Better try it again. She ran through the whole spiel a second time. Then she stared at the slowly clearing mirror, frustrated, wondering if her gut had a clue about what was going on that her mind wasn’t able to tap in to, because it insisted she was getting nowhere.
On impulse, she reached up and drew on the foggy mirror with her finger. Drew a simple, stylized bee—a crude representation of the toltoi charm. Which wasn’t exactly magic, but the halfling had taken it, hadn’t she? Maybe she had a reason. Lily stared at that silly outline the way Sam always had her stare at a candle flame. Find me here, he’d say. She stared at it and tried to find Rule.
“MORE eggs?” Rule said.
“No, thanks.” Beth pushed the eggs still on her plate around with her fork.
Beth hadn’t eaten much, but Rule let it go. Lily was always telling him he tried to stuff her as if she were lupi.
He’d ordered enough for everyone. Madame Yu was still asleep, but several of his men had woken as soon as the smell of sausage and bacon reached them. As he’d known they would. He was doing Rho things. Taking care of his people. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could…
LT230…stucco building, not near the water…hostage…trade me to Robert Friar.
Rule’s fork fell from his hand. His head swung to the left. To the east. “That way,” he breathed. “She’s that way.”
LILY swayed, suddenly so dizzy she could scarcely stand. She gripped the sink with one hand and waited for it to pass. Her head swung to the west.
That way. Rule was that way.
Not that she felt him now, but she had. She had. For a few seconds while she was focused on the toltoi, the mate-sense had broken through. Rule was that way, and about ten miles away. Maybe a little less.
When the music faded, she scarcely noticed. Then a lovely, musical voice replaced the Mozart. “Lily Yu. We never did settle the matter of your correct title, did we? I would like it if you would join me for breakfast. Sean, I regret the discourtesy of not including you this time, but hope you will join me for lunch later. Lily Yu, to respond you must press your palm to the wall.”
Lily straightened, swallowed, and shoved her wet hair behind her ears. Her hands were shaky. She didn’t know if that was because she’d spent a lot of power, or if she was just scared spitless. Or so relieved she couldn’t think straight.
All of the above, maybe. She took a deep breath and did as she’d been told. The magic in the wall still vibrated, even though it wasn’t making music at the moment. “I appreciate and accept your invitation.”
THIRTY-SIX
“BUT what the hell’s LT230?” Scott said.
“I don’t know.” Rule scrubbed his face with both hands. “Maybe that isn’t all of it. She was fading in and out—more out than in, I think.”
Everyone was gathered around the table, looking at a map of the city. Rule had called Cullen to let him know: Lily was somewhere east of the hotel, and she wasn’t near water. She was possibly in a stucco building. He needed to call Tony, tell him to concentrate on the east side of the city, but they’d hoped to narrow it even further with that mysterious number.
“If that’s only part of it,” Jasper said slowly, “maybe it’s from a license plate. California plates are usually a number, three letters, then three numbers.”
“Maybe.” Rule stared at the letters and numbers he’d scribbled down as if the scrap of paper could yield some certainty. “I’ll call it in as a possibility.” He reached for his phone. Ruben first, to get the ball rolling on what might be a partial license plate. Or might not. Then he’d call Tony.
THIRTY-SEVEN
THE main room was much as Sean had described it. The sidhe might be using mage lights for their hostages, but out here the lighting was electric. One elf sat on the couch, doing something with his fingers. It reminded Lily of the way Cullen drew spell diagrams in the air, only she didn’t see the lines of light Cullen doodled with. He—she thought it was a he—wore the kind of clothes Rethna’s elves had, a soft blue tunic with darker blue pants and green boots. His hair was white and long and pulled back in a single braid.
There was a big-screen TV across from the couch, tuned to a station that played pretty pastoral scenes and classical music. Mozart’s sonata was just ending as she walked across the room with the other elf at her back.
Her stomach hurt. That was nerves…oh, use the right word. That was fear, and to be expected, maybe, but she didn’t like feeling this way.
Her hostess and captor was already seated at the table. She wore a yellow tunic that looked like silk and would probably hit her knees when she stood. It was belted at her waist with a narrow leather band that held a sheath. The hilt of a knife protruded from that sheath. Her legs and feet were bare.
At the table, Lily pulled out a chair at the place that was obviously meant for her. The elf who’d walked behind her went to stand behind the halfling woman. He had long hair the color of a Creamsicle and wore jeans and a T-shirt, which looked strange as hell on an elf. He was armed with a SIG Sauer, not a knife. He held the weapon in his hand, not pointing it at Lily, but ready to.
A drift of white mist hovered over the table. Lily’s gaze flicked up to it once, then away. It was surprisingly reassuring to know Drummond was here. He couldn’t do anything, but he was here, and on her side.
She believed that, she realized with a small jolt. Her gut did, anyway. Seeing his ghostly self nearby settled her stomach.
“You may call me Alycithin,” the halfling said politely. She pronounced it much as Sean had, accent on the second syllable, only with more lilt. “I’m unsure of your preferences, and we have no servitors here, so I must ask you to serve yourself.” Her eyes were a bright, clear green. Like a cat’s.
“I’m used to serving myself.” The table was set with plates for her and the halfling. Cloth napkins, but no silverware, Lily noted. No fork or butter knife to stab her hostess with. The food was all finger food—bacon, fruit someone had cut and arranged attractively on a platter, and a second platter with slices of bread. No butter, but it smelled good, like it wasn’t long out of the oven.
There were also pitchers of water and what looked like orange juice with glasses for both. Also a delicate china cup and saucer at each place. And a teapot. No coffee. Lily grieved briefly, then took a slice of bacon and some strawberries. “Does your culture encourage or allow business to be discussed during a meal?”
“It is thoughtful of you to ask. Normally we do not, but it is possible to make an exception to usual practice, if we both wish this.”
“I wish it.” Tea was not, in Lily’s opinion, a substitute for coffee, but it was better than nothing. “Do you think the tea has finished steeping?”
“I believe so.” Alycithin poured herself some water, smiled, and drank deeply before setting her glass down. Letting Lily know it wasn’t drugged—though a substance that affected Lily might not do a thing to one of the sidhe. “Would you care for some water?”
“Thank you, yes.” No point in continuing to refuse to drink. If they wanted to drug her again, they would.
The halfling poured for her. Lily drank thirstily, then poured herself a cup of tea. She was doing her best to channel Grandmother. Grandmother absolutely killed at the polite game when she wanted to—which, admittedly, wasn’t often, but she’d had three centuries to practice. Lily took a sip of tea. Not up to Grandmother’s standards, but it wasn’t bad. “Very nice. May I pour a cup for you?”