Chapter Twenty-Seven

I'd kept Saturday free because I really did want down time, but I'd known there were bound to be loose ends needing attention. I hadn't known a Mississippi manitou would be among them, but it joined a list that began with the proper workout I hadn't been able to fit in yesterday. Adam and I, with Brent and Jesse, also put in a range session, getting muscles used to the fractional difference lighter wooden bullets made to the kick of Glocks. It wasn't a problem with a first shot, but for an immediate second allowance had to be made, and when we were done Adam went to make sure others appreciated that, while I checked on matters earth fae — all was well with old and, I was assured, new — then made an encrypted call. The AED had promised Leslie would see the recording of last night, and I fielded guarded congratulations covering real shock.

"AED was shaken hard, Mercy, and so was I. Sauron the super orc was spot on, but you didn't bat an eyelid."

"Huh. Bonarata's power was getting to you from the recording?"

"Oh yeah."

"Can you describe it, as you felt it?"

"Urgh. Maybe. There was straight menace, like pressure. Walking into a strong wind, maybe. But also …" She flushed a little. "Out with it, girl. It was sexual, Mercy. I talked to the AED about it, a little, and it wasn't for him. But for me it was like the sort of jerk who's absolutely sure he's gonna have you naked and helpless whatever you want, and tells you so, amused by your refusal. I wanted to shower afterwards, and how you shrugged it off so easily I have no idea, unless it was the cloak."

"Huh. That's just an oversize version of vamp seduction. You want me, in every way, little human." I shrugged. "Girl vamps do it too. It's always bounced right off me, as wolf dominance does. Were you tempted?"

"God, no. I'd as soon shimmy out of my dress for a rabid alligator."

"Yeah. Question is, though, was it not working for him because of technology in the way, or for some other reason? Vamps in person …" I tried to find words. "I said they bounce off me, and they do, except Stefan a little, for complicated reasons, and I trust him. Mostly. But I've seen it work on humans, and I can see why. Can't speak for guys, but for women, well, you know that joke about the old man who gets all the women he wants just by licking his eyebrows?"

She stared. "No, but I can imagine it. And yeah, some of that. Bonarata's cold, but he wanted me thinking … or you thinking, about heat."

"Right. But not cold in every way, I sincerely hope, because I want him running hot and dry, liable to jam. Did the AED explain why I was deliberately riling him and making seeming newbie mistakes?"

"Un huh. I'm still processing. And I agree with him and the Chair of the Joint Chiefs about guts, Mercy. The AED said you impressed the living hell out of every human who heard you, and you can add me to that list. You nailed them as well as Bonarata. But I'll stop embarrassing you. Tell me what you can about Marsilia and Wulfe?"

That was reasonable, so I did, before she gave Jude and Jenna a shout while I collected Jesse, and we settled to the manitou question. Jude had been born in Chicago, where he and Leslie met, but his parents were from the Mississippi Delta, and when I'd said the national human meaning of the Mississippi was bound to our worst racial history I hadn't meant only the startling fertility of the Delta's double flood-plain, or what that plus the cotton gin had meant for Africans stolen to work its dense plantations, but also the massive internal migration that had followed the river north. Some of the millions of nominally free but violently Jim-Crowed African Americans who'd flowed out of the south in the second quarter of the twentieth century stopped in Memphis or St Louis and East St Louis, and a few went all the way to the Twin Cities, but most who headed north branched off through Peoria to Chicago, creating its notorious South Side. And as the Blues had gone with them, and electric, the South Side continued to tell us that even with the laws and city ordinances of Jim Crow banished into history its realities and effects did more than linger.

Jude and Jenna might be excluded from Leslie's work, but there had been media discussion of possible manitous, and both took the Mississippi Basin wanting a word in their strides. Having a voice in the form it might take was another matter, and I'll confess to butterflies, because even with friendship and goodwill racial history is a raw topic. But they appreciated my asking advice because I knew to my bones that however I was a half-Blackfeet coyote-girl who knew about bigotry first-hand, I was not African-American and would not presume to speak for those who were. Jude leaned back, and spread large hands.

"I don't often feel inadequate, Mercy, but I don't usually try to think on the scale you manage, and you do ask quite the questions."

"Doesn't she, Dad?" Jenna was wide-eyed. "How big would an Ol' Manitou River be, Mercy?"

"As big as it wanted, Jenna. I was thinking Medicine-Wolf-size, even in human form, because unanswerably big induces respect from the start."

"You have that right." Jude grinned at Leslie, who grinned back. "Been a while since I was knee-high to anything on two legs."

"So we're talking what amounts to a black superhero." Jenna laughed. "A fifteen-foot real black superhero. Marvel and DC can go whistle."

"There's that, but one caution. Dark-complected, I thought, yes, but manitou aren't for any one group — they are all their ecosystems — and while I don't much care about Anglo sensibilities there are a lot of First People in the Mississippi Basin who've been there a long while. And this manitou will also be very important in re-establishing bison migration."

"Right. Sorry." She nodded. "But an oversize superhero of serious colour is just as good. We can do lots of stuff with that, Jesse."

"You bet. We'll have to see what it's willing to do, but Mom says Medicine Wolf spoke well of it. And I know my experiences as a wolf's daughter don't stack up against yours, but if the name of the game is messing positively with people's heads, and Gramps is involved …" She turned to look at me. "I've been wondering how much it matters who this manitou reads first. You said Medicine Wolf wants number one to be you, which has to be right, but numbers two to whatever? If there were African Americans among them, would it induce a … I don't want to say bias, as we want shot of those, but a helpful perspective, maybe?"

"I'd think so, Jesse. And Leslie, Jude, Jenna, Medicine Wolf was wanting to read more African Americans, to get perspective to offer its neighbour, so I ask you all if you're willing to be read Sunday, and for suggestions as to who else would be good for it." My brain was spinning. "That will have to happen here, but suppose people were from the length of the Mississippi and its major tributaries, New Orleans to Chicago, Pittsburgh to Denver, and connected to the river, its living force and importance as well as its history, racial and otherwise. I can subsidise transport as necessary."

Jude's face lit up. "That sounds good, Mercy, and I know or can get to people in quite a few places. That would be a good mix for meeting this new manitou as well — a sign of respect, no?"

"Un huh." I thought some more. "St Louis, maybe, by that arch. I'd need to include governors and preternaturals will want to show respect." He nodded. "But I would surely like a parade of African Americans proudly stepping up, and that would hit a lot of buttons." Another idea curled. "One other parameter, maybe — people who really know their Blues, old and new, and a genuine musician or three? I have no idea if Ol' Manitou River could take knowledge of how to play from their heads, or if its magic will run to a guitar, but the idea of it doing 'Steady Rolling Man' or 'Come On in My Kitchen' seems pretty good just now."

Jude and Leslie stared, but Jenna laughed and so did Jesse.

"'Freedom Song'."

"Oh yeah. And some Soul."

I shook my head, not in denial. "We'll see, ex-kiddos. Don't try to run before you can walk."

"Right." Jesse nodded, grinning. "But you're popping what seem to me very good ideas, Mom." Her gaze shifted. "I know you're already on board, Mr Fisher, but it's a pure example of what I call Mom being left-field awesome. If she'd said make it a giant bison or ten-ton catfish, because we need to talk ecology, no-one could complain. But no, it's How can we use this to go on making things better for everyone?. I've got to the point of expecting it, and it still blows me away every time."

Jude's smile was gorgeous and encompassed us both.

"Don't think a ten-ton catfish would work too well, Jesse — it just makes me think of a really large barbecue. Catfish are good eating. But I hear you. Will this all happen before November, Mercy?"

"My call. I can see the political boost, but no great manitou should be a prop and it matters a great deal more than my being elected."

"Huh. Points. But maybe not the last. If we want New Orleans free of flood risk, or just levees that don't favour white wards when they fail" — this smile was sharp enough to cut — "I know who I want talking to this manitou, and it ain't anyone else running for president. Besides, you've got about ninety percent of the Black vote stitched, so don't think of it as fast business on the campaign trail. It's just beginning to deliver early on electoral promises."

"Good one, love." Leslie dropped a hand on Jude's arm and nodded at me. "An earnest, Mercy. Not that one's needed — you have that vote and others because you have already delivered for every minority — but you're you, and always go the extra mile. The timing might seem ethically unfortunate, because you have more scruples than anyone else I've ever seen who wields anything like your power, but I'd file under synergy. So would Medicine Wolf, I bet."

I didn't disagree, though the rest embarrassed me. But Great Manitous did what they wanted, and if Medicine Wolf offered a choice about another one coming out, that other one had already agreed.

"Don't be sure about scruples, Leslie. I may not bag the Prime Directive as easily or often as Kirk, but you know I've done it all the same." In this company I couldn't yet say more about setting up Bonarata and a bunch of his and Marsilia's minions, but hoped she understood. "On the rest, though, maybe."

"Don't fret it. Uhura kissed Kirk silly even if it did take alien influence."

I laughed and left them to start calling people, alarmed Adam with a summary report, and dragged him upstairs to take out the small change. When we were done, loosely holding one another, we caught each other up. I learned things various Directors had had to say, confirming the AED's take, with a Pentagon request that amused me, and told Adam about represent-the-length-and-breadth-of-the-Mississippi-Basin, making him rest his head on my shoulder.

"Hey!" I tapped his butt, happily within reach. "At least Jesse and Jenna haven't got on to a rapping Ol' Manitou River yet. Though while we're about it, a Troll Grunge band might have some mileage." He hunched deeper into my shoulder, but I could tell he was smiling, and kissed the top of his head. "Don't fret, love. Irpa likes swing, so we can have them do a retro evening, and get some proper dancing in."

When he raised his head to stare at me the smile was still there.

"Only you, love."

"Un huh. And here's another."

"Uh oh."

"Try un huh. When Jesse proposed that intranet, it occurred to me I feel about her and media the way you feel about her and boys. But she knows how to deal, and I'm trying to recalibrate. How are you with that?"

He sighed, and rolled onto his back. "Trying, love. I know it'll happen soon. You were right about ex-kiddo, no matter how much I want to lock her away from anything with a … different plumbing."

"I believe you could say dick to me without breaking anything, love."

"Maybe. But I wouldn't be proud of it."

"You're so sweet, sometimes."

"Honourable men do not talk about dicks to their wives."

"Just show, not tell, then?"

"Low blow."

"And your point is?"

"I have no idea. Except I'm her dad."

"Yup. Which means letting go, as well as holding fast. Tricky, isn't it?"

"You could say. Any reason you're asking me about this now?"

"Not of the plumbing variety. It was hearing Jesse and Jenna be so very ex-kiddos. And seeing Jenna coping made me think about how much Jesse's coped, and how well. Even for you, love, being squicked by it, the upside is that Jesse will have someone to hold her when nightmares call."

"Werewolves do not get squicked."

"Right."

"Damn right." Adam sighed again. "But I hear you." He turned to face me, and I rolled my head on the pillow. "Christy been bothering you at all?"

"Nope. Silence in that department. And if she ever says anything to me about Jesse and those of the other-plumbing persuasion I'll have Skuffles bite her butt."

A slow smile spread on his face. "You would, too. And I never have properly thanked you for easing Jesse through understanding just how messed up her mom can be."

He had, several times, but I was happy to have him do so again, if barely able to move afterwards. He wrapped heavy, warm arms around me.

"How scared are you, truly, love?"

"Spitless." I snuggled in. "I talked about it a bit with Leslie. She felt Bonarata's would-be seductiveness as well as menace, but it made her recoil. Slid past me like dominance. But the … egofury? Resentful loathing of … interruption, anyway, was …" I turned words. "Smirching. Like another mechanic deliberately wiping fingers on you."

Adam considered me. "I get that. So he made it personal some more, and that eases your honourable but silly guilt about setting him up, at great personal risk. But less than it should, because you played him like a banjo and that sits wrong too, despite everything."

I swallowed. "More or less. I am sorry I'm so ridiculous, and so glad you get me even so."

"Not ridiculous, love. And back atcha." He swallowed too. "Christy never saw past my surface to what it holds in, as well as hides." He closed his eyes before opening them wide and looking right through me. "We haven't talked about your immortality. Do you have any idea how exultant I am?"

"Some, but it raises the … potential cost of risks we run. Asks a hard question or nine about Jesse, too."

"Oh yeah. But I knew about that one. Didn't know about the chance we have, if we avoid getting killed." Something settled in his eyes. "This is long-shot territory, but Bran dangled being a former president in front of you, and I've been wondering why there aren't more ex-Alphas." I blinked before raising an eyebrow. "More wolves are getting older. Leading a pack is good, but also a chore, and in time more of a bore, while seconds and thirds are getting older too. Plus Bran needs more support, and that's going to be urgent if you win, which I always thought you could and now think you will. If we don't all die."

"If, yeah. How are you with Bonarata?"

"Conflicted. Half of me wants to gibber, the other half to strut around asking if everyone gets just how superbly tough my woman is."

"No tougher than my man." We kissed. "And the third half?"

"On the fence." He grinned at me, nerves showing in his underlying tautness. "Like you, love, I will only find ease when Bonarata is dust, and maybe not then. But I feel more confident. Last night, you were on script throughout and he didn't know what was hitting him. Nor did anyone, except maybe Wulfe. I agree with ap Lugh you raised the chances of it working out, so this battle-plan has survived contact with the enemy."

"Huh. Who said that?"

"Von Moltke. Proper translation's wordier, but comes down to No Battle Plan survives Contact with the Enemy. But this one might."

"Not only mine. Coyotes scavenge, and I've done a bunch of that."

"Even so, love. You put it together, and are making it work. Bonarata was face to face with Bran, ap Lugh, Nemane, Elder Spirits, and the President plus top execs, and from five seconds in didn't even think about speaking to anyone other than you even though you sold him a pup. Which for my money is gonna cost him everything a lot sooner than he's ever dreamed possible."

"We can hope."

"With increasingly good reason, love. And if anything suggests he's actually getting smart, Plan B will kick in."

"Yeah." Plan B involved greater risk to a lot of Italian wolves, including one Anna had met and liked, so I was really hoping not to go there, however its existence was a comfort. "Spreading the risk doesn't help my heart much, though."

"Can't say it doesn't help mine some, however I cut it. But it's already dark, and if you're willing to skip dinner, how about sleeping hard? We'll need it, even if it makes us greedy at pack breakfast tomorrow."

That was true, and after a brief consultation with my stomach, which I won, I fell asleep in Adam's arms, and had sweeter dreams than I'd enjoyed the night before.