Chapter Twenty-One

Monday started with all sorts of things jumping into high gear. Jesse was doing her Wazzu visit with Warren, and as Adam pointed out several times, it was all very well worrying about getting Frank a staff when I needed my own, so various people had conspired to provide one.

Andrea was co-ordinating, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, half-a-dozen Freed acting as security and gofers, but there were people I didn't know. I wasn't sure how many First People were polisci grads at Wazzu, but four had been tapped and we had rainbow diversity, Anglo, African-American, Latinx, and a Japanese-American recommended by Brent. None knew about the real campaign, but they'd been briefed by Jim and others about land issues, including Celilo Falls, and were all happy to help make my presentation to the legislatures unanswerable.

The fact that I didn't really do scripted stuff so much as make it up as I went along produced a silence, but I relented, conceding that I needed a lot more bullet-points than usual, and handed over the pitiful excuse for a PowerPoint I'd put together. Several iMacs were promptly fired up, Andrea produced flash drives with updated HD maps of the Columbia and various property borders, scanned from state archives, and amid much clicking and ubergeeky conversation the slideshow improved beyond recognition and was co-ordinated with my expanding list of bullet-points. Someone was talking animatedly to Olympia about AV facilities, with much clucking, and after liaising with Andrea called a computer store in Pasco, and departed with one of the Freed to buy a superprojector and the largest freestanding screen they had.

I might have left them to it, but as one First Person spoke Salish and two Siksiká I opted for immersion learning. Siksiká was hard, but when in my roots phase I'd picked up a fair bit of Salish from Charles, though what we were saying was studded with loanwords like 'pixel density' and 'zoom'. Everyone was multi-tasking but First People and others wanted to ask about Celilo Falls, and whether I truly thought they could be grabbed back, so after a while we went there, mostly in English, though as I'd need to talk about this stuff with First People from well outside Yakama territory I kept learning words. I'd remembered to ask Medicine Wolf about County Highway 143, and brought an eerie quiet when I called to ask if it had had a chance to take a look.

I have, Mercy, and it is no problem. I will open tunnels at both ends for the road to leave and rejoin the old route, and can widen the smaller road and create new foundations. The tarmac humans must do, as it is artificial. As for the railway, I can open another tunnel for it from the Deschutes confluence to where I84 will be diverted, and cannot see why trains should not continue downriver on the Oregon side to a new bridge at The Dalles.

"Excellent news, thank you. After tomorrow I hope I can give the go-ahead, and provide specs for tunnels. Oregon was on that, last I knew."

Anytime is good, Mercy. This project is interesting. Talking to Underhill about irrigation was a true pleasure.

"So she thought too. Any news on huorns for the Freed?"

They will be here this week, as will those coming to you. Nuthatch and I will see to them. If you are there we might speak of vampires and your campaign. I was amused by your father's posters.

"Me too, Medicine Wolf, after some staring. But I can't do that now. Any idea what day this week?"

Thursday.

"Then probably."

I rang off, and found everyone staring while Freed grinned.

"Uh … huorns?"

We got that sorted, and Medicine Wolf answering the phone, but once I'd commandeered an iMac and pulled up Googlemaps, showing everyone how I wanted I84 rerouted, there was more geekiness, a call to someone's friend who did IT for civil engineering, and arrival by taxi a while later of couriered discs. That I did leave them to get on with, but the results, amazingly by mid-afternoon and using the new superprojector, which had more bells and whistles than anyone could need, were improvised but first-rate graphics showing proposed route, tunnels, and adjustments in detail, with a ballpark figure for tarmac plus lane-markings, lights, and signage. It was a lot by most standards but by road-building ones a star bargain steal. The railroad was more theoretical, but the line of the tunnel Medicine Wolf had specified was indicated, with a site for a new bridge.

A section of slides on the history of Celilo Falls was also very pleasing, if a reminder of desecration, and there were sonargrams showing topography that would re-emerge. I was dealing with real estate and financial issues first, so claim-maps and legal citations were up front, but when I did get to Celilo Falls I'd be able to hit every legislator in heart and mind, while pleasantly surprising pockets. I hoped it would be enough, and if I didn't plan on mentioning huorns yet, I had every intention of telling them Elder Spirits and animals would resume residence in force. I had in reserve FBI agreement that tourists being eaten was best avoided, and the Man's promise state legislation would be backed federally.

The volunteers — though I was paying a proper stipend, I was happy to discover — were interesting and heartening. A couple were preterophile in Andrea's excessive fashion, but while others were sensibly wary if intrigued, all were driven by political fascination with what they thought I was managing to do with potentially very fraught issues. I tended to think it had been amazingly simple, as Medicine Wolf and endorsement by Elder Spirits made it hard for any First Person to argue much when basic rights and wants were thoroughly respected, but they all waved hands.

"That's true, Mercy, but it's you." Sally Wishart was Quileute and earnest to a fault. "Authority must be used well, and reversion to the status quo ante with partial repayment of compensation kicked everyone's legs from under, but it was how you said it. Argument died as we listened."

Brent had drifted in. "Telling that guy at Dallesport who objected to the noise of rapids that any Elder Spirit would be happy to deafen him didn't hurt."

Sally dimpled. "Nor renaming him Yapping Dog. It stuck."

I shrugged. "His problem. It was a very silly complaint."

"And when has that ever stopped anyone? Except you did. It has been as you were on TV during those days, Mercy. You tell us something, usually clearly impossible, requiring us to think, and when we do you are obviously right, again, and meantime saying something else equally impossible."

"File under Medicine Wolf, who doesn't quite make impossible meaningless but shrinks it right down." I was uncomfortable with shining eyes. "And humour's like Omega werewolf zen, sorta — it moves tensions sideways, eases things along. I also think you're all underestimating self-interest. A bunch of First People are getting back land they never thought they'd see again, and Celilo Falls, and besides wanting all that themselves, badly, they know everyone else does, so making yourself an object of public wrath from Pocatello to Kinbasket Lake is contra-indicated. With that many carrots I've only needed the odd stick."

That set them off in more directions than I could count, and I fielded questions about Anna, sheets of glass, and, so far as I could tell, every joke or flip one-liner I'd ever uttered. Some of the way they analysed made sense enough, and I knew the racial politics I'd roused against K-K-Kantrip were flourishing, but hearing it from five ethnicities at once was satisfying. Bran had reports on assorted Path of Assertion co-operation with minorities, pushing on particular local and regional problems, but now I heard of specific things that mattered personally. The pure speed with which massed people power plus united preternatural demand had delivered change had been a galvanising shock in dozens of communities, and even conservative elders had found themselves obliged to reach out in new ways. Nailing Heuter had helped, because, hey, not many sitting federal billionaire senators get done for anything, never mind several hundred counts of capital murder. But behind that there was a deeper shift in feeling about the preternatural, that was down to me touching Medicine Wolf. Several of them thought resolution of the human-Fae standoff, with a profound underlying acknowledgement that ap Lugh justly beheaded Les Heuter, had tipped a shift that had been growing since the Fae came out, wavered with the shock of wolves, wavered again with Boston in pure fright, but swung back hard when I gave it a chance. Frank had said similar things, and I wondered what outing vamps would do.

Some volunteers had packed lunches, but I did soup, bread, and cold cuts before a welcome distraction arrived in the shape of Zee, bearing wooden daggers. That was not volunteer business and I shooed them along, looking over their shoulders, before feeding him too. He had things on his mind that took half the afternoon, so I decided Benny's could pick up the larger than expected dinner needed. As I hung up Andrea came in.

"Are you good with the volunteers, Mercy?"

"Un huh. They seem a nice bunch, and the language coaching is a bonus."

"You've taught me as much about birds and stones as Jenny. Thing is, I'd like to brief them tomorrow about Wednesday. Giving some lead time will make a big difference."

I shrugged. "Go ahead, but please ask for oaths of secrecy, until. I know we're very close, and a leak now probably wouldn't matter, but I don't want distractions from tomorrow's main business."

"I'll be fierce." She grinned. "This is going to be a lot easier when we can hire openly."

"I bet, and I'm sorry about the cloak-and-dagger. It's the vamp thing of course. And I realised looking at those posters it's dampened my mischief too much, so I'm sorry for that too. I'm aiming to improve."

"Not a problem, Mercy. I'm so glad it went well with your vampire friend. And I have a new understanding of what Darryl says about your Mohs rating." I frowned, and she waved a hand. "But those posters are something else, and your Dad's right about TV taking them nationwide. Jesse's thinking about what order to use them in. It's so much fun."

"You could say. I gather we have hashtags as well." She laughed agreement. "I wanted to ask about wanting to be dropped in it. My paternal gift of a name is long, and however it's out there I'm still trying to digest Jesse's thought I should use it swearing the oath. Amerindian nomenclature is really not designed for signing bills, nor yet credit cards."

"Same problem as early Puritans." She gave me a look. "Well, could you fit Bind their Servants with Chains and their Masters with Links of Iron Hauptman onto that small a bit of plastic?"

Slightly cross-eyed, I shook my head. "Perish the thought. I was just unsure how that hashtag will play with Anglos and other ethnicities."

"Well to very well. Everyone likes your names, Mercy. Once Irpa's out and running, we'll do Elf-friend and Troll-friend stuff." She held up a finger. "If we don't, others will. You are, and it's one part of what matters, one testimony. Or two."

"Un huh." I hunched. "Don't mind me, Andrea. I'm just having a fit of self-conscious nerves. Doing's much easier than waiting to do."

"Sometimes. But it's also your Groucho Marx credential — the thing about not wanting to join any club that would have him. Tomorrow doesn't worry you because you really want it, and you have it down cold, but Wednesday does because you really don't, and think you don't."

"Pretty much, except I'm right to think I don't. But no-one ever has that big a thing down cold, or even tepid. And I know the coyote dance, which mostly works, except when it doesn't. Oh well."

"Look at the posters some more. Action will pick up soon enough."

That was too true, and the returns of Adam and Jesse cheered me. The Wazzu visit had gone well, and there were daggers to distribute, but both wanted to see the slideshow and liked the superprojector's bells and whistles. The volunteers became charily sober in Adam's presence, but he was calm and Jesse grabbed them with ways to make social media go thoroughly Amerindian tomorrow. That it would all shift the day after was never hinted at, and I found myself impressed by how slickly she was managing it, telling Adam so with an image and receiving strong agreement. The idea she might have earned the tat she wanted earned me a much dustier look, making me grin, and the arrival of a host of miracle pies kept everything rolling nicely until Coyote strolled in, drawn (he said) by good smells but wearing a tee with the legend 'PR Guru Extraordinaire'. I don't think he'd expected to be unable to boast of his brilliance, but volunteer delight at another preternatural VIP and his interest in tomorrow saw us to a mass departure on the Freed's coach, Ramona at the wheel.

Adam quirked an eyebrow. "You have an Alpha chauffeuring?"

Andrea smiled. "She offered, Adam, and I don't argue with Alphas."

"Right." Adam was only teasing. "She's happy her pack have something else to do. They're all so young they have way too much energy."

"And very useful it is. There are going to be hardware bills, though. The Olympia capitol has screens for vote tallies but nothing like what Mercy will need. That's why the superprojector, and two screens."

"Expenses fund is for expenses. Where did the engineering software come from, though? That was professional VR."

"I didn't ask. Someone's brother is a fan of the Accords."

"Synergy, then. Fair enough. The effects of Medicine Wolf on roadbuilding costs will generate pointed enquiries, mind."

"Oh yeah. We talked about that when I asked about I84. It's not unwilling when there's a purpose it approves, and appreciates a smaller carbon footprint for major construction."

"As dam removal gets on to the Flathead and Snake there'll be plenty of possibilities."

"I know. Then again, if we don't offer my graphics guru papa some warmest thanks pretty soon, I think he might implode."

"Your text was enough, daddy's dearest." He grinned at me, eyes warm. "And I get you are juggling a lot of balls, and need to keep tomorrow and Wednesday straight."

"That she does, Chief Coyote." Andrea gave the triple bow of awesomeness, and he did a perfect 'Aw shucks', making her grin. "But Guru is right. Can we talk hashtags?"

Jesse was keen, but we left them to it, withdrawing to make a private call to my family. I wasn't dreading it the way I had talking to Stefan, but I'd been reluctant for any number of reasons; then again, I knew if Mom found out I was running for president from TV I'd never live it down, she'd make the vamp connection anyway, and, more importantly, she, Curt, and my sisters needed guards on which they'd be no keener than me. Nan and Todd had moved to their own place, for everyone's peace of mind, so Adam placed simultaneous calls. We'd barely done hellos before Mom realised we were encrypted, and when I asked her to call in Curt and Ruthie, I got an entirely maternal look.

"What are you up to now, Mercedes?"

"Nothing bad, Mom, but it's about to spill so you all need to know. And I'm afraid you're going to need guard details again."

"Huh. Damn media flacks."

"Them too, Mom, but it's more than that. Call the others, please — I really don't want to have to do this more than once."

I was heartily bored of laying it out, but repetitions had honed me so I had it down pat, and without letting anyone interrupt I gave them the bare bones and a bit more, from putatively running as of Wednesday to vamp wars with a full human–preternatural alliance anytime after Friday.

"I know it's a pain, but better safe than sorry, and you all know enough to know many vamps are neither wise nor sane. Angus has lent us wolves from the Seattle Pack who'll bodyguard you all outside, and they'll have wooden daggers as well as wolf strength and resistance, but the house is your true refuge. Don't invite anyone you don't know over the threshold, even by daylight. The ultimatum will have a six-week deadline, so we should be done and dusted in eight to ten weeks max, certainly by Midsummer, but it could wrap up anytime after Friday. Depends on what vamps do. I hope I'll have your votes despite the bother."

Mom always did read me too well, and the maternal look became severe.

"Mercedes Athena, you are using yourself as bait, aren't you?"

"Yup." I shrugged. "But it's just more coyote in the middle, Mom. Bigger stage, bigger problem. And I have serious defences in place."

"As do I, Margi. I was about as enthusiastic about all this as you'd think, but there are compelling reasons. And I believe you could have some serious fun as our first female president's mother."

Mom blinked, and I sent Adam a kiss while deciding I'd deal with maternal presidential guilting if and when.

"That is not the point, Adam."

"It's one of them, Margi, and everyone in this anti-vamp alliance was pushing Mercy to run. It ought to be an impossible long shot, but that is not what the numbers say."

"Now that's true, dear." Curt laid a hand on Mom's arm. "You know my patients ask about Mercy all the time."

I gratefully left him to cajole her, half-tracking their conversation, and met my sisters' gazes. Ruthie was poleaxed, and so was Todd, whom I still didn't know as well as I should, but beside him Nan just nodded.

"You feel you have to do it, don't you? Did Jesse push you?"

"Oh yeah. And as she invented that damn hashtag you could say it's all on her. But it's all the kiddos and ex-kiddos, and maximal co-operation to get effectively green fast. I told everyone it was insanity, and they all disagreed." I shrugged again. "The Columbia Restoration stuff has been pulling me into what I can only call politics anyway, Nan, and the Cascadia evacuation. This seems to be the necessary next step, much as I hate it."

"Really? It's woken you up again, Mercy — you're humming."

"You have that right." Ruthie shook her head. "In any honest yearbook you'd have been girl least likely, and look at you now. But full-time bodyguards on all of us? I can't wrap my head around this scale, even after last year."

I managed not to shrug, but did spread my hands. "Tell me, Ruthie, but once I grabbed media attention it stayed grabbed. My disreputable dad says I know what to do with a lot of spotlight."

"Of course he does." Mention of my dad snagged Mom's ear, and her hand shot up to her mouth. "Oh. My. God. President Coyote."

Her expression made me laugh. "If it happens, Mom. He's designing campaign posters, and wondering how to enliven a First Person's electoral style, so brace yourselves. And Jesse's doing hashtags, with Andrea, so watch for what's trending."

"It isn't funny, Mercedes. The risk is appalling."

I met her look. "It isn't only funny, Mom, but it is a joke of sorts. A coyote joke, to be sure, but when they work they're the best kind. And it only hurts when I laugh." I did allow myself one more shrug. "File under wise insanity, please, and pray. It works for me."