telling him everything, though. He’d called the information they gave him accurate but probably incomplete. “That’s bad news for you, since you want it for the Big B.”
“Bad news for all of us, since the god’s resurrection will destroy our world.”
“His resurrection.”
“Dyffaya av Eni is the sidhe god of chaos, compulsion, and madness. Or he was . . . either present or past tense applies, since his current state is ambiguous. The sidhe killed him over three thousand years ago, you see. But life and death are not the same for gods as for mortals, and they vary even among the gods. If one who was born a mortal assumes a godhead, it is possible to kill the god’s body. Difficult, but possible. The sidhe achieved that much, but the individual who occupied the godhead retreated into it. Godheads may fade or change over the centuries, but they cannot be destroyed. Dyffaya av Eni . . . that’s a call-name, of course. It means Beautiful Madness. Dyffaya still exists, but not in a manner that would make sense to you and I. He wants more than that limited existence. He wants to walk in the world again.”
“I’m sensing a contradiction. He wants to walk in the world, so he’ll destroy it.”
“It wouldn’t be destroyed instantly. It would degrade. Using the knife creates a certain instability. Perhaps your sorcerer is aware of this? I used it in a way that minimized the instability. My mistress wants to save this world and all who live here, not destroy it. Dyffaya won’t be so careful. The—” He stopped with a gasp and wheezed painfully for a moment. “I will be glad when that bullet finally works its way out. Dyffaya will enjoy himself here—the chaos of a disintegrating realm will feed him. Before the realm dissolves completely, he’ll leave. He has enemies in the sidhe realms he will wish to rebuke. You have, I believe, heard of the Queens.”
“Yes.” She exchanged another look with Rule. What Friar said fit with what Sam had told them. Did that mean it was true? Some of it, she thought, but how much and which parts?
“Have I persuaded you, Lily?” Her name sounded greasy and overly intimate in his mouth. “You and your inhuman lover? I think you can’t afford to dismiss me. Am I right? Shall we make a deal?”
She saw Rule’s opinion in his scowl. He shook his head to make sure she understood. For herself . . . Friar was right, damn him. She couldn’t afford to dismiss him. “I need to think about this.”
“I’ll call you back in a few minutes. Don’t delay, Lily. We haven’t much time. I arranged the second sacrifice for tonight for a reason. Whoever holds the knife now will use it tonight.”
“You can’t trust him,” Rule said the instant she disconnected.
“I don’t. That doesn’t mean I can’t use him.” That sounded way too close to what Friar had said. She hated the idea that she and he were alike in any way. “It fits. Everything he said fits. He may be lying about some of it, but we know the knife is bad news. We know we need to stop whoever has it from using it. And we don’t have a clue how to do that, how to find the blasted thing.”
“Dark moon,” Cullen said.
“What are you talking about?” Rule snapped.
He shrugged. “That’s the obvious reason for the rite to take place tonight. It’s the dark of the moon. If I were summoning a god of madness, that’s when I’d do it.”
Lily felt she had to point something out. “Friar wasn’t summoning a crazy dead god, though. He was trying to make enough of a rip in reality to bring
“Magically speaking, dark moon means two things—the period when the moon isn’t visible, which lasts from one-and-a-half to three-and-a-half days, and the distinct moment when the moon and sun are in conjunction. We haven’t hit that moment yet, so Friar must have opted for the broader period, when reality thins out.”
“Which doesn’t make anything he said true,” Rule said evenly. “We don’t even know for sure that someone stole the knife. He may be luring us to him so he can use it on one of us.”
Lily opened her mouth to argue . . . and closed it again. He was right. He was right, and she’d missed that possibility entirely. They’d assumed that because the knife was missing, the shooter—Miriam—had taken it. But Friar was missing, too. He’d been hurt, sure, but he’d gotten away. What if he’d held on to the knife?
Her mind clicked through the possibilities that thought opened up . . . and came up with the same answer. “If he’s got the knife and is luring us to him, we still have to go. It doesn’t matter who has the knife. We can’t let them use it.”
“I could go alone.”
“If you’re serious—which is hard to believe—then remember that Friar called me, not you. Do you think he’d agree to a deal that left me free to arrest him or shoot him or whatever? He’ll want me under his eye.”
“Because he wants you dead.”
“Yeah, and I’m sure he’d honor any deal he made with you and let you just walk away with the knife.”
“The knife we aren’t supposed to come in range of, you mean?”
She just looked at him. He wasn’t really trying to talk her out of this. He knew the stakes . . . the ones she was trying hard not to think about. Phrases like “the fabric of the realm” and “destroy the world” were likely to set loose the gibbering fool at the back of her brain if she let her attention pause there. Finally she said, “You make the deal when he calls. You’re good at that sort of thing.” She held out her phone.
After a long moment, Rule sighed and accepted both the phone and the necessity. “All right, but you seem to be pretty good at closing a deal yourself.”
THIRTY-SIX
LILY was glad she’d handed the phone to Rule. It would never have occurred to her to have Friar swear by his mistress’s name. One of her names, anyway.
The deal consisted of three terms that applied to both sides and two just for Friar. First term: If any of them broke their word, the deal was off. Second term: The deal lasted until the knife was recovered and placed in the custody of a saint—a stipulation that startled Friar. Either he didn’t know about Hardy, or he faked surprise really well. Third term: Everyone agreed not to harm or cause harm to the other side. Harm included physical harm, magical assault, arrest, drugging and other forms of incapacitation, imprisonment, and duress. In addition, Friar would allow them to search him, and he would not engage in any illegal actions except with Lily’s express consent. “You don’t jaywalk unless I say it’s okay,” she told him.
That had made him wheeze with what might have been amusement. “I don’t walk at all at the moment.”
Friar swore to abide by those terms, swore using a name Lily didn’t know. Rule did, though. Then Friar gave them an address and Rule disconnected.
Lily said, “He never mentioned the ‘compel, persuade, corrupt’ deal.”
“I noticed that. Nor did he say that the knife is named. Either he doesn’t know, he doesn’t understand the significance, or he’s hoping to use his knowledge in some way.” Rule put his fingers in his mouth and let out two loud, piercing whistles. That was the recall. Lupi could hear such a whistle for miles.
They started back to the lookout. “Do you think swearing by one of
“It may. He’s tied to
That startled Lily. “That’s oddly virtuous of her.”
Cullen, a few paces ahead, said, “Words shape magic, create a flow. Those with a great deal of power experience repercussions if they break their sworn word.
“If he does,” Rule said, his voice dropping into something close to a growl, “I’ll no longer be bound by my word. Apparently he can now survive and heal bullet wounds. He wouldn’t survive what I would do if my word didn’t hold me back.”
How desperate did Friar have to be to place himself in their hands? Unless, of course, he had no intention of doing that. They might show up at the address he’d given them and have it blow up. She reminded herself to keep in mind that Friar might still have the knife, but she didn’t believe it. Her gut said he was genuinely, deeply pissed about having the knife stolen. “If he can go out-of-phase whenever he wants, he’s going to be hard to sink your
