Okay, so thanks to emtional and spiritual issues with writing and art in general this is my attempt at anew fanfiction for a book series im obsessed with. Im sorry in advance for any errors I may make, no ones perfect and I would really love constructive criticism or just plain old reviews. I'm without internet at my house at the moment so responses may be slow. Enjoy!
The day was clear and sunny, it was a mild spring day and business was booming for Mercy Thompson-Hauptman, coyote-shapeshifter, VW mechanic, wife and mate to the Alpha of the Columbian Basin Werewolf pack.
She'd bought the garage from her mentor and friend, Fae Siebold Adelbertsmiter, or just Zee, as friends called him. Life was going well, they had two cars currently in the garage, work was going well on her project car, and life within the pack was settling down at last. No one needed any favors, no one needed a job doing, life was coasting at the moment and honestly she couldn't remember being more content.
"Pass me the blowtorch, would you?" she asked Zee. Normally one had to be careful what they asked of the Fae, enigmatic bastards that most of them were, but they were working and it wasn't a huge favor.
He passed it to her, his glamour being that of an older man with a wiry frame, slight beergut and liver spots on his bald spot. His glamour was unremarkable. But Mercy had seen him without it a few times. Beneath it was an unnaturally tall, unnaturally beautiful steely warrior with long golden hair, skin the color of wet bark and an immunity to iron and steel. Zee was iron-kissed.
"How goes your project rod?" she asked. Unlike her, who preferred classic cars to be as original as possible, Zee was of the mind that if it could be improved, improve it. He liked gadgets and new tech.
"It goes well, libchen. Heads up. Looks like another customer," he said offhandedly.
Mercy wheeled herself out from under the Buick she was working on. Though her specialty was VW, she offered her service for any kind of car, really. What she saw driving into the yard was a beaten up old Geo Prizm. It'd once been blue, now it looked mostly gray. The paint was sunpeeled in some places, rusted in others and the engine sounded... hoo boy.
The woman driving it got out and smoothed back whisps of fluffy-looking dark hair. She was short, not much over five feet and a few inches, had a pretty rounded face and pale skin and was rather gifted in the chest area. Other than that she didn't look familiar to her. She;'d never seen her around.
"I hope I'm not interrupting...," she started, walking forward. Up close Mercy saw her eyes were a peculiar bright blue. She also smelled... odd. Her sense of smell was better than most human's, though not as good as her coyote nose and something about this woman didn't smell quite human. Zee seemed to pick up on it, too, she noticed, but she didnt let it put her off her game at all.
"Not at all. What can we do for you?" she asked, trying to be a good businesswoman.
"It's my car... well, my mother's actually, I borrowed it. Drove it all the way here from Maine. It's not very happy with me, it keeps stalling out and the engine's gotten louder... I can fix a few things, but I'm lousy with engine problems. I know it says you're a VW mechanic, but is there any chance you could take a look anyway? " she practically pleaded.
She was slightly overweight, and beneath the not quite human smell, she smelled strongly of dog, fast food and desperation. Mercy cast a look over her shoulder at Zee, who shrugged back and wiped his hands on a dirty rag.
"It is your time, Mercy. Perhaps it will be a quick thing," he said.
She sighed, blowing the air out her mouth, and motioned to the last empty spot. She didn't have hydraulic lifts, though she'd kill for just one.
"Drive it around, I'll take a quick look. Geo, huh," she mused.
"...Yeah. It's seen better days," said the woman. She was dressed in loose fitting clothes, a bright green peasant blouse with belled sleeves and a long grey skirt. A cloth bag with celtic knots on it served as a purse. Mercy then noticed the pentagram round her neck. She was either a Wiccan or a witch. She didn't smell any black magic. Wiccan then.
"Clearly". she agreed. She waited until the car was in position and then jacked it up, and opened the hood.
"Mother of god," she swore.
Nearly everything was covered in grime and the battery cap was so fouled up with sludge that the connections were mostly corroded. It'd be a lucky thing if she could even hook it up to jumper cables at all, and nearly all the fluids were gone.
"Tell me you take better care of it than this," she mumbled. She didn't expect anyone to hear her.
"I do. My mother doesn't" the woman replied from somewhere above her. That told her the woman whoever she was knew Mercy knew she was more than she seemed, and was comfortable letting her know she knew.
Mercy quickly saw what the problem was. There was a short in one of the sparkplugs and the Engine was most likely approaching the nd of its natural life. It had already been haulted out and redone twice that she could tell.
"All I can say is it needs a new sparkplug, and you should look for a new engine, but good luck. Geo aren't very easy to find anymore, not this year and model. Your best bet is to give it a viking sendoff," she wiped her hands off.
The woman sighed.
"I know, I know... I've never owned a car but I had to come out here...I'll have to call and tell my folks the bad news. Thanks," she pinched the bridge of her nose. She dug around in her bag for something, probably a cell phone, and without a warning something struck the outside of the garage with a BANG.
Mercy was immediately on edge, the garage had been attacked before. Zee was outside before she started out, and she watched as, moments later, he was thrown back with enough force for her to wonder if there were foreign werewolves about. It sounded like a werewolf. It did not smell like one.
"Stay here!" she shouted behind her, without looking, and she ducked into her office to shed her clothing. Changing for her was almost immediate, and painless, so it was as a thirty pound coyote she ventured outside to see just what the problem was.
Zee was holding his own against what had to be the biggest bear she had ever seen. Its fur was shaggy and white and its eyes blazed a baleful orange not normal for most polar bears. Its claws were nearly eight inches long and it was playing with Zee like a bathtoy. Zee, the dark smith of dronheim, one of the oldest and most feared Fae Mercy knew of, whose temper was once so renowned that most still regarded him with cautious respect. For all his magic and an enchanted Fae blade that cut through anything, this bear batted him about and took every hit. It bellowed, baring bloody fangs. There was no way Mercy stood a chance against this monster. She accessed her mate bond and the pack magic available to her, and cried for her mate, her husband Adam, but with the security cameras he had installed he probably already knew.
"Werebear!" was the only word out of Zee that she got that wasn't a curse in old German.
Suddenly out of nowhere there was an almighty roar, and without a sound an enormous snow leopard burst out of the garage like hell on wheels, and placed itself between Zee and the bear. For some reason, the sight of the frothing feline made the bear pause and growl at it. She spotted a dangling silver charm around the leapord's neck. Pentagram. Ah, so that was why the woman hadn't smelled human.
She was a wereleapord.