Blood Lines (27 page)

A large gray wolf trotted after him. An escort, Cynna guessed, to make sure he did leave.

Alex watched him go, then turned to the Rhej. “Sister . . .”

“I know.” She rubbed her temple, looking about ten years older than she had at first. “But this is a bad time for it. They’d say I was interfering in the naming.”

Cullen looked like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You can’t let him get away with that, naming or no naming. Which is going to involve you anyway. The Lady’s approval—”

“This is Leidolf.”

Apparently that answered Cullen, who sighed. “He means you ill.”

“You think I’m a fool? I know that. But the founder’s line is thin.”

“Sister.” Alex specialized in one-word comments. This time his voice was heavy with disapproval.

She snorted. “You think Nokolai and the other clans don’t know exactly who carries the bloodline?”

“She’s right.” Cullen tried to look apologetic. He wasn’t good at it. “Not counting Brady—who, sadly, is a sure thing from this standpoint—you’ve got two from a collateral line who can almost certainly carry the mantle. Two others stand a fair chance. The rest are long shots.”

“So we’re thin,” she said. “If Brady sires a child—”

“You want
that
to breed?” Cynna said, appalled.

“Don’t judge what you don’t understand.” She straightened her shoulders. “And don’t be playing with that spell of yours till you’re mended. I’ll check back with you in the morning, see how you’re doing. Anything you need tonight, let Sabra know. You’d best stay in the room,” she added to Cullen. “It’s poor hospitality, but—”

Cullen broke in, polite but firm. “Serra, I’ve already called Rule.” She stared at him, then looked at her brother, who nodded. He didn’t look happy about it. She sighed.

“So I’ll not stretch your hospitality at such a difficult time,” Cullen went on. “And Cynna wants—”

“Cynna,” Cynna said firmly, “wants to speak for herself. I appreciate the offer,” she told the Rhej, “but I need to check on Timms.”

The older woman shook her head. “He wasn’t hurt near so bad as you. What you have to do, girl, is rest.”

“I will, but after I see about Timms. I was in charge. He got hurt. I have to go to the hospital and see how he’s doing, if he needs anything.”

“She’s right,” Alex said unexpectedly. “Unless it will cause her grave injury, she must see to her man.”

His sister rolled her eyes. “Lord help me. I expect macho bullshit from you—now I’m gettin’ it from another woman. All right, honey, you do what you’re gonna do, but come back tomorrow and let me see how your head’s doing. We need to keep the inflammation down. Then, if you’re up to it, maybe we’ll talk a bit. Adriane—she’s my apprentice—will want to meet you, and I’m a mite curious myself. Till now, I was the only Rhej who was outclan before the Lady spoke.”

“But . . . I’m sorry. Cullen has given you the wrong impression. I can’t become a Rhej. I’m Catholic.”

The woman smiled. “And I’m Baptist. Don’t go to services as often as I ought to, but I still go. It don’t matter, sugar. Didn’t our Lord say it? ‘In my Father’s house are many rooms.’ You an’ me, we started out in one room, then it turned out we were needed in another one.”

TWENTY

CULLEN
carried her out of the house.

Cynna protested, of course. Maybe she’d gone a bit dizzy when she stood up—didn’t mean she wasn’t perfectly capable of walking. “This is ridiculous. Didn’t I tell you to—”

“Shut up.”

“Oh, like that’s going to happen.” It felt weird, being carried. Embarrassing, too, but he was really warm, and firm in all the places a man ought to be firm . . . though she was just guessing about one spot. That might or might not be firming up. She couldn’t tell without groping him, which would be way tacky.

Especially since they had an escort. Alex had sent the big, reddish wolf with them—either making sure they didn’t steal the silver, or that no one bothered them on their way out. Like Brady.

She felt the flex of his muscles as he started down the stairs, trailing the wolf. This was interesting enough that she decided to let the uncracked side of her head rest on his shoulder. He smelled good, too. She probably didn’t, but there wasn’t much she could do about that.

She’d hooked her tote on her left arm, which was curled around his neck. It thumped gently against his back as they descended. “So why did you try to make Brady apologize to the Rhej?”

“I thought I told you to shut up.”

Rude as hell. Still pissed, too. But he was taking the stairs so carefully it didn’t jar her head at all. That was as interesting as the hard chest she rested against. “You don’t like Rhejes, but you wanted to burn Brady. I can see why you might, but why don’t you like Rhejes?”

“None of your business.”

True, but that didn’t do a thing to ease her curiosity. Maybe he didn’t want the wolf to hear, though. “Did you see the demon possessing Merilee, like you thought you would?”

“Yes.”

He’d answered. Hallelujah. She dug into her question hoard for some that couldn’t be answered yes or no. “You said another demon chased you. When? And where were you? How did you get away?”

“I burned it. In Mexico. Yesterday. And I didn’t stop to ask for names, but your old friend was riding it in astral form.”

“Jiri?”

He nodded.

Shit. “How’d you know it was her?”

“Lily has a description, remember? I saw a tall woman, African heritage, no boobs, strong shoulders. Good with demons. Oh, and her eyes glowed red. Sound familiar?”

They’d reached the bottom of the stairs. Three men—lupi, she supposed, but in human form—were in the living room. They watched, silent and unfriendly, as their wolf escort stopped at the door.

Cullen stopped there, too. “Someone want to open this? Or I could just drop her and get it myself.”

“Let me.” She stretched her free hand down and turned the knob.

It was fully dark now. Creepy-dark once the door shut behind them. She couldn’t see the wolf anymore, but heard his claws on the porch. “Don’t lupi believe in porch lights?”

“I can see.” He proved it by stepping off the porch.

There must have been clouds overhead, because only a few stars were showing off their twinkles. It never got this black in a city. “How long was I out?”

“About forty minutes. Putting you down now,” he said as they reached the car, suiting action to words. As soon as she heard the lock click, she opened the door, and in the spill of light saw not one, but three wolves sitting on the porch, watching.

She climbed in. Her heartbeat was making the kettledrum in her head act up. You’d think she’d raced across the yard instead of traveling in a beautiful man’s arms, but her pulse rate might have something to do with those three pony-size wolves staring at them.

She slammed the door. “I need to call Lily.”

He was already behind the wheel. “I called Rule, remember?”

“Rule isn’t my boss. And what was that about, anyway? They acted funny when you said you’d called him.”

“They’d rather no one knew about Victor’s condition.” He started the engine.

“And that explains something?”

He sighed. “Got to have it all spelled out, do you? Okay. You, they can’t kill. Me, they might, though not here, since Victor made me guest. Once I leave their land, that doesn’t apply.”

“Yet here we are, leaving.”

He pulled the car around in a wide circle, heading them back the way they’d come in. “If I don’t leave now, they’re apt to hold on to me until after the naming.”

“Maybe they haven’t heard? Kidnapping’s illegal.”

He shrugged. “We don’t tattle on each other to the authorities.”

“I am the authorities.” Weird as it still seemed.

“Which is one reason they’re not stopping us. The other is that I’ve already spoken to Rule. They aren’t sure what I told him and might like to keep me around to find out, but they probably won’t try anything with you by my side.” He flashed her a grin, almost unseen in the darkness. “My bodyguard.”

Lupus politics would have made her head hurt even without a half-healed skull fracture. “I still have to report.”

“No, you don’t. I spoke to Lily, too. She knows we found the demon and got rid of it. The rest can wait until tomorrow.”

Or until they reached the hospital, anyway. She leaned her head against the headrest and gave the kettledrum a chance to settle down.

They left the clearing behind, and the trees loomed over them, twisty black hulks holding hands overhead. It was dusk here, with the belly of the sky hanging low and rain clouds dimming the day. There was no way to make the dirt road anything but bumpy, and Cullen liked to drive fast. She gritted her teeth on a couple bumps, but that hurt, too, so she tried to Zen out on watching the headlights bounce over the rutted road.

She wasn’t good at Zen but did start feeling kind of spacey. And tired. Really tired. She let her eyes drift closed, shutting out the spooky trees, but she was still awake when they turned onto the smoother surface of the highway.

“Where’s your hotel?” he asked, all curt.

“Harrisonburg, but I have to go to the hospital first, remember.”

“The mental hospital, maybe?”

“What are you so mad about, anyway?”

“Why the hell do you think?” he snapped. “I started liking you. I don’t like many people, so it pisses me off if one of them tries to get herself killed.”

“Oh.”
Friendship potential,
she thought. Hadn’t she decided Cullen had that much going for him?

The tires hummed on the pavement. He didn’t turn the radio on or put in a CD, and she wondered why. Lupi were nuts for music. A few moments later, the shushing sound of rain swept over them.
That’s better than any CD,
she thought as a few more muscles quit bracing themselves against what-might-be and relaxed.

Maybe he liked the sound of rain, too. She listened to wet sheets of it rushing at the car and tried to remember . . . Why wasn’t she supposed to be interested in Cullen, anyway?

Oh, yeah. Hormones. Jerk. Lousy track record. Those were good reasons, but her hormones weren’t putting in a vote now . . . or if they were, it was drowned out by all the pain signals.

Friendship. She could work with that. “So, you want to have sex after my head quits hurting?”

“Hell, yes. You going to be mad when I remind you that you asked?”

Eyes closed, head throbbing, she felt her lips curve up. “Probably.”

TWENTY-ONE

WHEN
they arrived at the ER, the doctor was showing Timms X-rays of his arm—which, Cullen had said, Merilee had snapped over her knee like a stick. He’d lucked out. The bone was broken in two places, but they were clean breaks. No need for surgery or a hospital stay.

Timms was glad to see them. Even Cullen. Either the men had bonded during battle, or he was a lot friendlier with enough of Percodan zipping around his system. Then he opened his big mouth, asking about her head, and shouldn’t she get that checked out?

The doctor—a young guy, real short hair, pierced ears but not wearing anything in them at the moment—wanted to do a CT scan. She explained that a healer had taken care of the injury.

This didn’t soothe him at all. But Cullen did. He assured the doctor he’d monitored the procedure, tossing out phrases like “frontoparietal region,” “shear force,” and “subdural hematoma.” He didn’t actually claim to be a doctor, but he sure talked the talk.

It would have worked, too, if Timms hadn’t stared at him more in confusion than suspicion. “I thought you were a stripper.”

Cullen widened his eyes. “Medical school is expensive.”

It was a slow night at the ER. The young doctor decided she really needed that CT scan and would not let up, apparently willing to wait indefinitely before setting Timms’s arm if that’s what it took to get her to agree. Cynna lost her temper.

Another doctor—this one older, blacker, and a lot more tired—followed the sound of her raised voice. “That’s some fine cussing,” he told her, “and you may be right about Dr. Farley’s lineage, but there are other patients here. Keep it down.” She sighed and agreed, and he went on, “You were injured out at Victor’s. Is that where the healing took place, too?”