Eileen Wilks - Ritual Magic

Another attack so soon seemed unlikely, but until a few hours ago, they’d have thought dworg were unlikely, too. Unlikely verging on impossible, like opening gates in four places at once. Or flat-out impossible, like creating gates without a node to anchor them.

Someone had done it, though. Someone had used ley lines to open three gates. He, she, it, or they had used a node for the gate at Nokolai Clanhome—sheer destructive greed on their part, Isen thought, that had led to their defeat. If they’d been willing to settle for just killing him, they could have used a ley line and a smaller gate and sent three or four dworg without needing the node. That might have succeeded. Instead, those twenty-two dworg had had to race down from Little Sister, giving him time to prepare.

That was an assumption, of course. They knew their enemy had used a node for the gate at Clanhome; they were only guessing about why. Maybe they’d needed a node there because Clanhome was somehow a harder nut to crack, arcanely speaking. Guessing, too, about their enemy’s goal. But that was a strong guess. Four attacks, with three of them on those who held or could hold the Nokolai mantle? The aim seemed clear: destroy the mantle and you destroyed the clan.

Lily figured the attack on her had been gravy. The Great Bitch knew how to hold a grudge.

Since reaching the hospital, she had called or been called by several people. Karonski first. He was working the scene with the Big A, and he had a good news, bad news deal to report. Miriam had succeeded in removing the contagion from Officer Crown, which was great news. Crown had even woken up. And screamed, and kept screaming . . . they were keeping him under heavy sedation.

Then she’d talked to Ruben again. And Li Qin, who said the children—by whom she meant Julia as well as Toby—were frightened but well. And Isen, who told her he’d spoken with the other Rhos and none of the other clans had been attacked. And finally Benedict, who’d answered some of her questions.

Sam hadn’t hung around to chat after dispatching the two dworg at the hospital, but he had told Benedict a couple of things before he left: That it was impossible to open a gate within his territory without his knowledge, which was how he’d known about the dworg. And that the gates hadn’t truly opened simultaneously, but within the span of four seconds.

Dragons were hell on wheels at multitasking. In those four seconds Sam had sensed the gates; identified the first dworg to leap through; sent Grandmother a warning; taken telepathic note that Lily, Benedict, and Isen were aware of those gates; and chosen his target. By the fifth second he’d leaped skyward, heading for the hospital at top speed.

Why there, rather than one of the other sites? The pediatrics ward, Benedict had told her. Then he’d explained exactly why that mattered. Lily had nearly thrown up.

She hadn’t been able to ask Cullen about node-free gates yet. By the time Rule called and told her about the attack at their home, Cullen had been on his way to the ER. When she and Cynna got there, Cullen had been wobbling on his feet. He’d kissed Cynna, which seemed to energize him—not through pure eros, though. Cynna had slid him some clan power, enough to keep him going a little longer. Then the two of them had hurried off to scrub.

Anesthetics didn’t work on lupi. Sleep spells and charms did, but their duration wasn’t predictable. Cullen and Cynna were alternating between the operating rooms, making sure no one woke up on the operating table.

Lily didn’t have a complete casualty count, but a lot more lupi had been wounded than were transported. Wounded wolves do not deal well with hospitals, so only the truly critical had been brought there. That included José and Andy, but not Joe. Lupi didn’t consider a broken leg serious, and he’d stopped bleeding before blood loss became an issue. Eric, who’d fought beside Rule, had a bad head injury, and two Nokolai from Clanhome had needed surgery. One had lost a leg. One had nearly bled out through a throat wound.

That was Gil, the one who was on his way back to Clanhome now. He’d healed enough by the time he arrived at the hospital that they’d patched him up in the ER. He’d needed fluids, blood, and stitching, all of which could be handled there. The one who’d lost a leg was out of surgery and would probably be discharged soon. Fielding, too, was out of surgery, if not out of danger. He’d been moved to recovery when Ackleford called Lily. José, Eric, and Andy were still in surgery.

So far, Isen had lost one of his fighters. Rule hadn’t lost any. Lily had lost two.

So far.

Soon, Lily’s pulse whispered. Soon, soon, soon. Her tidily wrapped wrist throbbed in time with that mantra. Surely the surgeons would be done soon and she’d know if her tally of dead held steady or moved up.

“About Santos,” Rule said once most of the lupi had moved out of earshot. “I need you to repeat, as precisely as possible, what you told him about following José’s orders.”

She did. She remembered clearly, so it wasn’t hard.

“He indicated that he accepted this.”

“He didn’t like it, but he nodded. Steve and Joe did, too.”

“And you heard José tell him to fight alongside Steve and Joe.”

“Yes. When he didn’t—when he followed and grabbed me—I told him to let go and get back there. He didn’t follow that order, either.”

Rule looked at Scott, who hovered close. “Scott?”

Scott was as grim as granite. “Clear failure to obey. It’s my fault. I knew he had a problem recognizing authority in a woman. Most of Leidolf do until they’ve been around Lily awhile. They obey anyway, because you’ve been clear about that, but at first that’s all about you, not her. I thought Santos . . . but I was wrong. I shouldn’t have assigned him to her. With your permission, I’ll take care of it.”

“No,” Rule said. “That will be my duty, should it be necessary.”

“Wait a minute,” Lily said. “What duty?”

“One more question, then I’ll answer yours. If Santos hadn’t obeyed when you held the gun to his throat, would you have shot him?”

Scott made a small noise. She glanced at him and wondered why Rule wanted him to be part of this discussion when he’d sent the others away. “Not where he thought I meant to,” she said, “but yes. I was thinking I’d put the bullet in his front shoulder, if he needed more persuasion. That way he’d still have the use of both legs and one arm after he Changed.”

“You had no intention of killing him, then?”

“Does it matter?” And why did she put it that way? Of course she wouldn’t have . . . but memory barged in. She’d been ready to pull the trigger when she jammed her gun under Santos’s jaw, into his vulnerable throat. She’d told Rule she’d been angry with Santos. She had, but that had come later. In that moment, she’d felt cold. Focused. He would obey her, whatever it took.

“It may.”

“I don’t know.” With all those lives on the line and the others fighting monsters, no action had seemed too extreme. Anything was justified. “I don’t know,” she repeated, her voice cracking—a small hairline fracture, barely there at all. “He was no use to me dead. I needed him alive to get Cynna to safety.”

“You—” Scott stopped, started again. “Excuse me, Rho, but I didn’t know about this. If I may ask Lily for more details?” Rule nodded. “Lily, can you describe exactly what you said and did when you threatened Santos?”

She wanted to talk about almost anything else, but she did as he asked. Her voice held steady this time. When she finished, he looked pleased . He glanced at Rule. “I shouldn’t be surprised, I suppose.”