Death Magic - By Eileen Wilks Page 0,156

near a fence enclosing a place bare of grass, where a set of steel doors were set into the ground. They chanted in a language so old no record remained of it. The seventh woman—the dark-skinned one in the beautiful dashiki—sat apart, eyes closed, quietly doing nothing at all that anyone could see ... but whatever eyes the U.S. government kept on this site normally, today they wouldn’t work.

Overhead, four dragons flew . . . and joined their voices with the women’s.

Slowly, almost silently, the steel doors began to move.

RULE had not been able to come up with any clever plans for dealing with “a whole lot” of lupi dopplegängers, other than what he’d already put in place. He’d warned Isen, Benedict, and Manuel, who didn’t have any suggestions, either—but at least they, too, were in their appointed places. Waiting, as he was.

Rule’s primary target was the amulet or artifact or whatever was used to create and control the dopplegängers. Preventing general carnage was a major secondary goal, but they had to find and obtain the artifact, then destroy it. Which was why he had two men whose sole job was protecting Cullen . . . the only person on the planet known to be able to call and control mage fire.

The control part was important. Rumors in the magical community said Mrs. O’Leary’s cow was innocent—the Great Chicago Fire had been cause by a Fire Gifted who managed the calling part, but flunked on control.

Rule had opted to split his men. Fourteen were with him and Cullen. Nine were with José about halfway down the length of the crowd at its fringes, ready to move where they were needed. And one was on the roof of the Smithsonian Castle, keeping an eye on the whole spread of people.

Rule and his squad had made themselves unpopular by shoving their way close to the stage. The men were bunched up tightly around him and Cullen, both because of the press of people and because their bodies should keep others from seeing his too-familiar face. That was also why they hadn’t pushed to the very front, where crowd control barriers and three men in security guard uniforms kept everyone back from the stage. He didn’t want Parrott to see him.

Interesting that the event’s organizers didn’t want anyone within fifteen feet of the stage . . . that tall, enclosed stage with room beneath it for an entire coven.

Lily was on her way here. He’d spoken to her, knew her plans, could feel her moving closer. It was nothing short of delusional to feel such relief that she would be with him soon. How could he keep her safe in the midst of the kind of chaos likely to ensue? Especially when she’d be doing her damnedest to be right in the middle of that chaos. But the closer she got, the more he settled. Steadied.

Sometimes he didn’t make sense at all.

He hadn’t heard from Abel and couldn’t reach him by phone. Maybe Abel had found out what was under that stage. Maybe that hadn’t worked out well.

Rule’s phone was in his pocket, but he was wearing a headset that should stay on through even vigorous activity. He spoke into it now. “Does she have any control over the elemental at all?”

“Not much, she says, though it promises it will protect her. Uh . . . she says it’s pretty excited.”

An enormous, excited earth elemental was not good news. But at least Deborah’s guards had found her and were jogging along beside her now at the far west end of the Mall as she and the elemental headed this way. Deborah’s phone wasn’t working, which was why Rule was talking to Matt instead of Deborah.

She was on a bicycle. A bloody bicycle in D.C. traffic! She’d found it in the shed behind Fagin’s house and had ridden over eight miles to get here. She couldn’t track the elemental in a car, she’d told Matt, so wasn’t it lucky Fagin had an old bike?

Rule was certain Ruben wouldn’t consider that good luck, any more than he did. “Keep me posted if anything changes,” he told Matt and reached up to disconnect. He glanced at his watch. Ten more minutes. Maybe less.

The minister of a Maryland megachurch finally reached the “amen” in a lengthy but surprisingly inoffensive opening prayer. Rule had no problem with people asking to be protected from the forces of darkness—he only hoped some Power was listening and would give him a

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