“Now and then I’d wait for him to come home after a long day’s work—he’s divorced, lives alone—have a little chat, and leave as soon as he fell asleep.”
She stopped walking. “He fell asleep with you there? You broke into the chief of police’s house, and he went to sleep instead of arresting you?”
“It was an apartment, actually, and he wasn’t the chief then. And I had a little charm Cullen made for me.”
“A sleep charm.”
“Worked beautifully, too. So did the other charm Cullen gave me.”
“And that was?”
He smiled, but his eyes were hard. “A confusion charm. Poor Pete wasn’t sure of anything. What time did he see me? What day? He had a couple patrollers keeping an eye on me by then, but they swore I’d never gone near his place on the night he thought I’d showed up.”
“He didn’t even know which night you were there? Surely he could work it out.”
“He’d wake up with the last few days jumbled. He wasn’t sure when anything happened.”
“That’s…chilling.”
“He was the chief detective in a town that borders Clanhome. Steve wasn’t the first lupus he’d picked up for trivial or manufactured reasons and beaten. We heal so conveniently well, you see, that there are never any marks later. He needed to know he’d pay a price for indulging his little hobby.”
“Did he do that to you?” she demanded. “Did he beat you?”
Something flickered in his eyes, too brief for her to read it. “No. But those he did hurt were mine to protect.”
She frowned as she started walking again. “I’ve never heard of a confusion charm. How hard is it to make?”
“The confusion charm is Cullen’s own creation, and he called it fiendishly difficult. I doubt anyone else has one, at least in this realm, though I suppose it’s possible Cullen traded one for something at some point.”
“Hmm. He probably wouldn’t trade the spell itself.”
“He’s possessive about that sort of thing,” Rule agreed. “We’ve reached the car.”
So they had. It was a plain white sedan that all but shouted “I am a government vehicle.” One of the regular agents assigned to the San Diego office had brought it to her at the airport. Someone from Nokolai was bringing Rule his car, but she wasn’t sure who or when.
Just as Lily clicked the lock, Rule’s phone chimed. He pulled it out, frowned. “I missed a call. Reception’s not great in the mountains, but I’ve got bars here.”
“Could be a bit of magical interference.” One of the things magic interfered with most easily was cell phones. “Is there a node nearby?”
“A small one, I think. I’d better return this one,” Rule said. He did so while they both got into the car. Lily started the engine, thinking about what she knew about sleep charms.
They worked on demons, though not as well as they did on humans.
They had to be touching whoever they were used on.
They weren’t hard to make—at least not for Cullen, but sorcerers were at least as rare as sensitives. Cullen was the only one she knew about. Sorcerers had an edge on other practitioners in that they could see the magic they worked with. According to Cullen, that was like the difference between an electrician who could see the wiring and one who couldn’t, but had a good idea of where the wires were supposed be.
Something had persuaded Hilliard to hold still while he was tattooed. She wasn’t ruling out the possibility he’d done so voluntarily, but considered that less likely than force or coercion. With force…lupi could be knocked out, and the evidence was hard to find afterward, given the way they healed. But it took a lot of force. A sleep charm would be easier.
Would it be more certain, too?
Lily was pulling out of the parking lot when Rule disconnected. “Do sleep charms work on lupi?” she asked.
“Yes. They don’t trigger our healing, since sleep is a natural state, so the effect is the same on us as it is on humans. Lily, we need to go to the jail.”
“We are. I want to talk with Chance. If sleep charms work on you, why aren’t they used when you need surgery?”
“They work, but not that comprehensively. Cullen’s charm won’t keep a lupus asleep through surgery. We’ve tried. Theoretically, someone could make a stronger sleep charm than Cullen can, but—”
“But I won’t tell him you said so.” She smiled to show she meant it. Cullen would return and she’d have the chance to avoid mentioning that, theoretically, someone might be better at one of the magical arts than he. “Tattoo needles don’t penetrate as far as a surgeon’s scalpel. Maybe they wouldn’t hurt enough to interfere with a sleep charm.”
He shrugged. “Perhaps. A higher level of pain might break the charm. Cullen believes it’s the sheer disruption of surgery. Our healing takes no notice of spells, but it pays keen attention to our being cut open.”
“Nettie can put you in sleep deeply enough to last through surgery.”
“Nettie is a healer, and a Gift is always more effective than a spell-wrought effect. Plus, that particular skill of hers depends as much on the spiritual as the magical.”
Lily knew that, since Nettie had actually put her in sleep. It shouldn’t have worked. Magic did not affect her.
But Nettie’s version of it did. Lily chose not to think about that. She signaled for a turn. “Who was on the phone?”
“Hal Newman.”
“The defense attorney. He’s with, uh…Cone, Levy, Rayner and Newman.” She’d seen Newman in action once, though thankfully not on a case of hers. He was far too good at what he did.
“That’s right. My father uses their firm, and Hal is representing Jason. He’s arranged bond. Jason will be released as soon as Hal presents the necessary papers to the jailer.”
“That was fast.”
“Hal’s a good attorney. He’s meeting us at the jail. I need to be the first one into Jason’s cell.”
“What?” She glanced at him as she slowed. They’d reached the city jail, which was part of the local cop shop. “You know I can’t arrange that. They’ll have a guard bring him out.”
“Jason has been locked up for twenty-four hours. He is uncomfortable in small, enclosed spaces.”
Uh-oh. She should have thought of that. “As uncomfortable as you are?”
“Somewhat more so.”
Chapter 5
Hal Newman’s white hair, silver-rimmed glasses, and charcoal gray suit fit the image of a top-flight defense attorney. He was California-fit and probably had his plastic surgeon on speed dial, judging by the smooth skin and general lack of sagging. He had the handshake down, too—just firm enough, neither hasty nor lingering.
The distinct tingle of magic when their palms touched didn’t go with the image. It went with someone who turned furry on occasion—and would never need a plastic surgeon.
Lily shot Rule a glance. He smiled blandly.
No wonder the clan used Newman. He was clan. “Mr. Newman,” she said, “I understand you have some recommendations concerning Mr. Chance’s release that Chief Daly is reluctant to allow.”
The chief looked smug. “We follow procedure here.”
They were in the chief’s office—her, Rule, Newman, and the chief jailer, a morose fellow named Hawes. It was crowded. Daly was no neatnik, and he hadn’t bothered to shift the piles of papers from the single visitor’s chair to let any of them sit.
Lily gave Daly a nod. “It’s usually best to do so. What are your procedures for releasing a lupus after he’s been incarcerated for over twenty-four hours?”
“We’re supposed to treat them like everyone else now, so that’s what we’ll do. Follow the same procedure we would for anyone else.”
“Under the law”—Newman had a deep, rolling baritone—“equal treatment does not necessarily mean identical treatment. Some classes of prisoners require different treatment. A wheelchair-bound prisoner, for example. Minors, obviously. And the courts have consistently ruled that visually impaired persons must be—”