Imperfect. Yeah, that was one way of looking at it. Lily had an ancient, not-quite-physical demon who couldn’t be killed disrupting the minds in her city. Eating the fear her nightmares caused. What was she supposed to do? How did she fight such a creature?
Lily took a slow breath. Start where you are. That’s what Grandmother always said. For Lily, that meant treating this like a cop. “Okay. I saw an Asian guy at Clanhome last night shortly before Cullen was attacked. No one else saw him. How does he fit in? He does fit somehow, doesn’t he?”
I will not answer that at this time. I suspect you will be free to confer with the others about it, however.
Well, duh. Of course she was. That didn’t—
Lily Yu. A tinge of exasperation lent the faintest warmth to Sam’s words. There is no “of course” to this. Do you not see? It is likely you will be bound, to a greater or lesser extent, by the treaty.
That did not make sense. “The treaty was between dragons and Chimei. I’m human.”
Your grandmother chose to return to her original form, but she has been dragon. It is impossible for one who has been dragon to ever be fully not-dragon. The treaty binds her, and you are of her blood.
Lily went blank. She wasn’t—couldn’t be—
Did you not ask earlier why I can mindspeak you despite your Gift?
She had, but he couldn’t be right. That couldn’t be the reason.
Rule squeezed her hand. His eyes were dark, concerned. “This troubles you? I remember Fagin saying something along those lines. That he’d heard a suggestion that sensitives were born of dragon magic, or something like that. You weren’t upset by the idea then.”
Because she hadn’t believed it. Besides . . . “That’s not the same. Being touched by their magic isn’t the same as being, well . . .” She couldn’t say it. It sounded stupid. Presumptuous.
She received what felt like the mental equivalent of . . . a chuckle? In this, you are not like your grandmother. I do not believe Li Lei is capable of applying “presumptuous” to herself. In this, she was dragon before she was dragon.
No, you are not a dragon, Lily Yu, but you partake of a portion of dragon nature. You sense magic directly, as we do, although you are blind to it and unable to shape it. You have already begun to manifest one ability common to dragons, though you seem determined to overlook it.
What was he talking about?
You are capable of acquiring mindspeech and possibly other skills common to dragons, though I have seen no suggestion that you know this or wish to spend the necessary years of study to do so. Most notably, you possess an immunity to worked magic that is equal to that of an adult dragon.
Her Gift. He was talking about her Gift, which he claimed wasn’t a human thing at all. It was a dragon thing. All these years she’d insisted that being a sensitive didn’t make her anything other than fully human, and now . . .
Your mind is unpleasantly noisy.
It was pretty noisy from her perspective, too. “You think this treaty enacted however many thousands of years ago will affect me?”
Affect you, yes, and be affected by you. I do not know to what extent. Neither does the Chimei, for the situation is unprecedented. For now, she goes warily. She does not strike directly at Li Lei or at those of Li Lei’s blood.
“Strike at Grandmother.” Who was missing. “And us. Me and my sisters. She wants to strike at us. You mean the Chimei intends to hurt my family.”
She craves revenge as a human drunkard craves alcohol. More. I believe she remained here chiefly so she could seek revenge.
“For over three hundred years?” Lily asked, incredulous. “If this Chimei has been seeking revenge all that time, she isn’t very good at it.”
She has been largely unable to act. The Turning changed this.
“More magic around, you mean.” With sudden urgency, Lily asked, “Where is Grandmother?”
Unhurt. And hidden.
“And my mother. God, my mother isn’t of Grandmother’s blood. If this Chimei wants revenge and doesn’t dare go after those of us who might—who partake of dragon nature—”
Two things protect your mother. Li Lei gave her a charm carved from one of my scales. It may not be necessary. Your mother is mated with your father and has borne him children. This comprises a bond which the treaty will recognize, though again I cannot say the precise degree of restraint it will impose on the Chimei. In essence, all residents of San Diego are at risk. Your mother’s risk may be higher than most. It may be lower.
“But if mating with someone creates a bond that the treaty recognizes . . .” Lily couldn’t figure out how to arrive gracefully at the end of that sentence. She glanced back at Li Qin.
Who rose gracefully, smiling, and came to her. “You are kind to be concerned, and to offer respect for my privacy. Clearly, I have not borne your grandmother’s children, Lily. She concluded this was a critical factor, and that I would not be safe from the Chimei. That is why I am here. The Chimei will not attack those directly under Sam’s protection, for in such a case he would be allowed to strike back.”
“Okay.” Lily nodded. “Okay.” She had long wondered about Grandmother and this woman, whom she’d been raised to think was a distant cousin. A few months ago she’d decided their relationship went beyond that—if, indeed, Li Qin was any sort of blood relation at all. But it was weird to have Li Qin confirm it. Weirder than she’d expected.
Not really because of the same-sex thing. Grandmother was precisely as conventional as it suited her to be—she especially approved of conventions involving respect for your elders—and profoundly disinterested in any rules or norms she didn’t agree with.
No, it was knowing for certain that her grandmother had a lover of any sort. Not in the past. In the present. That was just . . . weird. “Rule wouldn’t be protected, then.”
“We do not think so, no.” Li Qin put a gentle arm around Lily’s waist. “This is a great deal to hear all at once. I have been able to absorb pieces of this tale a little at a time over the years. You are trying to arrange it inside you all at once. This is difficult.”
For no reason, Lily’s eyes teared up. It infuriated her. She blinked frantically. “I’m . . . sort of topsy-turvy.”
“Will you indulge me by taking tea once more? It is not your practice, I know, but I do not have a garden here to offer you. Perhaps a few quiet moments will allow your insides to settle.”
“That . . .” Lily hesitated. “Okay. Yes. Tea would be fine.” For maybe the first time in her life, she actually meant it. If nothing else, the ritual would give her something to do where she knew the rules. Speaking of which . . . As Li Qin released her and moved away, Lily looked at Rule.
He held her hand still, but was watching Sam, who’d risen from his curled posture. His wings were slowly unfolding as if he were about to depart for the sky. “One question before you go. No, two questions.”
Sam didn’t respond, but he paused.
“Was this Chimei behind the attack on Cullen?”
Certainly. Sorcerers are dangerous to Chimei.
“How?”
I will not explain. Was that your other question?
Rule grimaced. “No. You spoke of the consequences of your indirect actions breaking the treaty. I assume the Chimei can act indirectly, also.”
She can.
“What happens if the Chimei’s actions cause the treaty to break?”
There was distinct amusement in Sam’s “voice” this time. Lily Yu is not the only one to joust with questions. If this Chimei causes the treaty to break, I kill her.