Mortal Sins by Eileen Wilks Read Free Book Online Page A

calling soon, though. Ruben’s going to brief him. He’s on a case in Wisconsin he can’t leave—one involving a coven gone over to the dark side.”
    Surprised, he looked at her. “A Wiccan coven?”
    “I’m afraid so. Magical theft. They found a way to persuade the Bank of America’s computers they were millionaires. That’s been done before, of course, but not effectively. Their spell was a lot more sophisticated than the typical lone practitioner’s—it took months for the bank to become suspicious. The story’s going to hit the media in a big way in another day or two, when Karonski makes the arrests. Ruben says Karonski plans to come out of the closet at the press conference.”
    “Out of the—oh. You mean he’ll make his own Wiccan status public.” Abel had avoided that in the past. “Damage control?”
    “Yeah. If nothing else, people will see that they need the good witches to protect them from the bad ones.” She shook her head. “There’s always been some distrust of Wiccans, especially in rural areas, but it’s worse since the Turning.”
    Rural areas, yes, and small towns like Halo.
    “You didn’t mention the AP earlier, or CNN. Are they here?”
    “They will be.”
    Oh, yes. The prospect of a magical component to the murder of children would draw reporters in droves—reporters who would demand to know why Rule was in Halo. Reporters who would gleefully switch to report on a custody hearing involving the son of the Nokolai “prince,” shoving their microphones at Toby, fighting for a chance to put the boy’s face on the six o’clock news.
    Rule wasn’t too happy with the sheriff himself.
    The sifted light of dawn had already strengthened as summer blew on the coals of yesterday’s heat, ready to throw a new day onto the forge. Halo’s streets remained quiet, but were no longer empty. Rule passed a shiny Ford pickup headed the other way, its driver sipping Coke from a cup the size of a bucket of popcorn. A gray Suburban was backing out of the cracked driveway leading to a small frame house surrounded by mounds of hydrangeas, their bright blue blooms floating in clouds of green like flakes from a dandruff sky.
    The Suburban’s movement startled an orange tabby, who streaked in front of Rule’s car. He braked gently. “Looks like Harry.”
    “Hmm?” Lily had obviously been a thousand miles away, but she returned in time to see the cat attain the safety of the shrubbery on the other side of the street. “In coloring, maybe, but Harry wouldn’t panic and run in front of a car that way.”
    “No, he’d park his ass in the street and dare me to keep coming.” Dirty Harry was Lily’s cat—or she was Harry’s person, to phrase things from Harry’s perspective. He was staying with Lily’s grandmother while they were away. Not that Harry and Grandmother got along, but Grandmother’s companion had a way with cats.
    All sorts of cats. Rule smiled as he turned onto Sherwood Lane.
    “I guess you were right about renting two cars,” Lily said, “though at the moment mine’s in front of the sheriff’s office. Are you going to need this one?”
    “I suppose you need it.”
    “Yes.” She ran a hand through her hair, looked down at herself, and frowned. “How do I look?”
    “Lickable.”
    Her eyes flicked to his, amusement swimming in their depths. No heat, but he heard the way her heartbeat kicked up. Her voice was dry. “Not the look I’m going for. I’ve got a meet with the DA—the one who’s been planning to make a name with this case.”
    Rule understood the value of controlling the surface, creating a certain effect, so he gave her another once-over with that in mind. She was less correctly dressed than she liked, he supposed, having thrown on clothes for hiking through the woods: jeans, white T-shirt, black linen jacket, athletic shoes. No makeup.
    Honey-and-cream skin. Black hair, shiny and smooth as if she’d just brushed it. Firm lips, unsmiling. Dark eyes