Praise for Patricia Briggs’s #1 New York Times bestselling Mercy Thompson novels
IRON KISSED
“The third book in an increasingly excellent series, Iron Kissed has all the elements I’ve come to expect in a Patricia Briggs novel: sharp, perceptive characterization; nonstop action; and a levelheaded attention to detail and location. I love these books.”
—Charlaine Harris, New York Times bestselling author of From Dead to Worse
BLOOD BOUND
“Once again, Briggs has written a full-bore action adventure with heart…Be prepared to read [it] in one sitting, because once you get going, there is no good place to stop until tomorrow.”
—SFRevu
“Plenty of action and intriguing characters keep this fun. In the increasingly crowded field of kick-ass supernatural heroines, Mercy stands out as one of the best.”
—Locus
“Briggs’s world, in which witches, vampires, werewolves, and shapeshifters live beside ordinary people, is plausibly constructed; the characters are excellent; and the plot keeps the pages flapping.”
—Booklist
“Briggs has created a believable alternative world populated with strong, dynamite characters, deadly adversaries, and cunningly laid plots that leave the reader looking for more.”
—Monsters and Critics
“Patricia Briggs has the unique gift of being able to make the reader believe, for the space of three hundred some pages, [in] her truths—that vampires, fae, werewolves, and magic makers live in tentative harmony with humankind. Her world is just like ours, only a bit more dangerous and a bit more sexy.”
—Dear Author
“A compelling and fascinating supernatural tale that fans of Laurell K. Hamilton and Charlaine Harris will thoroughly enjoy. Patricia Briggs is a powerful storyteller who convinces readers [that] her earth inhabited by supernatural creatures actually exists.”
—The Best Reviews
“Fans of Kim Harrison and Laurell K. Hamilton will enjoy this tightly plotted and fast-paced tale set in a world of vampires, werewolves, fae, and one shapeshifter named Mercy.”
—Romantic Times Book Reviews
MOON CALLED
“An excellent read with plenty of twists and turns. Her strong and complex characters kept me entertained from its deceptively innocent beginning to its can’t-put-it-down end. Thoroughly satisfying, it left me wanting more.”
—Kim Harrison, New York Times bestselling author of For a Few Demons More
“Patricia Briggs always enchants her readers. With Moon Called, she weaves her magic on every page to take us into a new and dazzling world of werewolves, shapeshifters, witches, and vampires. Expect to be spellbound.”
—Lynn Viehl, USA Today bestselling author of the Darkyn series
“A suspenseful read that will have you on the edge of your seat as you burn through the pages. Ms. Briggs weaves paranormal and mystery together so deftly you can’t put the book down. The cast of characters is wonderfully entertaining, and Mercy’s emotional struggles will pull on your heartstrings. For lovers of the paranormal, this is a must-read.”
—Romance Junkies
“A strong story with multidimensional characters…Mercy is, at heart, someone we can relate to.”
—SFRevu
“Inventive and fast paced…Mercy’s first-person narrative voice is a treat throughout. And best of all, the fantasy elements retain their dark mystery and sense of wonder…entertaining from start to end.”
—Fantasy & Science Fiction
“I’ve never been disappointed by one of [Patricia Briggs’s] books, and this one is no exception. Mercy’s world is an alternate universe much like Laurell K. Hamilton’s Anita Blake books…or the Buffyverse or more recently the Kim Harrison books…Moon Called ends on a high note and leaves you wanting more—like a good book should.”
—Fresh Fiction
“Fans of Kim Harrison’s Dead Witch Walking are sure to enjoy this fast-paced, creature feature–packed suspense story. Mercy’s no-nonsense approach and quick wit coupled with a strong story line and interesting subplots make for a thoroughly entertaining read.”
—Monsters and Critics
“Mercy’s a compelling protagonist…The story hums along like a well-tuned engine, keeping the reader engaged through the tumultuous climax.”
—Romantic Times Book Reviews
“A really good story…exciting, interesting, and not always predictable…a fun read for a lazy afternoon.”
—Italics
“Authors the likes of Tanya Huff, Laurell K. Hamilton, and Charlaine Harris have successfully peopled our modern world with vampires, lycanthropes, and other supernatural beings who, to some extent, coexist politely among us mere mortals, living within complex hierarchies, bureaucracies, and clan protocols. Add Patricia Briggs to the list…Moon Called is an exciting new entry in the field of dark urban fantasy…I will be watching for Mercy Thompson’s next adventure with great anticipation.”
—Rambles.net
Ace Books by Patricia Briggs
MASQUES
STEAL THE DRAGON
WHEN DEMONS WALK
THE HOB’S BARGAIN
DRAGON BONES
DRAGON BLOOD
RAVEN’S SHADOW
RAVEN’S STRIKE
MOON CALLED
BLOOD BOUND
IRON KISSED
CRY WOLF
Alpha and Omega
PATRICIA BRIGGS
BERKLEY BOOKS, NEW YORK
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
ALPHA AND OMEGA
A Berkley Book / published by arrangement with the author
Copyright © 2007 by Hurog, Inc.
All rights reserved.
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ISBN: 1-4406-4461-6
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Contents
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CHAPTER 1
THE wind was chill and the cold froze the ends of her toes. One of these days she was going to break down and buy boots—if only she didn’t need to eat.
Anna laughed and buried her nose in her jacket, trudging the last half mile to her home. It was true that being a werewolf gave her greater strength and endurance, even in human form. But the twelve-hour shift she’d just finished at Scorci’s was enough to make even her bones ache. You’d think that people would have better things to do on Thanksgiving than go eat at an Italian restaurant.
Tim, the restaurant owner (who was Irish, not Italian for all that he made the best gnocchi in Chicago) let her take extra shifts—though he wouldn’t let her work more than fifty hours a week. The biggest bonus was the free meal she got each shift. Even so, she was afraid she was going to have to find a second job to cover her expenses: life as a werewolf, she had found, was as expensive financially as it was personally.
She used her keys to get into the entryway. There was nothing in her mailbox, so she got Kara’s mail and newspaper and climbed the stairs to Kara’s third-floor apartment. When she opened the door, Kara’s Siamese cat, Mouser, took one look at her, spat in disgust, and disappeared behind the couch.
For six months she’d been feeding the cat whenever her neighbor was gone—which was often since Kara worked at a travel agency arranging tours. Mouser still hated her. From his hiding place he swore at her, as only a Siamese could do.
With a sigh, Anna tossed the mail and newspaper on the small table in the dining room and opened a can of cat food, setting it down near the water dish. She sat down at the table and closed her eyes. She was ready to go to her own apartment, one floor up, but she had to wait for the cat to eat. If she just left him there, she’d come back in the morning to a can of untouched food. Hate her he might, but Mouser wouldn’t eat unless there was someone with him—even if it was a werewolf he didn’t trust.
Usually she turned on the TV and watched whatever happened to be on, but tonight she was too tired to make the effort, so she unfolded the newspaper to see what had happened since the last time she’d picked one up a couple of months ago.
She skimmed through the headline articles on the front page without interest. Still complaining, Mouser emerged and stalked resentfully into the kitchen.
She turned the page so Mouser would know that she was really reading it—and drew in a sharp breath at the picture of a young man. It was a head shot, obviously a school picture, and next to it was a similar shot of a girl of the same age. The headline read: “Blood Found at Crime Scene Belongs to Missing Naperville Teen.”
Feeling a little frantic, she read the article’s review of the crime for those, like her, who had missed the initial reports.
Two months ago, Alan MacKenzie Frazier had disappeared from a high school dance the same night his date’s body had been found on the school grounds. Cause of death was difficult to determine as the dead girl’s body had been mauled by animals—there had been a pack of strays troubling the neighborhood for the past few months. Authorities had been uncertain whether the missing boy was a suspect or not. Finding his blood led them to suspect he was another victim.
Anna touched Alan Frazier’s smiling face with trembling fingers. She knew. She knew.
She jumped up from the table, ignoring Mouser’s unhappy yowl, and ran cold water from the kitchen sink over her wrists, trying to keep nausea at bay. That poor boy.
It took another hour for Mouser to finish his food. By that time Anna had the article memorized—and had come to a decision. Truthfully, she’d known as soon as she read the paper, but it had taken her the full hour to work up the courage to act upon it: if she’d learned anything in her three years as a werewolf, it was that you didn’t want to do anything that might attract one of the dominant wolves’ attention. Calling the Marrok, who ruled all the wolves in North America, would certainly attract his attention.
She didn’t have a phone in her apartment, so she borrowed Kara’s. She waited for her hands and her breathing to steady, but when that didn’t seem to be happening, she dialed the number on the battered piece of paper anyway.
Three rings—and she realized that one o’clock in Chicago would be considerably different in Montana, where the area code indicated she was dialing. Was it a two-hour difference or three? Earlier or later? She hastily hung up the phone.
What was she going to tell him, anyway? That she’d seen the boy, obviously the victim of a werewolf attack, weeks after his disappearance, in a cage in her Alpha’s house? That she thought the Alpha had ordered the attack? All Leo had to do was tell the Marrok that he’d come upon the kid later—that he hadn’t sanctioned it. Maybe that was how it happened. Maybe she was projecting from her own experience.
She didn’t even know if the Marrok would object to the attack. Maybe werewolves were allowed to attack whomever they pleased. That’s what had happened to her.
She turned away from the phone and saw the boy’s face looking out at her from the open newspaper. She looked at him a moment more and then dialed the number again—surely the Marrok would at least object to the publicity it had attracted. This time her call was answered on the first ring.
“This is Bran.”
He didn’t sound threatening.
“My name is Anna,” she said, wishing her voice wouldn’t quiver. There was a time, she thought a little bitterly, when she hadn’t been afraid of her own shadow. Who’d have thought that turning into a werewolf would turn her into a coward? But now she knew the monsters were real.
Angry with herself she might have been, but she couldn’t force another word out of her throat. If Leo knew she called the Marrok, she might as well shoot herself with that silver bullet she’d bought a few months ago and save him some trouble.
“You are calling from Chicago, Anna?” It startled her for a moment, but then she realized he must have caller ID on his phone. He didn’t sound angry that she’d disturbed him—and that wasn’t like any dominant she’d ever met. Maybe he was a secretary or something. That made better sense. The Marrok’s personal number wouldn’t be something that would be passed around.
The hope that she wasn’t actually talking to the Marrok helped steady her. Even Leo was afraid of the Marrok. She didn’t bother to answer his question—he already knew the answer. “I called to talk to the Marrok, but maybe you could help me.”
There was a pause, then Bran said, a little regretfully, “I am the Marrok, child.”
Panic set in again, but before she could excuse herself and hang up, he said soothingly, “It’s all right, Anna. You’ve done nothing wrong. Tell me why you called.”
She sucked in a deep breath, conscious that this was her last chance to ignore what she’d seen and protect herself.
Instead she explained about the newspaper article—and that she’d seen the missing boy in Leo’s house, in one of the cages he kept for new wolves.
“I see,” murmured the wolf at the other end of the phone line.
“I couldn’t prove that anything was wrong until I saw the newspaper,” she told him.
“Does Leo know you saw the boy?”
“Yes.” There were two Alphas in the Chicago area. Briefly she wondered how he’d known which one she was talking about.
“How did he react?”
Anna swallowed hard, trying to forget what had happened afterward. Once Leo’s mate had intervened, the Alpha had mostly quit passing her around to the other wolves at his whim, but that night Leo had felt that Justin deserved a reward. She didn’t have to tell the Marrok that, surely?
He saved her the humiliation by clarifying his q
uestion. “Was he angry that you had seen the boy?”
“No. He was…happy with the man who’d brought him in.” There had still been blood on Justin’s face and he stank with the excitement of the hunt.
Leo had been happy when Justin had first brought Anna to him, too. It had been Justin who had been angry—he hadn’t realized she’d be a submissive wolf. Submissive meant that Anna’s place was at the very bottom of the pack. Justin had quickly decided he made a mistake when he Changed her. She thought he had, too.
“I see.”
For some reason she had the strange feeling that he did.
“Where are you now, Anna?”
“At a friend’s house.”
“Another werewolf?”
“No.” Then realizing he might think she’d told someone about what she was—something that was strictly forbidden—she hurried to explain. “I don’t have a phone at my place. My neighbor is gone and I’m taking care of her cat. I used her phone.”
“I see,” he said. “I want you to stay away from Leo and your pack for right now—it might not be safe for you if someone figures out you called me.”
That was an understatement. “All right.”
“As it happens,” the Marrok said, “I have recently been made aware of problems in Chicago.”
The realization that she had risked everything unnecessarily made his next few words pass by her unheard.
Alpha and Omega Page 1
