Bone Crossed (22 page)

“No more troubles with the vampires?” I asked.

“None.”

“But negotiations didn’t accomplish much,” I said.

He nodded comfortably. “Don’t worry so, Mercy. We can take care of ourselves.”

Maybe it was the way he said it ...

“So what did you do?”

“We have a couple of guests staying with us now. Neither of them seems to have Stefan’s ability to disappear at will.”

“And you’ll keep them until ...”

“Until we have an apology for the events at Uncle Mike’s and reparations paid to Mary Jo. And an agreement not to try something like that again.”

“Do you think you’ll get it?”

“Bran called her to deliver our request. I’m certain we’ll get it.”

Some tightness eased in my chest. The one thing that Marsilia did care about was the seethe. If Bran got involved in a battle, Marsilia’s seethe was dead. The vampires in the Tri-Cities simply didn’t have the numbers that the Marrok could bring into play—and Marsilia knew it.

“So she’ll have to concentrate on me,” I said.

He smiled. “The agreement is that she will not attack the pack unless one of us newly and directly attacks her.”

“She doesn’t know I’m pack,” I said.

“After we get that apology and promise from her in writing, I’ll take great pleasure in informing her of that.”

I sat up and rolled forward until I was up on all fours and my face was an inch from his. I kissed him lightly. He kept his hands on the cat.

“I like the way you operate, mister,” I said. “Can I interest you in the pancakes I’m going to make after I shower?”

He tilted his head and gave me a deeper kiss, though he left his hands where they’d been. When he moved away, neither of us was breathing steadily.

“Now you can tell me why you smell like Stefan,” he said—almost gently.

I raised my arm and sniffed. I
did
smell like Stefan, more than riding home in a van would have accounted for.

“Weird.”

“Why do you smell like the vampire, Mercy?”

“Because we exchanged blood,” I told him—and then explained what Stefan had told me about vampire bites on the way from Spokane. I couldn’t remember which part was supposed to be secret and which parts weren’t—but it didn’t matter. I wasn’t going to keep anything from Adam, not when he’d made me part of his pack.

Stefan was certain that neither he nor Blackwood would have been able to affect the wolves through me. But I didn’t know enough about pack magic to be certain—and I didn’t think he did either. The only thing I did know was that Adam would agree with what I had done, though I knew he wouldn’t be ecstatic about it.

By the time I’d finished, he’d dumped Medea on the floor (for which he’d have to atone if he wanted to touch her again today) in favor of pacing the room. He kept going a few rounds. He stopped when he was across the room and gave me an unhappy look.

“Stefan is better than Blackwood.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about Blackwood after the first bite?” he asked. He sounded ... hurt.

I didn’t know.

He gave a short, unamused laugh. “I’m trying. I really am. But you have to bend a little, too, Mercy. Why didn’t you tell me what was going on until you were on your way back here? When it was too late to do anything about it.”

“I should have.”

He looked at me with dark, wounded eyes. So I tried to do better.

“I’m not used to leaning on people, Adam.” I started slowly, but the words came faster as I continued. “And ... I’ve cost you so much lately. I thought—a vampire bite. Ick. Scary ... But it didn’t seem too harmful. Like a giant mosquito or ... the ghost. Frightening but not harmful. I’ve been bitten before, you remember, and nothing bad happened. If I’d told you—you’d have made me come home. And there was Chad—you’d like him-this ten-year-old kid with more courage than most grown-ups, who was being terrorized by a ghost. I thought I could help. And I could stay out of Marsilia’s hair so she would
listen
to you. It wasn’t until Stefan was so worried—and that was right before we came home, after the second bite—that I realized that there was something more dangerous about them.”

I shrugged helplessly, blinking back tears that I would
not
let fall. “I’m
sorry.
It was stupid. I’m stupid. I can’t move without making everything worse.” I turned my face away.

“No,” he said. The bed sagged as he sat down next to me. “It’s all right.” He bumped my shoulder deliberately with his. “You aren’t stupid. You’re right. I’d have made you come home if I’d had to collect you myself with ropes and a gag. And your boy Chad would have died.”

I leaned a little against his shoulder, and he leaned a little back.

“You never used to get into trouble like this”—amusement threaded through his voice—“except for a few memorable occasions. Maybe it’s like that fae woman, the one at Uncle Mike’s, said.” He didn’t say Baba Yaga’s name. I didn’t blame him. “Maybe you’ve absorbed a little of Coyote, and chaos follows you.” He touched my neck lightly. “That vampire is going to be sorry for this.”

“Stefan?”

He laughed, and this time he meant it. “Him, too, probably. But I won’t have to do anything about that. No. I was speaking of Blackwood.”

Adam stuck around until I’d showered, and he ate the pancakes I made afterward. Samuel came in while we were eating. He looked tired and smelled like antiseptic and blood. Without a word, he poured the last of the batter in the pan.

When Samuel looked like that, it meant he’d had a bad day. Someone had died or been crippled, and he hadn’t been able to fix it.

He took his cooked pancakes and sat down at the table beside Adam. After dousing his meal in maple syrup, he stopped moving. Just looked at the pool of liquid sugar as if it held the secrets of the universe.

He shook his head. “I guess my eyes were bigger than my appetite.” He dumped the food in the garbage disposal and ran it like he’d enjoy stuffing a person down it.

“So what is it this time?” I asked. “‘Johnny fell down and broke his arm’ or ‘my wife ran into a door’?”

“Baby Ally got bitten by their pit bull,” he growled, flipping the switch so the disposal quieted. In an artifically high-pitched voice, he said, “‘But Iggy’s so good. Sure he’s bitten me a couple of times. But he’s always adored Ally. He watches her while I shower.’ ” He walked off a little steam, then said, in his own voice, “You know, it’s not the pit bulls. It’s the people who own them. The kind of people who want a pit bull are the very last people who should have a dog. Or a child. Who leaves a two-year-old alone with a dog that’s already killed a puppy? So now the dog dies, the girl gets reconstructive surgery and will probably still have scars—and her idiot mother, who caused it all, goes unpunished.”

“Her mom will probably feel bad for the rest of her life,” I ventured. “It’s not jail time, but she’ll be punished.”

Samuel gave me a look under his brows. “She’s too busy making sure everyone knows it wasn’t her fault. By the time she’s through, people will be sympathizing with her.”

“Same thing happened with German shepherds a couple of decades ago,” said Adam. “Then Dobermans and Rottweilers. And the ones who suffer are the kids and the dogs. You aren’t going to change human nature, Samuel. Someone who’s seen as much of it as you have should know when to quit fighting.”

Samuel turned to say something, got a good look at my neck, and froze.

“I know,” I said. “Only I could go to Spokane and get the only vampire in the whole city to bite me on the first day I was there.”

He didn’t laugh. “Two bites means he owns you, Mercy.”

I shook my head. “No. Two blood exchanges means he owns me. So I had Stefan bite me again, and now Stefan owns me instead of the Boogeyman of Spokane.”

He leaned a hip against the counter, folded his arms over his chest, and looked at Adam. “You approved this?” He sounded incredulous.

“Since when did Mercy ask my approval ... or anyone’s approval before she did something? But I’d have told her to go ahead if she asked me. Stefan is a step above Blackwood.”

Samuel frowned at him. “She’s now second in your pack. That gives Stefan your pack as well as Mercy.”

“No,” I told him. “Stefan says not. Says it’s been tried before and didn’t work.”

“A vampire’s sheep does as it is told.” Samuel’s voice grew deep and rough with worry, so I didn’t take offense at being called a sheep. Though I would have under other circumstances, even if it were true. “When he tells you to call the wolves, you’ll have no choice. And if the vampire, whose slave you are, tells a different story—I know which one I’d doubt. ‘Old vampires lie better than they tell the truth.’ ” The last was a werewolf aphorism. And it was true that a lying vampire could be difficult to detect. They had no pulse, and they didn’t sweat. But lies still have a feel to them.

I shrugged, trying to look as if Samuel wasn’t worrying me. “You can ask Stefan how it works tonight if you want.”

“If she calls the pack, she has to use my power to do it,” Adam said. “She can’t do that if I don’t let her.”

I tried not to show the relief I felt. “Good. Don’t let me call the pack for a while, all right?”

“A while?” said Samuel. “Did Stefan tell you he could let you go after a little while? Maybe when Blackwood loses interest? A vampire never loses its sheep except to death.”

He was scared for me. I could see that. It didn’t stop me from snapping at him anyway.
“Look.
I was out of options.” I didn’t tell them that Wulfe could sever the bond between Stefan and me. It had been told to me in confidence, and I really did try not to blurt out everything anyone told me in secret. Except, maybe, to Adam.

He closed his eyes and looked sick. “Yes. I know.” “A vampire can’t take an Alpha wolf as a sheep,” said Adam. “Maybe we can work from that to free Mercy when it seems useful. What we don’t want to do is go off half-cocked and get rid of Stefan so the”—he gave me an ironic lift of his eyebrow—“Boogeyman of Spokane takes over again. I’m with Mercy. If you have to listen to a vampire, Stefan’s not the worst choice.”

“Why can’t a vampire take over an Alpha?” I asked.

It was Samuel who answered me. “I’d almost forgotten that. It’s the way the pack works, Mercy. If a vampire isn’t strong enough to take every wolf in the pack, all at once, he can’t take the Alpha. It doesn’t mean it can’t happen—there are a couple of vampires in the Old Country ... no, most of them are gone, I think. Anyway there are none here who could do it.”

“What about Blackwood?” I asked.

Samuel shrugged unhappily. “I’ve never met Blackwood, and I’m not sure Da has either. I’ll ask.”

“Do that,” said Adam. “In the meantime, that makes Stefan an even better choice. He’s not going to be taking over. I think I’m mostly bothered by the close ties between Blackwood and your friend Amber.”

I’d lost my appetite. After scraping my plate clean, I put it in the dishwasher. Me, too. Killing Blackwood was the only solution to it I could see. I started to put my glass in the dishwasher but changed my mind and refilled it with cranberry juice. Its bite suited my mood.

“Mercy?” Adam had obviously asked me something I hadn’t heard.

I looked at him, and he asked me again. “Blackwood has a relationship with both Amber and her husband?”

“That’s right,” I told him. “Her husband is his lawyer, and Blackwood is feeding on Amber and...” It seemed like something that I should hide. But I’d smelled the sex on her. “Anyway I don’t think that she knows anything. She thought she’d been out shopping.” Her husband? I didn’t want him to be part of it. “I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know his client is preying on Amber. But I don’t know how much else he knows.”

“When did the hauntings start?” Samuel looked grim. “How long have they been having trouble with a ghost?”

I had to think about it. “Not long. A few months.”

“About the time that demon-ridden vampire showed up,” said Adam.

“So?” I said. That one had never made the papers.

Adam turned to Samuel, his movement such that anyone watching would know that he was a predator. “What do you know about Blackwood?”

Adam’s voice and posture were just a little too agressive for an Alpha standing in Samuel’s kitchen. Another day, another time, Samuel would have let it go. But he’d had a bad day ... and I thought that the vampires hadn’t helped. He snarled and snapped a hand out to shove Adam back.

Adam caught it and knocked it away as he came to his feet.

Bad, I thought, carefully not moving. This was very bad. Power, rank with musk and pack, vibrated through the house, making the air thick.

Both of them were on edge. They were dominants—tyrants if I’d have allowed it. But their strongest, most urgent need was to protect.

And I’d been recently harmed while under their protection. Once with Tim and a second time with Blackwood—and to a lesser extent with Stefan. It left them both dangerously aggressive.

Being a werewolf wasn’t like being a human with a hot temper—it was a balance: a human soul against a predator’s instinctive drives. Push it too hard, and it was the animal in control—and the wolf didn’t care who it hurt.

Samuel was the more dominant, but he wasn’t an Alpha. If it came to a fight, neither of them would fare well. In a few breaths, the pause before battle would stretch too long, and someone would die.

I grabbed my full glass of juice and tossed it on them, putting out a forest fire with a thimbleful of cranberry juice. They were standing almost nose to nose, so I got them both. The rage in their eyes as they turned to me would have caused a lesser person to run. I knew better.

I ate a bite of pancake from Adam’s plate that attached itself like glue to the back of my throat. I reached across the table and took Samuel’s coffee cup and rinsed the sticky knot down my throat.