“You don’t have to call a black man a nigger to treat him like one.”
“Oh, now I’m a racist.”
“I didn’t say that. Just as you didn’t call me promiscuous.”
“What are we arguing about? Can you tell me that much? Just what is it we’re having this argument about?”
He stopped abruptly enough for her to lurch against her seatbelt. “I don’t know. Nothing. There’s Cynna.”
“Great. Good.” Lily stopped herself before she could blurt out something stupid like, “1 guess she never called you promiscuous.” For one thing, it was probably true. For another, it would have sounded entirely too petty and jealous. Which she wasn’t. Not exactly.
But Rule had been promiscuous. Maybe not by his standards, whatever those might be, but by hers, he’d been quite the little honeybee, flitting from flower to flower… and he’d been flitting a lot longer than she’d realized. About twenty years longer.
His honeybee days were over, though. That’s what counted. Maybe that’s what had him on edge, too. Maybe trading every woman for one woman didn’t seem like such a great deal this morning. He hadn’t been given a choice, after all. The mate bond locked them both in this relationship, and however right it felt on the deepest level, there were all sorts of other levels that could play hell with happy-ever-after.
“Morning,” Cynna Weaver said, opening the back door on the driver’s side. She tossed in a scruffy black tote, slid inside, and glanced from one to the other of them. Her eyebrows lifted, rearranging the whorls on her forehead. “Whoa. You two arguing, or did someone die?”
Lily lifted her own eyebrows. “Kimberly Ann Curtis. Caucasian, brown and brown, five-seven, one-thirty. She turned twenty-two last March. Went by Kim.”
“Okay, don’t tell me. None of my business, I guess.” Cynna settled back against the seat. “I’ll admit the ‘someone died’ comment was stupid when we’re headed to a murder scene—”
“Possible homicide,” Lily corrected automatically.
“Whatever. It’s godawful early yet. Don’t expect clever from me for another couple hours.”
“I can wait,” Lily said dryly as Rule pulled away. “Fasten your seatbelt, please.” The other woman muttered something about “seatbelt enforcer” but complied, so
Lily ignored the comment. Chances were that Weaver had never responded to vehicular crashes. She wouldn’t know what a face looked like after impacting with a windshield. Or traveling through one.
“So what do we know about this possible homicide?”
“She was found about three-thirty this morning by Mike Sanderson, a coworker who says they dated sometimes but were not exclusive. Nonetheless, he was sufficiently bothered by it when she left the Cactus Corral last night with someone else that he went to her dwelling around three. He found her dead and called the police. No obvious signs of violence. No cause of death determined.”
“Huh.” Weaver unzipped her tote. “This Sanderson the one who ID’ed Harlowe? It was him she left with, right?”
“Right.” Lily frowned at the tote. “I thought you didn’t need any ingredients, that your spells were in your tattoos.”
“You thought right.” She took out a thermos. “Hot chocolate. Want some?”
“No, thanks. I’ve got coffee.” Which was probably cold now. Lily picked up her mug, taking a sip to check. Yep. Cold.
“Don’t know how anyone drinks that stuff.” Cynna took a slug of her chocolate, which did smell good. “I’m wondering why Rule’s driving. No offense, Rule—you’re great eye candy, but you’re a civilian. What are you along for?”
“Emergency sex,” he said blandly.
She exploded into laughter. “Yu, you’re getting some bennies I didn’t think the bureau offered. I’m jealous.”
Lily felt her cheeks heat and thanked God for thick skin. Blushing didn’t show. “He’s a civilian consultant.”
Cynna snorted. “Never heard it called that before. I thought maybe he was bodyguarding you, what with Harlowe leaving you love notes now.”
“That, too,” Rule said. “You know about the note?”
“Yeah, I heard. Yu—” She grimaced. “If there’s a way to say your last name so that it doesn’t sound like a pronoun, it’s beyond me.”
There were three ways to say her last name in Chinese, two of which were beyond Lily, much to Grandmother’s disgust. “I’m used to people having trouble with my surname.”
“Let’s use first names, then.” She delved into her tote again, this time coming up with a foam takeout container.
“Okay.” Though it wasn’t, not really, but that just made Lily determined to get over it. “You should know that we acquired some new information last night.”
“After you left the ER?”
“Yes. Seabourne paid me a visit.”
“I have got to meet that dude. A sorcerer.” She shook her head and opened the container, which turned out to hold a bagel. “Hard to believe, but reality’s often a stretch. Some people find me hard to believe.”
“He thinks you’ll have trouble finding Harlowe, that the staff is shielding him.”
“Won’t know until I try, but I’m pretty good.” She took a big bite.
Lily tried not to stare longingly at Cynna’s bagel. She could have brought some food along… if she ever went to the store and bought stuff. “He also says he scried for Harlowe and found him in—ah, in hell.”
That sent Cynna’s eyebrows up. “No shit?”
“I don’t think Seabourne was making it up. But he doesn’t know if Harlowe is there now, was there recently, or will be there soon.”
“Fire scrying, huh? Well, that is interesting.” She licked a crumb off her thumb. “Ties right in with the demon who conked you on the head.”
“So it seems. I have a question for you.”
“Shoot.” She took another bite.
“In order to Find something, you have to establish a connection with it, right?”
“That’s how it works.”
“I want you to hunt for Harlowe, then, not the staff. I’ve got some concerns about you connecting with it. It’s… tainted.” Lily was getting better at reading the expression beneath the tattoos. Cynna obviously didn’t think much of Lily’s caution. “Have you ever encountered death magic?”
Cynna frowned. “No. Nasty stuff.”
Rule spoke. “The staff reeks of it.”
“Yeah? What does it smell like?”
“Putrefaction.”
Cynna made a face at her bagel. “You’re killing my appetite.”
Rule smiled. “You’ve grown more delicate. I can remember a time when it would take actual decay, not the mere mention of it, to have an effect.”
Cynna grinned at the back of his head. “I’ve always had healthy appetites. Remember that night on the roof?”
“Weaver,” Lily said, forgetting the first-name bit.
“Yeah?”
“Are you trying to annoy me, or is annoyance the usual by-product of your personality?”
The woman laughed. “Usual by-product, I guess. You two really do have an exclusive thing going?”
“We really do.”
“Hmm.” She looked at what was left of her bagel. For a moment there was no expression at all on that odd, striking face. “So what’s this Seabourne like?”
“He’s annoying, too. Also incredibly gorgeous.”
“I really do need to meet him.” She popped the last bite into her mouth, chewed, and then said, “You don’t have to worry about me getting ‘tainted’ if I do sort something connected to the staff. I’ve got all sorts of protection written in. When I sort, I take the patterns I
want to Find on my skin. The energy doesn’t go any deeper.“
That sounded a little like what Lily experienced when she touched magic. She felt its texture, but the magic itself slid off her as if she were greased. Still, unlike her, Cynna didn’t remain entirely unaffected. “Your skin’s part of you. I don’t want you trying to find the staff.”