"I already talked it all over with Mom," I said defensively.
And Bran grinned hugely, his arm coming down to reveal hazel eyes, which looked almost green in the artificial light. "I bet you did. Are my Samuel and your Adam hovering over you and giving you a bad time?" His voice was full of (false) sympathy.
Bran is better than anyone I know, including the fae, at hiding what he is. He looked like a teenager—there was a rip in his jeans, just over the knee, and some ironic person had used a marker to draw an anarchy symbol just over his thigh. His hair was ruffled. He was perfectly capable of sitting around with an innocent smile on his face—and then ripping someone's head off.
"You're frowning at me," he said. "Is it such a puzzle that I'm here?"
I dropped to the middle of the floor. It is uncomfortable for me to be in the same room for very long with Bran if my head is higher than his. Part of it is habit, and part of it is the magic that makes Bran the leader of all the wolves.
"Did someone call you about Adam bringing me into the pack?" I asked.
This time Bran laughed, his shoulders shaking, and I saw how tired he was.
"I'm glad I amuse you," I told him grumpily.
Behind me the door opened, and Samuel said cheerily, "Is this a private party, or can anyone join?"
How cool was that? In one sentence, one word actually (party), Samuel told his father that we weren't going to talk about Tim or why I'd killed him, and that I was going to be okay. Samuel was good at things like that.
"Come in," I said. "How's Mary Jo?"
Samuel sighed. "Da, let me tell you now. If I am dead, and a fae offers to heal me—I'd prefer you tell her no." He looked at me. "I think she'll be fine, eventually. But she's not very happy right now. She's dazed and shocky to an extent I've never seen before in a wolf. At least she's not crying anymore. Adam finally forced her change, and that helped a lot. She's sleeping with Paul, Alec, Honey, and few others on the monstrosity of a couch Adam keeps in the TV room in the basement."
He gave his father a keen-eyed look, then sat on the floor beside me—and that was a message, too. He wasn't between Bran and me, not precisely. But he could have sat beside Bran. "So what brings you here?"
Bran smiled at him, having seen the message Samuel wanted him to. "You don't have to protect her from me," he said softly. "We've all seen she does a pretty good job of protecting herself."
With the wolves, there is always a lot more going on in a conversation than just the words. For instance, Bran had just told us that he'd seen the video, from the security camera, of me killing Tim… and of everything else, too. And that he'd approved of my actions.
It shouldn't have pleased me so much; I was no child. But Bran's opinion still meant a lot.
"And yes," he told me after a moment, "someone called me about Adam bringing you into the pack. Lots of someones. Let me tell you the answers to the questions I've been asked, and you can pass them on to
Adam. No. I had no idea it was possible to bring someone who was not a werewolf into the pack.
Especially you, upon whom magic can be unpredictable. No. Once done, only Adam or you can break those ties. If you want me to show you how, I will." He paused.
I shook my head… and then tempered it. "Not yet."
Bran gave me an amused look under his eyebrows. "Fine. Just ask. And no, I'm not mad. Adam is Alpha of his pack. I do not see how anyone has been harmed by this." Then he grinned, one of the rare smiles he had when he wasn't acting, just genuinely amused. "Except maybe Adam. At least he doesn't have a Porsche you can wrap around a tree."
"That was a long time ago," I said hotly. "I paid for that. And after you practically dared me to steal it, I don't see why you were so angry about it."
"Telling you not to take it out wasn't daring you, Mercy," Bran said patiently… but there was something in his voice.
Was he lying?
"Yes, it was," said Samuel. "And she's right—you knew it."
"So you didn't have any reason to be so mad I wrecked the car," I said, triumphantly.
Samuel laughed out loud. "You still haven't figured it out, have you, Mercy? He never was mad about the car. He was the first one at the scene of the accident. He thought you'd killed yourself. We all did. That was a pretty spectacular wreck."
I started to say something and found I couldn't. The first thing I'd seen after hitting the tree was the Marrok's snarling face. I'd never seen him that angry—and I'd done a lot, from time to time, to inspire his rage.
Samuel patted me on the back. "It's not often I see you absolutely speechless."
"So you had Charles teach me how to fix cars and how to drive them." Charles was Bran's oldest son.
He hated to drive, and until that summer I'd thought he couldn't drive. I should have known better—Charles can do anything. And everything he did, he did very well. That's only one of the reasons that Charles intimidates me and everyone else.
"Kept you busy and out of trouble for a whole summer," said Bran smugly.
He was teasing… but serious as well. One of the oddest things about being grown-up was looking back at something you thought you knew and finding out the truth of it was completely different from what you had always believed.
It gave me courage to do what I did next.
"I need some advice," I told him.
"Sure," he said easily.
I took a deep breath and started with my killing Marsilia's best hope of returning to Italy, jumped to Stefan's appearance in my living room and the unexpected visit from my old college nemesis, and ended it all with the nearly fatal adventure at Uncle Mike's and the little bag that smelled like vampires and magic. I told him about Mary Jo and my fear that if I told Adam about the bag, it would cause a war.
"I'll stop by and see if I can help Mary Jo," Bran said after I'd finished. "I know a few tricks."
Samuel looked relieved. "Good."
"So," I told Bran, "it is my fault. I chose to go after Andre. But Marsilia's not attacking me."
"You expected a vampire to be straightforward?" asked Bran.
I supposed I had. "Amber gives me a reason to get out of town for a little while. Without me around, Marsilia might leave everyone else alone." And it would give me a chance to think through my response.
A day or two to figure out something that wouldn't lead to more killing.
"And give Adam and me a chance to mount a proper response," Samuel growled.
I started to object… but they had the right to go on the offensive. The right to know that they were targets.
As long as Mary Jo survived, Adam wouldn't bring a war to Marsilia's doorstep. And if Mary Jo didn't survive… Perhaps Marsilia was crazy. I'd seen that kind of madness in the Marrok's pack, where the oldest wolves often came to die.
"If you leave, Marsilia might take that as a victory," said Bran. "I don't know her well enough to know if that will help you or hurt you in the end. I do think that getting out of here for a few days might not be a bad idea."
He didn't say Marsilia would quit targeting my friends, I noticed. I was pretty sure Uncle Mike would figure out that the vampires had used his place to target the wolves—and if I thought that, Marsilia surely would. She must be truly furious if she was willing to anger Uncle Mike and enrage Adam in order to get to me.
I was betting that if I left, she'd wait, because she wanted me to witness the pain I'd made her rain down upon my friends. But I wasn't sure. Still, it wouldn't hurt.
"The problem is… there's something a little off about Amber's offer. Or maybe just after Tim…" I swallowed. "I'm afraid to go."
Bran looked at me with keen yellow eyes, weighing something in his mind. "Fear is a good thing," he said at last. "It teaches you not to make the same mistake twice. You counter it with knowledge. What are you afraid of?"
"I don't know." Which wasn't the right answer.
"Gut check," Bran said. "What does your gut tell you?"
"I think that maybe it's the v
ampires again. Stefan lands in my lap to give me a good scare—and look, here's a way out. Out of the frying pan and into the fire."
Samuel was already shaking his head. "Marsilia isn't going to send you to Spokane to get you out of our protection before she takes care of you. Not that it isn't a good idea, but she'd send you to Seattle maybe, she has some allies there. But in Spokane, there's only one vampire, and he doesn't allow visitors. There are no packs, no fae, nothing but a few powerless creatures who manage to stay out of his sight."
I felt my eyes widen. Spokane is a city of nearly half a million people. "That's a lot of territory for a single vampire."
"Not for that single vampire," said Samuel at the same time Bran said, "Not for Blackwood."
"So," I said slowly. "What will this vampire do if I stay in Spokane for a few days?"
"How would he know?" Bran asked. "You smell like coyote. But a coyote smells a lot like a dog to someone who doesn't hunt in the forests—which I assure you, James Blackwood doesn't do—and most dog owners smell like their pets. I wouldn't want you to move to Spokane, but a couple of days or weeks won't put you in danger."
"So do you think it's a good idea if I go?"
Bran raised his hip and pulled his cell phone out of his back pocket.
"Don't you break them like that?" I asked. "I killed a couple of phones by sitting on them."
He just smiled and said into the phone, "Charles, I need you to find out about an Amber…?" He looked at me and raised an eyebrow.
"Sorry to wake you, Charles. Chamberlain was her maiden name," I told Samuel's brother apologetically. "I don't know her married name." Charles would hear me as clearly as I heard him. Private phone calls around werewolves needed headsets, not a cell phone speaker.
"Amber Chamberlain," Charles repeated. "That should limit it to a hundred people or so."
"She lives in Spokane," I said. "I went to college with her."
"That helps," he told us. "I'll get back to you."
"Arm yourself with knowledge," said Bran when he hung up. "But I don't see why you shouldn't go."
"Take some insurance with you."
"It's Stefan," I shouted. Before I had the last word out of my mouth, Bran had Stefan up against the opposite wall from where he'd been sitting.
"Da." Samuel was on his feet as well, a hand on his father's shoulder. He didn't try to pry Bran's hands off Stefan's neck—that would have been stupid. "Da. It's all right. This is Stefan. Mercy's friend."
After a very long couple of seconds, Bran stepped back and dropped his hands from Stefan's throat. The vampire hadn't fought back, which was good.
Vampires are tough, maybe tougher than wolves because vampires are already dead. Stefan had been one of Marsilia's lieutenants, powerful in his own right. He'd been a mercenary in life… which had been in Renaissance Italy.
But Bran is Bran.
"That was stupid," said Samuel to Stefan. "What part of 'never sneak up on a werewolf' don't you understand?"
The Stefan I knew would have bowed gracefully, expressed his apologies with a hint of humor. This Stefan gave a stiff jerk of his neck. "I'm no use here. It's a good idea to get Mercy out of the line of fire—she's the weakest target. Send me to keep her safe in Spokane." He sounded almost eager… and I wondered what he'd been doing since he'd left Adam's. What was there for him to do? Maybe I wasn't the only one who was trying to find some action to take that wouldn't get me and everyone I cared about killed.
Still, I couldn't let him get away with calling me… "Weak?" I said.
Samuel turned on Stefan with a growl. "Stupid vampire. My father had her nearly talked into going, and you ruined it."
I laughed. I couldn't help it. I hoped going to Spokane would keep my friends safe, and they hoped me going to Spokane would keep me safe. Maybe we were both right.
Bran's phone rang, and we all listened to Charles tell us that Amber was married to Corban Wharton, a moderately successful corporate lawyer about ten years her senior. They had an eight-year-old son with some sort of disability, hinted at in various newspaper articles but not expressly stated. He rattled off an address or two, cell phone numbers and real phone numbers… and social security numbers and most recent tax reports, personal and business. For an old wolf, Charles knows how to make computers sit up and beg.
"Thank you," said Bran.
"I can go back to sleep now?" asked Charles. He didn't wait for an answer, just hung up his end of the connection.
I looked at Samuel. "It will make your life easier if I leave."
He nodded. "We can protect ourselves… but you are too vulnerable. And if you aren't here, if Marsilia doesn't know where you are, we can get her to the table for negotiations."
Bran looked at Stefan. "A vampire might draw too much attention in Spokane."
Stefan shrugged. "I'm not without resources. I was in this room for a quarter of an hour, and none of you noticed me. If I feed well, no one will know what I am."
"You always smell like vampire to me," I told him. Vampire and popcorn. The good buttery kind. No, I don't know why. I've never seen him eat the stuff—I don't know that vampires can.
He raised his hands. "No one without Mercy's nose, then. If I'm in the room with the Monster, then perhaps he'll notice. Otherwise, he'll never know I was there. I've done it before."
"The Monster?" Samuel asked.
"James Blackwood."
Vampires give titles to some of the more powerful ones. Stefan was the Soldier because he'd been a mercenary. Wulfe was the Wizard… and I knew he could do some magic. I resolved to stay away from any vampire that other vampires called the Monster.
"There is this, too," Stefan said. "I can jump from one location to another—and I can take Mercy with me."
"How far?" asked Bran with sudden intentness.
Stefan shrugged… and never quite straightened up, as if it was too much trouble. "Anywhere. But taking another person with me has a cost. I'll be useless for a day afterward." He looked at me. "I have the address." He'd have overheard Charles give it to the rest of us. "I can get there tonight and find a safe place nearby to spend the day."
Bran raised an eyebrow at me.
"I'll call Amber in the morning," I said. It felt like running away, but Bran seemed to think it was the right thing to do.
Stefan swept me a perfect bow and disappeared before he stood up.
"He used to hide his ability to do that," I told them. It worried me that he wasn't hiding it anymore. As if it didn't matter what people knew about him.
Samuel smiled at me. "You decided to go to Spokane because he needs to do something, didn't you?
You were all set to stay until he started looking pathetic." I gave him a look, and he raised his hands in surrender. "I didn't say he didn't have a reason to look pathetic. You just need to remember that sad sack or not, he's still a vampire—and more than a match for you if he decides not to be friendly. You've cost him a lot, Mercy. He might not be your friend."
I hadn't thought about it that way. So I did, for maybe a tenth of a second. "If he was mad at me, he'd have killed me when he dropped in here starving. For that matter he could have come here anytime tonight and killed me. You need me gone—so quit trying to make trouble."
Samuel frowned at me. "I'm not trying to make trouble. But you have to remember he is a vampire, and vampires are not nice guys, no matter how chivalrous and gallant Stefan appears. I like him, too. But you are trying to forget what he is."
I thought about the two dead people whose only crime was that they had seen me when I staked Andre.
"I know what he is," I said stubbornly.
"Vampire," said Bran. "Evil, yes." He grinned, and it made him look like he should be going to high school. "But I think his Mistress made a mistake when she chose to throw him away."
"She broke him," I said. And looking into Samuel's eyes, I whispered, "You stay safe, you and Adam.
I'll keep Stefan busy looking for ghosts."
&nbs
p; If I was really looking for ghosts, of course, it would be stupid to bring Stefan. Ghosts don't like vampires, and they won't come out when there are vampires around. Samuel knew that, and he grinned at me with serious eyes. "We'll be fine."
"Call me if you need me," said Bran—to both of us, I thought. "If I'm going to stop in to have a look at Mary Jo, I need to go now." He kissed me on my forehead, then did the same to Samuel (who had to bend down). I didn't know if he really knew who Mary Jo was, or just seemed to. But I'd never seen him meet a wolf he didn't know by name.
Speaking of which… "Hey, Bran?"
Halfway to the door, he turned back.
"What about that girl we sent to you? The one who was Changed so young and hadn't learned control. Is she all right?"
He smiled and looked a lot less tired. "Kara? She did fine last moon. Give her a few more months, and she'll be fully in control." Waving casually over his shoulder, he walked out into the dark.
"Get some rest," I called after him. He shut the front door behind him without answering.
We listened while Bran drove off—in a doubtlessly rented Mustang. Once he was gone, Samuel said, "You have a few hours. Why don't you get some more sleep? I think I'll hop the fence to Adam's and see what Da does for Mary Jo."
"Why didn't he just call?" I asked.
Samuel reached out and ruffled my hair. "He was checking up on you."
"Well," I said. "At least he didn't ask me if I was okay. I think I'd have had to do something to him if he had."
"Hey, Mercy," said Samuel with false solicitude, "are you okay?"
I punched him, connecting only because he hadn't expected it. "I am now," I told him, as he dropped to the ground and rolled—as if I'd really had some force behind my fist, which I hadn't.
SPOKANE IS ABOUT 150 MILES NORTHEAST OF THE TRICITIES, and you know you're getting close when you start seeing trees.
My cell phone rang, and I answered without pulling over. I usually obey the law, but I was late.
"Mercy?" It was Adam, and he wasn't happy with me. I guessed Samuel had told him about the vampires being responsible for the debacle at Uncle Mike's. I'd told him he could do it once I was safely out of town.
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