over the back of the seat, covering the worst of it, and humans are visual creatures. So far no one had noticed anything out of the ordinary—including the cop who’d stopped them when they needed to enter the closed-off street.
Chris was up front, too. Lily and Scott crouched on bare metal in the back of the truck, their weapons out, and listened.
So did Al Drummond. He didn’t look much like himself, being all white and filmy ... except for that glowing gold ring on his left hand.
He gave her a tight smile. He had his weapon out, too, as if he planned to charge out of the truck with the rest of them, but since it was as insubstantial as the rest of him, she didn’t think he’d be much backup.
He hadn’t spoken to her. It was clear he knew she could see him, though, and that the others couldn’t. It was clear he meant to stick with her.
Why and how had his ghost started appearing days before he died? Was that one of those “instabilities” the Etorri Rhej had mentioned, some sort of astral time warp?
Did Drummond even know he was dead?
Lily had been told by someone who ought to know that ghosts weren’t souls, but the shadows cast by souls. She’d wondered at the time what the hell that meant. She still did. And she really, really wished this one would go into the light or something and quit following her.
“What the hell you mean, the cargo don’t go here?” Mike demanded. “I was told to bring it to the stage. This is the stage.”
A muffled voice told Mike he had to take the truck to Fourteenth Street—“at the back of the gathering, by the Washington Monument. You’ve heard of it? Big pointy thing sticking way up in the air?”
“Shit. I gotta call Big Thumbs.”
“You’ve got to move this thing, and quick!”
“I do what Big Thumbs says, asshole, not you.”
Lily nodded at Scott, then at the doors at the rear of the truck. He moved into position.
So did Drummond.
RULE ended the conversation with Harry quickly—and his phone immediately vibrated again. He answered.
It was Mark from on top of the Smithsonian. “Silver catering truck just pulled in behind the stage.”
He’d known she was here. He felt her. “Good.”
“And there’s some kind of upset at the back of the crowd near the Washington Monument—people moving away from one spot. Not running, just avoiding that spot for some reason.”
“Keep an eye on it. You see Deborah?”
“She and her guards are just the other side of the Monument. She seems to be resting.”
The elemental could be doing something that made people uneasy . . . but Matt would call if that were so. Assuming Deborah could tell, that is. “Okay. Notify José. Out.” Rule disconnected. “The catering truck’s here. They’re behind the stage.”
Parrott had kept his speech brief and was introducing someone. “Give her a warm welcome, because she’s seen the light and is here to tell the truth about what happened when Ruben Brooks fled justice. Ladies and gentlemen, Lily Yu!”
And Lily walked up the steps. Only it wasn’t Lily.
It looked precisely like her. It moved like her. It wore black slacks and a red jacket identical to one that hung in Lily’s closet . . . that thing was wearing her face, her form, stolen from her while she was locked up. The mate sense told Rule where Lily was—behind the stage, not on it. And moving. Lily was in motion, which meant she’d made her move—yes, look at Parrott turning to look behind the stage.
Crisp now and certain, Rule spoke. “That’s not Lily. It’s a dopplegänger. Lily’s making her move, though, so we need to as well. As planned—positions!”
Rule had kept the Nokolai guards with him. He’d expected trouble to come from the stage, and his Nokolai knew many useful tricks. Like this one, which was part of one of the training dances.
Six men dropped to their hands and knees, shoulder-to-shoulder in the short grass. Three men leaped onto their backs and linked arms to steady themselves.
Cullen grabbed Rule’s arm as he started to move. “There’s something weird about the Lily-double.”
Rule shook him off. “It’s not Lily. Of course it’s weird.” And along with Andy and Sean, he quickly scaled the lupi pyramid to crouch atop Jacob’s shoulders, with Andy and Sean doing the same on either side of him. Jacob’s hands gripped his ankles.
When he leaped, Jacob shoved. And Rule sailed toward the stage.