And thus began a back forth of juvenile remarks that made me remember my attempt to be a high school history teacher and shudder. But those remarks were lost when I entered the shop area. Zee didn't even look up from his work, just grunted in my general direction. This could have been a greeting or an admonishment for all I knew. After I put on my apron we got to work in relative silence in which the day passed quickly. At some point Nick came to pick up Sheba, a Volkswagen Beetle that broke down with almost alarming frequency. It was only some time after Nick had left that I got up the courage to ask what had been on my mind since this morning's phone call.

"What kind of magic could make you forget a person's face?"

Zee grunted from under the truck he was working on. "There are plenty who can do that. Even your wolves have 'Look at me not' magic."

"Wolves magic can't work on you though. It's too subtle, meant for a cursory glance by someone who doesn't know about magic. I'm sure you managed to gauge what kind of magic it was." A little flattery mixed with an almost question. I really have been spending too much time around the Fae.

The sound of the wrench pausing was enough to inform me that he was at least thinking over my not question. Then I was jolted when a string of gruff German spewed out from under the truck. All of it swearing.

"I'll take that as a yes."

"Wolf." His German accent blended into the word making the W sound closer to a V.

"Wolf," I repeated, "like werewolf, wolf?"

"Yes." He hissed and slid out from under the truck.

"Like I said, wolf magic shouldn't work on you."

"And magic always works the way it should." He looked very pointedly at me, as if I needed a reminder that magic worked weird on me, or around me. I seem to be the common denominator in a lot of weirdness. "Besides, not all wolves are just wolves." The look on my mentor's face told me he was thinking of Bran. He started to drag himself back under the truck when I thought aloud.

"So this wolf is more than just wolf." I had to work to make it not a question.

Zee paused. He looked thoughtful for just a moment until I felt a tingling sensation. My nose itched like I was going to sneeze and the hair on my arms stood up like a balloon had been rubbed down my arm. Magic. A dark angry look crossed Zee's face only to replaced by a slightly more glassy expression. Whatever thought he had just had was wiped clean by magic. He blinked a couple of times then looked at me.

This time I couldn't help it. "What was that?"

Frustration dripped from Zee's voice, "I'm not sure."

"It looked like you thought of something, then forgot."

Zee shrugged. "Old magic."

Then he dragged himself back under the truck. I knew I wouldn't get any further answers from him. I finally had gave up go back to working on the Jetta. But it occurred to me that while Zee might not answer me, Tad just might. So I finished up the car I was working on as fast as possible. Then got as clean as the industrial sink could get, and headed to the front office, leaving Zee still grumbling under the truck.

"Hey, Mercy. Do I need to send a message to The Jetta's owner?"

"Yep, it's ready for pick up." I scribbled a note of what was wrong and the parts that had been used and handed over to Tad. A glance at the window and I realized it was dark already. "But do that tomorrow." Then I leaned in across the desk and asked, "Is there anyone alive who could use magic to make Zee forget something?"

Tad looked surprised by my question, then scratched his chin. "So that's what I felt coming from the shop. Not really. Not unless my dad agreed to it. And doubt he would have. Could be part of an old bargain. If the Grey Lords made one a long time ago it could, in theory encompass all Fae and bind all Fae."

"Would that prevent Fae from talking about it?"

"Typically that is part of a bargain, yes."

"Huh, the more you know. What do you know about old werewolves?"

A smile quirk on Tad's lips. "I think you'd know more than me on that subject."

"Yeah, I figured I'd try anyway." I sighed and turned to Warren who was reclining in one of the few plastic chairs. In one hand he held a piece of notebook paper, and in the chair beside him was the box that Abigail had left. His expression said his mind was far away. He probably hadn't even heard the conversation Tad and I had even though we were in the same room.

"Everything okay, Warren?" I meant it jokingly, but he jumped like he had been startled awake from a nightmare. He rubbed his face with his empty hand. Then he handed me the sheet of paper he had been holding. A woman's neat script was the only thing on the paper.

Please take care of my son. Beware the Shadow

I held it up. "Why the face, we know Abigail sent it."

"Smell it."

I shrugged and lifted the paper to my nose. The first thing I smelt was the ink, along with the lingering scent of leather. I doubted Warren was concerned about the ink, and the leather smell was probably from the knife, so I inhaled again. This time I sorted through the scents until I got the faint whiff of musk and mint. Werewolf. "Alright, we knew that Abigail was a werewolf. What's got you looking like you've seen a ghost?"

"She smells similar to Kat."

"Similar? I thought scents don't change."

Warren shrugged. "When you live as long as we do, scents can change."

"I thought you said she died."

"I said 'I think she did'. A safe assumption considering everyone else is dead."

"Not everyone."

Warren raised an eyebrow at me.

"Bran told me that Abigail was the reason that the Texas pack was killed. How many females were even there in that pack?" It couldn't have been very many because most women didn't survive the transformation.

"Three, I think. Including Kat. But there could have been another after I... left."

"Did any of them look similar to the picture of Abigail?"

He made a sorta gesture with his hand.

"Which one?"

"Kat."

I wasn't surprised. Not after I had seen the look on his face. I could still see the internal war rage across his face. The small flickering hope that Kat was alive against the part that had long since been resigned to her death. And then there was the part of him that regretted leaving her to the mercy of their old pack. It wasn't until he spoke that I realized the silence had been stretched to the breaking point.

"Ya know. You remind me of her."

That surprised me.

"Not that I really remember a whole lot about her, but she did fight for anyone who needed it. Even if, " he said with a sad smile, "she was outnumbered and out gunned. The same sense of justice."

I snorted. That hadn't really helped me.

"Mercy?"

"Yeah?"

"If Abigail is Kat, what does that mean for Evan?"

"What do you mean?"

"Kat can't be his birth mother. Do we try and find his birth family? Do we tell him?"

I chewed on my bottom lips, thinking. "I don't think we say anything to Evan right now. The poor kid was thrown in the deep end and told to swim. It's not like we have any actual answers. Just theories. However, we should definitely look into it because he deserves to know."

"Where do we start?"

Tad cleared his throat and pointed to the box beside Warren. "Maybe his birth certificate."

I rolled my eyes. "Ease dropping is still rude."

He grinned completely unrepentant. "I couldn't just not hear. And I figured I'd save you some time."

Warren was already flipping through the boxes contents until he pulled out a long yellowing sheet of paper.

"Evan Thomas Williams, born June tenth 2004, to a Thomas and Abigail Williams. Looks like they were married. Thomas is from Chattanooga Tennessee, but Abigail's info is blank." Warren tapped the birth certificate on the box. "I might be able track down the marriage license and birth certificate for the father."

"Do that. I think I'm going to make another phone call to Bran." I pulled out my cell phone and called Bran's cell. Three times. By the third it went straight to voice mail. Now I debated what to do. I could call his house phone, but there was a very high possibility that Leah would answer. After a couple more seconds of debate I just called the house phone. It rang four times before a cheery feminine voice answered.

"Cornick residence. How can I help you?"

"Anna?"

"Mercy? How have you been? You guys alright?"

"Managing mostly. I was actually trying to get in touch with the overlord."

Anna snorted a laugh at my nickname for Bran. "Sorry he left last night, but he should have his cell on him."

Again I had that niggling feeling in the back of my mind. "He didn't; by any chance, say if he was going to Tennessee, did he?" I felt both Warren and Tad's eyes on me.

The pause on the other end of the phone was enough to confirm my suspicions. "Now that's spooky. How'd you know?"

"I guessed."

"Not the first place I would've guessed."

"Normally, me neither, but things have been... weird here."

"Do you want me to have Charles pass along a message?"

"Nah. I think Bran knows I'm trying to get a hold of him. Thanks anyway Anna."

"No problem. Take care, okay Mercy?" There was genuine concern in her voice.

"I will do my best." I told her gently. "Bye."

"See ya."

I hung up and looked toward Warren. "You caught that." Since there is no such thing as privacy when werewolves are around.

"Yep. I guess that means we are on the right track."

"Mhmm, that's what I'm afraid of."

"Meet you at home?"

"Yep."