He smiled slightly. “I keep track of any out-clan who enter Clanhome.”
Had she been mistaken? Lily drummed her fingers on her thigh. No, she decided. “There aren’t any Asian Nokolai, are there?”
“Two,” Benedict said promptly. “Half-Asian, of course. One has a Korean mother and lives with her in Los Angeles. He’s ten years old. The other is an adult whose mother was Japanese. John Ino is fifty-seven and lives in Seattle, and I doubt he’s here today. But it’s possible.”
“Find out. I saw an Asian man in a baseball cap. He’s not a guest, and it sounds like he isn’t Nokolai.” Maybe he’d worn the cap for only a short time. Maybe he’d seen her looking for him and faded away from the crowd. Maybe he’d left altogether, in which case they were too late, but it was worth finding out. “This party would be one hell of an opportunity for paparazzi, and they make cameras really small these days.”
Benedict considered her for a moment, then nodded. “All right. Whoever he is, this man didn’t come in either of the gates. It’s possible to enter elsewhere, but only on foot. Which means he’s left a scent trail.” He pulled out his phone and hit a number. “Saul. I need you. I’m by the soft drinks.”
He put up the phone. “Saul’s got the best nose of any of my people. He’ll Change and you’ll show him where you saw the man. With so many trampling over the ground, he may not be able to pick up the scent there, but it’s a place to start.”
“Good. Why did you participate in the dance tonight?”
“To impress the youngsters so they’ll try harder.”
“That’s not the only reason. Rule danced, too, and neither of you usually does.”
His mouth curved up a fraction. “You’re perceptive. It’s annoying at times. Very well. I also sent a message. I’m not speaking to my brother, but I fully support my Lu Nuncio. It was best everyone understood that.”
So his problem with Rule was personal, not a “good of the clan” thing. “You think they’ll get that message from the dance?”
His eyebrows lifted about a millimeter. “Of course.”
Hmm. “Well, it made for a fantastic show. But how in the world did you end it that way? Even if you’re strong enough to just stop Cullen one-handed, it seems like you’d break a few bones—his, yours, both.”
“For someone who isn’t combat-trained, Seabourne’s a—”
Half the mage lights bobbing overhead went out.
Benedict’s head whipped up. Without a gesture or word or a single damned clue what was wrong, he took off running.
When Benedict moved, people got out of his way. Fast. She couldn’t come close to keeping up, but by putting everything she had into her sprint she managed to catch the openings in the crowd he created.
People called out. The music died. She lost the Benedict-driven opening and was faced with a wall of bare backs. She resorted to shoving. This crowd wouldn’t care about her badge, and she had to get through.
Rule was ahead. She felt him. Something had happened, something had gone wrong—
“Nokolai!” Isen’s deep voice bellowed. “If you are not a guard, sit down! Now!”
All over the field, they dropped. Men and women alike—even children—they all sat on the grass as their Rho had commanded. No questions, no hesitation.
Except Lily. She was Nokolai and technically not a guard, but it didn’t occur to her to sit. Not when the way was suddenly clear. Not when she could see over the heads of those in front of her.
Several hadn’t dropped to the ground. Guards. Benedict, of course, wasn’t sitting. He stood beside Isen, his eyes busy and his Glock in his hand. But he had nothing to shoot.
And Rule. He wasn’t standing, but kneeling, kneeling next to a man stretched out in the grass. At first all she saw of that man were the legs, bare like most legs tonight. The rest of him was hidden by Cynna’s crimson-clad back, bent over him, and by the woman kneeling beside her, whom Lily recognized by the hair—long, dusty gray mixed with brown, a frizzy, flya way mane trailing to her waist.
Nettie, the clan’s healer.
Lily’s feet carried her two more steps at an angle, and she saw the rest. Saw Cullen Seabourne’s body lying peacefully in the grass, his still, empty face staring up at the starry sky.
SIX
“YOU are not dead,” Cynna was saying fiercely, her hands digging into Cullen’s shoulders. “You are not. You are not dead. Dammit, Cullen, you—”
“I’ve got him,” Nettie said crisply. She’d flattened her hands on Cullen’s chest. “Cynna, get back. You’re leaking. It interferes.”
Lily couldn’t feel her feet. She was standing, so they must still be there at the end of her legs, but she couldn’t feel them. Her last breath had pulled something bad inside her, unreality spreading like poison through her body, paralyzing her. No, she wanted to say along with Cynna. No, he can’t be dead. Cullen can’t be—
Cullen’s chest quivered. It lifted, ever so slightly, then fell. His eyelids drifted closed.
Lily sucked in a breath, too. This one dispelled the poison and she hurried to Cynna. “Come on, Cynna. Move back. Let Nettie work. You’re right. You’re right, he isn’t dead, but you have to move back.”
He wasn’t dead now. Seconds ago, he had been. Or at least he hadn’t been breathing. An atavistic shiver threw goose bumps along Lily’s arms. She pulled on Cynna, who allowed it, lurching to her feet with Lily’s arm around her waist.
“He’s not dead.” Cynna’s face was dry but oddly slack, as if shock had cut the muscles.
“No, he isn’t. Look at his chest. Look at his eyes, Cynna. He closed them. Nettie did her thing and Cullen’s breathing.”
A shudder traveled through Cynna like a minor earthquake. Lily tightened her arm as the woman’s knees went soft, bracing her legs so they didn’t both tumble to the ground.
A second later Cynna stiffened, taking most of her weight again. “I’m fine,” she said. “I’m good. Cullen—”
“Nettie’s got him. She isn’t letting him go.”
As if agreeing, Nettie spoke. “Helicopter.” Her head was upright, her eyes closed, the frizzy waves of her hair hanging down on either side of her face like half-drawn drapes. “Medevac.”
“Nettie—” Isen began.
“Now.” There was no give in her voice. Iron couldn’t be harder or more certain. “Stabbed in the heart. There’s poison. It’s interfering.”
“I sent for the Rhej,” Benedict said.
“Good.” With that, Nettie shut the rest of them out, beginning a low chant.
Poison? Lily twitched, wanting to check for herself. To see if the poison had a magical component, because there were precious damned few things that poisoned a lupus.
But Cynna was leaning on her, and she didn’t want to interfere with Nettie. Who was keeping Cullen alive.
Rule already had his phone out and was speaking into it. “. . . need a medevac helicopter at Nokolai Clanhome. Stabbing victim, a heart wound, and there’s some sort of poison involved.” A pause. “That’s not acceptable. We have a doctor on scene, and she says she needs a helicopter.”
Lily glanced around. “Here,” she said to one of the men still on his feet. Shannon was a freckled, redheaded guard who looked about twenty. He was probably twice that. “Keep her on her feet.”
Cynna scowled. “I don’t need to be passed around like—”
“Yes, you do.” Lily waited until Shannon slid an arm around Cynna, then hurried to Rule, who was speaking with controlled fury to the person at the other end. She held out her hand. “Let me.”
He broke off in midsentence and put his phone in her hand. His pupils had swollen, black overtaking color in his eyes but not swallowing the whites. Yet. The edges of that black quivered as he fought back the need to Change.