Along the street the earth began to crumble up, clods of concrete and dirt clumping together in gravity-defying cohesiveness. Firefighters scrambled back, exclaiming.
“Is that thing emerging?” Rule asked sharply.
“Don’t think so,” Cullen said, watching the slow heave of earth with bleary eyes. “But you should get on the porch. Ought to be okay there. It agreed to protect the house. Porch is part of the house.”
Rule grabbed Lily’s hand and the two of them scrambled up the steps. A second later, Scott landed beside them. He’d jumped.
“Cullen,” Rule called, “What’s it doing?”
Cullen’s voice came from above, mixed with the deep grinding of earth as a wall continued to rise along Fagin’s property line. “Not sure. But I was wrong about one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s not a small elemental.”
TWENTY-ONE
THE problem with earth elementals was that they were very literal.
A warded wall of dirt and stone, concrete and grass, sticks and boards from the fence that used to divide Fagin’s yard from his neighbor’s now encircled the property. It was roughly four feet wide at the base and nine feet tall. The ward extended above the wall, Cullen had said. It was unlike anything he’d seen.
The good news was that they didn’t need to worry about firefighters increasing the damage to Fagin’s library with water. They didn’t need to worry about subsequent attacks, either. Nothing was getting across that property line.
That was also the bad news. Cullen was pretty sure the ward went both ways—keeping things out and keeping them in. He was also pretty sure he didn’t want to test it to find out. He’d said so when Rule retrieved him from the roof—just before he passed out.
“The Rhej will meet us at Memorial in Bethesda,” Rule said, putting up his phone, “once we’re able to leave.”
“Bethesda? You’ve got to be kidding. There must be closer hospitals.”
“All of which consider their facilities inadequate to treat a lupus patient.”
“Assholes.” Lily leaned her head back against a chunky post holding up the roof over the porch and let her eyes close.
The air was still and sullen and smelled of burned things: ash and smoke and a whiff of chemical nastiness mixed with the singed-pork stink from Cullen’s burned flesh. The temperature had dropped enough to make her glad for her jacket. Clouds had moved in to dull the day, hanging low as if working themselves up to rain. Three days in a row now it had rained. Surely it couldn’t do it again?
Against those clouds a red and white mechanical dragonfly darted. Lily could hear the whomp-whomp-whomp of the news helicopter as it dipped closer. She resisted the urge to shoot the bird at the reporters. Not a good image for the six o’clock news.
There were four of them on this side of the wall: her, Rule, Cullen, and Scott, who’d leaped it before it finished growing, unwilling to leave his Rho without protection. Scott sat on the bottom step frowning at the earthen rampart enclosing them. Rule sat across from Lily near the other pillar. Cullen lay between them in a nest of blankets and pillows that Scott had found in the house.
Damn them. Whoever they were. Lily didn’t know, couldn’t even guess. Friar’s people were staying so many jumps ahead she was dizzy, furious with her own consistency. Again and again she failed to keep up, much less catch up. Why had they attacked Fagin? Had Fagin even been their target? Why a firebomb, of all things?
She was just so damn tired. It felt like she’d been up all night or tried to run for miles after fasting. No reserves. “What did you mean when you asked Cullen if the elemental was emerging?” she asked Rule.
“You know that each type of elemental has a preferred form they take sometimes?”
“Yeah, I guess. Salamanders, sylphs . . . I can’t remember the other two.”
“Earth elementals emerge as giant worms or snakes when they want to do battle.”
“Oh.” She made an effort and got her eyes open. “Guess we should be glad it didn’t emerge, then.”
She glanced at Cullen, but he hadn’t shifted. When she looked at Rule, she frowned. His eyes looked funny.
“Are you holding up okay?” he asked.
“I’m tired, pissed, but my head doesn’t hurt. How about you?”
“Me?” His eyebrows lifted. “I’m fine.”
He sounded fine. His body looked loose and relaxed. But his eyes . . . there was too much black in his eyes, she realized. Not a big difference. If you didn’t look closely,