Lupi 08 - Death Magic

wanted to stay that way didn’t compare herself to Rule Turner. He could make Bubble Wrap look good.
    He stood up. His grin flashed white in a way that still sliced right through her. “You are not wearing one of your work jackets to a backyard barbecue, Lily.”
    “That would be stuffy.”
    “Which means you can’t wear your shoulder harness.”
    “I know that.”
    “You’re wearing your ankle holster, aren’t you?”
    “Of course.” It held a little snub-nosed Beretta that had started out as a loaner from Rule’s father. When Isen wanted to gift her with it, she hadn’t argued. Range and accuracy were no more than you’d expect from a snub-nose, but it had good stopping power. It made an excellent clutch piece.
    The Glock she’d been practicing with earlier was now her main weapon. It had a comfortable grip, which was always a factor when you had small hands. It had range, too, and accuracy, and kick-ass stopping power with the right ammo. But it was not her SIG. That was back in California, buried beneath a few tons of earth and rock. She missed it.
    But she would not have carried it to her boss’s barbecue anyway, she reminded herself, so that didn’t matter now. She gave her reflection a frowning study. This was the first time she’d been invited to the Brookses’ place socially, and she wanted to get it right.
    The jeans looked okay. The sweater . . . something wasn’t right. Red was a good color for her, so that wasn’t it. The material was stretchy, but not too snug for her boss’s party. Nor was the scoop neckline too low. It showed just enough skin to say “social” instead of “on duty.” But that skin looked awfully bare.
    She wasn’t wearing the toltoi . That was the problem.
    The toltoi was a charm the clan had given her when she became Rule’s Chosen—meaning that their Lady had picked her for him as mate. At first Lily had thought the lupi’s Lady was their deity, more myth than real. But there was a difference between worship and service, and the Lady was as real as a sunrise. Or a sock in the jaw.
    Last week, a dumb accident had broken the chain and started her worrying about losing the charm. So it was back in San Diego being remade into a ring by a special sort of jeweler, one who worked with Earth magic as well as metal. The toltoi wasn’t exactly magical, but it wasn’t exactly null, either. It had . . . something. Something Lily couldn’t define, which was deeply annoying, but whatever that might be, it needed to be handled with respect.
    And this sweater needed a necklace. She headed to her closet.
    Lily appreciated order. Her bracelets were in the silvery box on the dresser. Earrings were in the acrylic box next to it. Necklaces were in the hanging thingee in the closet. She dug into one of the hanging thingee’s pockets.
    “A shooting range is a funny place to see a ghost, isn’t it?” She took out a double strand of small black beads. “And I’ve never seen one before, so I’m relying on hearsay about what ghosts look like.”
    Rule came up behind her. “They’re usually bound to the place they died, aren’t they? I suppose people don’t die often at a shooting range.”
    “Better not,” she said dryly. “Though they can also be tied to an object instead of a place, and some ghosts break the rules. Or so I’m told.” She considered the necklace, put it back, and took out a choker with polished wooden beads. “Fasten this for me?”
    “No, not that one.” He plucked the choker from her fingers. “Maybe your ghost is tied to one of the guns at the range.”
    “It’s not my ghost.” Lily had had a ghost, or something like a ghost—a part of her soul, anyway, from a Lily who’d died. A part she hadn’t really had access to for several months, but that was over. She was all together again. She frowned at Rule over her shoulder. “And I like that choker.”
    “The wood is lovely against your skin, but you might want to try this on before you decide.” He slipped cool, slinky metal around her throat, his fingers brushing her nape.
    Three tiers of delicate chain fringe in silver and brass cascaded in dainty splendor from her collar bones to the midpoint between her breasts. Three white stones studded the tiers. It was stunning and stylish and nothing she would have bought for herself—and not only because of the undoubtedly high price tag. Oversize necklaces were not for her. They made her look like a kid playing dress-up.
    Not this