Chapter Three

I might have been short on sleep but my brain had cranked out a lot of questions and even one or two possible answers, so when Adam woke I had things to ask. He was surprised but thoughtful, promising to make some calls, and when he headed for the shower I pulled on sweats and went to find our resident earth fae.

The corner parcel of land we'd bought with money from the pictures of furry me Andrea sold did more than extend our river-frontage. It had a small creek, carrying overflow from the Columbia Irrigation Canal back to the river, and what had been some marshy ponds where the creek meandered. With help from an approving Medicine Wolf — which made it very good TV and a useful demo — it had taken only a morning to narrow and deepen the creek bed and adjust gradient, inducing a clearer, cleaner, and faster flow that could drive a couple of mini-turbines, giving us another green energy source not dependent on the grid. There was also a very small waterfall, just for the fun of it. Manitou magic accelerated the draining of sodden ground, adding irrigation to preserve larger trees and shrubs, and by the time the two brownies and two pixies who'd been freed in Wyoming turned up with a dozen friends and relations they'd been very happy to excavate a home by the waterfall. When a grove of mature oaks appeared one night, creating a small wood around what Jesse dubbed Earth Fae Falls, a surprised but happy Adam and I discovered the freed oakman, still firmly Underhill, was pleased to express some gladness, and the trees had shaped a central glade with a winding path leading to it. I'd had wooden seats set up, earth-fae size and a couple for humans, with a small table, which they liked, and after some argument there was a wood-cased phone within their home that linked to the house, in case of emergency. With false dawn lightening the eastern sky I sat in one of the human seats, Brent alert but relaxed behind me, and waited patiently.

It was only a few moments before Nuthatch, the senior brownie, appeared, and he had his pixie opposite number with him. Quite where Pirandella had collected her name I didn't know, but it fitted her sharp features and red hair, and she and her kin had even more than brownies been pleased with the quality and variety of the clothing I'd casually left at various places in the garden. They weren't children's clothes — seeing small fae as childlike was always a mistake — but bespoke creations by a woman I knew in Pasco who'd been charmed by the request, and delighted to combine some style in earthy browns and greens with quality fabrics, including winter wear. They took seats, and I greeted them.

"Hello, Mercedes Elf-friend. Is all well? You are awake early today."

"I am, Nuthatch, and though nothing is unwell now there may be some things happening soon, so I bring a warning, alas."

"Of what should we beware?"

"It is only a possibility, Pirandella, but because of some human politics I may have to become involved in, it may be that the Undead will become angry with me. I know all pixies and brownies are very good at not being found by anything hostile, but there are Undead with unusual powers. And should any of you know any Undead to be nearby, we would be glad to know of it with all speed."

"You would be glad for us to use the telephone?"

"I would, Nuthatch. But it is your safety that concerns me. Your dwelling here is known to many, and word may pass where it should not."

"We will be careful, Mercedes Elf-friend, and are glad you think to warn us in good time."

"That is so." Pirandella gave me a shrewd look, which pixies do extremely well. "Is the human politics that may claim you this matter of becoming their leader for a while?"

I managed to swallow my surprise, but she saw and gave me a pixie grin, which they also do pretty well.

"It is, Pirandella. I did not know you followed human politics."

"I do not, Mercedes Elf-friend, but I follow your politics, and Gray Lords have been wondering aloud about the coming human election."

Fae did not wonder aloud without reason, so even if ap Lugh wouldn't try blackmail he was clearly willing to apply subtler pressures. Or not so subtle. More urgent questions were added to my list.

"That is interesting, though I am not at all sure Gray Lords have any proper business doing so."

She shrugged. "You are of interest to all, and there was no malice in it that I heard." Her eyes glinted in the strengthening light. "Or not towards you, Mercedes Elf-friend. One did say the human government deserved the changes you would bring to it as a Daughter of Coyote."

I bit my tongue. "That is a point of view. May I ask if any spoke of this problem with the Undead that such a development will entail?"

"You may, and not that I know of. But we shun the Undead, always, for we are of life, and they of death."

That was true, and it wasn't likely anything a fae said would come to vamp ears unless they intended it to, but the Aspen Creek pack had clearly not been the only ones indulging in speculation.

"I am glad to hear it, yet I think you should start being even more careful today." And I would need to be so myself. "Will you ask the oaks for some good sharp splinters, long enough to reach an unbeating heart? Or I can get you wooden daggers that will dismiss the Undead."

To the fae you couldn't kill vamps, properly speaking, because they were already dead. Nuthatch frowned, but nodded.

"Confrontation is not our way, Mercedes Elf-friend, but the oaks will be happy to gift us such a defence. None of the fae who were in that place liked the captive Undead, for they saw us only as food they were denied."

I imagined they had, but the story of those vamps was another thing bothering me. It had been kept out of the transcripts of the torturers' confessions, but ap Lugh had told Bran the tale, its high points being that Cantrip had not, at least officially, known about vamps until Travers told Preskylovitch, and had wished to control as well as investigate them; there had originally been five, all loners without a seethe's protection Travers had come across in his wandering; and it had been he who'd managed to grab them, one by one, using wolf strength and an SUV fitted with a cage of the same bars with tungsten and ceramic cores as in the mine. Two had been killed by Preskylovitch, one by staking, the other by exposure to sunlight, just to see if those methods worked. And Stefan had told me, letting distaste show, that the three who'd been rescued had been killed, over his and Wulfe's objections, the Master of the Night insisting for the sheer stupidity of being caught — which didn't mean their accounts had not been extracted, so I was assuming vamps probably thought of it all as a wolf's fault. It wasn't as if either party needed more reasons for mutual dislike, but it was in the mix with the protection Wulfe had promised me for aiding vamps without obligation, and everything else.

"I am glad to hear it, Nuthatch, yet my concerns increase. Not only do the Undead not care whom they harm, they have no love for me and may seek to harm those I care for. Such is often their way, so I will be taking precautions for myself and Jesse, as will Adam. I hope to speak to Gwyn ap Lugh today, so I shall say these things to him. And I ask you all to carry a weapon effective against the Undead, and be prepared to use it. Better their dust than anyone else's."

Neither of them liked it, but Nuthatch again nodded.

"We hear you, Mercedes Elf-friend, rejoicing in your care, and will closely heed your warning. I will speak to the oaks also, that they are aware. And do give the Prince our greetings."

"I will, and that would be good." What oaks might do on their own I had no idea. "And I hope you will all come to share food on Sunday. Snow peas are ripening nicely."

Enthusiasm kindled in both their eyes, and with farewells Brent and I headed back to the house.

"You really think vamps would target earth fae, Mercy?"

"Oh yeah. In SF you have Thomas Hao, second-best vamp I know, after Stefan. But here Marsilia's in charge, and however he cast her off she won't gainsay the Master of the Night. Nor will anyone persuade me she's remotely sane. You need reinforcement as of now, and at least one wooden dagger. I have a set Zee made me a few years back, and I'll be asking him for as many more as he's willing to make. Standard grip, fire-hardened oak blade with an iron shank, and some magical extras. Religious symbols work if used by a believer, but need physical contact, and holy water's a washout. Decapitation works, and setting them on fire."

"So I once saw. Still, you're not often out after dark."

"Wulfe, Marsilia, and Stefan can daywalk. I don't know of others with that ability here, but I'd bet the Master of the Night can. Don't assume false dawn or twilight protect. I've never come across any who could enter a home without being invited, though, so a true threshold does."

Surprise held him silent, but he was thinking hard, and while I grabbed a shower and dressed I told Adam what Pirandella had said. He bit back a curse and agreed security had to start ramping up without delay.

"Joel's on shift today, so take him if you head to Walla Walla. Use the Grand Cherokee." Adam collected SUVs for fun, as far as I could tell, and there were always several available. The Cherokee was an efficient hybrid and had some customisation you could not get from the dealership, so I nodded. I liked driving it anyway. "I'll do some juggling so I can come with you and the Freed Saturday, and put out a first alert to the pack, so everyone's on their toes without being freaked. We can revisit the roster after Sunday breakfast. Jesse needs more cover as well."

"Oh yeah, though school's out in daylight. But we can give Dan" — he'd been a Marine sergeant and was the senior — "a briefing, Marine Joe one of Zee's daggers, and Brent another. If Carnwennan doesn't mind I'll pack the third. And the Sig, though without wooden slugs it's of limited use."

Those were one thing I'd asked about, and he nodded.

"I'm on that, love, and modified IR." He shook his head. "I know I wanted you thinking, but I'd forgotten how … stimulating it is."

"Good catch." I cocked my head. "Have I really not been that badly?"

"A little, but only about this." Already power-suited, he came and sat beside me on the bed. "You had to be very focused for a long time, with the trials, and that took some … tunnel vision. For me, too. And when it was all done, you shut down a bit, understandably enough."

"But not so sensibly?" He shrugged, but I knew what he wasn't saying. "I've been pretending it was all over, haven't I? But it never will be."

"Not like before, no. Those cats are over the horizon. But looking at this proposal squarely doesn't mean you have to do it, love, whoever tries pushing you."

"No. But it's not who so much as how many. I think I've just been trying to grok being famous." I groped for the thought. "I know I used Caroline's camera, but that was crisis publicity. Using its aftermath in the ways this would demand seems … I dunno, but different."

"Because it is. One's reaction, the other calculated. But it's just short-term, long-term, Mercy. If Medicine Wolf hadn't been so spectacular, or you hadn't been so central, or Wyoming hadn't been so ghastly, or we hadn't parlayed it into the Accords, your spotlight might have dimmed more. But it did happen that way, and there's the ongoing stuff. Tell you straight, love, you're going to have to do something with it, sooner or later, unless you're willing to become a recluse, so you might as well aim high."

"Huh. I might as well paint a target on my forehead. And yours and Jesse's. But I hear you." Pulling a Salinger wouldn't suit me at all, however I found fame irritating, and mingled resignation and excitement was settling in. "I need to understand why Bran is so willing to take on vamps just now. He said holding them down was wasting wolf time, but I've not heard of any unusual trouble. If you don't know, can you ask some quiet Alpha questions so I can tackle Charles?"

"Sure." He frowned. "I was wondering about that too. Frank Cromer in Atlanta was venting a few months back — some vamp made two newbies and didn't control them, so his pack had to clean it up. But I haven't heard of anything else. My own head's been down, though, tackling backlog."

With the various trials Adam had been away from his desk a lot, and though staff had not allowed any backlog that failed a client Adam was not a man who filed things unread, so he'd been putting in long hours checking stuff and catching up with clients. What would happen if the madness went ahead I didn't like to think, but that could wait.

"Thanks. Maybe Fae pressure, then. I'll ask ap Lugh." A thought hit me. "Or what about human pressure? Westfield knew full well there'd been something in those cages, and there might have been more than they let on in Cantrip's files, or MacLandis's and Hobson's papers. Plus the Feebs have been working closely with Charles on scent evidence."

Adam whistled. "Now that's an idea. And though it's hardly fair, Bran might at some level think you created the problem, so you should fix it. Which … rings my bell, actually. He was being very opaque."

"Huh." It made cockamamy Marrok sense to me too, though I'd have words for Bran if it turned out to be right. "There is not enough peanut butter in the world. Let's go eat."

Adam grinned, and once I'd strapped on Carnwennan, retrieved Zee's daggers, slung the cloak over one arm, and picked up Manannán's Bane, we headed down. Brent had told Jesse security was going up immediately, but besides being more sharply conscious of daylight and thresholds, for her it was more about her guards. They didn't live in, sharing a house in Finley, but stopped for breakfast each schoolday, for my cooking and in case there was any last-minute change of schedule. By the time they arrived Brent had printed out sunrise and sunset times for the next quarter, and while we ate Adam went into brisk military mode. When they'd signed on they'd been given a full briefing, including preternatural problems, but the real threat had been and mostly still was unscrupulous journalists, so angry vamps were unexpected.

Dan was a sergeant after Adam's own heart, solid and softly spoken except when he wasn't, and he'd carefully, then cheerfully, transferred his loyalty to us and his two privates. Marine Joe was the biggest, but also fastest, and had a thing for throwing knives, while Ranger Joe was more tech-minded and looked after their electronic kit. Between them, with Dan's thoughtful guidance, they'd done a very good job for Jesse, keeping out of her hair as best they could without letting anything get by them, including an idiot senior who'd been dared to give her a kiss in which she wasn't in the least interested. Finding himself flat on the ground with a knife at his throat and two guns trained on him had dampened his ardour, and a furious Adam marching into his parents' house with harsh things to say about men who thought forcing women to do anything was a good idea, as well as some creative venting about the fate of anyone or anything that hassled his daughter, had left him shaking too much to stand. His parents and siblings had been very unhappy with him, and there had been nothing further, though I knew one or two students with ideas about Jesse's money had been quietly warned off.

I liked Dan's low-key-when-possible approach and had no wish to change it, but some things need formality and before giving out daggers I put on the cloak and laid Manannán's Bane on the table next to the box that held them in their sheaths. Zee had given them to me, so I had the right to loan them, but I explained to them what I was doing and why, asking them to allow Brent and Marine Joe to use them in my service, protecting me and Jesse. I also asked Carnwennan if it minded my carrying the third, because as wonderful a witch-killer as it was, wood worked better on vamps. The white hilt warmed in my hand, and I had a distant sense of it not minding in the least but being pleased with courtesy, so I gave it thanks. All three humans were staring, though Marine Joe's attention was half on the dagger he held, sensing its balance, and Dan quirked an eyebrow.

"Carnwennan answered you, Mercy?"

"It did, Dan. The hilt warmed. The wooden daggers aren't aware in quite the same way — they're much younger, for one thing — but they were all made by the same hand. And Excalibur. So, Marine Joe, if you're holding that one and get a feeling in your water, heed it, hey?"

"Seconded." Adam grimaced. "The risk is low yet, but that makes it a good time to get blindsided, and it's likely to rise fast without warning. But vamps are not always headstrong stupid, especially older ones, and can … suborn humans easily. Do not invite any strangers into your house, even by daylight, and Ranger Joe, I'll have extra surveillance gear for you as soon as I can get it. A direct approach is possible, probably with some tempting bribe, in which case don't meet anyone's eyes, tell them about your lapel cams, remote storage, and panic buttons, and refer whoever it is to me. And while I don't want to worry anyone unduly, if there's any kind of blackmail attempt, probably a threat to kin or friends, let me know immediately and fort-up. A lot of resources would be available to protect whoever we must, and drop all hell on the offender's head."

Dan's face had become very still, but he nodded sharply. "I hear you, Adam. Sounds like DefCon Two, not One."

"Pretty much, but I'm trying to anticipate possibles, not probables. Under normal circumstances vamps wouldn't target Jesse, because they know what will happen if they do, but they're probably about to come under very heavy pressure to out themselves, which they do not want to do, and there are old ones who are not what I'd call rational."

"Un huh. Do we need to know what pressure, and why?"

"Mercy?"

I thought about it and shrugged. It was time to try things out. "It's because I'm coming under heavy pressure myself, Dan, from more than one source, to run for president. And if I do, I could not go on keeping shtum about the way almost all vamps treat sheep, nor the number of human victims they rack up. But outing them is not going to make me Vamp Time's Person of the Year."

There was a silence before Marine Joe gave an unexpected nod. "Figures. The fae who made Excalibur really made this beauty, Mercy?"

I was both heartened and appalled by his reaction to the conjunction of me / presidency. "Yup. The Dark Smith of Drondheim."

"Huh. I've never held a better blade, Sarge, by a distance. Balance, heft, everything. The oak's got a razor edge and a hell of a point. It's magic." He grinned. "And I don't know about anyone else but I've been watching those Beltway clowns spouting, and thinking it's gonna be another election without anyone I can honestly say I respect enough to vote for, but if you're standing, Mercy, it's a no-brainer. God knows I can see why you'd run the other way screaming, but I really hope you do."

There was a rather different silence while Adam tried not to laugh at my expression and Jesse didn't bother.

"Go on telling her, please, Marine Joe. And guys, we'll need to talk to Ms Zeeman. She wants me in the musical, and rehearsals will run after sunset for a while yet. Dad, they can't be anywhere except the school theatre. Do I have to tell her I can't?"

Adam and I both thought about it, and shook our heads.

"You do what you want to, Jesse, but you're right serious security is required. I'll see what's possible."

"Seconded, ex-kiddo, and one thing is it might be possible to make the theatre a home of the company, but I'll need to take advice and very strict discipline would be needed. A single sure, come along would break it."

"Cool. Can I give her some outline, and see what she's good with?"

Adam shrugged first. "Very minimal outline, Jesse, and no privately outing vamps. Raised threat level, unspecified, but even that will mean Ms Zeeman will have to clear it with Stallings, who might think it's a parental call — which would be more publicity than we want yet. You could also tell her things should become clearer, one way or another, within a few weeks, so if she can hold fire that long it'd be appreciated."

Jesse's expression was priceless, but I gave a sympathetic smile.

"Gotta follow the logic, ex-kiddo. But if you nail the audition, we'll do everything we can to make it work. What's the part?"

"Lieutenant Cable in South Pacific, with Liat as a boy."

Adam never swore in front of Jesse, but I think he came close, if only because Cable dies. But Helen Zeeman was an anti-bigot, and that was a production of South Pacific we'd want to see, even if Jesse romancing anyone on stage would give Adam hives. He spoke carefully.

"That will be interesting. Jesse, while I'm really not expecting anything to happen this soon, and don't want to give you any more problems, please be very wary. You know vamps can suborn, and using a classmate to get to you is about vamp speed. There's no easy way to spot a Renfield, unless the bite's visible, but they're oddly insistent on whatever they've been made to want, so if anyone's proposing anything unusual …"

"Un huh." Jesse nodded, face sober. "I remember. You take care as well, Dad. And Mom. But I still think this is worth any hassle."

Once they'd headed out, in another hybrid SUV Adam had provided that had less usual modifications, he gave me a kiss and went to do wolf business before leaving for work. I was pretty sure ap Lugh would be awake, whatever timezone he was in, and I wouldn't have minded waking him if he wasn't, but I needed to set my own mind in order. Brent drank coffee and watched with interest as I made a chart, Motives and Requests across the top, and Gray Lords, Other Fae, Marrok, Other Wolves, Elder Spirits, and Humans down the side — the last subdivided into The Man, Feebs, Family & Friends, and Public. I started filling it in.

"You distinguish 'the Marrok' from 'Bran', Mercy?"

"In this. Bran is never not Marrok, but sometimes I'm only arguing with my adoptive father. I have no reason to obey personal orders from him but try to keep out of wolf politics, where I have no right to gainsay him. Last year left that pretty blurry, though, and this is more of the same."

"Huh. That I see." I went on adding things to various boxes. "You have a lot of fathers. I always found one quite sufficient."

"Tell me. Not-entirely, not-exactly, and not any more, but still. And Curt, in his sweet way, but I didn't get to know him until I was sixteen, so he's more Mom's lover and my sisters' father."

We talked families, but Brent was thinking about what I was writing down, and several things produced questions. My thought about human pressure on Bran needed explanation, but then made sense to him, as it had to Adam, and my plans for the public whose retweets and likes were driving all this won me an admiring look. I was nearly done when Joel joined us, saying Adam had told him there'd been a change of plans. I made fresh coffee, replenished Brent's mug, and awarded myself chocolate before giving a brisk run-down of events since the Man's suggestion, and what was being done about them.

"It means you'll be in demand, I'm afraid, Joel. When it comes to being vampire-proof your tibicena is right up there, and they really don't like the magmatic aspect."

"No. I remember that from Wyoming." Joel drank, swirling coffee in his mouth before swallowing. "But they cannot attack by daylight, surely?"

"Most can't. Wulfe could. Some others. And assuming we go today, which I shall find out, just, I doubt we'll get back from Walla Walla before sunset."

"OK. And though I can see you are not happy about it, Mercy, I must say I find this a very welcome idea. So will Lucia, and others we know. Adam is an excellent Alpha, but so are you, and if I have not heard of a presidential bid, many have been wondering what you might do next."

"Et tu, Brute?"

"I'm afraid so." He grinned. "You took charge for a week, and got more done than anyone had managed in decades. Four years of it is quite a thought."

I flapped a hand, making him grin some more, and took myself to Adam's study to make calls. Friends came before authorities, so I spoke to a worried Zee first, who had also heard pointed fae speculation, and did some cursing in old German, but was happy to make wooden daggers. Whether ap Lugh was under any particular pressure about vamps he didn't know, or wouldn't say, but did clarify fae loathing of the Undead.

/It is not just life and death, Mercy, though Pirandella is not wrong. Even we iron kissed are of the light, rejoicing in the sun, and nothing to which it is fatal can be good. Those of the Sluagh do not welcome sunlight, but it does not harm them. What we loathe is the sterility of the Undead, the perversion of non-life that must batten on life, drawing strength and pleasure from others' weakness and suffering. There are those who have wanted to move against them ere now, but caution has always prevailed./

"I get all that, Zee, and though I'm conflicted about Stefan, I don't disagree. Do witch or wizard vamps help induce that caution?"

/Ja, very much. They are few, but potent, as Wulfe the Sorcerer is./

"Tell me. When ap Lugh was in Aspen Creek, after the night of Wyoming, he went out of his way to tell Bran that Wulfe had named himself as the eldest of that kind, and they spoke of one he called She of Livorno. Is it possible her supposed, or confirmed, dismissal would make ap Lugh consider an opportunity?"

Zee's distaste was audible. /I heard about that, and I believe the dismissal was confirmed, but I do not know how. I never had dealings, but the tales were not good at all. So maybe./

"Right. Though I also wondered if Wulfe might see some opportunity in becoming eldest. And you know, Zee, I'm having a hard time thinking no vamp has caught on that something is moving both Marrok and Gray Lords to their peril."

He didn't disagree but wouldn't say more, so I left greetings for Tad and called an equally cautious Ariana, Jim Alvin, about Saturday, and Medicine Wolf. Fifteen-foot dire wolves not being well equipped to use cell phones, the process owed as much to magic as technology, but after a little experimentation with bemused permission from the wary director of Sacajawea State Park, we'd found it could answer a phone left in a wooden box on the knoll at the naith, which we'd connected to a solar charger. It listened with growing interest, had its own Brutus moment by telling me my having greater authority among humans was a very sensible idea, raised no objection to plans I was wondering about, and promised to increase its own vigilance, cautioning me that although it did sense the Undead it was only their basic magic that registered, dead minds being opaque. Then I had no excuses left not to call Gwyn ap Lugh.