Jesse was waiting for us just inside the front door. She threw herself at me as we walked in, bowling me into Adam, who caught us both in a tight, fierce hug. We stood like that, wrapped around each other and blocking the door, for a few minutes before Jesse released us and stepped back. Her eyes were red but her face was calm.
"I love you," she told me flatly. "Don't die."
"I love you, too. I'm glad you're ok. Thank you for your help." And for listening when I told you to get to safety.Jesse's a bright girl, and a person who lives long around wolves gets used to conversations that were largely nonverbal. I knew she could hear the subtext. "Did anyone check you over yet?" She didn't smell like blood, so no cuts or scrapes, but she could still have a concussion. I'd been counting on Samuel to make sure she was ok, but Samuel was occupied just now.
"I feel fine." Jesse waved her hand dismissively. "I'll have a couple bruises, but you don't need a doctor for those."
"I've been keeping an eye on her," Gabriel volunteered. He was slouched against the wall, his arms crossed, watching the family reunion. I'd been too focused on Jesse to notice him earlier. No scrapes or cuts on him, either. Good. "She's not showing any signs of concussion," he continued. "No confusion, dizziness, memory loss…" he shrugged himself off the wall and came to stand beside her. "She's tough," he acknowledged, grinning proudly at her. "I'll keep watching, but I think she's fine."
"What about you? Any damage?"
He pushed his bottom lip out and shook his head. "Barely a scratch. You did a great job keeping him off us," he added with enthusiasm. "I couldn't believe you were so fast."
"Mercy's awesome," Jesse agreed, grabbling Gabriel's arm and drawing it across her shoulders. She snuggled into his side and turned radiant eyes to his face. "But so were you."
There was the tiniest trace of a swagger in his voice as he replied. "I didn't do anything worth noticing."
Jesse squeezed his hand, admiration for her handsome Latin hero all over her face, and I made a mental note to remind Gabriel (and Jesse) one more time about the rules for dating the Alpha's daughter. I didn't want to have to bury an assistant, and I really didn't want to have to go back to doing my own paperwork.
"I'm glad everyone made it through with such flying colors," Adam commented wryly. "Why don't you have Mary Jo look you over when she gets back, just in case." He looked amused rather than irritated, even though the sight of a teenage boy draped over his daughter had to be rough on his already strained control. He was starting to really like Gabriel. Still, best not to push our luck today. Darryl, his sculpted face haggard with the strain of buffering the pack from Adam's rage during the emergency, lurked just on the perimeter of the discussion, providing a good distraction.
"Hey Darryl," I greeted him casually, and he gave me a smile I read as approval of my continued existence. Like the rest of the pack, Darryl has historically disliked me, but he was starting to come around. "How are things here?"
"Improving," he responded tersely. He turned to Adam as I shooed Jesse and Gabriel away with my eyes. "That was Gena Ellison." It wasn't a question. Adam nodded confirmation anyway. "What is she doing here?" His tone was angry, almost suspicious, as though he suspected her of being an infiltrating assassin. Or Adam of kidnapping and torturing her. I would have found the idea of Adam abducting a harem for sadistic pleasures more laughably ridiculous if I didn't know that more than a few Alphas would operate that way, if Bran would let them.
Adam ignored the tone and answered the question. "That is one of several things I'd very much like to know. Is Warren on his way?"
It was Darryl's turn to nod, stiffening as he did so. Darryl didn't care much for Warren.
"Good," Adam responded briskly. "In that case, I'd like you to manage the investigation of the attack. I want to know who that—" Adam paused a second, reassessing his word choice. He was raised in the fifties, and still has strong ideas about swearing in front of women. That 'damn' he'd let slip earlier was a powerful sign of distress. "—who that invader is, and if there is anyone else with him. I also want to know if the Los Alamos pack let her end up here alone, or if we have some of them wandering my territory, too. Leave me Warren, Paul, Honey, Aureille, Ben, and Peter." The first four wolves he mentioned were the most dominant members of the pack outside the three of us; they should be strong enough to help keep Gena in line once she was recovered enough to make trouble. Ben and Peter, both more submissive, had become favored house guards. Adam was going to be aggressive about security for a little while.
"Leave it to me." The tall man whipped out his phone, dialing as he turned and stalked toward the door.
"Darryl?" Adam called after him. "I'll keep you informed."
I would have expected that order to flow the other way, not that Darryl needed a reminder to report to his Alpha. Darryl nodded curtly, without turning around, and shut the door behind him with slightly exaggerated gentleness.
"Friend of Gena's?" I guessed as Adam towed me toward the stairs.
"Not particularly close, but yes. A lot of the pack knew her in Los Alamos. They'll be upset when they find out. On top of being upset about Jesse. And you."
I didn't think the pack was going to be too broken up that I almost got eaten. I could see several of them being disappointed that I hadn't managed it, though.
"I thought you brought your whole pack with you when you moved to the Tri-cities. How did she get left behind?"
Adam shook his head. "We didn't bring everyone. Some people couldn't move when we needed to. Gena was in school, some of the wolves had families they didn't want to expose to the rogues… I took just over half the pack. Jonah, my second in Los Alamos, became the new Alpha for the others."
"Will he know what she was doing up here, apparently alone?"
"He died last year." His tone did not invite further questions. I let it drop.
When we were safely alone in Adam's… our bedroom, I decided the time was right to confront my husband with my newfound insight.
"Why didn't you tell me you knew another walker?"
Adam sighed and sat on the bed. He ran a hand over his face before he answered me. "I don't, not really. In every way that matters, Gena is a werewolf. She knows even less about her walker heritage than you do."
I found that very difficult to believe, despite the truth in Adam's voice. Most of what I knew about my abilities had been won through trial and error; even if she had learned about herself the exact same way, the laws of probability should ensure we'd have something to teach each other. My skepticism must have shown, because my mate suddenly felt the need to keep talking.
"Mercy, I swear, there is nothing she could tell you, although you're welcome to discuss it with her when she wakes up. It didn't surface in her until after she Changed. As far as I know she's never heard the term 'walker'. Bran discussed it with me because I was her Alpha, but he asked me not to mention it to her. As far as I know no one ever has."
"Wolves don't come in adjustable sizes. What does she think her other form is?"
He shrugged. "An unusual circumstance. That view has been… encouraged."
Of course. As long as the men knew what was going on, why should they bother informing her? Half of the rebellious streak I was so famous for was necessary retaliation for that kind of high handed, dictatorial attitude. Werewolves had never left the dark ages in terms of civil liberties or women's rights. It was exactly the sort of thing I expected from Bran, but I was surprised Adam had been willing to go along with it. Of course, he wouldn't have had much choice if that was the way Bran said things should be. The Marrok's commands were not negotiable.
"Mercy," Adam's voice, tired and very careful, cut across my fury. "Can we talk about this later? I know it's important, but I have quite a number of important things to do right now. It's going to be a little while before I can give you my undivided attention." He added in an undertone that would have hidden his words if I were human, "And I don't want to fight with you yet."
It was the last bit that got me. Normally Adam enjoys a woman growling at him a little; wolves respect attitude, and not many people have the guts (or the stupidity) to stand up to my husband. But it bothers him when I'm truly angry at him. His ex-wife, Christy, gave him enough furious-and-resentful-spouse to last the rest of his very long lifetime. That doesn't mean I have to forgive him right away when he's being an idiot, but I do try to be as understanding as I can. Adam's not a bad guy; he's a very good man, and not normally given to stupidity. And we'd both had a hell of a day already.
"Alright," I conceded, dropping down beside him on the bed. "But next week you are going to be in serious trouble."
He cracked half a smile at that, and it dislodged his carefully composed facial expression just enough for me to see the guilt and worry churning under the surface. I didn't need to see it—I could feel it, reverberating through our mate-bond, tying my own stomach in knots. I took his arm with one hand, laying my cheek against his shoulder, and let my other hand trail softly up and down his back. His muscles were like marble under my fingers. "In the future," I advised him gravely, "you should consider running all your decisions by me. It would spare you this sort of embarrassing blunder."
His sensitive lips quirked upward again as he fought the smile. "I have phone calls to make," he informed me dryly. "With your permission-?"
"By all means," I allowed graciously, releasing his arm and folding myself into a more relaxed pose on the bed. He rolled his eyes at me, but his shoulders relaxed a little. I smiled.
He called his old pack member even before the Marrock; my hearing is well above average, even in human form, so I could easily follow both sides of the conversation. Scott answered the phone with Adam's name, in a surprised but respectful tone that told me that the two didn't talk often but got along well. Adam didn't waste any time on pleasantries—succinctly and in the calm, brisk voice he uses for very bad news he let his former subordinate know that Gena was in Washington and that she had been attacked. This communication was greeted with a short, flat silence.
"How bad is it?" Scott asked. His voice was somber, strained; I swear I could hear his heartbeat over the phone.
"About like the first time," my husband answered cryptically.
It must have meant more to Scott than it did to me, because he launched into a full two minutes of invective that would put any longshoreman to shame. The rant stopped abruptly and absolutely in mid-word, and Adam waited through the quiet that followed as patiently and as wordlessly as he had through the bitter curses before.
"I'm on my way," Scott choked, and then the dial tone was the only sound. Adam sighed, took the phone from his ear, and punched up Bran.
His account to the Marrok was considerably more detailed, and correspondingly more emotionally charged; Adam's voice was steady, but he stalked and I had the firm conviction that the furniture and phone were in danger. I sat quietly and did my best to radiate calm while my husband paced.
"You do have a gift for trouble, girl," Bran declared, once he had been suitably reassured that I was more or less healthy. I protested, vigorously; it's not like I did anything to attract a pair of wandering wolves. When I told him that, Bran just said, "That doesn't make it any better."
"If anything, it makes it worse," Adam agreed. I growled and stuck my tongue out at him. His eyes darkened a few more shades towards their human brown.
For once Bran didn't seem to be ten steps ahead of the game; he hadn't heard of any trouble in New Mexico that would have brought Gena 1200 miles north. "Are you sure she walked?"
Adam fielded that one to me. By the time he'd shown up the blood had overwhelmed everything else; it wouldn't have been wise for him to concentrate on that. I recalled Gena's scent. "I think so." Even in wolf form a werewolf will smell like people – soap and cooked food and perfumes and such. It takes a while for those smells to wear off. She didn't have any of them. It was all wild. "I'd say she hasn't been in a human habitation or vehicle for at least two weeks."
Given that information, Bran thought our dead black wolf was most likely a lone wolf by the name of Luke Doyen. If I'd had any lingering guilt over his death, Bran's conviction that he was exactly the sort to find a wounded and weak female passing through his territory irresistible would have removed it. He must have been following Gena for several days before he came across my car and decided to have a snack.
"I'm going to keep the pack on defensive patrol until we have all the details sorted out," Adam insisted, although Bran didn't sound like he was objecting. My mate paused. He looked at me appraisingly and frowned. "Excuse me a moment, Bran," he murmured, and brought the phone away from his face. It wouldn't keep Bran from hearing, but it was polite. "Mercy, would you mind going to check on Jesse? I'm worried about her still."
It was true, but it wasn't the reason he was sending me out. They'd reached the stage of the conversation where Bran and Adam would decide what to do to protect the weak and vulnerable members of the pack. In both of their minds, that group included me. Adam was worried that I was going to make trouble.
"I'm not going to become a prisoner over this," I told him firmly, keeping my eyes low but crossing my arms and letting the lines of my legs and back convey the full extent of my determination. "I didn't do anything wrong."
"I'm not going to put you under house arrest while you're gone."
I wondered if he'd have to revise that statement if he knew that, as far as magical creatures were concerned, my shop was part of my house. "Then there's no reason I can't be here while you finish your conversation."
"Mercy, you are not by nature inclined to obedience." Well, that much was definitely true. "You will feel compelled to object to anything I arrange for your protection, on principle. And then I will worry for your safety." His eyes, which had been almost resumed their normal dark brown coloration, blazed back to a burnished gold. It was breathtakingly beautiful and terrifying at once.
I said a quick and fervent prayer of gratitude that Mary Jo had been nearby; if Jesse or I had died today, we might have taken every werewolf in the world with us. If Adam lost control, his pack would as well, and 30 rampaging werewolves were not the sort of thing the general public would forget or forgive.
Of course, Samuel might have been able to kill Adam in time and wrest control of the pack before the Tri-cities were slaughtered. It might be selfish, but I didn't like that scenario much better.
"Fine, line up the babysitters. But next week we are going to have words."
I left, grumbling about tyrannical dictatorships as I closed the door and wondering why, if I was the one who almost died, Adam was the one getting the special treatment. I was so busy complaining I almost ran into Warren, lounging a few feet down the hall, awaiting his Alpha's summons. He seemed tired, but looked better overall than Darryl had, despite his much scruffier clothing,
"Go easy on 'em, hey?" he urged mildly, wrapping me in a quick hello hug. "They love you." He pulled me back to arm's length and looked me up and down, to make sure I was still in one piece. "You gave us all a bad scare today. It'll take a little time to settle down. The pack wants to take care of its own; we'll all feel better if you play along and let us. Even Paul." The last bit was a jibe, but true nonetheless. Paul, who hated me for being a coyote in the wolf pack even more than he hated Warren for being different, might want to kill me himself, might be happier with me dead. But anything that attacked the pack was lower on his favorites list than me. Deep down he wanted to protect me, at least a little. Warren was right, the thought made me smile.
"So who's the new kid?" Warren asked, and I realized no one had told him the story.
I take issue with a lot of the archaic traditions that constitute the werewolf social code, but I will admit that some of them serve a useful purpose. All the dominance games and strict hierarchies prevented dominance fights, and that meant they saved lives. But there was absolutely no purpose in the bigoted, hateful prejudice that kept Warren on the outside despite his high position in the pack. Warren was Adam's third, and by rights should be the second. He was strong enough, more dominant than Darryl. But Darryl wasn't gay, and Warren was. Most wolves would kill him for that; it was a testament to Warren's skill as a fighter that he'd lived long enough to make it into Adam's pack. Adam was willing to let him in, but he couldn't change the attitudes of the pack members. So Warren was pushed to the side as far as possible, all of his unfailing loyalty met with hostility and neglect. It burned me up.
My stewing was interrupted by Warren himself, reaching out to brush a hand over my shoulder and down my arm. The touch strengthened my connection to the pack bonds, the magical ties that joined every member of Adam's werewolf family whether they wanted to be joined or not. Of course, the wolves all wanted to. The sacrifice of privacy was subordinate to their instinctive need for companionship. I would rather have had fewer people inside my head, but it was too late for that. I could feel my own anger over the treatment Warren had to endure surging through the already roiling emotions of the pack, stirring and enflaming every wolf they touched. As the Alpha's mate, I could make my feelings known quite forcefully if I wanted to.
I wondered if everyone had felt my terror as clearly.
"Go easy on us," Warren repeated, his voice still calm. I couldn't tell if the anger in his eyes was his or mine. "Our visitor?"
It's a bad sign when a werewolf is the one demonstrating temperance. I slid down the wall until I was sitting on the carpet, closing my eyes and clamping down on my connections to the pack until I had only the vaguest sense of the wolves. When I was sure my emotions belonged only to me, I opened my eyes again. Warren's wiry frame was stretched out on the floor beside me. I grinned at him and began my story.
He was a very attentive audience, the rhythm of his breath and the cant of his lips and eyebrows providing running feedback without ever interrupting. He was properly impressed at my fighting prowess, and oohed over my battle scars without getting antsy. He even shared my enthusiasm over finally meeting another walker. By the time I finished my tale I felt much better.
"So this means I'm probably back on bodyguard duty, doesn't it?" he asked. He didn't look disappointed at the prospect. Warren draws that job a lot, as the only male in the pack guaranteed not to lay a finger on the Alphas's wife or daughter. It's an arrangement that suits everyone.
"Looks like it," I agreed. "After this, it'll be a miracle if I'm allowed to be out unchaperoned between now and Easter."
"Try Labor Day," Adam advised from the other side of the door. I wondered how long he'd been listening, and if my detailed account of the fight had extended Warren's duty schedule. Too late now. "Warren, would you come in here, please?"
I left Warren to receive his assignment and went downstairs, still muttering to myself but happier. Jesse was asleep on the couch in the living room, her bare feet snuggled against Mary Jo's winter coat and Gabriel's arm across her. I left her undisturbed and went to the kitchen. The fight had taken a lot out of me; I was in need of sustenance. I grabbed an apple from the fridge and turned to find Gabriel watching me from the kitchen door. Right. Time to face the music.
"Jesse told me on the way home," he said quietly, stepping all the way into the room. I was glad he'd been brought up to date; it would save me some time, and Jesse would tell it right.
"Good. Any questions?"
"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" he demanded petulantly.
I couldn't help it: I laughed. Pouting hadn't even made the list of potential reactions I'd been bracing myself for. He raised exasperated eyebrows and crossed his arms.
"I mean it! I worry about you. You work for vampires, you had that trouble with the Fae, you were asking about ghosts… it's been one thing after another. I know you can take care of yourself most of the time, but I'd have felt better knowing you had some extra tricks up your sleeve. Of course," he added contemplatively, "we figured you had to have something. To survive all the things that happen around you… Tony thought that maybe—"
"You and Tony have been talking about me?" I interrupted. This was not surprising so much as it was annoying. The last thing I needed was more men getting all overprotective on me, although I had to admit it was kinda cute on Gabriel.
"We're your friends, Mercy." The look on his face could have been stolen from Adam, and Gabriel pulled it off disturbingly well. I almost felt chastened. "We're always going to try to help you, whether you want it or not." The glower lightened. "Hey, that's why you can always pick Tony out, isn't it? By smell. I'd love to see his face when he finds that out."
"You can't tell him! It's not safe for people to know that sort of thing." Tony was an undercover cop; he faced enough danger without adding my enemies list to his. The less he knew about me and my world, the safer he would be. I wondered regretfully if it might not be time for Gabriel to find a new part-time job.
"I won't tell him. But we're not dumb. He's going to figure it out eventually. You should try trusting your friends a little more. You expect us all to trust you."
My snappy retort died in my mouth. He was right. Not so right that I was going to run to the station and confess to Tony, but right enough that I would at least not argue with him. Or lay him off. Not yet.
"So you don't mind that your boss isn't the mild-mannered average citizen she seems to be?"
He choked on a laugh. "Yeah, mild-mannered, that's you all over."
I didn't bother defending myself. "You're sure?"
He skewered me with his dark eyes. "Vampires, Fae, werewolves…. Whatever else you might be, you were never average. Plus, my girlfriend's dad is a werewolf. It's not like I have a lot of room to complain."
"Alright then."
He nodded. "Alright." He went back to sit by Jesse, and I finally bit into my apple, contemplating ways to carry on with my life despite the unwelcome surveillance that was coming. You don't cage a coyote.
