Death Magic - By Eileen Wilks Page 0,72

she repeated as she buckled her shoulder harness. “What’s your schedule like today? Are you up for a change of plans?”

“I could be. Why?”

“I thought you might go with me.”

His eyebrows shot up. “You want me to meet the minion?”

“I’m going to talk to Croft. It’s Saturday, but he’ll be there. I checked. I ought to tell Drummond myself,” she admitted, “but I can’t bring myself to do it. Besides, Croft will accept the ‘clan secrets’ deal and not press me for more than I can tell him.”

“Lily, you haven’t explained anything.”

She sighed. Sometimes doing the right thing was a bitch. “I’m not dependable right now. I’ve gone sixteen hours without an episode, but I could get zapped again at any time. Right in the middle of an interview, maybe. Or shit, who knows—in the middle of an arrest, or a chase, or . . . I can’t even say what the next pain bolt will do. Make me drop things or drool or fall down or all of the above. Or something new. I have to tell Croft so he can have someone else from the Unit take over.”

“You’re removing yourself from the investigation.”

“Officially, yeah.”

He was silent for several heartbeats. “And unofficially?”

“That’s why I’d like you along. Rule . . .” She moved closer so she could take his hand. “Chad knew the mantle wouldn’t go to him unless the Lady wanted him to have it, right?”

“Yes, we explained that the Lady may have to move the mantle herself. This isn’t the normal way of transferring it.”

Lily nodded. “So Chad knew that if the mantle did come to him, that would be the Lady’s doing. And he wanted to be willing to accept the Lady’s decision. He wanted to . . . but he didn’t become wholly willing until he knew I needed it to happen. That I was being endangered by hosting the mantle.”

“Yes.” His eyes were puzzled. “Of course he wanted to help you.”

“Because I’m a woman.” She smiled wryly. “That’s how you’re all wired—protect the woman. Your Lady knows you pretty well. I guess she made you that way. That choice you said you made? She can’t be upset about it. She knew you’d choose to protect me. It may take a while for you to come to terms with what it means, but don’t think your Lady is surprised or disappointed.”

“Lily.”

She tipped her head.

He lifted the hand she’d clasped his with to his lips and kissed it. “I love you.”

RULE had been to FBI Headquarters many times. In the past, the man seated at the large, scuffed desk in this windowless office had been Ruben Brooks. Today it was a lean man with skin the color of the coffee in Lily’s thermos.

Martin Croft looked more like a Harvard don than a cop. His gray-spattered hair was staging a strategic withdrawal from his high forehead, and he dressed too well to fit any cop stereotype. His shirt was impeccably pressed, his tie silk, and while his suit might be off the rack, it was of excellent quality and fit. Rule suspected he’d had it tailored. All in all, Croft didn’t look like a man who’d wrestled many a suspect to the ground.

In that much, appearances were deceiving. But he was every bit as bright as he looked—and completely unGifted, though he knew more about magic than most practicing witches.

Croft listened gravely as Lily told him why she’d needed to see him so early and so urgently. She looked tired.

No surprise. She’d had an attack—a TIA—as soon as they left the house. It had lasted longer than the other one he’d witnessed, which was supposed to be a good thing, indicating the healing was being slowed. He wasn’t able to see it that way.

Rule had taken her home, of course. And of course she’d protested. The Leidolf Rhej had checked her out, but there was nothing more she could do save assure them both that so far there was no lasting brain damage.

Lily finished her highly edited explanation. Croft said, “How serious is your condition?”

“Potentially serious, but we have a healer staying with us. She’s confident she can help. She already has, but my condition is still, ah, unresolved.”

“And your condition is related in some way you can’t specify to a clan matter you’re unable to discuss.”

“That’s right.”

“And you’re certain that conventional medicine can’t help.”

“Quite certain.”

“Why did you bring Rule with you?”

“You’re aware of the mate bond.”

He nodded. Croft knew about the mate bond because he was

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