As for names . . . there was something about names in the report. She couldn’t quite remember . . .
“Penny for them,” Rule said, taking her hand.
“Hmm.” They’d almost reached the Asteglio back gate. Unlike the two males with her, she’d lost track of her surroundings. “Nothing coherent, I’m afraid. I wish I could have asked the ghosts some questions through Talia.”
“Why didn’t you?” Toby asked. “Talia would’ve done it, I bet, especially with me staying close enough to make them go away if they got mean.”
“I’m not supposed to interview a minor without the knowledge and consent of her parents, much less encourage her to use her Gift for me. And it might not be safe for Talia. You can’t be beside her every minute, and I don’t know what to make of the new ones screaming at her.”
“Huh.” Toby thought that over as they passed back into his yard. “Can you get an adult medium to come talk to the ghosts?”
“Maybe. There aren’t any in the Unit.” And she wasn’t sure a medium could help. Ghosts were seriously unreliable witnesses, which was why Ruben hadn’t made more of a push to recruit a medium for the Unit.
Toby wanted to know if Rule was going to tell Grammy about him sneaking out. Rule chuckled and said she might ask for an explanation when she saw Toby doing fractions on a sunny summer morning. “Morning?” Toby said—a little too loudly. Rule hushed him, and Toby launched a whispered campaign against morning math, as opposed to afternoon math, that carried the two of them up the stairs.
Lily stayed behind, clearing away the plate and glass she’d forgotten earlier. Before heading up, she grabbed her purse and dug out her phone; it was the quickest way to send an e-mail. She needed the report on ghosts that Ruben’s panel had produced.
An hour ago, climbing the stairs had been foreplay. Now they were just stairs, the path she needed to take to reach the bed she was longing for . . . and for entirely different reasons. Somewhere between rinsing her plate and sending the e-mail, exhaustion had hit.
Rule was still in with Toby when she reached the top of the stairs. She headed straight for the bedroom.
Parents do this sort of thing all the time, she thought as she pulled off her jacket and unbuckled her shoulder holster. Coitus interruptus took on a whole new meaning with kids around. Maybe most parents didn’t include the walking-a-wolf-down-the-alley bit, but kids climbed out windows. Kids did all sorts of crazy things, and parents had to sift the rights and wrongs and dangers of a situation, and somehow convey all that to their kids.
Preferably without yelling. She hung up the jacket, pulled off her T-shirt and bra, and dropped the last two on the closet floor, regretting the lack of a clothes hamper. Not that her mother had raised her voice, exactly. She’d turned shrill. Sarcastic. If there was a way to show that you disapproved of an action without disapproving of the child, her mother had never found it.
As far as Lily could tell, she hadn’t looked. Lily had quit listening long ago. Didn’t stop reacting to her, though, did I? She sighed, turned off the bedside lamp, and slipped naked between the sheets, too tired to dig out a sleep shirt. Which she seldom bothered with at home, but she had intended to use here.
Wasn’t Rule going awfully far to the other extreme, though? Sure, he’d disciplined Toby, but first he’d said he was proud of the boy. Talk about mixed messages.
Sneaking out of the house was serious. Even in Halo, bad things happened to kids on the streets at night. And right now there was something or someone who could make people kill.
She didn’t hear Rule come in, but she felt him. Eyes closed, she listened to the rustling sound of him undressing, and she smiled. Oh, yeah, she was stupid in love with the man. She knew his clothes would go on the floor, not out of sight in the closet, and still she smiled.
He’d probably pick them up in the morning. He knew disorder bothered her, so he usually remembered. Maybe, she thought sleepily, it worked out better for kids if their parents—the ones they started out with, or the ones they collected along the way—didn’t agree about everything. Might as well hope that was true, because that’s what most kids got.
The mattress dipped. Automatically she rolled onto her side so Rule could curve his body around hers. He kissed her ear, sighed, and sank onto the pillow, lazily draping one arm over her waist to cup her breast. “We missed our moment, didn’t we?”
She nodded without opening her eyes.
“Not going to tell me I was wrong about Toby?” he murmured.
“Nope. Too tired.” Though she couldn’t resist adding, “I don’t think this is the first time he’s slipped out.”
“I’m sure it isn’t. We’re looser about some rules than you’re used to, in part because our children can’t lie to us. We don’t allow disobedience about the important things.”
She suspected they defined “important things” differently. “You would have been a lot more upset if he’d broken his word.”
“Yes.” He nuzzled her hair. “He’s my only son, nadia. He will almost certainly be Rho someday. His word will bind the entire clan, and lupi will die to uphold it if necessary. He must understand the weight of his promises.”
It was a cold, scary ideal to impose on a boy, but he was talking about himself as much as his son. And, she realized, his father. She had a glimmering of what it meant to be Rho. The head of a clan was, in an essential way, separate from the rest, set apart by a responsibility the others couldn’t share.
Did Isen, in holding the clan’s mantle, enjoy the comfort of it that the rest of the clan shared? Or was it another burden? Or some combination of the two?
Mantles . . . something she was going to ask . . . but sleep dragged at her. As her mind shut down, she snuggled closer to Rule so he would know he wasn’t alone. But her last thoughts, oddly, were about his father.
She had no doubt Isen Turner could have sex as often as he wished. But did anyone simply sleep with him? Or was he alone in that way, too?
TWENTY-ONE
RULE slept in the next morning, which annoyed him. Normally he needed no more than five hours of sleep, but he’d done without entirely the night before. It was just past six thirty when Lily slipped out of bed, waking him—and spoiling his plan for how to wake her. She was in a hurry, unfortunately. She’d called a briefing for seven thirty.
Ah, well. One of the pleasures of their bond was knowing there would be other mornings. He spoke firmly to himself about the value of delayed gratification as he showered, having seen Lily off with a decent kiss, followed by a mug of decent coffee to take with her.
He finished his own coffee while shaving, then headed downstairs, carrying his laptop and the empty mug. His business wasn’t as urgent as Lily’s, but still needed tending. Financial matters, mostly—he handled the investments for the clan—plus some details concerning the All-Clan. Plus he needed to speak with the Leidolf Lu Nuncio again about the gens compleo.
Toby was still asleep, but his grandmother wasn’t. He exchanged “good mornings” with her while refilling his mug. She’d applied her makeup already, as was her habit, which he took as a good sign. Yesterday’s violence had been hard on her. “You slept well?”
“Surprisingly so.” She took down a large mixing bowl. “I’m making pancakes this morning. How many will you want?”
“Pancakes.” He smiled with pleasure. “I’ll take as many as you care to offer. I’m good with eggs, but have never mastered pancakes. May I help?”