Chapter Twenty-Four
The hysteria was immediate and prolonged, but website counters were spinning and ten-buck pledges pouring in with five-buck memberships of SAGE. Every media organisation there was wanted an interview, but Mary told them all I'd done that bit and now it was up to US citizens of voting age. The delighted volunteers were beavering away, Andrea was recruiting staff, and I left them to it. I did take calls from senior allies, but as they all seemed to think I'd done well, that was alright. The Man was hugely amused, despite shock about undyingness, quite enjoying the vitriol from his own party, and delighted to agree he had no objections to any of Coyote's posters, and roll on Times Square. Bran was the only fly in my ointment, because he wanted to talk about giant nude ice me.
/Gwyn ap Lugh has no objections, Mercy — quite the opposite, and took me to see it — but is genuinely surprised. Underhill does not have a track record in figurative art, and the thought of more statues popping up around the place is … alarming./
"Un huh. Could they be counted on not to move?"
There was a silence.
/Indeed, though I doubt that was what ap Lugh meant. It is the politics he's wondering about./
"Oh yeah. The fountain was mostly one in the eye for Manannán. The statue's something else. But beyond discouraging me from taking humans there, which is actually quite useful, it's aimed at the fae. I told you Underhill said I'd outdone the Gray Lords in honour, and she's chosen to post a reminder."
/ And more. I do not say it means what it would in wolf or human, Mercy, but there is love in that crafting, and gratitude. You insisted to ap Lugh that Underhill balanced all, and I believe she is. It is interesting Skuffles should be so taken with it, also. She was still there, and said she was thinking about powers she and you have that were once Manannán's./
"Huh. I'm relieved she can hang out in the Garden of Manannán's Death when she isn't with me. And I agree about balance, however I'd prefer an alternative form. Andrea thinks I should use the statue but wasn't clear how. A copy wouldn't exactly go with the tone of the National Mall."
Bran laughed. /No. But word will spread, Mercy, among preternaturals and soon enough humans, so I am not so sure it is only aimed at the Fae. Think of it as another potent endorsement, perhaps./
"That I can manage. Any problems with anything else?"
/No, and Alphas thought you did very well with the issues of age. Asil too, and the bicentenarians who will come out with Warren and Jeremiah. My thanks for taking point on that./
Jeremiah Stourbridge was the wolf who'd be running in Kentucky.
"Good. And not a problem, Bran. I felt sick saying it, but like coming out as a coyote-girl it soon felt like a relief, and still does. I think Mary and Andrea were right more people than we supposed had already worked it out — commentary I've seen has been quite restrained, though who knows what might pop before the headless-chickening runs down."
/Which will not be any time soon. With a surge in registrations already reported in most states, the governors of Idaho, Montana, and Wyoming have endorsed you today, and more will follow. Federal senators find it harder, but Westerners will follow the same calculus, and the party suits cannot begin to work out what they should do about it./
"Also good, and as the registration surge is a real threat to them, I'm all for giving them as thumping a headache as I can."
/Indeed. I also wanted to ask about the Farouts. Westfield told me of your summary advice, which is clearly correct, but I would be glad if you could see Wiseman sooner than later./
"Un huh." I'd thought about that. "I want Saturday free, but he could come Sunday afternoon and stay to eat with the earth fae. I'll invite the AED, my dear old dad, Leslie, Clay, and families, plus Ramona, Zee, Tad, and Irpa, if they're willing. Vamp stuff privily — he should have seen and heard Bonarata by then — with varied and useful contacts he'll need."
/Thank you. Will you fetch him by cloak?/
"No. Being convenient for agency directors would pall very fast."
/True. Please get the invitation to him today. We have been careful with human sensibilities while they establish the Farouts, but with vamps swift guidance is needed and they know it. When will you call Marsilia?/
"6 p.m. No point annoying her more than I will anyway, and that's 24 hour's notice exactly."
/Well enough. The hackers are set, and very pleased with themselves./
"Shiny toys, money rolling in, and the Undead to be righteously smitten. What's not to like?"
Westfield and the Man had agreed to the Borrowed Warchest, though the Feebs would retain a big enough chunk to cover all federal costs and then some. Further buried accounts had been found, and the target amount risen to an eyewatering level even by governmental standards.
/You are remarkably cheerful, Mercy./
"It's the new huorns." They had arrived last night, Medicine Wolf attending to sort irrigation, and though there'd been nothing to see while they were about it except deeper darkness, sunrise had shown them lining South Meals and Piert Roads very nicely. "When I was walking round with Medicine Wolf, Nuthatch, and Pirandella welcoming them, soon after dawn, an early-bird paparazzo thought he'd struck gold until he wondered why we were laughing, checked his camera, and swore a blue streak. It works! So yeah, Bran, I'm doing a happy dance, and hoping the Mercy's Adventures people get a lot of hassle from clients."
He half-laughed and rang off, shaking his head and telling me not to let it all go to my own. I did have a ball of tension in my stomach about tomorrow, but I was truly happy about photographic protection, and happier still the Freed would have the same from tonight. Somewhere in my head it tied up with giant nude ice me, Underhill's balances, and forced exposure, like forced outing, but if anything in that mattered it'd come clear in time. I sent Wiseman an invitation for Sunday talks and food, copying the AED, checking dietary requirements and including my guest-list, and as both accepted within minutes sent local invitations, explaining my reasoning, minus vamps, as Leslie's and Clay families weren't in the loop.
I also surfed news, but among pure political shock at the Man's endorsement the only organised hostility was from misogynists and the NRA. The former were vile, but all it amounted to was male incredulity that anything without a dick could be capable of rubbing its stomach and patting its head at the same time, and more than one power was keeping tabs on anything that suggested action as well as spew. With the NRA what mattered was that they were already down more than 15% of their membership and finding it much harder to frame their case than they were used to, so I can't say I was bothered by their words, and hoped their AGM would be painful.
International reaction was more varied, amused by oddity but concerned about such a wild-card presidency. Foreign policy was a very gray area for me, and though the Man never told me anything he shouldn't I'd picked up indications of his resignation about having to judge between the least of a lot more than two evils, as often as not. The ecological side was more important most everywhere than in the US, though the gap was narrowing, so my concern with carbon footprints was welcomed, but clear concentration on domestic issues rang alarm bells I needed to think about. They would be my priority, because we needed to set our own house in order before worrying about anyone else's, but the international side of the vamp war could be a kind of positive.
After some reflection on my greatly expanded list of contacts, I used Adam's system to call the Director of the CIA. I had to wait a while, which I found reassuring, but when he came on he began by telling me he hadn't made it to the SAGE website yet, but would, and had already chipped in his ten bucks. I hadn't been expecting that, and we talked a little about the profound frustrations with Congress he and many professionals of governance felt, and the way my honesty had hit hard. I filed several things away to ponder, and switched up to international vamps, sketching what I'd seen in global coverage and opening the delicate question of what effects US aid with vamps and my own role might have on that. He was wary, and ambassadors wouldn't be briefed until Saturday, but took the point, and with the specific question of Italy we explored possibilities if Bonarata was dismissed. There wasn't only vamp money in accounts; there was also, according to Wulfe, a large bullion reserve and who knew what treasure troves, so rapid post-dismissal movement against properties was desirable and Bran had contact with Italian wolves. He promised to make calls, we rang off pleased with one another, and I went back to surfing.
Amerindian responses were mostly a loud woot!, but First People being First People did manage some grumbling about my Anglo half and any number of Blackfeet jibes amid a thrumming, grateful pleasure about Celilo Falls and the Sacred Space, and what I had to call gleefully sharp apprehension about a coyote in high office. Either way, voter registration had slammed into overdrive, long lines outside more than one state office sending the psephologists haywire, which helped fuel other squawking. Better still, parading drawbacks openly and making all those disclosures had largely acted to neutralise, as I'd hoped, and the agonies of longevity had been registered with the advantages, while crowdsourcing with its levels of discipline was sparking heavyweight op-eds and talking-head debates everywhere that had started sceptical but were tipping as numbers went on growing. SAGE chopped across usual fault-lines on gun control, and most seemed good with what I'd said about drugs. Blowing out a breath I called it a job well done, and headed for the kitchen.
With so many guests and no reported vegetarians I decided on a recipe I usually avoided because it required marinating legs of lamb for forty-eight hours and cooking them for twelve, after which one wolf could strip one to the bone in about three minutes. For Sunday, though, human and fae numbers were up, wolf ones down, so subtle might be appreciated, and legs came out of the freezer to defrost while I made a batch of marinade involving an absurd amount of yoghurt and almost as many herbs and spices needing time to steep. To go with it I'd need only Basmati rice, lightly salted and rainbow-peppered, and a fresh green, which after inspecting the greenhouse was going to be snowpeas. Few as the wolves were they'd want pudding, and berry stocks were depleted, so I decided on trays of baked apples with plenty of raisins, currants, demerara and Barbados sugar, and maple syrup — all to hand, though I gave Yoke's a call to add some occasionals to next week's standing order.
I'd gone on to dinner, assembling steak, fries, and cabbage, when Coyote sauntered in wearing his PR Guru Extraordinaire tee.
"How, most eloquent daughter. Isn't it all fun? Nice trees, too. And what's this about an immodest statue?"
I was not having those pictures sent anywhere, and they'd been removed to a flashdrive. I fired up the laptop and opened the file.
"Oooh!" He flicked through stills and the video Adam had taken, and settled on a view from behind Manannán to the right. "Under-figleafed is right, daughter, and I bet Adam did some growling, but it's a big compliment and very pretty. You get those excellent bones from me, of course, and have your mother's figure, which was to die for." I gave him a look and he gave me one back, eyes glinting. "Then again, I don't believe you ever mentioned quite how big Manannán was."
I shrugged. "He shrank when Underhill took his power, so what I killed was more my own size."
"Good to know. And your point is?"
"How should I know? I have very mixed feelings."
"About being heroic or naked as an under-figleafed jaybird?"
"Both."
"Being larger than life myself, I recommend it." That made me smile. "Better. As to the other, why fret when there's nothing you can do about it? Everyone knows he grabbed you from the shower, and I shouldn't think Underhill could lie about it by putting you in Armani or whatever. Those fig-leaves are probably quite a concession."
"Huh. That's a thought. It's just that it's flicked memories of other … exposures I had no choice about having to learn to live with."
"Ah. The video?" I ejected the flash drive and his voice for once became gentle. "Even by my standards you have had a rough few years, daughter, and MacLandis left almost as bad a taste as vamp dust. But it's all made you grow very interestingly. And really, it's a pretty good statue. We could ask Medicine Wolf to replicate it using what's left of Lawetlat'la and put you in bloomers and a granny bra." I stared at him and he grinned. "Is under-figleafed so very bad by comparison?"
"That's not the point. Are you serious about Lawetlat'la?"
"Maybe. I thought it was one of your better ideas."
"Then just make sure whatever it is, it isn't of me. Medicine Wolf can do a self-portrait."
"That would be spectacular. Mmm." He looked at me carefully. "It is bothering you, isn't it? So here's a plan. If you win — and you're well on the way — I'll have a word with the spirits about getting you the clothes-when-you-change magic. A President Coyote really should have it."
Something very warm was twisting in my heart. "Is that even possible?"
"Usually not, but they're very pleased with you about Celilo Falls, I already have the Coyote version, and being elected president is a high enough bar. Hmmm. It'd make a pretty good inauguration present, and then you could shift and howl assent as well as speaking the oath in Salish, Algonquian, and Spanish,."
That actually sounded right to me, though I doubted I'd be the only one howling. And the idea of having that particular bit of magic was, well, magic, so I fetched the cloak and Manannán's Bane, explaining the idea, and set them by him on the table.
"Have a conversation about it, please. I might well be wearing and carrying them if I need to shift, and if, as ap Lugh keeps saying, I am integrating things well, their magics deserve a lot of the credit."
"You are and they do." He peered. "This has some serious punch."
"It's been boosted. Oh, and do I assume rightly that there will be a poster saying What she said ?"
"Of course, but I need to see all the footage because I want a shot with their faces in. Their expressions were priceless."
"Talk to Jenny. And you'll need individual permissions."
"Really? Boring."
"They did unanimously give you back Celilo Falls."
"True. Oh well. Maybe I could photoshop faces in instead, but they all looked so very surprised."
"They might be willing, you know, but asking matters. And if you turned up when the houses were in session, you'd only have to do two trips. You could thank them, and goose them again."
"Points, points. I'll think about it. You Anglos have so many rules."
I stuck out my tongue, and he laughed, but noise announced Jesse's return from school with Dan, Marine Joe, and Ranger Joe, the guys wary as they saw Coyote, and Jesse looking pensive but brightening.
"Hey Gramps, Mom. What's up?"
"Your mother's pledge numbers, mostly, Graught. How was school?"
"Insane."
I looked at Dan. "Problem?"
"Sorta, Mercy. I did want a word."
"Of course. Let me introduce my living father."
I did, Coyote looking interested, and made coffee and hot chocolate.
"I have guesses, but insane how, Jesse?"
"Every which way, Mom. Teachers as distracted as everyone, all wanting to ask mostly inane questions, plus SAGE and the post-Parkland people. They have genuine conflicts about going with gun enthusiasts, but see the real shot at significantly better control. I got to answer some social media in Civics, with permission and the class giving input, but I need to do a lot more." Jesse took a deep breath. "I made a decision you might not like, too, but I had more than one reason."
"Un huh." I raised an eyebrow. "It was, and they were?"
"I talked to Ms Zeeman, and decided I can't do South Pacific, because one, I'm not the only person who could do that part so I'm not doing them down at all, two, the vamp and safety thing, and three, time management. Ms Zeeman asked what my commitment to you was, and whether I could honestly commit to the rehearsal schedule she wants, and I couldn't."
"OK. And you do or don't regret this, ex-kiddo?"
"A little, but I'd have had to dye my hair some boring shade of black. I want to see it, but the real show is more important. You're not upset?"
"No. I'd have been proud to see you knock 'em dead, but nervous for you, and Adam would have had kittens having to watch you romance someone and die, however on stage. And I'm just as proud of you for making a rational and clear choice under multiple pressures from many directions. Why does this become a problem?"
"Dan?"
"You have truly lit people up, Mercy. Most are positive but the pressure of kids trying to get to Jesse today was heavy. We had to muscle up in a new way on school premises."
"Well, hell. It should drop off, some at least, Dan, as novelty wears off, but I'll talk to Billings, and if kids are being stupid we can try some intimidation. David Christiansen will be here next week, and he scares the unruly well."
"I appreciate the impulse, but insisting on SOP is not what you're about. I was wondering about taking control of it. I didn't have a chance to ask Ms Stallings, but she's never had a student's mom running for president, and I think she'd be good with me doing a weekly brief." I got a wary look. "I know you and Dad have mixed feelings, but one thing I've wondered about is local reaction when the vamp thing breaks, because you are going to be busy with national and international reaction."
I couldn't deny it. "What do you have in mind, Jesse?"
"I have a nasty feeling I'm underestimating how much hassle it will be, but having constant guards marks me whether or not anyone knows my face, and you set a high bar for honesty, so I'm not unwilling to waive no images. I was wondering if KEPR or KNEW could be persuaded to set up a video intranet that'd take in Sally's and Jenna's schools, maybe others. Not a campaign — much — but sharing educational experience."
I blinked, and Coyote whistled.
"That's good thinking, Graught. Have another Coyote point."
The problem with ex-kiddos is they are ex, and as it occurred to me I felt about Jesse and the media more or less how Adam felt about her and rampant boys I made myself do some hard thinking. Or accepting — Jesse had dealt well with a great deal she should never have had to cope with at all, and was doing it some more. When Adam came in a while later, curious about the vets' continued presence, I bullet-pointed it for him. He held me, listening carefully, closed his eyes for a moment before giving a rueful nod, and looked Jesse in the eye.
"Sure, Jesse? It's very good thinking, but you are not obligated in any way, to me or Mercy, and there will be an irreversible cost to going public most of a year before you have to."
"I know, Dad, but yeah, I am. And while I know what you mean, yes, I am obligated, more ways than I can count. Most fathers would have abandoned me to Christy, and there isn't another stepmom in the world who'd have done for me what Mercy has. And it's not just to you both. Kiddos live in a strange, strange world, that keeps getting stranger and is burning up, so the consensus is that we need the preternatural to break the status quo so our own kiddos do not need thermal suits to take a walk."
There was no arguing with that, so after some emotional moments that had Dan dabbing an eye and Marine Joe beaming like a lighthouse, Adam called Stallings, who loved the idea, and, keeping her on the line, Caroline and Penny. Both were sure their stations would be good with it if clips could be broadcast. Andrea had headed to Philly, but Jenny was around, and said she'd be happy to draw up contracts and disclaimers.
/Caroline, Penny, filming on school premises, you could not broadcast faces of minors whose parents did not consent, so audience shots might be a problem, but not Jesse saying whatever. And as you're talking about schools in each Tri-City, talk to the three mayors tomorrow, and the governor. Oregon too. When this leaks, I will not be surprised if there are requests nationwide, and — no disrespect, Caroline — a PBS intranet might play very well for everyone. More very smart thinking, Mercy./
"Jesse's, not mine, Jenny. I wanted to scare everyone hassling her into pale submission, but she knows better."
/Huh. Give her a big thumbs-up from me, then./
Dan and both Joes agreed, as did Adam and I, for all we felt a little … not squicked, exactly, but sad despite our loving admiration. But that was going to have to wait, because it was nearly six. I thanked Stallings, Caroline, and Penny, cut connections, and on the hour hit the speed dial.
/What do you want? If it's my vote you can whistle for it./
"Good evening to you too, Marsilia, and being both dead and Italian you don't have a vote. What I want is a call to Bonarata, tomorrow at this time, in which I will speak for myself and Adam, the Marrok, Gray Lords, Elder Spirits, Medicine Wolf, and the Man. You'll need a large screen."
/You would speak to the Master?/
"Yup. The status quo is not sustainable, Marsilia. Anyone who's half-way sane knows it. Set the call up, or find yourselves blindsided."
/Humans do not know of our existence./
"Really? You killed those three captives of Cantrip, and we suppressed the torture data, so no human holding high office knows vamps exist? Try turning your brain on, Marsilia." My hand found Adam's. "Of course they know about vamps. D'oh. And as you may not have noticed in your undeadness, Elder Spirits and avatars, wolves, and Gray Lords are all now oathbound by treaty to the safety of US citizens. If you really don't know, Marsilia, ask Stefan why he treats his sheep so much better than you treat yours or oblige vamps you call yours to treat theirs. The window in which vamps can freeload on Bonarata's arrogant stupidity, assuming every other kind will dishonour themselves to protect your witless self-indulgence has closed. So unless you want to find yourself deported to Italy in an unbreakable plastic coffin, or staked like the victim in Murder on the Orient Express, set it up, and set your own seethe in order." I really didn't like Marsilia, and irritation with idiots as well as disquiet over Jesse growing up twined into a saw-toothed snarl. "We kept you out of it with Gauntlet Boy, Bennet, Blackwood, and last year. No more, Marsilia. Killing those prisoners we freed wasn't only as vile as it gets, it was as dumb as it gets. Basta! I'll call again at 6 tomorrow, with company"
I cut the call, hand shaking, as Adam wrapped a warm arm around me.
"May not have noticed in your undeadness ?"
"Made sense when I said it, love." I shrugged. "Vamps have a different tunnel vision than Medicine Wolf."
Coyote hooted laughter, and Marine Joe, more usefully, rose, visited the fridge, and spun me a beer.