Death Magic - By Eileen Wilks Page 0,103

make a difference. The other was following Rule’s signals unusually well for one so raw: Be alert. Be silent. Watch.

The vehicle pulled to the rear of the lot. It was an old panel truck, slightly scabrous with peeling paint, but the motor sounded good. Not one of the vehicles Rule kept for the guards’ use. It stopped about thirty feet away. The engine shut off. The driver’s door swung open.

It wasn’t who Rule had been expecting. Though he probably should have. He yipped once, softly, to announce his location. He looked at the other wolf, then at the ground.

The other either didn’t understand or didn’t want to. Rule lay down again to show him. Slowly the other did, too. Rule stood, but this time when the other tried to rise, Rule shoved him back down. He looked directly in the other’s eyes.

The black wolf sighed and dropped his head to his paws. When Rule trotted to the edge of the pavement, he stayed put.

Cullen limped toward them carrying a plastic grocery sack and a small duffle bag. His gauze-wrapped feet were thrust into soft house slippers. Stubborn ass. Skin healed faster than bone or muscle, but not this fast.

Rule had sent word to José about where to meet and what was needed. He hadn’t said Cullen should be the one to bring those supplies. He hadn’t specifically forbidden it, either. He should have known Cullen would take that for permission. He should have known Cullen would be here. That his friend would know he needed him.

Behind him, the other wolf stirred. Rule gave him one sharp stare and he subsided. Rule faced Cullen and looked him in the eye.

“What?” Cullen stopped. “Oh, right. I forgot.” He ducked his head to expose his nape—a clear statement that he was subordinate to Rule. The new wolf would be confused by this. Cullen wasn’t wolf, but his posture announced his claim on Rule.

Now Rule had to announce his own claim on Cullen. Rule stepped forward and made a show of greeting him by sniffing his face—then, pointedly, his feet. He looked at Cullen.

“Not a problem,” his friend lied breezily. “The Rhej sped things up a lot.”

He was walking on them, so the Rhej must have done him some good. Not as much as he was pretending. Rule snorted.

Cullen ignored that. “Scott’s doing fine. It’ll be a couple days before he’s healed enough to go back on duty, but he’s fine. The house is being watched. Had a bitch of a time getting away without being seen, then I had to get a panel truck, which is why I’m so late. Ready for dinner?” He opened the grocery sack and tossed a raw brisket on the pavement.

Rule heard the other wolf rise. He turned his head, growled—You do not eat before I do—then bent to rip off a bite. “Dessert’s in the back of the truck,” Cullen said, backing away quickly. “Hot bratwurst.”

Hunger gnawed, but as soon as Rule swallowed that token mouthful, he stopped. Later he’d make the new wolf wait until he was truly finished eating—it was good discipline—but not yet. He stepped back, looked from the meat to the black wolf. I have provided for you. Eat.

The other was on the raw meat in a flash. Cullen set a second brisket on the pavement and sat down beside it.

That one was Rule’s. He trotted over and ate while Cullen talked.

“I talked with Walt and a couple of the other Wythe elders. Officially, Wythe is elated to have a Rho again. Unofficially, they’re almost as scared as they are relieved. He’s not just a new wolf—he’s never been lupi before. He doesn’t know our ways, our history, et cetera, et cetera. I pointed out that Wythe was already allied with Ruben per the Lady’s command, and now she’s given him to them as Rho. She must have special plans for Wythe. That puffed out their chests. They’re still nervous, but excited, too.”

Rule wagged his tail once as he gulped down a chunk of warm beef: Good work.

“About the rendezvous. Walt’s bringing Mac Sutherland—he works with their new ones—and three others, like you wanted. You said for him to pick the spot. He suggested Bald Eagle State Park in Pennsylvania. You know it?”

Rule shook his head and ripped off another bite.

“It’s about six thousand acres, a lot of that forest, which works for us. Unfortunately, it’s always open season on coyotes in Pennsylvania, but otherwise not much hunting’s going on right now. The

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