Patricia Briggs Mercy Thompson: Hopcross Jilly

by Patricia Briggs

  There was a little silence.

  “Honey told me that last night. She explained to Mercy that it was a little more. So Mercy learned more than you intended her to.”

  “Pressure makes her run in the other direction,” Adam said dryly. “I thought I’d wait to explain until matters became critical.”

  “So she knows that it’s more than words. She knows that your declaration makes you vulnerable.”

  “Make your point.”

  “So, she knew she should call you and tell you that she was going to the bastard’s house. But she also knows that you’ll tell her no and she feels like she needs to go for Zee’s sake—or whatever reason Tim found to persuade her.”

  “Okay.”

  “And maybe she doesn’t like checking in with you for every move she makes. In any case, she knows she should call you and she doesn’t. She chooses to go to Tim’s house, but she also feels on some level that it’s the wrong thing to do. Her choice. Her fault. Her fault when she drinks from that bloody fairy cup. Her fault that he—”

  Just that fast Adam had Ben on the ground underneath him while he snarled. “It’s not her fault she was raped,” he growled.

  Ben lay limp and gave Adam his throat, but he didn’t quit talking, even though a tear slid down his cheek. “She thinks so.”

  Adam stilled.

  “What’s more,” he continued hoarsely. “I bet she wonders if she was raped at all.”

  Adam sat back, releasing Ben entirely. “Explain it to me.” His voice was very soft.

  Ben shook his head and put an arm over his eyes. “You saw it. You heard him. That drink took away her ability to resist, but he didn’t just make her take off her clothes. He made her feel, made her want.”

  Adam shook his head. “And you heard her…You saw her. She told him, ‘No.’ He made this friend of his drown himself with a smile on his face—and he couldn’t keep Mercy under control while he was with her. He had to pour the frickin’ stuff down her throat.” Was that pride in his voice?

  “But she took off her clothes and she touched him.”

  “She fought it,” Adam snarled. “You saw. You heard her. You saw Nemane’s shock when she saw Mercy’s resistance. She couldn’t believe it when Mercy hit him with the walking stick.”

  Ben whispered, “When he told her that she wanted him, that she loved him—she felt it. Did you see her face? It was real to her. That’s why she could kill him while he was wearing that fucking fairy horse pelt. Wasn’t that what she said? In that moment Mercy loved him so she couldn’t be his enemy—otherwise she wouldn’t have been able to kill him while he was wearing it.”

  Adam believed it. I saw his face change and heard the growl that rumbled in his chest. Now, he understood. Now, he’d hate me for betraying him.

  The floor creaked as Ben rolled suddenly to his feet. He dusted off his pant legs, a nervous gesture because the floor was clean. Adam had covered his face with a hand.

  “So was it rape?” Ben asked lightly as he rubbed his face briskly, cleaning it of any evidence of tears. It was a good performance. If the other two people in the room had been human, they might have believed in this nonchalant Ben and not the tormented one he’d let peek out. “You’ll have to decide for yourself. If you blame her for how he made her feel, then go back down those stairs and send Warren up. He’ll take care of her, and when she can, she’ll leave and you won’t ever have to worry about her again. She won’t blame you because she knows it was her fault. Everything was her fault. She’ll be sorry that she hurt you and she’ll leave us all so we can forget about her.”

  Startled, I stared at Ben. How did he know I planned to leave?

  Adam stood up with slow deliberation. “You live,” he rasped, “you live because I know how you really feel. Of course it was rape.” He stared at Ben’s bowed head and I could feel the sudden rise in power that told me he was using some touch of the power that was his as Ben’s Alpha. He waited until the other werewolf raised his eyes and even I felt the sudden sizzle of that connection. Then slowly he said, “Just as it is rape when an adult coerces or cajoles a child. No matter if the child cooperates or not. Whether it feels good or not. Because that child is not able to do anything else.”

  Something changed in Ben’s face, a subtle shift that Adam saw, too, because he dropped the magic. “And now you know that I understand and believe that.”

  Ben was abused as a child. It wasn’t surprising given his warm and cheery personality, really. I’d just never given much thought about why he was the way he was.

  “Thank you for sharing your understanding,” Adam said formally.

  Ben dropped to his knees as if they had suddenly turned to water. It was a supremely graceful move. “I am sorry that I did not do it…better. More respectfully.”

  Adam cuffed him gently. “I wouldn’t have listened. Get up and go get some rest.” But when Ben stood, Adam pulled him into a hug that proved that werewolves aren’t people. Two men, heterosexual and human, would never have touched after a revelation like that.

  “Being a werewolf gives you time to get over your childhood,” Adam whispered into Ben’s ear. “Or it gives you time to destroy yourself with it. I’d rather you be one of the survivors, do you hear me?” He stepped back. “Now go downstairs.”

  He waited until the door closed behind Ben, and then shook his head. “I owe you,” he told the door. “I won’t forget.”

  He dropped down beside the bed as if he were too tired to stand. With the same suddenness, though I thought I was more than adequately hidden, he reached out and grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and pulled me out from under the bed and onto his lap.

  I shivered, torn between the knowledge that I didn’t deserve his touch and the tentative understanding that he didn’t blame me, no matter how much I thought he should.

  “My father always told me that when I heard good advice, I needed to listen to it,” he said.

  He continued to hold me firmly by the scruff of the neck with one hand, but the other caressed my face. “We’re going to wait for a talk until that stuff has worn off completely.” His caress stopped. “Don’t misunderstand me, Mercedes Thompson. I am mad at you.”

  He bit my nose once, hard. Wolves do that to discipline their young—or misbehaving members of the pack. Then he tipped his head so it rested on mine and sighed.

  “Not your fault,” he told me. “But I’m still mad as…mad as heck that you scared me like that.

  “Darn it, Mercy, who would have thought that a pair of humans caused all this misery? Even if you had called me, I wouldn’t have objected to you going…at least not because I thought it was dangerous. I wouldn’t have sent a guard with you just to go talk to some human.” He put his face against my neck then gave a half laugh. “You smell like my aftershave.”

  Hard arms pulled me tightly against him as he said in a quiet voice, “It’s only fair to warn you that you sealed your fate tonight. When you knew you were in trouble, you came to me. That makes twice, Mercy, and twice is almost as good as a declaration. You are mine now.”

  His hands, which had been moving in circles in my fur, stopped and took a good hold. “Ben says you might run. If you do, I will find you and bring you back. Every time you run, Mercy. I won’t force you, but…I won’t leave or let you leave either. If you can fight that cursed fairy drink, you can certainly overcome any advantage being an Alpha gives me if you really want to. No more excuses, Mercy. You are mine, and I am keeping you.”

  My independent nature, which would doubtless reassert itself soon, would be outraged by this possessive, arrogant, and medieval concept. But…

  Tim’s wish that I would always be alone had hit me particularly hard…because it was something I already knew. Nothing like being a coyote raised among werewolves to make you understand that different means not belonging. I didn’t belong with my human family either, though I loved them and they loved me.

  Under the weight of the unvarnished, possessive i
ntent that began in Adam’s words and carried through to his body, my whole world shook on its axis.

  He slept eventually, curled up around me as if he were in wolf form, but the lines of strain stayed behind, making him look older—as if he were thirty, say. With Adam surrounding me, I watched as the sky lightened and the new day began.

  Somewhere in the house a phone rang.

  Adam heard it, too. Jesse’s door opened and she ran down the stairs and picked up the phone.

  I couldn’t quite hear what she said as she was downstairs in the kitchen, but the tone of her voice went from polite to carefully respectful.

  Adam stood with me in his arms, then set me on the bed. “You stay there.”

  “Dad? It’s Bran on the phone.”

  He opened the door. “Thanks, Jesse.”

  She handed him the phone and peered around the door to look at me. Her eyes were puffy. Had she been crying?

  “You go get ready for school,” Adam told her. “Mercy’s going to be fine.”

  Today was Thursday morning. The thought galvanized me—I had to get to work…Then I settled back into the bed. I wasn’t going back to my garage, not with stray bits of Tim scattered here and there. I should call Gabriel and tell him not to show up after school. I should…

  “…someone sent them the video of you tearing Mercy’s rapist apart. While I appreciate the sentiment, and doubtless would have done the same thing, it leaves us in an awkward position. That bill cannot pass.” Bran’s voice wafted over me like a cool breeze of calm that had nothing to do with what he was saying, and everything to do with his being Bran.

  “How much of the video did they get?” Adam growled.

  “Not enough, apparently. Whoever sent it represented it as an Alpha werewolf attacking a human without provocation. I would like you to take the whole video—I trust it doesn’t show our Mercy changing shape?”

  “No. But it shows her without clothes.”

  “Mercy won’t care, but perhaps it might be possible to add those black rectangles the news reporters use.”

  “Yeah. I’m sure Ben can do it.” Adam sounded tired. “You want me to go with it, don’t you?”

  “I’m sending Charles with you. I’m sure that once they have seen the entire video, most of the men on the committee will be ready to cheer you on. The others will keep their mouths shut.”

  “I don’t want that video getting on the Internet,” Adam growled. “Not Mercy’s—”

  “I think we can make sure that doesn’t happen. The congressman was very clear about who sent him the tape. I’ll see that it is taken care of.”

  Adam wasn’t looking at me. I hopped off the bed and slipped through the still open door.

  I didn’t want to hear any more. I didn’t want to think about people watching a video of last night. I wanted to go home.

  Warren was standing at the foot of the stairs talking to Ben, so I dodged into Jesse’s room before he looked up.

  “Mercy?” Jesse was sitting on her bed with her homework scattered in front of her.

  I’d hopped onto the sill of her open window, which was still screenless, but something in her voice made me pause. I jumped onto her bed and nuzzled her neck. She gave me a quick hug before I wriggled free and darted out the window.

  I’d forgotten that Tim had mangled my arm—foreleg in coyote form—but it held up just fine when I jumped off a low spot of the roof onto the ground. Nemane had been as good as her word about the other things the goblet could do.

  I ran all the way home and stopped on the front porch. I couldn’t open the door as I was, but I didn’t want to change to human anytime in the next decade.

  Before I had time to worry too much, Samuel opened the door for me. He closed the door and followed me to my room, opening that door as well.

  I jumped on my bed and curled up with my chin on my pillow. Samuel sat down on the foot, giving me plenty of room.

  “I have, entirely illegally, snooped into the medical records of one Timothy Milanovich,” he told me. “His doctor is a friend of mine and agreed to leave me in his office for a few minutes. When Milanovich’s fiancée left him, he had himself tested and was negative for any disease that you might worry about.”

  And I didn’t have to worry about pregnancy either. As soon as I’d realized that there was a possibility of ending up in either Adam or Samuel’s bed, I’d started on the pill. Being illegitimate makes you sensitive about things like that.

  I sighed and closed my eyes, and Samuel got off the bed. He closed my door behind him.

  It opened again after only a few minutes, but it wasn’t Samuel. Warren in his wolf form lurked solemnly behind his Alpha.

  “I meant what I said, Mercy,” Adam told me. “No running. I have to go to Washington and you’d better be here when I get back. Until then, one of my pack will stay with you.”

  The bed sank heavily under Warren’s weight as the huge wolf tucked himself beside me. He licked my face with a rough tongue.

  I lifted my head and met Adam’s gaze.

  He knew. He knew it all and he still wanted me. Maybe he’d change his mind, but I’d known him for a long time and he was as changeable as a boulder. You might move him with a bulldozer, but that was about it.

  He nodded once, and was gone.

  chapter 13

  For a whole day I indulged myself. I slept on my bed with whatever wolf had been sent to stay with me. Whenever I started to have a nightmare, someone was always there. Samuel, Warren, Honey, and Darryl’s mate, Aurielle. Samuel dragged one of the kitchen chairs into my room and played his guitar for hours.

  The next morning I woke up and knew I had to do something or all this pity and guilt was going to make me go stir crazy. If I let them all treat me like I was broken, then how was I going to convince myself I wasn’t?

  It was Friday. I should be at work…My lungs froze at the thought of going back into my shop. I breathed my way through the panic attack.

  So I wouldn’t go to work. Not today at least.

  What to do…

  I lifted my head to the pile of wolves that were threatening to make my twin bed collapse under their weight and considered my minions. Darryl wouldn’t work. He wouldn’t twitch without Adam’s say-so—and Aurielle wouldn’t go against her mate. She opened her eyes to look at me. Like me, both of them should have been at work: Aurielle at her high school and Darryl at his high-price think tank. Neither of them would do for the main project, but for now it didn’t matter. Today would be reconnaissance.

  It was actually Warren who came with me, shifting to his human form so he could play “walk the coyote” while Darryl and Aurielle stayed at Adam’s house to play guardians for Jesse.

  “So how far are we going to walk?” Warren asked.

  I staggered a few steps, fell on my side, and then dragged myself forward weakly before hopping back up and continuing to walk briskly down the shoulder of the highway.

  “If things get that bad, I’ll give Kyle a call and tell him he needs to come pick us up,” Warren said dryly.

  I gave him a canine grin and turned off the highway and onto a secondary road. The Summers’ house was a nice two-story house built in the past decade on a two-acre parcel. They had a dog who took one look at me and came at us in a silent rush that stopped dead as soon as Warren growled—or maybe it just smelled the werewolf on him.

  I put my nose to the ground and searched for the trail I’d hoped was there. It was summer and just a quarter mile away was the river. Most self-respecting boys would…yes. Here it was.

  I’d thought about finding Jacob Summers at home, but it would be hard to explain why I needed to talk to him alone. I wasn’t even quite sure what I was going to tell him—or if I was going to say anything at all.

  The road continued most of the way to the river, sort of petering out just after it crossed the canal. I found Jacob’s favorite place by following his trail. There was a pretty good sized boulder right on the edge of the river.


  I hopped on it and stared out at the river, just as Jacob must.

  “You aren’t thinking of jumping in, are you, Mercy?” Warren asked. “I wasn’t much of a swimmer when I was human and matters haven’t improved over the years.”

  I gave him a scornful look, then remembered that Tim had told me to drown myself for love of him.

  “Glad to hear it,” he said and sat on the rocky shore beside me.

  He leaned over and picked up a tangle of fishing line complete with hook and sinker and a couple of old beer cans. He put the hook in the cans. Suddenly he straightened and looked around.

  “Do you feel that?” he asked me. “Temperature just dropped about ten degrees. Do you suppose your Fideal friend is about?”

  I knew why it was colder. Austin Summers stood beside me and petted me with his cool, dead hand. When I looked up at him, he was just staring at the river, as I had been.

  Warren paced back and forth along the shoreline, looking for Fideal, unaware that we’d been joined by someone else.

  “Tell my brother.” Austin didn’t look away from the deep blue water. “Not my parents, they wouldn’t understand. They’d rather believe that I committed suicide than hear that I’d succumbed to Tim’s magical potion. They get that kind of stuff mixed up with Satanism.” He smiled faintly with a hint of contempt in his voice. “But my brother needs to know I didn’t abandon him, all right? And you’re right. Here is a good place. It’s his thinking place.”

  I leaned into his hand a little.

  “Good,” he said.

  We sat there a long time before he faded away. I lost his scent soon after, but I felt his fingers in my fur until I hopped off the rock and headed back home, with Warren walking beside me, two crumpled beer cans in his hand.

  “So did you have something you wanted to do?” Warren asked. “Or did you just want to stare at the river—which you could have done without coming all of this way.”