Bone Crossed (23 page)

You can’t pretend not to be scared by werewolves. They know. But you can meet their eyes, if you’re tough enough. And if they let you.

Adam’s eyes closed, and he took a couple of steps until his back rested against the wall. Samuel nodded at me—but I saw more than he’d have wanted me to. He was better than he’d been, but he wasn’t the happy wolf I’d grown up knowing. Maybe he hadn’t been as easygoing as I’d once thought—but he’d been better than this.

“Sorry,” he told Adam. “Bad day at the office.”

Adam nodded, but didn’t open his eyes. “I shouldn’t have pushed.”

Samuel took a towel out of a drawer and wet it down in the sink. He cleaned cranberry juice off his face and rubbed his hair with it—which made it stick straight up in the air. If you couldn’t see his eyes, you might have thought he was just a kid.

He grabbed a second towel and soaked it, too. Then said, “Heads up,” and threw it at Adam. Who caught it in one hand without looking. It might have been more impressive if one wet end hadn’t slapped him in the face.

“Thanks,” he said ... dryly, while water slid down his face after the cranberry juice. I ate another piece of pancake.

By the time Adam cleaned up, his eyes were clear and dark and I’d finished all of his pancakes and used Samuel’s towel to mop up the mess on the floor. I thought Samuel would have done it—but not in front of Adam. Besides, I’d made the mess.

“So,” he said to Samuel without looking directly at him. “Do you know anything about Blackwood other than that he’s a nasty piece of work and to stay out of Spokane?”

“No,” Samuel said. “I don’t think my father does either.” He waved a hand. “Oh, I’ll ask. He’ll have data—how much he’s worth, what his business interests are. Where he stays and the names of all the people he’s been bribing to keep everyone from suspecting what he is. But he doesn’t know Blackwood. I’d say it is safe to say that he’s big and bad—otherwise, he wouldn’t have held Spokane for the past sixty years.”

“He is active during the day,” I said. “When he took Amber, it was daytime.”

Both of them stared at me, and, mindful of their recent dominance issues, I dropped my eyes.

“What do you think?” asked Adam, his voice still a little hoarser than normal. He had a hotter temper than Samuel at the best of times. “Does he know what Mercy is?”

“He had his minion call her into his territory, and he staked his claim on her—I’d say that would make it a big affirmative.” Samuel growled.

“Now wait a minute,” I said. “What would a vampire want with me?”

Samuel raised his eyebrows. “Marsilia wants to kill you. Stefan wants to”—he put on a Romanian accent for the next three words—“suck your blood. And Blackwood apparently wanted you for the same reason.”

“You think he set this whole thing up just to get me to Spokane?” I asked incredulously. “First of all, there was a ghost. I saw it myself. Not silly vampire tricks or any other kind of tricks. This was a ghost. Ghosts don’t like vampires.” Although this one had stuck around for longer than I’d expected. “Second, why me?”

“I don’t know about the ghost,” Samuel said. “But the second question has a multitude of possible answers.”

“The first one that occurs to me”—Adam was still keeping his eyes down—“is Marsilia. Suppose she knew immediately what had happened to Andre. She knows she can’t go after you, so she trades favors with Blackwood. He turns Amber into his go-to girl, and when the opportunity presents itself, he sends her to get you—just as Marsilia dumps Stefan in the middle of your living room. And once you didn’t die—Amber comes and summons you to Spokane. A few wolves get hurt—”

“Mary Jo almost died,” I said. “And it could have been worse.” I thought of the snow elf, and said, “A
lot
worse.”

“Would Marsilia have cared? Worried about your friends here—and informed that the crossed bones on the door of your shop means that all of your friends are at risk—you take the rope Blackwood has thrown you. And you follow his bait all the way to Spokane.”

Samuel shook his head. “It doesn’t quite track,” he said. “Vampires don’t cooperate the way the wolves do. Blackwood doesn’t have the reputation of doing anyone favors.”

“Hey, my pretty,” said Adam in a deadpan imitation of a Disney witch, “would you like a taste of something sweet? All you have to do is lure Mercy to Spokane.”

“No,” I said. “It works on the surface, but not when you really look. I can ask, but I’d bet the relationship between Amber’s husband and Blackwood goes back years, not months. So he knew them first. If Marsilia just called him and gave him my name, it would be unlikely that he’d know that Amber knew me—we haven’t spoken since I got out of college.”

I’d had my paranoid moments because of the timing of Amber’s request. But there was simply no way Marsilia had sent Amber, and the likelihood of further Byzantine plots went down from there.

I drew a breath. “I expect that Blackwood thought I was human, at least until he bit me the first time. Bran says I smell like a coyote—doglike unless you know coyotes—but not magic. Stefan told me Blackwood would know I wasn’t human after he tasted me.”

Both of the werewolves were watching me now.

“Bad luck does just happen,” I told them.

“Blackwood doesn’t seem to be the kind of person to do favors for another vampire.” Samuel’s voice sounded almost cheery.

He didn’t. Vampires were evil, territorial, and ... I thought of something.

“What if he’s making a play to add the Tri-Cities to his territory,” I asked. “Say he read about the attack on me—and saw that I was Adam’s girlfriend. Maybe he has connections and got to see the video of Adam tearing into Tim’s body, so he knows our relationship isn’t casual. Maybe Corban sees him read the article and mentions that his wife knew me, and the vampire sees an opportunity to make the Tri-Cities werewolves cooperate with him in preparation to move in on Marsilia. Maybe he doesn’t know he can’t use me to take over the pack. Maybe he would have used me as a hostage. The ghost is happenstance. Just a convenient reason to convince Amber to invite me over.”

“Marsilia’s just lost her two right-hand men,” said Samuel. “Andre and Stefan. She’s vulnerable now.”

“She has three other powerful vampires,” I told him. “But Bernard and Estelle don’t seem pleased with Marsilia lately.” I told them about the confrontation the night before. “There’s Wulfe, I guess, but he’s ...” I shrugged. “I wouldn’t want to have to depend upon Wulfe for loyalty—he’s not the type.”

“Vampires are predators,” Adam said. “Same as us. If Blackwood smells weakness, I suppose it makes sense that he’d try for more territory.”

“I like it,” Samuel said. “Blackwood isn’t a team player. This fits. It doesn’t mean it’s right, but it fits.”

Adam stretched the tension out of his neck, and I heard vertebrae pop. He gave me a little smile. “Tonight I call Marsilia and tell her what we just talked about. It’s not set in stone, but it’s plausible. I bet we’ll find Marsilia more cooperative.” He looked at Samuel. “If you’re home, I’d better go to work. I’ll have Jesse come here when school’s out, too—if you don’t mind. Aurielle’s booked, Honey has work to do, and Mary Jo is ... not up to snuff.”

After Adam left, Samuel went to bed. If anything started happening, he’d be up fast enough—but it told me that Samuel, at least, didn’t think there’d be an attack in the daytime.

Neither of them even so much as mentioned the cranberry juice I’d thrown on them.

 

 

 

A FEW HOURS LATER, A CAR DROVE UP AND JESSE GOT out. She waved at the receding car, then bounced into the house in a wave of optimism, black-and-blue-striped hair, and—

I put a hand over my nose. “What is that perfume you’re wearing?”

She laughed. “Sorry, I’ll go wash up. Natalie had a new bottle and insisted on spraying everyone with it.”

I waved her to my bedroom with the hand that wasn’t plugging my nose. “Go use mine. Samuel’s trying to sleep next to the main bath.” And when she just stood there. “Hurry, for Pete’s sake. That stuff is rank.”

She sniffed her arm. “Not to my nose. It smells like roses.”

“There are no roses,” I told her, “that smell like formaldehyde.”

She grinned at me, then bounced off to my bathroom to scrub up.

“So,” she said when she returned, “since we’re both under house arrest until the vamps settle down, and since I was an ace student today and got my homework done at school—how about you and I make some brownies?”

We made brownies, and she helped me change the oil in my van. It was getting dark by the time we set up my air compressor to blow out the water in my very small underground sprinkler system for the winter when Samuel appeared at the door bleary-eyed and growly, a brownie in one hand.

He made some grumbles about twittering girls who made too much noise. I looked up at the darkening sky and thought the lateness of the hour had more to do with his rising than the roar of my air compressor.

He made Jesse laugh with his snarls. He made a pretense of being offended and turned to me. “Are you finished?”

He could see I was rolling up cords and hose, so I rolled my eyes at him.

“Disrespect,” he told Jesse, shaking his head sadly. “That’s all I get. Maybe if I take you out and feed you, she’ll start treating me with the respect I deserve.”

But he grabbed the compressor before I could start rolling it to the pole barn.

“Where are you taking us?” Jesse said.

“Mexican,” he said positively.

She groaned and suggested a Russian café that had just opened nearby. The two of them argued restaurants all the way to the pole barn and back and into the car.

In the end, we went out for pizza, a place on Columbia with a playground, noise, and great food. Adam was waiting, watching the little TV in my kitchen, when we got back. He looked tired.

“Boss run you ragged?” I asked sympathetically, handing him a brownie.

He looked at it. “Did you make this, or did Jesse?”

Her indignant “Dad” got her an unrepentant grin. “Just kidding,” he said as he ate.

“I’ve been staying up nights,” he told me. “Between the vampires and the Washington bigwigs, I’m going to have to start taking naps like a two-year-old.”

“Trouble?” asked Samuel carefully.

He meant, trouble over me—or rather over that nifty video I’d never seen of Adam in a half-wolf form, ripping up Tim the Rapist’s dead body.

Adam shook his head. “Not really. Mostly just the same old, same old.”

“Have you called Marsilia?” I asked.

“What?” Jesse had been getting a glass of milk for her dad, and she set it down a little too hard.

“Mercy,” growled Adam.

“Part of the reason you’re here is that your dad has a pair of vampires in his holding cell,” I informed her. “We’re in negotiation with Marsilia so she’ll quit trying to kill everyone.”

“I only get told half of what goes on,” said Jesse.

Adam covered his eyes in a mock-exasperated fashion, and Samuel laughed. “Hey, old man. This is the tip of the iceberg. Mercy’s going to be leading you around with a ring in your nose.” But there was something in his eyes that wasn’t amusement.

I didn’t think anyone else noticed or heard the odd note of unhappiness in his voice. Samuel didn’t want me, not really. He didn’t want to be an Alpha ... but he wanted what Adam had, Jesse as much as me, I thought—a family: kids, a wife, a white picket fence or whatever the equivalent had been when he was a kid.

He wanted a home, and his last home had died with his last human mate long before I was born. He glanced at me just then, and I didn’t know what was in my face, but it stopped him. Just stopped all the expression, and for a moment he looked amazingly like his half brother, Charles—one of the scariest people I’ve ever met. Charles can just
look
at raging werewolves and have them whimpering in the corner.

But it was only for an instant. He patted me on my head and said something funny to Jesse.

“So,” I said. “Did you call Marsilia, Adam?”

He watched Samuel, but said, “Yes, ma’am. I got Estelle. She’s supposed to give Marsilia my message and have her call me back.”

“She’s playing one-upmanship games,” observed Samuel.

“Let her,” Adam said. “Doesn’t mean I need to do the same.”

“Because you have the edge,” I said with satisfaction. “You have a bigger threat.”

“What?” asked Jesse.

“The Big Bad Boogeyman vampire of Spokane,” I said, sitting on the table. “He’s coming to get her.”

It wasn’t a sure thing, but it didn’t have to be as long as we could convince Marsilia of it. If I had been Marsilia, I would’ve been worried about Blackwood.

 

 

 

ADAM AND JESSE WENT HOME. SAMUEL WENT TO BED, and so did I. When my cell phone rang, I was in the middle of a dream about garbage cans and frogs—don’t ask, and I won’t tell.

“Mercy,” Adam purred.

I looked down at my feet, where Medea slept. She blinked her big green-gold eyes at me and purred again.

“Adam.”

“I called to tell you that I finally got in touch with Marsilia herself.”

I sat up, suddenly not sleepy at all. “And?”

“I told her about Blackwood. She listened all the way through, thanked me for my concern, and hung up.”

“She’s hardly going to panic over the phone and swear to be forever friends,” I said, and he laughed.

“No, I don’t think so. But I thought I’d do my bit for goodwill and let her two baby vamps go.”

“Besides, now that Jesse knows they’re there, you’re not going to be able to keep her away.”

“Thanks for that.”

“Anytime. Hostage-holding is for the bad guys.”

He laughed again, this time faintly bitterly. “You obviously haven’t seen the good guys in action.”

“No,” I told him. “Maybe you were just mistaken on who the good guys were.”