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She underlined that question. It would sure be handy if the answer was “yes.” Separate the two and maybe both would be weakened or incapacitated.

Skip past the assumptions, though, and the question was: how did she arrest a sorcerer? His magic couldn’t affect Lily directly, but if he started a fire, she’d burn. And if he knew how to call mage fire . . . A shiver of remembered pain turned her hands clammy.

Last year, Cullen had used mage fire to destroy an ancient staff. They weren’t certain if the scar on Lily’s stomach came from the mage fire itself or from the intense heat it produced. Supposedly she was immune to magical fire, but mage fire was different. Black fire, it was called. Cullen said it could burn anything.

Another difference with mage fire was that the heat was oddly contained. Localized. Cullen thought that the black fire consumed most of the very heat it produced. But the staff had been touching her when Cullen zapped it, so even highly localized heat could have burned her.

They couldn’t very well test the two ideas to see which one was right. Aside from the general danger—mage fire was hard to control—Lily had no intention of letting Cullen try crisping some part of her.

Enough of that. Did this sorcerer know how to call mage fire? It was supposed to be a lost art, but Cullen had rein-vented it. Someone else could have, too. She made a note to ask Cullen about that and what other tricks the sorcerer might possess.

And how did you lock up a sorcerer, anyway? Back in the days of the Purge they’d made life simpler for themselves by cutting off hands, chopping off tongues, that sort of thing. Not options the federal penal system could adopt.

Clearly she’d been shaken after hearing Sam’s story. She’d missed asking several questions. If Sam couldn’t or wouldn’t answer them, Li Qin might be able to. Or Grandmother.

Where was she? Lily underlined Grandmother a second time. That was one question she might be able to answer . . . with a little help from a friend. Cynna was one hell of a Finder.

And what in God’s name was Sam up to?

He was manipulating them. She was sure of it. Maybe he had to because the geas forced him to be devious. Maybe he had, like Li Qin had said, a good goal in mind. But she didn’t like it.

“You so deep into your scribbling you didn’t see me?” T.J. demanded. “If I’d been a bad guy, I could’ve popped you.”

“I saw you,” Lily said without looking up as she finished jotting down one more thing. “Even if I hadn’t, the server’s headed this way with our plates, so it stands to reason you’d be here.”

He grinned and pulled out his chair. “I’ve got great timing. That’s what Camille always tells me, and she ought to know.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Have I given you any reason to think I’d want to hear about your sex life?”

“I’ve seen you checking out my ass. Did you order me . . . Ah, here it is. Extra jalapeños. Thanks, sugar.”

T.J. could not be brought to believe that waitresses didn’t always like being called sugar. Lily accepted her plate with a nod of thanks, turned the page in her notebook to a blank one, and said, “Let’s talk about the Xings. What have you got?”

RULE finished his account of what he and Lily had learned. There was a long pulse of silence.

He had three listeners—Cullen, Cynna, and Max. Jason was present, but sound asleep; Nettie had left to arrange for Cullen’s release and transport by ambulance. Cullen would go to Sam’s lair this afternoon. Various bits of medical paraphernalia would be traveling with him, as would Nettie and Jason. Nettie wouldn’t stay at the lair, but Jason would.

So would Cynna, of course. Rule wondered if Sam had anticipated such a large contingent of guests when he agreed to host Cullen.

Cynna broke the silence. “So we’ve got two bad guys, and one’s a sorcerer. Lily saw him, so we’ve got a physical description, but it’s kind of vague and may not help much if he can make everyone except Lily think he’s someone else. The other bad guy is some kind of out-realm being hundreds or thousands of years old. She’s a heavy hitter magically who eats fear and can’t be killed.”

“Except by dragons, apparently,” Rule agreed.

“Good thing I’m leaving,” Cullen said. “Won’t take him long to find me.”

Rule looked at his friend. Cullen’s skin was waxy, his breathing shallow. An oxygen mask dangled from the corner of his bed. He hated it. After some discussion, Nettie had agreed he could leave it off for brief periods. He’d interpreted that to mean whenever he was awake.

He wasn’t healing. According to Nettie, Cullen wasn’t any worse, but he wasn’t healing. “Lily’s taken every precaution she can to keep your location secret. You’re here under a different name, you don’t have any hospital staff caring for you who might gossip about your presence, and—”

“And the killer’s a sorcerer.” Cullen snorted faintly. “Think he can’t find his own spell, which just happens to be in the middle of my damned chest?”

“Shit!” Cynna said explosively. “I’m a Finder. I should’ve thought of that. Why didn’t I think of that?”

Cullen smiled faintly. “You’re used to no one being able to do what you do. And maybe a little distracted.”

Cynna gripped his hand and gave him a long, intent look full of the things lovers can say in silence. Rule could see worry and promises in that look. No doubt Cullen saw much more.

She spoke quietly. “No point in me trying to jazz up the room ward now. I’m not as good at that as you. By the time I had anything with a hope of deflecting a Finding spell, you’d already be lazing around the dragon’s lair.”

Cullen’s eyelids were beginning to droop. “Where Sam’s wards will do a fine job of keeping out anything he doesn’t want around. Though I won’t mind if he lets that bastard get close enough to be his afternoon snack.”

“Sam has wards?” Rule said, surprised. “I didn’t think dragons did that.”

“The young ones like Micah don’t. Don’t think they can. Their ability to shape magic . . . seems a . . . product of age. Sam’s wards . . . are elegant as hell. I’m looking forward to . . .”

“Oxygen,” Cynna said firmly, grabbing the mask.

Cullen grimaced. “I don’t—”

“Want to be a baby about this,” she finished for him, slipping the mask on.

Rule grinned. He liked watching these two together.

Cullen took a couple slow breaths, then pulled the mask aside to say firmly, “Food.”

Rule glanced at Cynna. “What arrangements has Nettie made?”

“He can eat pretty much whatever he wants,” she said. “To avoid any chance of his tray being poisoned, we’re supposed to go get it from the cafeteria downstairs.”

“Not we,” Max said. “Him.” He jerked his thumb at Rule. “He’s the least useful person here.”

Rule’s eyebrows lifted.

Max chuckled. “Don’t like that, do you? Sure, you could jump someone faster than the rest of us—if you could see who needed to be jumped. You can’t, I can, end of story. As for the rest of this crowd, Cynna here can tell if her wards are disrupted. Jason can deal with medical problems if needed. You’re just not that necessary.” He grinned evilly. “I’ll have a cheeseburger and fries with the works.”

Max was obnoxious, but right. Rule took down the others’ requests. Jason woke up and placed an order, too, though he had to be persuaded it was okay for his Lu Nuncio to fetch his food. “You won’t be able to eat all that,” Rule told Cullen when he ordered three double-meat cheeseburgers plus fries. “You’ll fall asleep before you finish.”

“Then I’ll enjoy smelling it. What did you and Lily fight about?”

“So that’s what it is!” Cynna exclaimed. “I’d wondered.”