“Stuff the legal mumbo-jumbo.” Daly leaned back in his chair, convinced he had the upper hand. “Jason Chance isn’t blind or in a wheelchair. He isn’t a minor. He’s an able-bodied adult and he can walk out of here just fine on his own two legs.” He smirked. “Once he’s on two legs again, that is.”
And that was the problem. Under the law, Chance had to be treated as having all the rights and responsibilities of citizenship when he was shaped like a human. Unfortunately, Daly now had a wolf locked up. Shortly before his lawyer arrived, Jason Chance had succumbed to his instinctive response to his race’s claustrophobia. He’d Changed.
If Daly weren’t a turd, that wouldn’t matter. Rule could tell Chance to Change back. Rule possessed the heir’s portion of the clan’s mantle; even beast-lost, Chance would obey his Lu Nuncio. But Daly refused to allow Rule into the cell, or even into the jail itself. He refused to allow Newman in, too—“can’t take chances with a wild animal like that. He’s vicious. Likely he’d savage you.”
And when Newman insisted he was entitled to see his client, Daly had said, “Wolves don’t have attorneys.”
Legally, he was right.
“What,” Rule asked in a low voice, “do you intend to do with Jason?”
“Why, not a thing. But that wolf, now, he can’t stay here. That’s obvious. This is a jail for humans. Don’t worry—I wouldn’t do anything inhumane.” Blue eyes glittered with malice and pleasure. “He’ll be tranq’ed before we move him. Got an expert coming with a dart gun.”
Rule’s voice dropped even lower. “Tranquilizers don’t work on lupi.”
Daly’s eyes opened wide in mock surprise. “You sure? Because if he can’t be sedated, we do have a problem. The way that beast is acting, well…” He shook his head. “Can’t take chances, and that animal is dangerous. I’ve already had to move the other prisoners out of that cell block, which creates a hazard. Can’t keep them stacked up three or four to a cell.”
This time, Rule growled. The sound was eerily like a wolf’s, not the weak imitation a human throat makes.
Lily put a hand on his arm. His muscles were rigid. But a quick glance told her his eyes were still brown, not black-swallowed. He was in control.
She took a few seconds to consider options. Was Daly crazy enough to think he could get away with shooting Chance in wolf form? Maybe he just intended Rule to think he would. Maybe he wanted Rule to jump him so he’d have an excuse to lock Rule up, too.
Or maybe he meant it. He might really have one of his people shoot Chance. It wasn’t illegal to shoot a wolf—not if the animal could be considered a danger to others. Not even if it was only a part-time wolf, and killing him meant killing the human, too. Daly might believe he could get away with it—a beast-lost lupus was a danger, no doubt about that.
If he had been free he would be, that is. Which was the whole problem.
“All right,” she said crisply. “You’ve made your position clear, Chief Daly. Officer Hawes, please escort me to your prisoner.”
The jailer blinked. “Uh—don’t have a prisoner now. He’s a wolf, and a wolf isn’t a prisoner.”
Which meant that legally they could do all sorts of things to him. Things that would keep him panicked and furious, unable to reason, unable to understand that he was better off in his other form. They’d keep him beast-lost because Daly wanted him that way. “Then let me put it this way. You have a witness I need to see in one of your cells, and I don’t care what form he’s wearing. I require immediate access to that witness.”
Daly remained complacent. “Sorry. Can’t do it. That animal’s crazy, and until we have him subdued—”
“Chief.” She stepped up to his desk and looked down at him. “You can’t stop me.”
“I for damn sure can. This is my jail, under my authority, and I’m responsible for—”
“I’ve presented you with my badge. You’ve had time to confirm that I am, indeed, an agent of Unit Twelve of the Magical Crimes Division of the FBI. Under the Domestic Security and Magical Crimes Law as amended on January tenth of this year, you cannot stop me. If you continue to try, I will arrest you for impeding my investigation.”
His mouth opened. Closed. Red arose in a vascular tide to suffuse his face. Finally he spoke in a voice all but strangled with fury. “You wouldn’t dare.”
There were all sorts of things she might have said or done to defuse the situation, ways she could show respect for his position while insisting on her own authority.
Lily didn’t even try. She planted her hands on his desk and leaned forward until her face was a foot from his. His breath smelled like stale chili. The veins stood out in his neck and forehead, and his freckles were pale splotches in his red face.
Her lips curled up. Softly she said, “Try me.”
Hatred burned in his eyes. “You’ll regret this. You’re going to regret this for a real long time.”
The Del Cielo jail was larger than expected for a town this small, but the city rented spaces to the state—and given the state’s overcrowded system, it had no trouble funding the operation of its jail this way.
The setup was pretty standard. Probably built in the fifties, Lily thought, with cinderblock walls and cement floors. There were two cell blocks, each opening off a small control center with three screens—one for the hall splitting each cell bock, apparently. The third was dark.
Lily had suspicions about that dark screen. “Got a problem with your cameras?” she asked as Daly jammed a key into the old-fashioned lock on a heavy steel door.
He didn’t answer. Didn’t even look at her.
The moment the door opened, she heard the growling. Daly stepped aside and gestured for her to precede him.
She didn’t like that, didn’t want the man at her back. He hated too much; she didn’t know his limits. But neither could she afford to look weak. She walked through the door.
There were three cells plus a shower on one side, four cells on the other. And two officers with high-powered rifles trained on the occupant of the fourth cell.
Something too pure to be called anger sizzled through Lily. She felt as if her hair should have bristled. She felt as if she could growl, too.
The sonofabitch. The stinking sonofabitch had intended to do it. He’d meant to arrange Chance’s death. The stage was all set.
Unconsciously she brushed the large shirt she’d donned in lieu of her jacket. Rule’s shirt, imbued with his scent. How far would Daly’s hatred take him? Lily walked slowly down the short hall, watching the men with the guns. They were nervous. Their eyes flicked to her. One said, “Chief—”
“Shut up, Mills,” Daly said from behind her.
“Agent Yu, FBI,” Lily said crisply. “Your chief isn’t happy with me right now, or he would have introduced us. Stand down with your weapons.”
The two men looked at their boss. “No,” he said tersely. “You don’t command my men, Agent.”
“Idiot,” she said just as crisply. Then she reached the cell.
The wolf was small, for a lupus—which meant he was only twenty or so pounds heavier than an average wolf. His teeth were whiter than usual for a canid—but then, he brushed them in his other form. They were also large and bared. He had a lovely coat, brindled gray, with the hackles raised fully. His ears were flat. A continuous growl issued from deep in his chest.
He was backed up against the far wall.
A beta, Rule had said. He’d fight if threatened. He felt extremely threatened at the moment, and who wouldn’t? He was also a man, even if the man was buried deep at the moment. He knew what those rifles meant.
Lily moved close to the bars of the cell, positioning herself carefully.
“Agent Yu?” one of the officers said. “You’re blocking my shot.”