now. Benedict’s pushed the panic button.”
SIXTEEN
Rule felt the hair lifting all over his body, as if he were a conduit for lightning. The edges of everything turned sharp. So did his mind. He didn’t have to think about what to do—the necessary actions flowed, one from another, in crystal clarity.
‘The circle is ended,“ he said, flowing to his feet. ”Lily is in danger, perhaps under attack. I’m leaving. Cullen—“
He was on his feet, too. “The map’s in my dressing room. So’s your phone. Benedict may be trying to call.”
Rule was already moving when one of the nonheris sons grabbed his arm. “Wait a minute.” Rule backhanded him and kept moving.
There was a brief scuffle—the man he’d knocked down was angry, but Rikard and Con held him back. “Idiot,” Rikard growled. “The man’s mate is in danger. You’re lucky he didn’t break your neck.”