Chapter Five

The time jump meant I was home before Jesse or Adam. A part of me wanted to call Bran and do some yelling, but it wasn't time, and after stashing cloak and feather, with thanks, I gave thought to priorities and reaction speeds and with a churning stomach put in a call to SAC Fisher. Neither Leslie nor her family had minded her transfer to Washington, the promotion being interesting and the pay-rise gratefully received, and she had, with husband Jude and their daughter Jenna, become welcome friends for Adam and Jesse as well as me. But there were opposite sides of various fences we could find ourselves on, and as I was calling during office hours using Adam's encrypted system her wariness was no surprise.

"Hey, Mercy. Or is it Ms Hauptman?"

"Despite the encryption, Leslie, let's say Mercy, though the Ms and SAC might be needed before we're done. But this has to be as private as that encryption suggests, though you'll notice I've enabled you to record, because I am and you'll need your own copy."

"Un huh." There was a pause while she hit buttons. "Sounds interesting. And I usually get cold sweats when you do that."

"What do you think I get?" She gave a muffled snort and I grinned. "Anyway, tell me, if you will, am I right to think the Man keeps in rather more personal touch with you than your rank would suggest is reasonable?"

Her eyebrows rose. "You would, and he said to be open about it should you ask, within parameters of official secrecy. Besides wanting whatever low-down I have on anything you and Adam are up to, and Medicine Wolf, he mostly asks about how the Freed Pack are doing."

"Huh. Decent of him. Do you know what he said to me, very sotto voce, when we met at The Dalles last weekend?"

"Not a clue, Mercy, though your private exchange was widely noted."

"So I saw. Then this goes no further, please."

"Alright."

"He urged me to run to succeed him, and offered his endorsement."

Her chair creaked as she sat bolt upright. "He did? Lordy lawks, as my gran used to say. That would be … really interesting. Are you going to?"

"I don't yet know, Leslie. Besides a profound disinclination to jump at a running buzzsaw, there are major complications."

"I'll say. But still. You'd have my vote and Jude's."

"Thanks, maybe. But here's the biggest and baddest complication. I know, you know, and the AED knows there are any number of preternatural things that have not been spoken about, for good reasons, and one is what if anything might have been in those Wyoming cages missing bars. I now learn, from several horses' mouths, that the AED and others in authority have been exerting all the pressure they can on the Marrok and Gray Lords to come clean about any further kind of preternatural remaining in the closet. Would you happen to know anything about any of that?"

She sounded even warier. "A little. You're right we strongly suspect there's at least one more major preternatural kind no-one is mentioning, pretty much the way Newton said there had to be at least one more big planet out there, and the predominant view is vampires with a minority vote for sasquatches."

I couldn't stop a laugh. "Really? Coyote told everyone they're a crock."

"Which is why, Mercy. He casually denied it, so for some they jumped to the top of the list. Makes sense that Elder Spirits would protect them — gentle forest giants and all that — but no-one knows where wolves and the Fae would be with them."

"You need better analysts. If sasquatches were there to wheel out as gentle giants we'd have done it by now, if only to broaden the spotlight, and the Fae wouldn't care in the least. And while my pretty-much Da can and does bend words like a pretzel, and would cheerfully steal your face right off your head" — she laughed — "that interview was straight up. He doesn't do bare-faced lies. Leaves that to Anglos."

"Un huh. We know better, but you know him."

I laughed back. "Yup. But the question is, suppose I said, yeah, you're right, there is another kind that's not out — tribes of orcs, let's say, who migrated here from the Misty Mountains, and yeah, they've been known to eat manflesh, so most of us really don't like them much, but picking an all-out fight with them, which is what outing them would mean, is not any kind of picnic, for anyone — what sort of plans might you have on file?"

There was a protracted silence.

"This is very tricky territory, Mercy, and a long way above my pay grade whatever my more unusual contacts, but I think I can safely say that if we — the FBI and so the Federal Government — were being offered help against anything that predates on US citizens, we'd be willing to go to bat. It's what we do. But the 'we' is complicated — a whole bunch of agencies are concerned, and the military, and that kind of co-ordination is always a stretch, while there would also be serious legal issues, plus whatever magical power orcs can wield and what can stop it."

"Oh yeah, but I can't go there yet. Being a Tolkien fan as well as a coyote girl, I can say 'orc' is Old Norse and Old English for something untranslatable that comes in tribal numbers and you really don't want to meet if you can help it. But any which way, there are plans, and it would need the Man to co-ordinate with iron hands in velvet gloves?"

"Yes to both." She paused, thinking. "May I ask how this connects with whether you decide to run?"

I blew out a breath. "Positing there really are orcs in the Mid-West or wherever, and that I and others have for compelling reasons hitherto kept shtum, it could be they represent a serious threat to me and mine, if crossed. Even to some fae, maybe. Silence would then be more than self-interested — part fearful, part politic, perhaps compliant with other powers' policies. It might also reflect knowledge that while orcs are in the main bad news for everyone, not all orcs are equal, and some might be pretty decent, but all would likely suffer at human or other hands if outed. But if I were contemplating the presidential oath of office …"

"You would be taking it very seriously, because you are, within whatever necessary limits, strictly honest."

"I would, and I try. I also take magical threat environments very seriously, which a lot of humans don't. So here's another question. Given that the Man is among those exerting pressure on the Marrok and Fae to do some 'fessing up, and on me to jump at that buzzsaw, is all that something he's figured out? And is, um, angling to be able to count on?"

"Hoo!" Leslie scratched her head. "There's a question, Mercy. I don't know, and I haven't thought down this line before, but my gut reaction is maybe. I wouldn't put it past him, for sure. But I'm not at all confident he or any of us understands preternatural imperatives well enough to do the extrapolating. What I've heard and seen says … the slot we're calling orcs is a nagging problem that's hard for quite a few agencies to ignore, and as it's a preternatural problem a preternatural answer would be good. And that means you might be, probably would be, swiftly thought of as a … co-ordinator, or conduit. But I haven't heard a thing officially that suggests anyone's expecting you to run, or making calculations based on that."

"And unofficially?"

"Only … well, hope would cover it, but it's more what you might do next, though that hashtag keeps trending."

"Tell me. Jesse dropped me right in it with that one. And as there are certainly such expectations and calculations in several quarters, I take that under advisement. But, next question, has it occurred to anyone that tribes of orcs who left the Misty Mountains might have settled anywhere, or that outing those here would out others elsewhere? Europe, certainly, and Russia. India. China I don't know, but I'd think, and other places too. More than domestic interagency co-operation would be needed."

"Huh. Given international concern about manitous in anyone's backyard someone somewhere might have canvassed that, but again, not that I've heard. FBI's strictly domestic, save criminal extraditions. But I take it if these orcs did get outed they would not go away quietly."

"Right, though it could be some are thinking hard about how better orcs might be persuaded to be … well, less orclike, is what it comes down to. Not so easy, but perhaps possible with a great deal of co-operation."

"Itself not so easy. What do you want me to do, Mercy?"

"Timing is very tricky, Leslie, and however he intended, what the Man said to me has triggered a bunch of things. There are ongoing discussions about any presidential run that involve me, wolves, fae, Elder Spirits, and Medicine Wolf, and topics include what sort of anti-orc alliance anyone is really willing to sign up to, what offensive or defensive magical and other weapons anyone could provide, and what conditions might attach to their use. It might also be orcs are a pointed choice of … symbol, because even screaming Tolkien fans are not always happy with the idea the only good orc is a dead orc, and outing should not mean exterminating."

"No, it shouldn't. But I take it some preternaturals feel that way about dead orcs, and a lot of humans might too."

"Pretty much. But preternaturals realise that I could and will not campaign on any basis except tolerance. Bottom line, I have no problem with any orc that tries to attack me or mine — and that mine would expand nationwide if I run — becoming toast, but an absolute problem with any orc minding its own business being zapped just for being an orc."

"Sounds right to me."

"Yeah. So I'm asking you to have a quiet conversation reporting this one — with the Man and the AED."

Leslie sounded surprised. "The Man I get, Mercy, but though the AED's involved in the scent-evidence talks, and is overdue promotion, he isn't in the chain of command for something like this."

"He is now. I need someone I can trust, and who can think straight about the preternatural. Can you get him and the Man together on a very encrypted line?"

"Yeah, that I can do."

"Then please play them your recording. If I can't secure preternatural agreements, and there are heavy issues involved, I may have to call the whole thing off. I understand that might be impossible, but if I have to I will pull the plug as hard as I can. But if I can find enough common ground, and it's looking decent, it might be possible to have a really interesting conference call, using all of Adam's fancy gear, as soon as next week."

"And more huh. A conference call involving whom, if you can say?"

"The most senior anti-orc commanders on all sides — Marrok, Gray Lords, Elder Spirits, Medicine Wolf, with the Man, the AED, and heads of agencies including the Pentagon."

"Right." It was Leslie's turn to blow out a breath. "You don't do things by halves, do you, Mercy?"

"Wars with orcs don't come that way, Leslie. Leave well alone and stay shtum, or get serious — anything in between would be a recipe for a lot of deaths, and I'd be putting Jesse on the line, and Adam. Others too — more orcish orcs would aim for collateral damage to punish me and indulge themselves. So if at some point you receive an anonymous package suggesting precautions to take for yourself and your family …"

"Oh yeah."

"Good. I am hoping such a package can be distributed more widely and less anonymously, intel reports being needed in any fight. But I am juggling chainsaws, and have everyone pushing me without thinking about the threat to those I love. Tell the Man that if it happens he'll be dealing on his sworn word, as he had to in the Medicine Wolf Accords."

"I hear you, Mercy. I should make that call today?"

"Yes. I'll be in touch as soon as I can. Oh, and security here is already up, with my and Jesse's guard details. We are not expecting anything to break yet, but also not taking unnecessary chances."

"Un huh, I hear you again."

"Good." I took a deep breath. "Just one more thing, then, which is taking a considerable chance and I won't be taking questions. Given that orcs don't … cease to live unless killed, they can get pretty old, and so tend to think both very long-term and twistedly enough to dazzle even a double- and triple-thinking spymaster. So if anything weird is happening, run it by me or Adam a lot sooner than later. And as it happens, with these particular orcs, wood through the heart works as silver does on wolves, so you might care to think about the value of thresholds and the fictional character called Renfield with what psychologists have had to say about that. Give my best to Jude and Jenna."

There was a short silence.

"Thank you, Mercy. Mine to Adam and Jesse." I waited out a pause. "And some wider thanks, I think. Sounds like you're still doing the job Cantrip should have done, at a level the FBPA can't yet cope with."

"Seems that way too. Has anyone worked out how to say FBPA?"

She laughed. "No. F-Beeps, Feebpas, and Fubs are all in contention."

"And all bad. I think I'm going with Farouts."

"Hey, that has some kick. Look after yourself, Mercy."

We rang off, and Adam came in. I whacked my forehead.

"Sorry, love — I forgot the encryption would trigger the lock. I didn't mean to shut you out of your own room."

He'd only added that feature last year, when we were hosting the Accords, and I hadn't used the system enough for it to have sunk in.

"Not a problem. I've only been back ten minutes, and Jesse said Brent told her you'd been in here a while." He gave me a kiss and propped himself against the desk. "Who were you calling?"

"Leslie. Long and the short is we were right about human pressure on Bran and the Fae, who are serious about outing the Undead and in many ways want them gone, but will accept forced reform with what we called thinning ranks as necessary. I know. But Medicine Wolf is all for a code of conduct — vamps don't intrinsically offend it but it doesn't like mind control. So I thought I should get the Man's attention. I have a recording, as does Leslie, which she'll be playing him and the AED, and you and Jesse should hear. Brent, Darryl, and Warren too."

He gave me a long look. "Sounds like you've been one busy coyote. It'll snowball out of control fast."

"It already is, love. Leslie said pretty much everyone federal knows there has to be another major kind of preternatural, and most reckon vamps though there's a minority vote for sasquatches. Idiots."

"Because Coyote denied they exist?"

"In one." Adam grinned. "Anyway, the lid's coming off sooner than later, so we're into damage control whatever we do, and grabbing the steering-wheel while we can seems … the least insane course, despite everything."

"Probably. You're sure about the Fae? I was expecting more than one meeting to be necessary."

"I am, but yes, several will be. Ap Lugh said he'd be in touch Sunday, with others. Today was Yo-Yo Edythe, Baba Yaga, Nemane, and The Dagda, but they were all lined up, and we were talking in the Rose Garden."

Adam frowned. "You went Underhill?"

"Well, yes, because, ap Lugh's words, the whole reservation is borderland. But no, not the Garden of Manannán's Death — the Rose Garden, glamoured behind the building it ought to be behind, full-size."

He stared in surprise, and slowly smiled. "Really? The Executive Mansion?"

"Really. Well, glamourly. No West Wing, and I wouldn't enter, but it wasn't just heavy-handed Fae humour because Underhill showed up as we were leaving, is going to think hard about shining Overhill, and freely offered two more gifts. The cloak's been … I was going to say boosted, but maybe given a plug-in would be nearer the mark, so that if I see a vamp attack coming I can extend slow time to those with me."

Adam whistled. "I can't say that's anything but welcome. Speed out of the dark is not easy to counter. And the second?"

"She wants exact specs for wooden bullets, and will be happy to provide same, in numbers. Called the Undead abomination, but accepted I will not sign up for attempted extermination. So I don't know where you are with that, but it's gone right up the agenda."

"There are problems, but if bullets will fit existing machinery the only tough one is internal ballistics — if the wood's hard enough to work it does not like rifling that spirals through its grain, so to avoid jams we'd need smooth bore with consequences for accuracy or a pre-cut groove."

"Huh. I bet Underhill could grow bullets that way, if it had specs. Or maybe a softer shell round a harder core if it didn't mess aerodynamics too much." Adam blinked. "I was expecting the problem to be length — I don't know a short slug wouldn't work, but I have to think longer is better."

"Grow bullets with a soft case? You are back in left field, love. But that would be a better bet than pre-cut grooving. And I agree about length, so as distance is unlikely to be a problem, and we wouldn't want them to go through more than one vamp, less propellant in a shorter case would make a longer bullet possible. I did push it this morning, but this sharply narrows what's needed, so I'll push again. Glock 22s would be good. The fun never stops. Any more magical answers to anything?"

"Not today. I met another troll, though, Vorðr, on the Walla Walla gate — which is glamoured as a full-blown barbican — and got called Troll-friend as well as Elf-friend." Adam closed his eyes for a second with a long-suffering look, and I shrugged. "Better than -enemy, however you cut it, and she wasn't on the gate by chance however ap Lugh managed to forget to warn her we were coming. Anyway, film night was fun."

"For a coyote value of fun, though I agree anyone sensible wants trolls on their side."

"Just slightly. Oh, and both The Dagda and Underhill like Skuffles. Vorðr asked after it, and it stayed around — sat in back with Joel and the roof open."

Adam closed his eyes again. "Skuffles is wonderful, but please tell me you didn't drive US12 like that."

I grinned. "I didn't, despite temptation. Too cold outside — it was a lot warmer inside, though I don't know if that's permanent or just some balmy weather to go with talks in the Rose Garden."

"Who knows, love? But I'd be glad if you kept Skuffles as much as a surprise as possible, rather than something anyone could try to plan for."

"Pretty much everyone saw the trial, Adam, and the Skuffles Appreciation Society hashtags are still rolling."

"Yeah, but they haven't seen Skuffles since, and most beings don't look at you and think 'where's the big coyote with all the skulls and teeth?'. Let's keep it that way as long as possible, hey?"

It was worry for me, and I had my own, so I gave him a kiss. "Not a problem, love, though it's sufficiently me it does like coming out to play. But I should get cooking if we want food. Are Darryl and Warren here?"

"Yeah. They're both on shift."

"Call them and Brent and Jesse in and play that recording, while I slice, dice, and spice for a risotto?"

"I can manage that."

"Oh, and loop Bran and Charles in too? I'm none too happy with Bran, because I'm pretty sure we're both dancing to his and ap Lugh's tune, if we're not all dancing to Wulfe's, but blindsiding him won't help."

Adam gave me a long look as we went through to the kitchen, but after a how-was-school chat with Jesse — it sucked, and she hadn't had a chance to talk with Ms Zeeman, but there weren't any other problems — I was left alone to chop and think. Quite a few things I hadn't expected to seemed to be working out, but any number of flies could still get into the ointment and my list of pressing questions hadn't got shorter. I was onto frying in the oversize wok when Adam, Jesse, and the others came in, all looking surprised. I distributed beers and went back to stirring.

"You're really going to do it then, Mom?"

"I don't seem to have much choice, Jesse, because absurd as it remains it answers several beings' problems, so probably. And while I do and will feel very bad about Stefan, especially if anything happens to him, vamps have made themselves into a nightmare for everyone else."

"In spades." Darryl didn't look so happy despite agreeing. "The orcs were good, Mercy, but you blew it wide at the end. Any particular reason?"

"What did Bran think?"

Adam shrugged, his gaze thoughtful. "He didn't seem surprised by any of it, Mercy, though he had also liked orcs. But I am surprised he was not more surprised, and I think you are right about who is playing the tune."

"Un huh. I had several reasons, Darryl. The Feebs were mostly there, I want the Man thinking straight, not worrying about sasquatches, and if anything leaks from Wulfe Leslie or her family might become targets."

"From Wulfe?"

"Oh yeah. Remember She of Livorno?" I told them what Baba Yaga had said, setting water to boil. "So while actually knowing would be good, that has to wait until I can talk to Stefan. And as Bran knew exactly who and what she was, and ap Lugh made a point of telling him fast, this particular bit of Marrokery started no later than that. And if he said nothing substantive, he means 'carry on', so we need two things. One is that anonymous warning package to send selectively — this is what vampires are and do, with what you can do to protect yourself. Speed, mind control, feeding and sheep, Renfields, agents, seethes, magic users, translocation, and hierarchy, plus sunlight, stakes, decapitation, fire, thresholds, religious symbols if you believe, age and propensity to go friable when dismissed, and whatever else we can think of. Vamp 101. The images of my trailer after the vamps had at it but could not get in might be good. All as clear and straightforward as possible. Can you do a draft, Darryl?"

He scratched his head. "I can try. Dismissed?"

"Oh, sorry. It's what fae say of killing the Undead. Because they're dead already killing them is insufficiently true."

"Huh. Figures. Hierarchy including the Master of the Night?"

"Not yet, for my money. Just seethes. It's for alerting unknowing allies to practicalities. Larger vamp politics will be for the big strategy meeting, if that happens. A classified appendix."

"Right. And the second thing?"

The rice went in to cook.

"A code of acceptable vamp conduct. Bottom lines are no killing human law couldn't recognise as justifiable, no hypnotising, feeding, Renfielding, or Turning without informed consent."

"Huh. Wouldn't that amount to starving them?"

"I don't think so. To humans vamps can seem pretty sexy when they want, so they'll just have to put some work into seducing without the magic Rohypnol. Think True Blood and Fangtasia. And there could be a real bonus for us, when the age thing breaks, because for humans silly enough to forget the being dead part seduction by a vamp would be a more attractive shot at longevity than being savaged almost to death by a wolf." That brought very thoughtful looks. "Which might mean we'd need limits on how many consenting humans can be Turned. I've talked to Kyle about some of it, Warren — get his opinions and try for a clear statement of essentials?"

"Sure. What happens to any vamp in breach of it, though?"

"Now that's one of the high-dollar questions. Unbreakable coffin for a while? Defanging? Garlic-saturated underwear?" Jesse had been looking worried, but that made her snort. "Then again, it'll be the responsibility of vamps who sign up to police their own, and I would imagine Wulfe has means of persuasion. Stefan and Thomas Hao as well."

"Marsilia?"

"Who knows where she's at with this? But if she were on-board, I'd think. What matters is to offer a clear path of survival, however the conditions will irritate, against the highest possible odds of losing a long … unlife. Vamps are very bad at doing anything except what they feel like doing, but if the Marrok, Gray Lords, Elder Spirits, Medicine Wolf, and Man are all telling them to shape up, ship out, or get it in the neck … well, I'd listen hard. Canadian Prime Minister and Mexican President too — no bolt-holes. Did Adam tell you about wooden bullets?"

I got nods as I gave up stirring and turned down the gas.

"So a new threat, from humans, but also wolves, who have speed, and fae if we can get Glock 22s. And avatars — speed varies, but all have some edge. Problem is they want all vamps gone anyway, plus some running scared given the casualties we've taken from vamps."

"Right. I'd forgotten avatars and vamps had a real thing going." Darryl shrugged apologetically. "You liking Stefan is confusing. Why is it so strong again?"

"Avatars see ghosts, Darryl, so they can find vamp seethes and houses." Warren drank beer. "Maybe something else as well. When vamps came west Amerindians caught on very quickly, and were always reckless foes. Took a lot of early arrivals out, but as vamp numbers grew they started taking heavy casualties, and that's been the way ever since."

"The ghosts of vamp victims are not happy campers, and hard to ignore once seen. There's something of the fae reaction to the Undead as well — it's wrong in a way no other form of life manages. And all First People were under very heavy Anglo assault, as were Elder Spirits, because of the wanton killings and ecological impact." I wasn't keen on this, but Warren and Darryl were family in all but name. "You should know I have personal freight, besides Gauntlet Boy and Blackstone. Record says Joe Old Coyote died in a car wreck, but he had vamp help, because he'd been taking out local bloodsuckers and they'd caught on. Coyote says it was fair, but neither I nor my mom feel that way, however I'm conflicted about Stefan. But he's like a wolf Changed against his will, still running with rogues who continue to Change others. How much slack can you cut?"

That provoked discussion amid table-laying while I drained rice before tipping it into the wok and going back to stirring. Pepper from a rainbow mill and fresh basil improved the risotto nicely, and once I had with Jesse's help dished it conversation slackened. They'd have picked it up again once hunger was satiated, but I'd had enough vamps for one day, and Adam, who knew it, steered talk before getting the table cleared and taking Darryl and Warren to discuss what the pack should be told, and make a round of the night shift. I found Jesse looking at me with concern, and raised eyebrows.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I just thought you'd be a really good president. I hadn't realised it would mean anything like this, and I really don't want to hurt Stefan."

I slung an arm around her. "Me either, Jesse, but he knows as well as we do there's a problem, and the status quo was never going to last. And the beings pushing are Bran and Gwyn ap Lugh, with some more-or-less witting help from the Man and AED. Feebs, at any rate. So it's not on you, though there is a lesson in thinking sideways about things. And by way of practice, tell me about this South Pacific, and why Ms Zeeman wants you to be a gender-switched Lieutenant Cable."

The answers kept me occupied and drew in Adam when he came back, so we all went to bed more thoughtful than not.