down anything really sensitive. First I’d like to hear about what kind of backup you have for that translation Cullen’s so interested in.”
Safety-deposit, Fagin wrote. Thumb drive. He jotted down the name of a bank, the branch location, and three digits. “I’m afraid I can’t recall the entire number, and of course the”—he paused and wrote key—“isn’t available at the moment.”
Because the elemental wouldn’t let them in to get it. But if Deborah was able to get in, she could get it for them. “I may have a way to make it available. Where is it?”
Fagin wrote top desk drawer. “How?”
“We’ll get to that in a minute.” The key wasn’t enough, not when Fagin couldn’t go there himself. Lily took back the notebook and wrote limited power of attorney. “If you’re willing,” she added out loud, “that should do it. I can set it up. Is Cullen okay for the person named?”
“He can’t possibly be mobile yet.”
“He’s not healed, but he is mobile.”
Fagin sighed. “How annoying. It will be weeks before I’m on my feet again, and my burns weren’t as bad as his. Yes, he’ll do. What can you tell me about Ruben?”
“He’s with . . .” She hesitated, then finished the sentence by writing Isen. She looked at Samuel. “If I tell you not to discuss or reveal anything written or spoken in this room except with your Rho, will you consider that binding?”
He nodded. “Rule said I was to obey you unless there was a conflict with his orders.”
“All right. You’re not to discuss or reveal what Fagin and I say or write about here except to Rule.” She wrote on the notebook: Ruben is now lupus and the Rho of Wythe clan and held it up where Fagin and Samuel could see.
“What? But that—that—surely that’s impossible!”
“I can’t tell you how it happened, but you’re aware that lupi have an Old One on their side. She took a hand in things.”
“Great heavens above.”
“I knew it,” Samuel breathed. “I knew the Lady would fix things.”
Suddenly curious, she asked Samuel, “Do you think—uh, will they accept him?”
“Of course! I mean, he’s got”—he glanced at Fagin—“he’s got the authority now.”
Authority meaning mantle. The thing she’d finally gotten rid of. The thing that would have let them talk freely without worrying about Friar magically eavesdropping.
“But where is he?” Fagin said. “Is he able to . . .” He gestured and she handed him back the notebook. He wrote Shadow Unit. “There are lines of communication. It’s not good for him to be out of touch.”
“The situation’s too complicated for me to tell you much when I’d have to write most of it down, but consider him out of touch for the time being. He’s got a second, though.” She looked hard at him.
Fagin spread his hands. “If you’re thinking that’s me, I have to disappoint you. I consult. I’m not part of management.”
“I figured you’d know who it was.”
He shook his head. “I don’t. The, ah ... communications staff will know, and they can authenticate any shift in authority to Ruben’s second, but I haven’t heard from them.”
Lily’s lips quirked up. She wondered how Mika would feel about being referred to as part of “the communications staff.” “Is that who I need to contact, then? Because I want in, and I need to know what kind of resources I have to draw on. I need to know who I can call on, who—”
“I’m sorry. We don’t reveal names, not without authorization. I can’t help you.”
Lily looked at the door to Fagin’s room. With a little leap of her heart and no surprise whatsoever, she watched it open.
“I can,” Rule said.
TWENTY-NINE
“I can’t believe you thought I’d be mad when I found out you were Ruben’s second,” Lily said softly.
Rule lowered his head to sniff her hair. He loved her hair, loved the scent and feel and sight of it. She was snuggled into him in the backseat of the Mercedes with Mark at the wheel. He’d been told to take the long way home; they had quite a bit to discuss, and a moving car was extremely hard to target for eavesdropping.
The stereo was turned up high, at Rule’s instructions. Beethoven’s Fifth was crashing into the crescendo at the start of the fourth movement. With Lily so close, she could speak softly and Mark wouldn’t hear unless he made a real effort. He wouldn’t.