Mortal Ties

THIRTY-FOUR

LILY woke to the soothing lilt of Brahms’s “Lullaby.” Her head throbbed and ached the way it had the time a three-hundred-pound perp threw her against a wall. Or like it had on one miserable morning of her freshman year, when she’d decided that nothing, absolutely nothing, was worth getting a hangover that bad.

But she hadn’t been drinking or playing arrest-the-perp, had she? What…wait, there had been a perp, and Lily had told her she was under arrest, and then she’d been…shit. Captured. That was the word.

The quick spurt of panic cleared the fog from her brain. She made herself lie still and take stock with her eyes closed. She lay on something soft that sure felt like a bed. Good news: she wasn’t naked and the only injury seemed to be to her head. Her arms rested at her sides, unbound. She didn’t hear anything but the Brahms, nor did she smell anything in particular. Rule would have, but…

The panic this time was an ocean, not a spurt. Her eyes flew open and the light made her headache worse, but the pain in her head was drowned by the cold fear racing through her. After an endless, drenched moment, she realized the mate bond was screwy, not severed. Rule wasn’t dead. He wasn’t dead, but she couldn’t tell where he was. When she tried to use the mate-sense, it felt like he was everywhere, in every direction, and she had no idea how far away he was. When she tried harder she felt queasy. Motion sick, like when she’d seen that On Motion film at the IMAX and the crazy 3-D zooming around had forced her to shut her eyes so she wouldn’t puke.

Lily lay very still and waited for her stomach and heartbeat to settle. Her mouth was dry. Her head hurt. If she couldn’t find Rule, she had to assume he couldn’t find her, either. She’d been captured by a furry woman, and Rule couldn’t find her.

Couldn’t find her that way. He’d still be trying.

Unless he’d been captured, too, and was in the room next to hers. She didn’t know. With the mate-sense wonky, he could be on the other side of the wall and she wouldn’t know it. Or he might have been hurt at the middle school. Badly hurt.

Keep taking stock, she told herself firmly.

Okay, point number one: her head hurt, but it wasn’t the kind of crippling pain that suggested serious injury. It was an all-over ache, too, not localized like it would be with a concussion. Number two: she was dressed, she was not tied up—in fact, someone had tossed a blanket over her, as if they cared if she got cold while she was out cold. Number three: the whiteness overhead was an ordinary ceiling, not an underground cavern, which was encouraging. The last sidhe she’d tangled with had stashed his captives underground where he…

A small ball of light bobbed into her field of view. A mage light. Common in sidhe realms, not so common here. She’d seen a lot of mage lights in that underground cavern.

She frowned at the glowing ball. Rethna hadn’t been able to block the mate-sense, and he hadn’t just been sidhe—he’d been a sidhe lord. And when Rule had been dragged to the hell realm, she’d still known his direction. When an ancient being had locked Lily and Cynna in an underground bunker warded so tightly Cynna’s Gift couldn’t tell up from down, the mate bond had still worked.

And somehow Cullen’s prototype could do what Rethna, hell, and the Chimei couldn’t? It didn’t make sense.

Enough taking stock. She needed to see where the hell she was. Expecting it to make her head worse, she sat up.

It did.

“You’re awake.” The voice was male and sounded pleased. “How do you feel?”

“Like crap.” The room didn’t spin, and her head didn’t fall off. It might have felt like that, but then it would have stopped hurting, wouldn’t it? Carefully she looked around.

She was in a bedroom. An ordinary enough bedroom with blue drapes at the only window and two chairs at the other end of the room. There was a tall stack of books next to one of the chairs. A bowl of fruit rested atop it. Two doors, both closed. All very ordinary, if impersonal, except that the light didn’t come from something as prosaic as a lamp. It came from those mage lights bobbing up near the ceiling.

Being a bedroom, it had beds. Twin beds. She was sitting on one. The man sitting on the other bed was taller than her. Hard to say how much taller with him sitting all yoga-like with his feet tucked up on his thighs, but maybe five-ten, and built solid. One seventy, maybe. He wore jeans and a plain gray tee. Socks but no shoes. His hair was longish and streaky, with a dozen shades of brown and blond all mixed up. Dark eyes were framed by crow’s-feet; deeper creases bracketed his mouth.

She knew him. Knew who he was, anyway. “Sean Friar.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Right the first time. And you’re Lily. Beth’s sister. Is your head hurting?”

“Yes.” She pushed the blanket back and saw that she was barefoot, too. She wore the clothes she’d had on before, but without shoes. Also without her weapon, shoulder harness, watch, and phone…and the ring with the toltoi charm. They’d taken the toltoi, but not her engagement ring.

The loss of the toltoi infuriated her. Anger made her head pound. “You have some ibuprofen?”

“No, but she left something for you.” He unwound his legs and stood. “I’ll get it.”

“She?”

“Our captor. Alycithin. I’m probably not saying it correctly, but that’s close.” He went to one of the doors and opened it. She saw a sink in an ordinary vanity. He vanished briefly from her line of sight, then emerged with a clear plastic cup in one hand. The cup held about two inches of a dark liquid. “It’s supposed to be a painkiller that works for humans.”

“Do you honestly expect me to drink that?”

He shrugged. “They haven’t poisoned me yet. Haven’t hurt me at all, save for the little detail of taking me prisoner. Harming us would be against the rules, a violation of honor. She’s big on honor.”

“Is Alycithin about my height and covered in fur?”

His eyebrows shot up. “You know who she is?”

“We met briefly. Then someone shot me with a dart.” Lily remembered the feather sticking out of her cheek and reached up and found a small scab.

“She used a sleep spell on me. That wouldn’t work on you, I guess.”

“You know about my Gift.”

“Beth talks about you. Alycithin told me you’d be waking up with a sore head because of whatever they used to knock you out. Want to give this a try?” He held out the cup. “She gave her word it would help with the pain and wouldn’t harm you.”

Lily’s head hurt enough that she was tempted. Tempted, but not stupid. “No, thanks.”

He looked at her a moment, then turned and set the cup on the floor near the wall. “You may be right.”

No tables. That’s what was missing. No bedside table, no table by the two chairs—which were heavy upholstered things, not the sort you could smash to make a club from one of the legs. No chest of drawers. Also no television or radio or anything electronic. “Where is the music coming from?”

“The walls. They seem to be stuck on a classical station.”

Lily looked at the wall next to her bed. It was painted white, like the ceiling. It looked like any other wall. She leaned closer and laid her palm flat on it.

Magic. Lots of it, and it vibrated. She’d never touched magic that vibrated before. She pulled her hand back. “I saw Alycithin, but I didn’t see your brother.”

“He’s not here. He’s the reason I’m here, but I’m a mistake. If you don’t want to drink her whatever-it-is, would you like some water? It’s from the tap, and it hasn’t poisoned me yet.”

“Not yet.” Though she was thirsty. She also needed to use the bathroom, and with an urgency that suggested a fair amount of time had passed. “Do you know how long I was out?”

“Not really. I’m pretty sure it’s morning, and they brought you here sometime last night, so you were out several hours, but I can’t say how many.”

Still, it helped to know it was morning. It oriented her some. Lily swung her legs off the bed and stood. And shut her eyes for a moment at what the motion did to her head.

“Are you okay?” Sean Friar’s voice was closer.

She opened her eyes and stepped back. “It’s just a headache.”

He’d stretched out one hand as if about to steady her. He let it fall to his side. “You don’t trust me. No reason you should, I suppose.”

“I’m a cop. I don’t trust anyone right away.” The door that didn’t lead to the bathroom was the obvious first thing to check out. She headed there. Her head didn’t like the motion, but it was settling into a steady ache. Annoying, but not incapacitating.

“Especially people with the last name Friar.”

He didn’t sound upset. More like resigned with a whiff of wry. “That’s a factor,” she agreed, and touched the door. More magic, but this wasn’t vibrating. It felt slick, slightly oily. She tried the knob and was unsurprised to find that it was locked. Then she pressed her ear to the door. Nothing.

“They’re probably out there,” Sean said. “They did something to soundproof this room. She says that’s for my privacy. Our privacy now, I guess. But clearly it’s also so we can’t listen in on them or get the attention of anyone outside here. Wherever ‘here’ is.”

She straightened. “They, not she?”

“I’ve seen three of them. Alycithin and two others—uh, Dinaron or something like that. I don’t remember the other one’s name. The one whose name starts with a D is male. I’m not sure about the other one.”

“Elves, halfling, or human?” She headed for the window between the twin beds. “The two who aren’t Alycithin, I mean.”

“Elves, I think. At least they look like it. Alycithin is in charge.”

“And she’s a halfling.” Lily pulled back the drapes.

A shiny silver rectangle looked back at her. Not silvery, like a mirror. Silver. And shiny in a literal way. Light leaked through the silvery surface, but no images. She pressed her fingers to it. What should have been a window felt like glass, cool and slick, but it was heavily coated with magic. A slippery sort of magic similar to that on the door. It made her think of cheap lotion, the kind you can rub and rub and it doesn’t soak in.

“Weird, isn’t it? It lets in light in the daytime, goes dark at night,” Sean said. “Which is how I know it’s early morning. The light’s not bright yet. And it doesn’t break. I tried.”

“With what?”

“I’m pretty good with a flying kick. I connected solidly three times. It didn’t break.”

She glanced at his bare feet.

“I still had my boots then,” he said dryly. “After I kicked their window they decided I could get by without footwear. Maybe that means I had a chance of breaking it, or maybe they were annoyed that I tried.”

She ran her fingers along the place where the glass—if that’s what it was—met the frame. The magic coating the frame vibrated like that on the walls…which were now broadcasting something by Mozart. “If they aren’t listening to us in here, how did they know you were kicking their window of weirdness?’

“Window of weirdness. Huh. I like that. It’s the walls. When I kicked the window, the vibration created something like static in the walls’ sound system. They act like a magical intercom.”

She turned to face him. “A what?”

“If I want to talk to them, I press my palm to a wall. Any wall. The music fades and sooner or later someone answers. That’s how they invite me to lunch or whatever—through their magic intercom.”

Cullen would kill to study whatever spells were laid on those walls. Unfortunately for both of them, she was the one that had been grabbed, not him. But she and Sean weren’t the only ones who’d been taken prisoner. “Are those three the only people you’ve seen since you were snatched? Alycithin and the two elves?”

“That’s all.”

“Someone else was kidnapped. At least one other person.” Adam King and maybe Rule. Maybe more.

“Maybe the others did that.”

“Others?” she said sharply.

“Alycithin is in some kind of competition with another of the sidhe, or maybe a group of them. I don’t know what they’re all after, but apparently Robert has agreed to do something for the other group, and Alycithin wants him to do it for her instead.” He shook his head. “It was a shock to find out he was alive.”

“This other group takes hostages, too?”

He spread his hands. “I’m guessing about that, but hostage-taking is how her people do business. It’s SOP, like a contract would be here. Alycithin wanted to use me as a bargaining chip with Robert. She didn’t expect him to laugh at the idea. Robert and I,” he added wryly, “are not close. I got the impression she thinks you’ll make a better bargaining chip.”

If he was telling the truth and Friar wasn’t here…if the halfling woman intended to sell Lily to Friar…then she had time. She didn’t know how much, but some. She really wanted to believe Robert Friar’s brother was as sincere as he seemed, and that was about as bizarre as the shiny silver window. “You’ve learned a lot in the short time you’ve been here.”

“We dine together and chat. It’s all very civilized. I know,” he said ruefully, maybe reacting to her expression. “It’s strange. They’re strange. You’re taking all this very calmly.”

“You seem pretty calm yourself.”

“I wasn’t when I first woke up. Freaked out all over the place. I’ve had time to accept what I can’t change. It helps that she promised that her people don’t dispose of mistakes.”

“You believe her?”

“Oddly enough, I do.”

Not so odd. A smart kidnapper wanted his or her hostage calm, convinced he would live if he obeyed. It sounded like Alycithin was a smart kidnapper. Persuasive, too. “You said you dine with them. In here?”

“No, if I accept their invitation I’m escorted into the other room. If I don’t behave, they freeze me.”

“Freeze you?”

“I can’t move.” His jaw clenched tight enough to make a muscle jump. “I hate it. My body stops being mine. I…but they can’t do that to you.”

“No.” It sounded like a spell Rethna had used. The sidhe lord had pointed a finger, and zap! His target couldn’t move. His flunkies hadn’t seemed able to that. Other really nasty things, but not the freezing. “You said ‘they.’ Do they all have the ability to freeze you?”

“I…assumed so, but it was the orange-haired elf who froze me. Does it matter?”

“It might. Elves all have some body magic and some illusion magic, but they specialize in one or the other. One who’s aces at body magic won’t be that strong at illusion, and vice versa. That freeze spell—I think it’s something only a body magic expert can do. What does the other room look like?”

“It’s maybe twenty-five feet by fifteen. Chairs and a couch at one end, dining table at the other. Two doors on the wall opposite this bedroom, but I don’t know what’s beyond them. The kitchen’s on this side. I think this is an apartment or a condo—something about the layout makes it seem like one.”

“You haven’t seen outside?”

“The windows are weird in there, too.”

Lily looked around the room again. Nothing jumped out at her as a potential weapon. Nothing suggested a means of escape. She might as well deal with what her bladder insisted was a pressing situation. “I need to use the restroom.”

“Sure. The shower works, there’s shampoo, and you’ve got your own toothbrush. I told them humans did not share some things, so they brought another one. There’s a closet off the bathroom. No hangers we might use to poke their eyes out, but there’s a closet, and they brought some changes of clothes for you.”

“Considerate kidnappers.”

“All part of their code. From what Alycithin said, I think it’s like the Geneva Conventions. We have to be fed, clothed, and housed decently. I gather there are a lot of rules about that.”

“The Geneva Conventions outlaw the beating or torture of prisoners.”

“They’re not allowed to do that. They can freeze me or take my boots, but they can’t hit me unless I attack one of them.”

Had Jasper lied about Adam being hurt? About him being taken in the first place? Or was the “other group” not following their version of the Geneva Conventions?

Friar, of course, wouldn’t follow any codes that didn’t suit him. Lily nodded thoughtfully and headed for the bathroom.

The bathroom door locked. It was the push-button kind, easy enough to jimmy or bust, but it locked. That was a surprise. Mozart was playing in there, too. Otherwise it was as ordinary as the bedroom, if lacking the sort of detritus that accumulates in a lived-in space. On the narrow strip of counter next to the sink she found a small stack of washcloths, Ivory soap, and Colgate toothpaste. Two toothbrushes, one slightly damp from recent use, the other still in its plastic wrapper. Ordinary towels were draped on a towel bar. Suave shampoo in the tub enclosure. The closet was a small walk-in and empty except for two small, neat stacks of clothes—Sean’s things on the left and hers on the right. They’d provided her two pairs of jeans, two pairs of panties, two T-shirts, and two bras, all in her size, which was creepy. No shoes or socks.

She emptied her bladder, splashed water on her face—her headache was easing off some—and turned on the shower. She did not strip and get in, though. She stood next to it and said very quietly, “Drummond.”