Ritual Magic

immaterial when he fell. While he was out-of-phase, he wouldn’t leave a scent or blood trail. But he couldn’t drive a car while he was dshatu, and getting away would have been a priority. Rule had sent two of the others off four-footed to check spots where he might have parked a car.

Thirty feet away, two SOC officers were checking out the bushes where Miriam Faircastle had apparently waited on the best moment for murder.

The corruption must have leaped from Officer Crown to Miriam when Miriam was trying to remove it. In retrospect, that was obvious. He’d woken up screaming, but free of the taint; she’d gone on to plan and execute murder. Had they been wrong about the icky magic only being able to travel through organic substances? Had Miriam been stupid enough to ignore that safety precaution? Had she just been careless?

Whatever had gone wrong, Lily was kicking herself for not checking Miriam herself. It seemed so bloody obvious now. The corruption left the officer, so where did it go? Only that still didn’t explain everything. Why had the corruption compelled Miriam to shoot Friar and Jones and Angela Ward and steal the knife? If the corruption was connected to Nam Anthessa, then the knife itself seemed to be acting against Friar.

Lily huffed out a breath and told herself to brood later, when she had time. She turned away from the busy scene and headed for the south side of the trail.

Normally there was a bench on the lookout. Friar and Jones had moved it to make room for their rite, parking it on the smooth sand a little ways down the southern end of the trail. Cullen was sitting on it, eyes closed, either meditating or asleep.

“Got a question for you.”

“I’m busy.”

“Yeah, I can tell. Squeeze me into your schedule. Those fireworks you set off . . . they’d have been visible from a long ways off. If Miriam was watching, would she have known what you did? Or would she have thought that was the node blowing up?”

His eyes opened. He tilted his head, thinking it over. “Good question. It’s not something she would’ve seen before, probably not something anyone she knows has ever seen. Nodes don’t go unstable often, and when they do, they don’t often leave witnesses. I’ve read a description in an old journal, but she probably hasn’t. She doesn’t share my interest in old documents relating to the Art. So . . . yeah, she could easily have assumed her plan had worked.”

“Then she thinks she got away with it. Good.” Miriam would head back to her condo—was probably there now—and Karonski would station however many officers were needed to keep her from leaving. Would they be armed with tranq weapons? Should she call him and . . . no, she told herself, though her fingers twitched with the urge. Karonski was in charge, and he was certainly capable of thinking of that himself.

When her phone chimed, she immediately thought it was Karonski. Like most assumptions based on coincidence, that was wrong.

“Glad to learn that you didn’t blow up,” a familiar voice said.

Lily stiffened. She touched the mute. “Get Rule. Fast,” she told Cullen—who shot off the bench as if he’d been fired from a cannon.

“Shocked you speechless, have I?” Robert Friar said. There was an odd, breathy quality to his voice.

She unmuted the call. “I was trying to think of a polite way to say that I wish you had.”

“You’d settle for such an impersonal death? We are different, you and I. I’d find it deeply unsatisfying if someone else killed you.”

“I’m not picky. You took some bullets. How badly are you hurt?” She heard Rule call out something to Barnaby.

“Not fatally, obviously, but you will be pleased to know that I’m in a great deal of pain. Why don’t I tell you why I called?”

“I am curious about that. Among other things. You calling from a disposable?”

“Of course.”

Rule arrived at a run. Cullen was right behind him. She made a hushing gesture and pointed at the phone. In this form Rule couldn’t prick his ears, but he looked like he wanted to. She didn’t put it on speaker; no need on Rule’s behalf, and the microphone might pick up sounds she didn’t want Friar to hear.

“I wish to make a deal,” Friar said.

She snorted. “Yeah, that’ll happen.” Rule had gone on high alert the moment he heard Friar’s voice. He leaned close. Cullen crowded up to Lily’s other side, making sure he didn’t miss anything, either.

“You need me and I, unfortunately, need you. I’m too badly injured to save the world on my own tonight. I propose to put myself in your hands, entirely at your mercy, so we can do that together.”

“Saving the world being so high on your priority list.”

“I was attacked.” His voice was lower now. Rougher, with real emotion leaking through. It sounded like fury. “Nearly killed, although I’m quite difficult to kill these days. Armand was killed. The knife was taken from me and will be used by one who will place this world forever beyond the dominion of my mistress by destroying it. Yes, saving the world is high on my priority list tonight. Revenge is near the top as well.” He paused, and when he spoke again his voice had smoothed out. “I’m assuming you’re aware that I had an artifact —a knife—and that someone took it from me. I can find it.”

She met Rule’s eyes. So far, Friar seemed to be telling the truth. “Can you, now?”

“Because of the previous ritual, I’m linked to it. You want to find that knife, Lily. I will lead you to it. In exchange, you will refrain from harming or imprisoning me. Together we will take it from the person who now holds it, thus saving the world.”

“You trust me to keep my word?”

He chuckled. It turned into a coughing fit, which continued painfully for a moment. “Ah, that hurt,” he said at last. “My lung hasn’t healed yet. No, I don’t trust you. You and I are different, but not in that way. You’re a practical soul. You’ll kill me if you can, but not until you’ve gotten what you need from me. I will, however, trust the word of Rule Turner. He would also like to kill me, but if he gives his word, he’ll keep it. Is he listening, by the way?”

Lily looked at Rule. Should we admit that? He raised his brows. Up to you.

“Why should we believe you?” she asked, tacitly agreeing that Rule was with her. “Seeing as how your word isn’t worth used toilet paper.”

“I could, of course, be lying in order to lead you into a trap, but it’s unnecessary. If I’m telling the truth, I’ll be taking you to someone who’s channeling the power of a god. Someone who will certainly try to kill you, and may succeed. It’s quite amusing, really. By telling the truth, I may lead you to your deaths—and you want me to do that.” He certainly sounded amused, in a breathless way. A bullet to the lung? “I will, however, do my poor best to keep you alive until the knife is retrieved. I can’t do it myself, not in time.”

“What’s this business about channeling the power of a god?”

“What do you know about the knife?”

She wasn’t about to hand him everything, but she could prime the pump by telling him what he already knew or could guess. “It’s an ancient sidhe artifact you got from Benessarai. Lots of magic and what the sidhe call arguai. When you killed Debrett with it, it sucked up every memory of the man.”

“Almost every memory,” he corrected her. “Choosing him for the first sacrifice was a mistake. A natural one—who would have thought you’d have any memory of a man you never met?”

“What makes you think I do?”

“Come now, Lily. Just because I can’t eavesdrop on you doesn’t mean I can’t listen elsewhere, and cops are a talkative bunch.”

And with his magically powered luck, it would have been easy to Listen to the right person at the right time. “Why did you pick Debrett?”

“Why do you think?” There was a strong flavor of smirk in that statement. “But I shouldn’t have allowed my desire to make you suffer bias my choice. Not that I had any way of knowing you would be somehow protected, and I confess I do not understand that. Still, it was a mistake. Whatever memory you retained of Debrett created an imperfection, a tiny knot, that allowed someone else to hitch a ride on the power generated by the ritual.”

“Someone else?”

“A sidhe god. The one to whom the knife is linked.”

Sam hadn’t said anything about the knife being tied to a god. He had indicated the sidhe probably weren’t