Eileen Wilks - Ritual Magic

If they ever got all those stupid boards removed.

Love, you’re shaking.

Was she? How odd. “It’s a bit unpleasant,” she whispered. “What I must do to him is . . . I know him, you see.”

He crooned to her in Welsh—a beautiful, lilting language she didn’t know, but that soothed her in one way even as it roused her in another. It was the language he used for lovemaking. She forgot to be shaky and upset and licked her lips. “That both helps and doesn’t.”

He chuckled. There was a man you were eyeing earlier.

“The one in charge of security?” She’d forgotten his name, but she remembered him quite well otherwise. Long and lean, very masculine, with straw-colored hair and the most beautiful way of moving . . . she turned, knowing exactly where he was.

Everything had gone perfectly, and all she’d had to do was follow Dafydd’s plan . . . which was just as well, because for some reason she couldn’t plan well herself right now. But Dafydd had thought of everything. First put Isen Turner to sleep, then have the guards nearby come in. They’d told her who was in charge of security; they’d summoned the man by saying his Rho wanted him. The security man—what was his name?—had done as he was told, too. He’d brought twenty of the guards here and made sure those currently patrolling wouldn’t interfere. The knife could control more than that, but Dafydd was reserving most of its power for the ritual. Miriam had given those twenty guards her instructions—Dafydd’s instructions—and told the security man to wait right there, next to the table.

And so, of course, he had.

Go work out your fidgets, little one. And he goosed her right between her legs with a flare of heat.

She laughed out loud and wiggled, delighted with the hunger that spread out from his touch, and walked up to the tall man watching her silently. She ran a hand up his chest. “Mmm. What was your name again?”

“Pete,” he said, never taking his eyes off her.

“Well, Pete, I have something else I’d like you to do.” She took his hand and led him to the closest bedroom.

LILYstopped the car beside the sign that notified people they were about to run out of public road. Just ahead, the road swerved around a tall, stony outcrop, then ran straight for a half mile, right up to the gate to Clanhome. Rule leaned forward to squeeze her shoulder, then climbed out. Cullen got out, too. The van pulled in behind her, but Joel didn’t shut off its engine. Everyone but him piled out; Mike, Barnaby, Gray, and Ronnie headed off with Rule and Cullen into the brush. Scott joined Lily in the Mercedes. He sat in back with Friar and pulled out his knife to have it ready. Just in case.

The gate guards would have heard them coming, but with luck the van’s louder engine had hidden the sound of the Mercedes. The last turnoff before Clanhome was about four miles back, and people who’d missed it sometimes noticed the sign and turned around here. Joel would imitate them, turning the van around and heading back up the road for seven minutes. He’d then turn around again and drive back, timing his arrival for fifteen minutes from now.

Fifteen minutes had to be enough. The conjunction was only an hour and twenty minutes away. Lily settled herself to wait, her phone in one hand.

When they started making plans, it was immediately obvious that they didn’t know enough. Friar still wouldn’t tell them more than “turn left” or “go straight.” That had to change, but they also had to find out more about the situation at Clanhome. Any or all of its residents might be under Miriam’s control, and they didn’t know enough about how that worked. So they’d decided to grab a couple of Nokolai and find out.

The gate guards, to be specific. The gate was far enough from any of the houses that no one would see what happened there. There were always two guards there, one four-footed and one on two legs. The four-footed guard often patrolled along the fence, staying within hearing range of the gate so he could speed back if needed. He would have heard their cars, so if he wasn’t at the gate now, he soon would be.

It was really hard to subdue a wolf without hurting him. Lily didn’t know how Rule planned to handle that, but he and his men shouldn’t have a problem capturing the two-legged guard. When he had both of them, he’d call Lily. All she had to do was wait. And wait. And try not to keep checking her watch because that would make her crazy, but . . .

Her phone vibrated. She checked the screen, huffed out a sigh of relief, and started the car. “On my way,” she told him.

The gate was open. Rule stood near it. Gray and Barnaby held a blond young man named Cory whom she’d met a few times. Ronnie and Mike gripped the arms of the other man, whose name she couldn’t remember, though she’d seen him around Clanhome. Not as much of him as she was seeing now, though. He was naked.

Lily shut off the car and got out. “He was wolf when you arrived?”

Rule nodded. “I told him to Change. He did. He and Cory tell me that Pete called about an hour ago and told them that Clanhome was closed. No one was to be admitted, no exceptions—yet he didn’t give them an alert code. He also told them to call him immediately if you, Cullen, or I arrived.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Did he, now. What did you tell them?”

“Nothing yet, except that you’re going to check them for magic, and they are to hold still while you do.”

Better get it done, then. Lily went up to the naked guy first. “I’m afraid I’ve forgotten your name.”

“Gene.” He looked more puzzled by the odd behavior of his Lu Nuncio than upset.

She put her left hand on his bare shoulder. Fur-and-pine tingles . . . typical lupus magic. She checked his face in case this was one of those rare magics that localized, though the contagion hadn’t done that with Officer Crown. “Nothing.” She went to Cory and his two attendants.

Her first touch, on his arm, told her this magic didn’t localize. Ugh. She checked his face, just to see if that made a difference, then stepped back and gave Rule a nod. “Feels just like what was on Officer Crown, but he’s only got a smidgen of it.”

“I’ve got what?” Cory asked, confused and alarmed. “There’s something on me? Some kind of magic?”

“I’m afraid so,” Rule said. “Cullen?”

Cullen stepped close to Cory and walked around him, looking him up and down. Finally he made a square of his hands, using his magnifying spell to study Cory’s forehead. “It’s damn subtle,” he said at last. “I’d bet it gets brighter if she gives him an order—more power coming in then—or maybe if he’s carrying out an order. But right now there’s only a slight blurring over his brow chakra. Hard to spot without magnification.”

Damn. It would’ve been handy if Cullen could have checked people for compulsion from a distance.

“What is it?” Cory said, really worried now. “What’s wrong with me?”

Rule looked at him. “I’ll explain in a moment. Did Miriam Faircastle come to the gate tonight?”

“Yes. Around ten, maybe a little after. I could check the log.”

“Tell me what you both said and did.”

“She wanted to see Isen—something about an officer. ‘That poor officer,’ she said. So I called to ask. Isen gave permission and I told her to go straight ahead and the road would end at his house.”

Rule looked at the other man. “Gene? Is that what happened?”

“Yes, except that he left out the part about the weapons. And, uh, a bit of flirting. Miriam likes to flirt, and so does Cory.”

“I didn’t flirt with her,” Cory said, indignant. “And what weapons are you talking about?”