Eileen Wilks - Death Magic

She caught it. A T-shirt. Good. She pulled it on and went to get her weapon. A pair of jeans sailed her way, but landed on the floor.

Cullen burst in. He was wearing even less than her—as in nothing.

Lily grabbed the jeans as Rule continued briskly, “Earth elementals are headed for the National Mall—we think. So is Deborah Brooks, who called Lily with the information. Can you stop or interfere with a summoning?”

“Depends on what they’re doing, how far along it is, and how close I can get.” He scrubbed at his face with both hands, clearly trying to wake up. “Why would Humans Firsters summon elementals?”

“Bet it will look like me or Ruben is doing the summoning,” Lily said, fastening her slacks, then reaching for her shoulder harness. “They plan to use the elementals to inflict damage—the Washington Monument, maybe? The Smithsonian? —and blame us. The Gifted in general, but specifically the Unit. They want the Unit completely discredited.”

“It won’t be you doing the summoning,” Rule said. “Ruben. He’s in hiding so he won’t be alibied, and too many people know that sensitives can’t work magic.”

“Shit.” Cullen said. “Yeah. I’ll get dressed.” He dashed out.

“Dammit,” Rule said. “Where’s my phone?”

“Here.” Lily plucked it from the dresser and handed it to him. “Do we have a plan?”

“We’re winging it.”

“One good thing. They can’t know we’ve been tipped. They don’t know about Deborah, so . . .” Her phone beeped. A text. She grabbed it. Maybe Deborah had something to add to their too-short conversation.

It wasn’t from Deborah. It was from Doug Mullins:

Found Anna. Still alive. Others too. Need backup at 1225 N Hammond in D.C. Approach from FRONT. Bad guys behind me on Webster.

HEwoke nameless and naked and clogged with dreams. The images choked him. He whined, but the sound frightened him. It was wrong. He was wrong. Shaped wrong. Bare and furless and—

“Shh.” A comforting smell, a heartbeat and presence he knew, drew near. The leader. He was in his tall-shape, the furless one where his forelegs could grasp and hold things. At first that had been terrible, seeing the leader’s proper form vanish, replaced by the alien shape, but the leader kept doing it.

After a while he’d understood that the leader wanted him to acknowledge him no matter what. To know that this one was leader no matter how he was formed. Once he understood that, it made little difference which shape the leader took.

“You slipped into your other form while you slept,” the leader murmured. “That’s unexpected for both of us, but you’re okay. You’re all right.”

Dimly he struggled after the words, the sense of them. Oh—he remembered words. Language. He hadn’t known he’d forgotten until this moment, when he remembered. He needed words now. “Dreams . . .” he whispered.

“You dreamed?” The leader laid a hand on his shoulder.

“We . . . go. We go.” He tried to sit up, but he’d forgotten how this form worked and thrashed awkwardly before managing it. “Stop them. Must stop them.” He panted as if he’d been chasing for hours instead of sleeping. Then more words tumbled out, surprising him because he didn’t know what they meant. “Albany. D.C. Albuquerque. S-San Diego.”

The leader thought for a long moment. He smelled calm, and that helped. But he had to understand. Had to help. They must go .

“Well, you’re breaking enough rules all on your own,” the leader said at last. “Why shouldn’t I break one, too? Ruben,” he said firmly.

Something yanked at him. Something inside that twisted his thoughts, opening . . . opening . . .

“Ruben. It is time to remember. You are Ruben Brooks.”

“IT’Sa trap.”

“Maybe.” Lily gnawed on her lip. Was it really from Mullins? She had—maybe—been tricked by someone using Sjorensen’s phone. She texted back:

Why do you have to beat women off with stick?

He replied:

Massive charm and intellect and my goddamn sense of humor. Hurry.

“It’s Mullins.” She texted her reply— On my way. 20m. —then looked at Rule. “I have to go. If it’s a trap, I’ll just have to be smarter than they are. If it’s not . . . he says she’s alive.”

Rule was rigid. “All right. I go with you.” He started to turn. “José—”

She grabbed his arm. “No. Rule, you can’t go with me everywhere. You can’t. I need to do this. You need to lead your people. You’ve got a mix of Leidolf and Nokolai and they aren’t all—”

“They’ll do as they’re bloody well told!”

“José isn’t you! He doesn’t know enough to lead them into who-the-hell-knows-what with dopplegängers and elementals!”

“I’m not going to leave you.”

His phone sounded. It was “Dueling Banjos,” Isen’s ring tone.

He released her and spun around, grabbing the phone like he wanted to choke it. “Yes.” His expression darkened, but he said nothing for several moments. Then: “You’re sure? . . . I see. I . . .” His jaw clenched. “Give me a moment.”

He paced away, the phone gripped at his side. Turned and looked at Lily. “Ruben woke as a man. He had dreams—visions—and they seem to have propelled him back to his original form. He is not yet in full possession of language, but from what Isen pieced together, events will take place very soon in Albany, Albuquerque, San Diego . . . and here. At the National Mall. He’s already spoken to Benedict and Manuel. Benedict will take a troop of Nokolai into the city. Manuel agreed that Albuquerque was Ybirra’s to handle. Ruben . . . with Isen’s help, Ruben will lead Wythe to deal with events in Albany.” Bleakly he finished, “My Rho orders me to go immediately to the National Mall.”

Softly she said, “Then you have to go.”

He closed his eyes. Shuddered. “Yes.”

She went to him and put her arms around him. “I’ll live if you will.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“Tough. I am anyway.”

1225N. Hammond was a box. It had once had pretensions toward being a house, but the shape was all that was left; the roof lacked much in the way of shingles and the windows were gaping holes. The front door tilted drunkenly, a single hinge being insufficient to hold it upright.

It didn’t stand out all that much in this neighborhood. The Mercedes did, but that couldn’t be helped. “Okay,” Lily told Mike. “Chris and Scott should be in place by now. Let’s go.”

If Mullins did need backup, he’d be getting it. Lily hadn’t waited for Rule to tell her to take guards with her. She’d asked for Scott and three men of his choosing, one of whom was really good at sneaking. The sneak he picked was Shannon, a skinny young guy they’d dropped off a couple blocks up. The other two were a Nokolai she knew and liked named Chris . . . and Mike of the bad attitude and broken table.

She thought she knew what Scott was doing. Rule had taken Mike down hard and publically. This was his chance to redeem himself. But Mike must also be nearly as good as he thought he was, or Scott wouldn’t have taken the chance.

At least she hoped so.

The abandoned house didn’t offer much in the way of cover, so Lily hoped Scott and Chris were good at sneaking, too. She wanted them as close as possible. They couldn’t use phones to stay in touch; even texts were out, since the lit screen would give away their positions. But Scott had said five minutes, and she trusted him.

Unlike most lupi, Scott was good with a gun, plus he’d learned the basic hand signals Nokolai used. Chris, being Nokolai, knew them all, including ASL, which was more than Lily did. But she knew enough to direct them silently, if necessary ... and if they could keep a visual on her.