Eileen Wilks: Ritual Magic

Not clan, he reminded himself. Family. The similarities between her family and his clan were obvious, but the differences mattered. Madame Yu might hold a position similar to Rho, but she had no mantle to enforce her will, nor would challenges to her authority be settled physically.

“Rule,” Madame Yu said, “this is Lily’s cousin Jin Zimmerman. Jin, this is Rule Turner. I go to the meeting room now. Rule, you will bring Lily there when she arrives.” Having delivered her instructions, she left.

“It’s good to meet you, Mrs. Zimmerman,” Rule said.

“Make it Jin,” she said placidly. “How’s my patient?”

“Physically well enough. Sam says she’ll sleep for at least eight hours, so your duties should be light.”

“Who’s Sam?”

“The black dragon. He put her to sleep.”

“Oh. Yes, I was told about that. He will take some getting used to. I’ve never had a dragon treating one of my patients.”

She didn’t seem alarmed at the prospect. “I’m not sure one can get used to Sam. He probably won’t bother you, however. I can’t say the same for some of the doctors.” Julia now had four physicians consulting on her case. He pulled out his card case. “You may want my number.”

Jin took his card and glanced at the bed where her patient slept. “Anything else I should know?”

Rule, too, looked at Julia. She was curled up on her side, one hand tucked beneath the skimpy pillow the hospital provided. There were still traces of makeup around her eyes. Her eyelids twitched in some dream, but she didn’t stir. He looked at her and all he could think was Wrong, wrong, wrong.

“I don’t think so,” he told her nurse. “Professionally, of course, you must obey the doctors. For anything that does not fall under their authority, heed what Madame Yu told you.”

“Oh, yes,” she said and settled into the chair Rule had spent too much time in. “I always do.” She pulled yarn and knitting needles out of the tote she’d brought with her. “She said Julia imprinted on you.”

Rule blinked. “She what?”

“Like a baby duck.” She wound yarn around one needle. “Madame said you were the first friendly face Julia saw after being robbed of her memory, and that was that. She fixed on you, just like a baby duck. Should I call you if Julia wakes and asks for you?”

“She shouldn’t wake before I return, but yes.” Rule gave her a nod and left, closing the door behind him. Two of his men waited there. Two more waited near the nursing station. He nodded at the two who would remain on guard and went to speak with José, who was in charge of the squad. Rule checked quickly with the mate-sense to see how close Lily was. There was time to update his father, so he made that call first, then said, “Everyone is in place?” to José.

José nodded, so Rule gestured at Barnaby and the three of them headed for the stairs. Barnaby had point; José followed three yards behind Rule.

It felt good to stretch his legs. They were only on the eighth floor, so he wouldn’t get to stretch them for long, but he savored the sensation. That was not the main reason he was avoiding the elevator, however. Their enemy could have tracked them to St. Margaret’s, and a gunman waiting outside the elevator could spray the interior with bullets the moment the doors opened. Rule didn’t consider a physical assault here likely, but why take a risk so easily avoided?

Especially when it felt so good to move. Defensive wars sucked.

Taking the fight to the enemy was sound strategy. Pity it had proved impossible so far. They had no way of reaching the Great Bitch, and her agent in this realm was a patterner, capable of twisting probabilities to his advantage. In other words, Robert Friar always had extraordinarily good luck. Neither the Bureau nor the clandestine group known as the Shadow Unit had been able to turn up a single lead to his whereabouts, so they were always reacting to their enemy’s latest attack, never able to attack first.

Barnaby reached the door to the ground floor and signaled. Rule stopped. Barnaby stood in front of the door, listening and smelling—he had an excellent nose even when two-legged, which was why Rule put him on point—then eased it open and stepped out and quickly to one side.

Rule waited until Barnaby reappeared and gave the okay sign, then followed him into the lobby. The admissions desk was unoccupied at this hour, but several people were passing through the lobby on their way in or out. A couple of men lingered, however—Santos and Jacob. They very properly paid no attention to Rule until he said, “With me.”

He hadn’t signaled for haste, so they walked over. He checked with the mate-sense again. “Lily will be here in about three minutes. Santos, obtain and hold an elevator for us, please. Jacob, beside me.” Eight flights of stairs were a pleasant way to stretch his legs, but a bit much for Lily when she was tired. The elevator should be safe. Their end point was secure; José had people stationed at the eighth-floor elevator. That wouldn’t help if someone stopped the elevator on another floor, but Rule knew a trick to prevent that. He signaled Barnaby to proceed, and he and his men headed for the revolving door.

St. Margaret’s main entry was in the newest part of the hospital and used the kind of oversize, automated revolving doors sometimes employed at airports and in large office buildings. When they reached it Rule waited while Barnaby checked with the pair of guards patrolling outside. Once Barnaby gave the all clear, Rule and Jacob went through together, with José following.

Rule stepped out into a cool San Diego night just as a black-and-white pulled up three cars away from the doors. It pleased him that he’d timed it so well. Lily was better than he at reading the mate-sense, but he was improving.

The patrol unit’s back door opened. Scott stepped out, slid a slow glance around, then nodded that it was safe. Good. Lily had come to understand the need for guards, but with more resignation than real acceptance. She didn’t always wait for them to check out an area.

Then the front door opened and the heart of Rule’s world stepped out.

Lily wore a blue linen dress banded at the yoke and hem in bright green that stopped well short of her knees. Lily had amazing legs. The rest of the world didn’t get to see them often, since her work wardrobe consisted of slacks—almost always black so she didn’t have to think about it—with a tee or tank and a jacket to cover her shoulder holster. She liked dresses, though. With this one she wore bright green ballerina flats and her cop face.

“Thanks,” she told the driver of the black-and-white and shut the door. Rule moved up beside her and they headed for the revolving doors together. Barnaby continued to hold point; Scott took Rule’s left; Jacob walked on Lily’s right side, blocking her from possible snipers.

“Have you learned anything?” Rule asked.

“Not much. I’ve sent people to talk to Friar’s daughter and to Jones.”

Armand Jones had been Robert Friar’s West Coast lieutenant in Humans First. Jones claimed to have ended the association; he was a Christian man, he said, and Friar now worshiped a false god. Accurate enough, as far as Friar’s allegiances went; Rule didn’t assume that point of accuracy made it true. As for Friar’s daughter, she was as much his victim as anyone, but it was possible he’d contacted her. Unlikely, but possible. “You assume Friar had something to do with this?”

“I’ll tell you when we can’t be overheard. Right now, Cullen’s working up a spell he wants to cast with Miriam’s coven. He’s going to be at the restaurant for several more hours.”

Her coolness didn’t surprise him. Her expression had already cued him to what she wanted—keep things crisp, brisk, professional. Stay in control. She could have that . . . for now. “Yes, he told me.”