“I agreed. He could have asked a great deal more. I would have agreed, for love of him.”
Lily swallowed. This was a Mt. Everest of candor and revelation, and it moved her near to tears. “He expected to return.”
“He knew he would. He did not know when.”
“And he . . . he wanted to be the one to tell me about my heritage?”
“You wonder why. I know, as much as one may know such things about another, but I do not speak of it. That is very much his story, and a dragon story, and you are not dragon. You have an inheritance from dragons, but you are not dragon. He will tell you himself, or he won’t.”
“Is there . . . is there more you haven’t told me? More I should know, because it’s my story, too?”
Lily saw something rare on Grandmother’s face then. Pure surprise. It flashed over her, melding almost instantly into a chuckle. “Oh, you are bright. Yes. There is more, and I will not speak of it today. I have reasons, which may be wrong or right, but are my best judgment. If I should die in the next few days—”
“Grandmother!”
“I do not intend it, child. But the Chimei is a formidable enemy, and she longs for my death. If I should die with these other matters untold, it will be left to Li Qin to choose the time and place of the telling.”
“Li Qin? Not Sam?”
“That part of my story is a woman’s story, and not for Sam to tell. Enough.” Grandmother’s posture changed subtly, yet unmistakably. The time for stories and candor was at an end. She glanced around. “Is there a telephone here?”
“A telephone?” Lily’s mind was in too many places at once. She couldn’t imagine why Grandmother—who hated telephones—suddenly wanted one.
“I require a taxicab.”
“I can get you a taxi.” Lily reached in her pocket for her phone. “But you hate them. You say they’re all driven by incompetent apes who—”
“Bah. I have survived things you could hardly conceive. I can survive a ride in a taxicab.”
Lily touched the app that gave her the Yellow Pages—and on impulse, searched for a different listing from “taxicabs.” A smile tugged at her mouth. “How about a limo instead?”
“A limousine.” Grandmother’s eyes lit with humor and delight. “A very large one.”
“Long and shiny.”
“And black. I do not care for the white ones.”
“Long, shiny, and black. With a uniformed driver.”
Grandmother approved this with a nod. “Your mother,” she announced, “will be surprised.”
Oh, God, yes. Was it terrible of her to want to watch?
It took a few moments to arrange—moments she probably shouldn’t have used this way. But Grandmother’s childlike delight was impossible to resist. Lily prepaid with her credit card—Grandmother didn’t have a purse with her, and there were no pockets for a wallet in those slacks.
Besides, this was her gift. “They’ll pick you up on Vista Hill,” she said after disconnecting. She grabbed her jacket, but didn’t put it on. “I’m afraid the nearer roads are still closed, but maybe I can get you a lift to the pickup spot. I’ll walk downstairs with you.”
“You have far too much to do to escort me.”
“True,” Lily said, unreasonably cheerful. “But I need to do some of it with Hennessey and Dreyer, who are downstairs.”
“Very well.”
They left the room together. As they reached the door to the stairwell Lily said, “There’s one more thing I’d like to ask.”
“Yes?” Grandmother waited for Lily to open the door for her.
She did. It was still stinking hot in the stairwell, she noted glumly. “Where have you been? Where could you hide that this Chimei couldn’t find you?”
“I would think you could figure that out.” This was said with great satisfaction. She moved ahead of Lily to the stairs. “I have been at the zoo.”
Incredulous, Lily repeated, “The zoo?”
“Of course.” Grandmother started down the stairs as nimbly as if heat and age were equally unimportant. “The Chimei never knew me in my other form. I did not possess that ability until long after we defeated her in Luan, so she could not find me once I transformed. And where else may a tiger hide comfortably in San Diego?”
THIRTY-ONE
IT was hours before Lily was able to leave the hospital. When she did, it was still too damned hot.
She carried her jacket as she headed for her car. Her shirt stuck to her. Normally she didn’t even notice her shoulder harness, no more than she’d notice she was wearing shoes. At the moment she was aware of every inch of it pressing against her, holding in the heat.
To the west, out over the ocean, clouds were piling up, dark mounds capped by incandescent white. She sneered at them. Twice during the current heat wave, storms had built up out at sea—and busted their guts without coming in to land, leaving the city as hot and parched as ever.
Damned teasing clouds.
She’d made sure the FBI’s crime scene people played nicely with the local arson investigators. Both teams might come up with useful evidence, and even if the plan was to evict the sorcerer from their realm, they’d need to prove they had the right perp. She’d made sure Dreyer’s people asked witnesses about an Asian man in scrubs. Unsurprisingly, some people had seen such a man. Lily had spoken with some of them to see if he might be her perp.
Mostly, no. There were plenty of Asian doctors on staff, and most of the reported sightings were either of a physician the person knew, or they were in the wrong place. Some were possible, though.
She really needed a picture of him. A name would be good. While she was wishing, she might as well toss in a call from Zhou Xing giving her the hitter’s contact info. She . . .
Her phone played harp music. That was Cynna. She grabbed it. “This is Lily. What’s up?”
“He fixed it! Sam undid the spell on Cullen’s heart.”
“He did? Already?”
“Well, Cullen and Sam did it together. Sam studied the spell for a couple hours. He just lay there staring at Cullen, not moving, not even a twitch. Every now and then he’d sort of hum. Finally he said he had the key to the spell, but it would be difficult to unsing because of the spell’s blood-tie to Cullen. But Cullen had an idea about using this wan chi spell—that’s way cool, by the way. He learned it from your grandmother, and it’s a carrier spell, and they’re usually just used as part of another spell so it will go where you want it. But this wan chi spell is different because you can use it on someone else’s spell, which makes it good for defense. If you have it ready, you can deflect the other guy’s spell. Uh—where was I?”
Lily grinned. “Sounding like Cullen.” Who loved to talk about the theory and nuances of spellcraft.
“I do, don’t I? Anyway, the other thing about the wan chi spell is it’s powered by blood. So Cullen pricked his finger and Sam sang this note—he can hold a note a really long time—and Cullen used the wan chi spell to carry Sam’s unsinging into his heart. Blood to blood, see? And the bad spell just fell apart.”
“That’s good. That’s really, really good.” Lily struggled to find words. “That’s damned wonderfully, marvelously good. So Cullen’s going to heal now? His body’s doing its lupus thing?”
Cynna laughed. “Nettie says he doesn’t need her anymore. She put him back in sleep and she’s going to hang around another hour or two, just to be sure, then go home and go to sleep herself. For a day or two, she said. The damage is pretty small, really, not like when he had to regrow a whole foot and ankle. Regrowing parts takes a lot longer than closing up a cut.”
It wasn’t just a cut. It was a cut to the heart, so some of his healing magic would be spent keeping him alive while he healed it, which meant it would heal more slowly than a cut to the leg or arm. But Lily knew what Cynna meant. “It won’t be long before he’s driving you crazy, trying to do stuff he shouldn’t.”