Rule looked at Cullen. “You would recognize the scent of an elf.”
“Damn right I would.”
“Todd, take Cullen to the place you found the scent. Joe, with me. I need to see to Tony.”
“Your shirt,” Cullen said.
He looked down. “Damn.” He’d bled freely. It didn’t show as much on the black cotton as it would have on something else, but it showed. He should have thought of that earlier.
“Take mine,” Todd said, already unbuttoning it. “We wear the same size.”
The delay made Rule want to howl, but he gritted his teeth and put up with it. He disposed of the old shirt by having Cullen rip it off, then had to thread his bad arm through the sleeve of Todd’s shirt. “No,” he said tersely when Cullen started to replace the makeshift sling. “It’s got blood all over it, too.”
At last he strode forward—only to be stopped by the officer who’d ignored Todd leaving the scene. “Stay back, now.” The man put a hand on Rule’s shoulder.
It hurt. Rule snarled.
The officer’s eyes rounded. He fell back a step, his hand dropping to the gun holstered at his waist.
“Rule.” Cullen touched Rule’s other arm, then went on too softly for human ears. “As soothing as it would be to rip off his arm and beat him with it, it would really slow things down.”
True. Rule took a slow breath. Somewhere he found a smile. “Sorry, Officer. I’m worried about my fiancée, who I believe was abducted from this scene. I’m an FBI consultant with Unit Twelve. I’m going to reach into my pocket for my ID now.”
The cop’s eyes flickered to Rule’s hand and back to his face. “Reach nice and slow.”
“Of course.” As if he’d be more of a threat with a gun. Rule didn’t explain the officer’s mistake, however, but slowly took out his wallet and flipped it open. The ID Ruben had arranged for Rule to carry was not a badge. Rule wasn’t a law enforcement officer. But it did proclaim his security clearance and his connection to the Bureau, most notably to Unit Twelve.
It wasn’t enough for the cop to let them pass, but he did call his superior—who may have misunderstood Rule’s credentials slightly. Rule heard his response in the cop’s headphones: “Fucking yes, you let him through. He’s fucking Unit Twelve. Unless the fucking terrorists have decided it’s nicer to knock people out than blow them up, we’re ass deep in some kind of fucking magical shit here.”
The cop directed Rule to go to a Sergeant Bellows, pointing him out—a short, bald guy who was one of the officers with Tony. How convenient. Rule thanked him and moved forward, carefully restraining himself to a speed that wouldn’t alarm the humans around him. Carefully cradling his bad arm, too, because a show of strength wasn’t as important as shepherding his strength so he would heal faster. Halfway there, he nodded at Cullen. Cullen and Todd split off to check out the strange scent.
The sergeant turned as Rule got close. “What the fuck? You’re not a fucking FBI agent. You’re that damn lupus guy. The prince one.”
“I’m Rule Turner, yes. I’m also a consultant with Unit Twelve of the FBI, and I’ve reason to believe a federal agent was abducted from this scene.” Now he looked directly at Tony, whose arms were fastened behind his back. Tony looked like a big, sleepy bear. He smelled furious. “Why is this man in restraints?”
“Violent altercation inside the bar. He won’t talk to us. Thinks he’s a POW or something—gave his name, then wouldn’t say one fucking word. I want to see your ID.”
Rule took it out again and handed it over. The sergeant passed it to an older officer. “Call it in. Make sure it’s legit.”
“Romano will talk to me,” Rule said.
“Yeah? Well, he sure as shit better, or—hey!” His gaze swung to the left. “What the fuck are you doing?” He was looking at Cullen, who was down on his hands and knees, sniffing the sidewalk. “Goddamn loonies. Turner, get Romano talking.” He stalked off.
Rule sacrificed Cullen to the sergeant’s wrath and started for Tony, who stood a few feet away.
“Not too close.” A much younger officer stepped in front of him. “This man is dangerous. He’s lupus.”
“So am I.” Rule allowed himself to move quickly, tired of the way everyone kept blocking him. He stopped about a foot from Tony—a distance too close for comfort. Challenging distance.
“Sir, you need to move back.”
“Let him be,” the older officer said. “Sergeant’s orders.”
Rule looked up and met Tony’s eyes. “There are only three ways I can see that they could have known where to find Lily. One, our enemies have some new magical trick we don’t know about. Two, my men were sloppy and allowed themselves to be trailed. But it’s the third option that seems most likely. She was set up.”
Tony still looked calm. His control was excellent…but not perfect. Rule caught the quick spike of seru in his scent.
Seru was sometimes the scent of anger, but more, it was the scent of challenge. Of dominance. It was an olfactory How dare you. Tony was able to submit when he needed to. He could obey. He looked and sometimes spoke like an oversize child. But he was a man, he was Rho, and he was dominant. He didn’t like Rule’s stance or his implicit accusation. “I did not set her up.”
Rule continued to hold his gaze. “Will you pledge on Laban?”
After a moment Tony nodded. Rule felt it when Tony drew on his mantle. Or rather, the mantles he carried felt it and responded in a way Rule had no words for, but recognized. “I did not set up Lily,” Tony said slowly. “I did not know what would happen. I don’t know what did happen. I pledge this on Laban.”
Rule stepped back. “Thank you. If not you, then Hugo. Damn, I wish I knew where Mike was.”
“Following Hugo. He was still in Dingos when I got there, but he made a commotion so he could get away. I distracted the humans so Mike could follow him.”
“Did you break much?”
“None of the people. Some furniture.”
“You haven’t been answering the officers’ questions.”
“I didn’t know what was okay to tell them.” He bunched his shoulders. “I don’t like this plastic thing. Can you get them to take it off?”
“I’ll see what I can do. Officer Pearson.” He looked at the older man. “How can we get the restraints removed?”
“You’ll have to talk to the sergeant about that.”
Who was, Rule saw, marching Cullen this way. At least that’s what the sergeant thought he was doing. Cullen’s expression told Rule he wanted to come here anyway and was putting up with the sergeant’s hand on his arm to speed things up.
“This bastard says he’s one of yours,” the sergeant said.
“He is. What—”
Rule got a finger jabbed in his direction. “You tell him to quit fucking with my scene.”
“Don’t fuck with the man’s scene, Cullen. What did you learn?”
“Pretty sure there are two scents. One’s definitely elf. I’d have to Change to be sure about the other one. Lily’s scent is there, too. It stops where it meets theirs.”
“She was carried off, then.”
The sergeant scowled. “Elves? You’re fucking crazy.” Without waiting for a response he swung to speak to the older officer. “What do they say about his fucking ID?”
“He’s legit.”
The sergeant shook his head morosely. “Elves. Shit.”
Rule had to agree. “We need to find Hugo. He may be boarding a ship about now.” Though Rule suspected that had been part of the bait—make it look as if Hugo was about to vanish to draw Lily out here. “What was…ah. These people should be able to help.”