Inked. Part 34

"More than an hour. Less than a day. The thing about wolfbane is that it distracts a lupus's healing. Their magic immediately tries to heal them of it-and since for some reason they can't rid themselves of it quickly, their systems often focus on it to the exclusion of other, more serious damage. Not in a predictable way, though."

"Because lupus healing varies."

"The effect varies even for the same lupus. One time a lupus might heal a wound almost normally soon after ingesting a dose. Another time, the same lupus may fail to heal even a trivial wound."

Lily was reminded of the mate bond. It, too, was unpredictable. "What about injecting it? Does that make a difference?"

"It can't be injected-not if you want to affect healing, that is. When wolfbane is altered, the effects change in myriad ways, and there is no key active ingredient that can be extracted. To r.e.t.a.r.d healing, you have to use fresh leaves or flowers."

"Not the seeds or roots?"

"No. And no, I don't know why. Either of those will cause a form of bane sickness, but it's much briefer and doesn't seem to affect healing."

"Are the effects the same for all the aconite species?"

"As far as we know, though the severity of the symptoms varies."

Rule was moving down the aisle now. Lily tapped her pen on her notebook. "It sounds like there's no reason to a.s.sume Steve Hilliard was given gado. Wolfbane would have had the same effect as far as the tattoo goes."

"Well...yes. Though gado is much more effective. It blocks all of a lupus's magic, not just the healing, and the effect lasts much longer."

"But it's a h.e.l.l of a lot harder to get hold of or to make."

"True."

"Thanks, Nettie. I'll keep you posted." Lily disconnected, her lips thin. The tapping picked up pace.

d.a.m.n him. He hadn't lied, no. He'd just led her to believe something that wasn't entirely true.

Rule had stopped a couple seats up and was signing an autograph for a young woman with tightly kinked orange hair. The stewardess hovered behind him, smiling in an infatuated way. "You're sure you don't mind?" she asked, handing him a sc.r.a.p of paper.

Rule didn't. He seldom did. His fame-or notoriety-was part of his father's plan to integrate lupi with human society, and Rule had known he would be the public face for his people long before he met Lily. Before the Supreme Court's decision made it safe to announce his heritage to the world, in fact.

He made a gorgeous public face. His features were sharp and elegant in a way the camera loved, with dramatic eyebrows and cheekbones. His body wasn't bad, either, if you went for long, lean, and powerful with the innate grace of an athlete.

Which, from what Lily could see, 99.9 percent of heteros.e.xual women did.

Lily couldn't see who sat beside the woman with the orange hair, but it was another female, judging by the m.u.f.fled voice. Rule leaned across the first woman and patted the other one somewhere-her shoulder, probably.

He didn't look like a man sternly suppressing the beast inside-a wolf who did not like being trapped in a metal cage. He did have some tells, but they were too subtle for even her to spot them unless she was close.

"I don't suffer from motion sickness myself," he said, "but Lily usually travels with some candied ginger, just in case. Shall I ask her if she has some?"

Lily heard the woman's words clearly this time. "Lily? Who's she?"

Rule smiled. "My beloved."

He said that naturally, too. Just as if everyone talked that way.

Lily could imagine the woman's disappointed expression. She'd seen it often enough on other female faces. Even women who weren't making a serious play for Rule enjoyed thinking they might be able to have him, if they tried. Lupi were notoriously promiscuous.

Except for Rule. Not anymore, that is.

He signed one more autograph, then at last slid into the seat beside Lily with a faint sigh. She caught a faint whiff of the honey and citrus scent of his shampoo. He'd switched recently because she loved citrus scents.

He made it hard to stay mad, dammit.

"Why," he murmured, "do people troubled by motion sickness feel impelled to tell everyone about their symptoms?"

"Did she want the ginger?"

"No." He looked at her, his brows drawing together. "You're upset."

"What I am, is p.i.s.sed. You manipulated me."

His eyebrows snapped down. "What are you talking about?"

"You led me to think gado was probably involved. Wolfbane is a lot more likely, but you never mentioned it. I wouldn't have cause to investigate the use of wolfbane, would I?"

"I'd just heard that one of my oldest friends was dead. Excuse me for not thinking things through."

"We've been up since four a.m. today. We've discussed the case, the circ.u.mstances under which I can investigate-the restrictions I'm under." Croft had told her to avoid calling on other FBI agents unless she could confirm that gado was involved. "You never mentioned the possibility it was wolfbane, not gado, that let someone tattoo Hilliard."

"Steve," he said coldly. "His name was Steve."

She breathed in slowly, choking back her own temper. He was on edge. Grief did that. So did the claustrophobia he didn't like to admit to.

She couldn't do much about his grief, but the other...Lily took his hand. That was the one thing that helped, other than moving around. The mate bond brought comfort when they touched-even when she was mad at him. "This matters, Rule," she said quietly. "If you tricked me into investigating, misusing my authority-"

"No. Maybe. G.o.d." His fingers tightened on hers. For a moment he sat in silence, no doubt putting a lid on his own temper-which, unlike hers, ran cold more often than hot. "I didn't intentionally misguide you. I didn't think it out like that, but unconsciously...I suppose I did. I needed you to investigate. It was reflex."

She'd been sure already, so why did it hurt to have him admit it? Lily swallowed. "Lousy reflex. Long-lasting one, too."

The tension she hadn't seen in him earlier was plain now-in his tight jaw, his grip on her hand, his continued silence.

And yet the comfort she'd meant for him reached her, too. That's how the mate bond worked. She couldn't touch him without responding-and the response wasn't always s.e.xual.

It was need the mate bond both created and answered. Need, not trust. Trust was up to them. She'd thought they were further along that road than this. Far enough that his first reflex would not have been to mislead her, even unconsciously. Far enough that he wouldn't shut her out.

When he spoke, his words came slowly. "The human response to pain is complex-tears, anger, the urge to defend or attack or sleep or find distraction. A wolf's response is simpler. If a wolf is wounded, he withdraws-physically, if the wound is physical. Emotionally, if it's not. I have both sets of responses, but when the pain is acute, the wolf's response dominates."

"You're saying this need for privacy is connected to your misleading me."

"The initial impulse was unhealthy. Wrong. The need for privacy, as you put it, kept me from correcting it."

"So you need to lick your wounds in private. I can understand that." She did understand. Her biggest loss had occurred when she was nine. Her best friend had been raped and killed in front of her. She'd never been able to talk out the feelings the way everyone seemed to think she should. Not then, not now. "I'm not much on talky-talky stuff, either."

"It's more than being unable to talk about my feelings. It's distance I need. A distance that hurts you."

Well, yes, it did. But..."You've let me tend you when you were physically hurt. You've let Nettie tend you. You know the instinct to withdraw doesn't work when a wound needs attention."

Surprise was clear in his voice when he said, "You're right."

How could she not smile? "It happens."

"But I don't...I don't know how to do this differently."

"Maybe you could tell me about him. About Steve."

"We were age mates. He...that means more, perhaps, with clan children, especially those raised at Clanhome, since we so seldom have siblings close in age. We got in trouble together." He smiled slightly. His grip on her hand eased. "For several years, he was my partner in crime."

"What kind of crimes did you commit?"

He spoke of climbing a nearby peak, of an unsupervised trip into the city, of practical jokes that sometimes worked only too well. The first two didn't surprise her; the practical jokes did.

"He sounds like he had an unlupus-like disrespect for authority."

"That's Steve." He was easy now, his hand relaxed in hers. "Before First Change especially, but even after he became an adult, he enjoyed challenging the status quo."

"Why didn't I know him?" she asked softly. Hilliard had lived in a town that bordered Clanhome. If he'd been such a close friend, why hadn't she met him?

"We...weren't as close in recent years as we used to be." After a moment, he added sadly, "He never had children. He wanted them desperately, but he never had children."

That wasn't unusual for a lupus. The magic that flooded their systems inhibited fertility. This was their big secret, the reason for their disdain for marriage or fidelity, for anything that lessened their chances of finding the right woman at the right time. The one who would bear them a child. "How did he deal with his disappointment?"

"Disappointment. It's a mild word, isn't it? As adults..." He s.h.i.+fted uncomfortably. "Age mates don't always remain close, but Steve and I did for many years. Even after I was named Lu Nuncio, we were close. But when Toby was born, when I had a child and he didn't...his longing for a child distorted him. He couldn't settle. He couldn't bear to be with those who had a son or daughter, so more and more he a.s.sociated with those younger than him."

"There was a distance between you, and you hated it."

"Yes." He sighed. "The one thing that mattered was denied him, so nothing mattered greatly. He didn't sink into despair, but he made unwise choices."

"Risky choices."

He nodded. "If he'd been human, you'd have called him an adrenaline junkie. He loved high-risk sports-rock climbing, parasailing, sky diving. His first love, though, was motorcycles. He always came back to that, to his love for speed."

"Those are pretty expensive hobbies. How did he pay for them?"

"He had a motorcycle shop-repairs mostly, though he also sold used bikes. He made a decent living with it. He paid off the loan he took out to open the shop years ago."

"Who inherits?"

Rule shot her a sharp look. "Am I talking to the cop now?"

"I don't separate out that part of me the way you do your wolf."

"Fair enough. I a.s.sume you're interested in what his will says, not his private arrangements with his Rho? His will leaves everything to Jason."

"What do you mean by private arrangements?"

"We traditionally bequeath the clan its drei drei."

"I thought the drei drei was like an income tax." was like an income tax."

"It's more of a t.i.the, but it also means any percentage of our personal wealth given to the clan. With an estate, it can be anything from ten percent to one hundred percent."

"But that isn't mentioned in the will."

"Traditionally, no. For centuries we've been careful not to leave a trail to our Rho in public records, and wills are public doc.u.ments. Most lupi leave their estates to a clan member-a family member, if possible. Someone who will follow their private wishes, which they register with their Rho. Steve left his estate to Jason, but Jason won't retain all of it. Half will go to Nokolai."

By Nokolai, he meant his father. A clan's Rho owned all the clan's common property. As far as human law was concerned, Isen Turner was a very wealthy man. "I thought Steve lived publicly as a lupus."

"He did." Rule smiled. "When I made my public bow as Nokolai heir, Steve announced himself, too. That was his way of saying he stood by me. We weren't as close as we'd once been, but he stood by me."

"If he was known to be lupus, why the secret arrangements with his Rho?"

"Habit. Tradition. A disinclination to mess with the paperwork involved."

"As far as the local police are concerned, then, Jason Chance inherits everything."

His lip curled with scorn. "We don't kill for money."

"The local cops won't accept that as a given, and lupi do kill for other reasons. You seem pretty sure Chance didn't do it. How do you know?"

Rule shrugged. "How do we know anything about anyone? This would be wildly out of character for him. Jason's a calm soul, a beta with little interest in status. He'd be moved to violence only if there was an immediate threat. But to be sure, I'll ask him."

He meant that. He would ask Chance if he'd killed Hilliard, and if Chance denied it, Rule would believe him. That wasn't some bulls.h.i.+t belief in Chance's honesty. Rule claimed that no clan member could successfully lie to his Lu Nuncio.

"Earlier," Rule said, "you took my hand even though you were angry with me."

"I was p.i.s.sed at you, not Nokolai. Wouldn't be good for the clan if you freaked out on an airplane."

He smiled slowly. Fully. "What color are they?"

"They?"

He stroked his thumb along the skin between her thumb and finger. "I didn't watch you dress this morning. What color are they?"

Oh. She smiled. "Leopard."

3.

MORGUES in California are as chilly as those in other parts of the country. Lily was glad for her jacket-the one she hadn't gotten blood on yesterday-as she studied the pale body of a man who looked about thirty. in California are as chilly as those in other parts of the country. Lily was glad for her jacket-the one she hadn't gotten blood on yesterday-as she studied the pale body of a man who looked about thirty.