Chapter Sixteen

I spent Thursday morning making sure I was clear on what I'd need to say that evening, and confirming arrival times with ap Lugh, Bran, Coyote, who'd pass word, and Leslie. I'd agreed on 5 p.m. Pacific, meaning 8 p.m. in DC, and as no-one knew when we'd finish I'd have food available from 3.30. I sorted a venison stew with celery root and mushrooms I'd found on a hunters' website and could slow cook. I'd hoped to get some shopping in, but a call from Jenny made for a dryly legal half-hour about my probable liability for anything Skuffles did, and any notion of down time vanished with a call from Ramona telling me Medicine Wolf was inspecting their garden and wanted to know where the new earth fae would wish to dwell.

The old ones weren't usually around much during daylight, but when Brent and I trotted down to their grove, oaks rustling welcome, it was only a moment before Pirandella and Nuthatch appeared with enquiring looks. I explained, and though neither was keen on cars they agreed heading to Richland was sensible, so we piled into the Cherokee, which had acceptable leather seats. I used Columbia Drive to get onto 240, and as we hit The Delta, crossing the Yakima, Nuthatch asked me to slow, he and Pirandella peering out of the window, though at what I wasn't sure. Then it was I182 until I could work round to Duportail.

There were always paparazzi hanging about, flashes popped as I pulled up, and the usual inane questions were shouted, sharpening as Pirandella and Nuthatch slipped onto the sidewalk. Brent was scanning for any worse threat and I shielded the earth fae as we crossed the yard, glad their glamour defeated photography, and Hec, guarding the door on two legs with Carla on four, let us in with warm greetings.

"Go on out back. Everyone else is there."

None of the alphabet houses had much in the way of back yards, but the combined L- and two-dwelling T-unit meant the Freed had three run together, which gave width if not depth. Medicine Wolf took up a chunk, lying with Ramona and the Freed sitting in semi-circles around its head. It looked around as we came out and they stood.

Greetings, Mercy, Brent, Nuthatch, and Pirandella.

We caught up with general news before Medicine Wolf settled to talk with the earth fae. Despite the discrepancy in size its help in reshaping the land and welcoming oaks had left them completely at ease, and I listened as placement of trees was canvassed, allowing room they'd need while providing the desired magical coverage — which meant no shooting from outside, not affecting Penny's camera filming Living Free and Moonbound inside. Irrigation came up, but Medicine Wolf could simply pull in water from the Yakima, a quarter-mile south. Where the new earth fae would want their dwelling was trickier, for happy as they would be to tend the garden, Nuthatch and Pirandella were clear that some distance from as well as proximity to favoured humans mattered, while being by water was always desirable; but they had an idea.

What they'd been peering at as we crossed the Yakima turned out to be a small and so far as I knew nameless island, that I thought was technically part of the Riverview Natural Preserve, and certainly part of the Yakima Delta Wildlife Management Unit. It was a good two miles away, but Nuthatch and Pirandella hoped Medicine Wolf might provide an access tunnel, saying the distance back and forth was unimportant compared to the safety and attraction of an island. Ramona's jaw dropped a little.

"Getting permission would be impossible, Nuthatch. A tunnel that long under Richland would freak every state official sideways. And no-one can camp in the Delta."

My mind was spinning hard. "You're not wrong, Ramona, but the rules ban human camping, not fae dwelling, and who says Medicine Wolf needs permission to reconfigure itself?" She blinked, and other Freed laughed. "It's true a tunnel would need to go deep, well clear of pipes, cables, and foundations, and with getting under the Yakima that might mean vertical shafts and ladders. Would that be a problem?"

Nuthatch and Pirandella assured me it wouldn't, if ladders were wooden, but Medicine Wolf said it could do a slope from the island without difficulty, and at this end a spiral.

Human systems are only just underground, Mercy. I go down much further, and there is plenty of room beneath this spot.

"OK." I did some googling, confirming a half-memory and blessing Wikipedia. "The Yakima Delta Wildlife Management Unit belongs to the Army Corps of Engineers. What they don't know won't hurt them, or I could ask their C-in-C direct." There was more laughter. "But I'm not sure asking sets a good precedent."

"And if it came out during the campaign, Mercy?" Ramona looked dubious. "Wouldn't busting all the planning rules and regs be a liability?"

I shrugged. "Maybe, and Jenny would agree, but I don't think so, and what Medicine Wolf and earth fae do is their business, not any official's. There's no danger to any human, Medicine Wolf doesn't need anyone's let, and though canoeists probably land on that island sometimes, there are no residents to worry about. I don't want to bother the Man with … anything extraneous just now, and if I make it I could formalise permission retrospectively. It's a prime example of the interspecies co-operation we want to push, even if humans aren't involved, and it's helping you and the Freed, which is good. Besides, that land ought to belong to the Yakama Nation, who fished there for centuries before Anglos came, and still would if the government hadn't forced the purchase. And the Yakama would be more than willing. All that should offer enough cover, though I'll make sure Jim Alvin knows." I looked at Medicine Wolf. "Just keep it earth-fae-sized, and don't undermine any foundations. Having the 240 interchange subside into a magical tunnel would not be good."

It let a large tongue loll, eyes glinting. I will be careful, Mercy. Once the tunnel is made, I can render its walls harder than rock. This seems a good solution, as the little ones do not mind distance, for many new trees here, with deep roots and irrigation, would make a dwelling here awkward.

Nuthatch and Pirandella were pleased, and if Ramona was still doing some Alpha fretting other Freed were amused and intrigued. There would be a fine line to tread in telling Penny about trees, anti-media protection, and earth fae serving them, which I wanted out there, without mentioning long tunnels under metro areas, and we canvassed that, but she didn't pry needlessly and knew some things had to be private. What if any camera-time the earth fae would be willing to offer was moot, but Nuthatch and Pirandella would speak to them, and I hoped they'd be willing.

Ramona was being privately briefed on the vamp situation by Bran, as all Alphas were, but that wasn't for wider discussion yet. I did take the chance to update everyone on campaign plans, including Irpa's candidacy with others I hoped would soon be confirmed, and amused them all — even Medicine Wolf — with Underhill's Fountain of Uphill Justice. But time was beginning to press, so after I'd managed a private word with Medicine Wolf and called a surprised Jim about imminent fae residence in the Delta, which pleased him far more than it didn't, we ran the gauntlet of paparazzi again, thickened by news of my presence. Along the way I asked the earth fae how they'd known about the island, and was disconcerted to discover that Jesse, sitting outside one evening doing schoolwork on her laptop, had introduced them to Googlemaps, with the fun of switching map and satellite views in 2- or 3-D. Pirandella also had a taste for podcasts, and surprised me again by saying ap Lugh had given them a laptop they charged in the greenhouse. Who knew pixies surfed?

When we were back the earth fae said they should talk to Underhill, and vanished through the garden, while I checked on food and caught up with Mary. Caroline and Penny had confirmed next Wednesday, telling her worldwide syndication was sorted, and we tallied my diary, including Friday's mix of paperwork, exercise, the call to Stefan I was dreading, the weekend slot in Denver — not for the first time I was very grateful for travel by cloak — and talking to state legislatures on Tuesday, also broadcast. Ben had websites ready to go, and they looked good as well as being crystal clear. I sent him a grateful e, and his immediate reply said, amid expletives, that it had been interesting to do and any number of morons would still get it wrong. I filled Mary in on Earth Fae Island and tunnels under Richland, raising eyebrows but leaving her half-persuaded by my reasoning, and told her Skuffles had learned to mindspeak, adding it was a sideways version of me.

"That's …"

"Useful? Jenny's lectured me about liability, but there are no precedents, meaning plenty of wiggle-room, so I'm just filing under maxi-me. And it — or she — should liven up a press conference sometime."

I got a weak grin. "Maxi-me is a good one, Mercy, but the Skuffles Appreciation Society has faded because she hasn't been seen and the Mercy's Law debates have been getting down to brass tacks about restricting cross-examinations."

"I know, but Skuffles's low profile is deliberate. She's a secret weapon in reserve, if you like. It'll only work once, but could easily be critical."

That made sense to her, though she wanted to talk it through, so we did while I whipped up another crumble. We also got into what her kids might do with Jesse in helping mobilise pressure on parents to take my candidacy seriously, and how they were doing anyway — well, pretty much, though Josh was hitting puberty and becoming as confused as all teenagers. By then it had gone three, and I'd just come down from a swift change into a power blouse-and-skirt combo when ap Lugh rang to say he, Nemane, and Baba Yaga would be coming through to the hall with Bran and Charles, so I called Adam and we switched to laying the table for 14.

Coyote beat them to it, strolling in through the back door with Gordon, Wolf, Bear, and Raven. Despite having seen them at the weekend things were moving so fast there was plenty to talk about, including how things had gone with Frank and what exactly governors had said. Gordon had sat in on a conversation between Medicine Wolf and Underhill — I didn't ask how, which took some tongue-biting — and was very happy to know a young forest would be in place before the Falls re-emerged. I relayed Andrea's acceptance of Antigonus sandwiches, amused they seemed to know their Shakespeare, and the more serious question of stray children with what would and would not be helpful examples.

"My children recognise human children." Wolf grinned, teeth white above his gorgeous charcoal three-piece suit. "There are stories enough. Maybe we should Romulus and Remus them, though. Any parents who let younglings stray where they know there is danger need a lesson."

"You could wind up with a new Rome. Mowgli-ing might be better."

They knew their Kipling too, or more likely Walt Disney, and I shifted conversation by asking Bear about Jill Widepaw, who would find me soon, and told him about the trolls who'd be on security. I also offered my suspiciously well-behaved father wry thanks for Skuffles's new volubility, wondering how a speechless coyote sending had let him know what it wanted, but we hadn't got far before Adam arrived with Darryl, having for once left work early, closely followed by a wary but bright-eyed Leslie. She'd met Coyote several times but only seen the others, so I did introductions and listened to cautious mutual q.-and-a. while I added an apron, and measured rice to go with the venison stew, smelling good.

Even though I didn't have the cloak on I became aware of an impending arch at the same time as Elder Spirits, and Adam and I went out to the hall. Bran, Charles, and ap Lugh were in serious suits, but it was Nemane and Baba Yaga who caught the eye, in what I thought had to be a crow-feather cloak and what looked like a very old-style folk dress, though whether Russian, Finnish, or Sami I hadn't a clue. I did formal greetings, to the same ironic approval as before, and exchanged hugs with Charles, before we adjourned to the kitchen and I excused myself to cook.

A small part of my brain wanted to gibber at the sheer power that was assembled, but a larger part was amused and interested by conversations that developed. Nemane and Raven were talking feathers, Bran was asking Wolf whether it would be loners or a pack at Celilo Falls, ap Lugh and Gordon were into huorns, and Baba Yaga and Charles had stuff on vamp banking habits that had drawn in Adam and Darryl. A deadpan Bear was telling Leslie a wickedly funny story about an Anglo arrested in Idaho for trying to steal someone's wig while they were wearing it. Good cheer deepened as I dished stew, activating the hospitality spell and drawing compliments as well as questions about the recipe.

I'd put myself and Anna next to Leslie, by way of insulation and to ask about the new meaning of AED, but we attracted everyone's attention. The 'Acting' was simply because there wasn't going to be a permanent ED (Preternatural), but the promotion was real, and Westfield would replace his present boss when she retired, which was imminent. Leslie had careful but revealing things to say about more hawkish advice the Man rejected, which explained why Homeland Security were distinctly not involved, despite their director's protests, and sketched the ad hoc command structure Westfield had established to make sure lines were toed.

"I'd thought the CIA might squawk but the AED says they're very taken with international angles, and the chance to offer Europeans some officious help that'll actually be wanted." There were grins that faded as Leslie went on. "Homeland, though, really do not seem to have learned the Cantrip Lesson, and I think their director has got himself into much hotter water than he realises. The AED wasn't saying, but some DC contacts think an audit will be imposed."

"Not before time." Bran had some growl in his voice. "They're grossly overstaffed, uncoordinated, and wasteful. How are the Secret Service on board if Homeland isn't?"

"Presidential fiat, I think." Leslie shrugged. "Homeland umbrella or no, they've always remained closer to the White House than anyone else."

Raven cocked his head. "Their director bears my children no grudge?"

There were more grins, even from Leslie. The persecution by guano had only lasted for about six months, but had been memorable.

"I don't think so, Raven. Word is he was pretty shaken by the uniform contempt for what he did, and went in for some genuine soul searching."

"Well enough."

And it was. I served crumble, crediting earth fae for unseasonal bounty and telling ap Lugh of uses to which they'd been putting their laptop as well as the morning's outcome. That was new to everyone, and detained us a while, Leslie shaking her head while agreeing Medicine Wolf did as it wanted, but with plates again cleared rehearsal of what we'd be saying, to whom, took over. There wasn't anything new, but I was happy to make sure everyone was on the same page. Fighting vamps together might be new, but only the together bit, the roles each kind had to play long familiar to everyone except Leslie, absorbing with fierce concentration. Then it was time to head for Adam's study, a flutter starting in my belly that I ignored but Adam didn't, sending me a pulse of reassurance.

He had his desk moved back and chairs arrayed so a wide-angle camera covered everyone. Elder Spirits, wolves, and Fae each stayed grouped together, for clarity, while our array declared unity, in this at least. Despite my butterflies I realised with some resignation it didn't seem wrong to be central, square on to the screen, and at 5 exactly the phone rang, and Adam's system put up a wide-angle shot of a crowded Oval Office. The Man was behind his desk, AED on his right, and from the clothing agency directors beyond him while Joint Chiefs were to the left in an impressive array of uniforms. After a swift glance around the Man carefully said how glad he was everyone was able to attend, and asked principals at his end to name themselves, which they did. There were no surprises, and my butterflies faded as interest kicked in — the AED and Director of the FBI looked calmest, the Director of the Secret Service wariest, glancing often at Raven, others a mix of uncertainty and curiosity, the Joint Chiefs adding some starch. August Wiseman, founding Director of the Farouts, was interesting, a mixed-race three-term congressman from Baltimore who seemed equally apprehensive and resigned, and I made a note to seek a clarifying conversation. Then I was on, asking everyone at our end to name themselves, however redundantly, and at the Man's nod started the ball rolling.

At first a lot of what needed saying was formal rehash, but to no-one's surprise there were questions, particularly from the Joint Chiefs as they tried to get a fuller measure of what they were going up against. We'd given as accurate a tally of seethes and loners as we could manage, and Bran had some acerbic commentary on policing wolves had undertaken since the first vamp had shown up in Montana in 1817, Gordon and Coyote adding avatars' revulsion at undeath. Raven had a pure dislike of anything that didn't become carrion when it should, Nemane vigorously agreeing, and we were diverted for a while into how old a vamp had to be before dismissal meant dust, which was about as long as a corpse would last in earth. Going the other way, the AED had fragmentary data on the Bennet case the Feebs had found in encrypted Cantrip files, which interested Adam and Bran, as well as Darryl and me, and his Director a report on vamp finances they'd been able to trace, already involving several hundred million bucks in a complex web of accounts both legal and distinctly not, which he promised with an unreadable expression to send to Charles and Baba Yaga. Then the Chair of the Joint Chiefs asked if any of us knew where vamps came from, and I looked at the Gray Lords.

"Prince Gwyn ap Lugh, you are the eldest of the Old World here."

He shrugged. "The Undead came to Britain with the Romans, so though Bonarata was born in the fourteenth century it is not chance he too is Roman. Baba Yaga knew of them earlier."

"True." She didn't look happy about it. "I encountered the Undead near what you now call St Petersburg a score of centuries before your Christ was born. They came from the south and east, and smelt as they do now, of black witchcraft and stagnant blood. I do not know their true origin, but guess it lies in the sacrificial practices of early farming cultures, and we drove them south again, as we could."

Nemane nodded. "I concur. We of the Tuatha dé Danaan likewise kept them from Ireland as we could, as abomination, but to have found a way of unliving darkness after physical death bespeaks sacrifice at dusk." She paused, glancing at ap Lugh, but went on. "There are near limits to what I will say of this, but we of the fae are born of natural life, even that which feeds on death, but the Undead are an inversion of life and death, and to achieve that would take significant power and immense desire." She shrugged. "If you want a guess, someone tried to sacrifice a strong black witch or wizard with extended torture, and power in extremity opened a means of survival and revenge."

"Look to the means of dismissal." Ap Lugh raised fingers. "Exposure to sunlight, staking with wood, decapitation, fire — the source of all life, a grown stake through a still heart, division of will from heart, reduction to the ash all such should be. But their origins profit us nothing."

However interesting, that was true, and we went back to practical issues, meaning the ultimatum with its exact wording — I was taking careful notes, though I had my own ideas — and means of delivery. Then I was on again to lay out the odd triangle of Marsilia, Wulfe, and Bonarata, explaining why going through her was necessary strategy.

"There are several angles. One is that as she is his reluctantly banished child and mistress, Bonarata will not refuse Marsilia's call. Another is that if I'm right about Wulfe, he'll be in the loop, and if I'm not, in the frame. I hope to have an answer to that soon, but either way a violent vamp response will almost certainly come at me, here, and we have magical plans for dealing with it. Assuming they work, pressure on Bonarata will rise sharply and a majority of vamps will become seriously unwilling to try for me a second time, meaning he'll need to send his own hatchet vamps, or Lenka Yakovlevna, his pet wolf — and if we can take them out too he'll be running out of options fast."

I took a deep breath, noticing Westfield's concerned expression.

"This is a preternatural problem so we accept we should take point. What we need from humans is clear evidence of commitment, meaning, Mr President, you and the Chair of the Joint Chiefs at least should be present for the ultimatum, as well as Gwyn ap Lugh, the Marrok, and Coyote; plus maximal financial and, in so far as it's possible, diplomatic pressure. Overseas diplomacy is beyond us, but we can do something about land borders. Gordon?"

"Avatars have a history with vamps, and First People straddle both Canadian and Mexican borders. She Doesn't Only Fix Cars has asked us to help make those easy refuges unavailable, and though we cannot seal them we will watch closely, with the Marrok's support."

Bran leaned forward. "Canadian and Mexican wolfpacks heed my command and will support avatars. Vampires who can translocate can avoid all, but they are few, and most will find any attempt to flee only a road to dusty death." Bran knew Shakespeare too. "Coffined vamps transported by day might get through, but those travelling by night will need to be a great deal cleverer than most to do so. Mercy is correct about the need for severe financial pressure, and Charles has ideas about that."

Human eyes had widened, and Charles didn't narrow them.

"Hacking accounts is of course illegal unless sanctioned, but with the aid of Baba Yaga and others we have found some deeply buried Italian and offshore accounts that by size alone must matter a great deal to Bonarata. More may be found if Mercy proves right about Wulfe's intentions, which I strongly believe she is. Hitting all simultaneously with the ultimatum would greatly impede and enrage Bonarata, clouding ability and judgement, but many hands would be needed to siphon them clean. We wonder, therefore, if Baba Yaga and I might liaise with the best hackers each agency and the Pentagon has, and the Fed."

Despite the illegality everyone seemed taken with that idea, and the Man gave crisp orders about a hacking sub-committee, giving Westfield oversight. He nodded, looking at me with a frown.

"Ms Hauptman, this is all better than I'd expected, but I am deeply concerned about the risks you and Mr and Miss Hauptman are running. I recognise you have great resources of your own, but if you want more …"

I gave him a smile I meant. "Thanks, AED, it's appreciated, but I wouldn't care to put your people or a Secret Service detail in the line just yet, and their only weapon would be Underhill's wooden slugs, which I'd like to keep in reserve as long as possible. They will not be mentioned in the ultimatum, because we have to play on Bonarata's arrogance, and letting him know any human with a Glock could dismiss him is not the way."

"Alright, but the offer stands, Ms Hauptman."

Then we got down to timing, which meant laying out my schedule, with how soon hackers could assemble and the training schedule for strike teams, the net result being that I would talk to Bonarata Friday evening next week, unless anyone hit a real snag. 6 p.m. Pacific would be 3 a.m. in Italy, OK for a vamp. The military had concerns about speed, but straight talking from Adam, in vet mode, and an offer from Bran to provide wolf vets and serving personnel with vamp experience if they could be seconded, eased things along, with one complication.

"On this timetable, the ultimatum expires on 6th June, and in the six weeks to then there are two full moons, 5th May and 2nd June, both Mondays. Wolves will have to change, and vampires know that. Those on secondment can remain on duty — the change is necessary, not to hunt — but they will be less able to communicate." Bran held up a hand. "By the later date matters may be resolved, but with the threat known to vamps from 25th April the earlier will see activity, I would think. Gwyn ap Lugh?"

"Fae and stronger half-fae will assist humans on those dates to guard known seethes, that the Undead cannot scatter, but we cannot guard the borders as wolves can. Maximal human alert would be sensible."

That was accepted, and to my surprise ap Lugh offered to assist the hackers with time-dilation, if needed — an offer producing more croggled human looks — and after final checks that everyone was clear on what they had to do we were done. Elder Spirits were becoming antsy at being in a closed room, and it was close to midnight in DC, so with farewells all round Adam cut the connection, and sat back with a sigh.

"Well, that went better than not. The Man must have done some very executive briefing."

"Indeed so, Adam Hauptman, and I heard no untruth or insincerity in his voice, nor those of other humans, however bemused." Ap Lugh offered a smile. "And whatever comes of this, we are all now free of the liability of concealing the Undead from those with whom we have sworn to keep peace. It is a relief that makes us glad, Mercedes Elf-friend."

"Yes." Bran's expression was unreadable. "Honesty proves the best policy, something of a novelty with humans."

Coyote grinned. "It surprised them too, which is always good. And however we are deferring to your delicacies, ever-so daughter, sticking it to the bloodsuckers big-time with Anglo help is cause for celebration. Right now, though, I want a beer and a run."