II: Mayhem and Magic

28th April – 11th May

Chapter Twenty-Nine

MONDAY started normally, for my new value of normal, with the interview for Leslie's friend Maya Lucas as Mary's assistant. Some media had trailed after Wiseman and Westfield last night, but Maya still had to endure clattering cameras and pointless questions, and climbed out of her hybrid Nissan shaking her head. I met her in the hall, and Mary introduced us.

"I've seen them on TV, but I'd forgotten how annoying they are, Ms Hauptman, until I saw your husband tell them off yesterday. I thought he was quite restrained, and now I think it was very restrained."

"Me too, Ms Lucas. They seem to feel my week of silence is a tease."

"Whereas that's actually a side-benefit?"

I laughed, liking her attitude. "You could say, though I was just giving people time to digest surprise. And they'll settle down some, we hope, when there are regular press conferences."

I opted as usual for the kitchen, and made coffee and hot chocolate. Jill was sitting-in, as a way of getting used to my patterns. I had a few questions arising from Maya's CV, but a blip in her pre-maternal job had, as I'd suspected, had a racist component, and slapping any groper was fine by me. It explained why she was wary of returning to a corporate environment, and interested by a more personal position, though she hadn't anticipated how high profile it was about to become. Then again, that didn't bother her, though flexibility did.

"My youngest is sixth-grade, the school bus picks up and drops off at the end of the street, and she'll get on with her work, or surf for a while, but my husband's Pasco PD, so he can be on late shift and even good kids have limits. And there's illness, snow days, whatever. I'll be straight, Ms Hauptman — I asked Leslie when this all came up, and though she won't say much, your contact with her being work, she did say you'd be OK with someone who works hard having an actual life with stuff that happens."

"Not a problem, Ms Lucas. Your older kids are eighth- and ninth-grade?"

"Un huh."

"Any likely stuff there?"

"Not so much. I hope. Teenagers. But they're boys who worship their dad, who has very strong values, and so far we've had nothing worse than some vanilla porn and dubious dancehall. And I'll be straight again — all my kids are very up for meeting you, if they get the chance."

"Me or Medicine Wolf, Coyote, and whoever?"

"Oh them too, sure, but no, you. Woman of colour who stood up and smacked the government so hard it actually took notice. We'd told them about Amerindian culture, taking them to museums and Yakama Nation Open Days, so they were ripe for #SheCalledThunderbird! and still are. Leslie agrees you're seriously cool, and she doesn't impress easily."

"Ah." I rocked my head. "They should meet Mary's two sometime. Same problem, but I've rubbed off some of the glitter."

"Sure. But to me and Boz, my husband, it's not a problem, Ms Hauptman. You are a very good role model. You talk the talk, very funnily often enough, but you also walk the walk, and when you do, righteous stuff happens. What's not to like?"

I sighed. "That would be the growing burden of responsibility, Ms Lucas. But your kids should meet Jesse and Sally Willis. You've been straight, so I will be too. I'm looking to change things, long-term, and that means getting to kiddos and ex-kiddos. Join up, and your kids will get recruited to pushing peer-to-peer education and what we're calling Others 101 — everything from Hey, there are boys slash girls to Quiltbag, wolves, fae, elder spirits, manitous. Learn to deal, guys and gals."

"Others 101?" She grinned. "Recruit away. I've seen you protect Miss Hauptman, just a little, and all her schoolfellows. You wouldn't have the votes you do if we didn't trust you to protect our kids."

I swallowed, both humbled and exultant. "That makes my heart very full, Ms Lucas. But being close to me is also a genuine risk-factor. Sticking with what's public, this week I annoyed every preterophobe, both main parties, the NRA with all extremist gun-nuts, and the yellower press. I have major security, physical and magical, if you are visible next to me you will need to be careful, and will face an elevated risk. So will your family, because bad guys are bad. If you're going to do this, your husband and children should understand all that, and not dissent."

"Yeah. Leslie gave Boz and me a heads-up about that, and we've talked about it. The haters I understand, and fruitcakes, and they'll be drawn to you for the same reason we all are. But Boz walks out in uniform every day, so we know about heightened risk … as humans. With you, though, there's some preternatural more, isn't there, that you can't tell me about until I'm signed up, and maybe not then?"

"Yup. And plenty of it. My life is insanely complicated, and winning, if I do, will not help. I have always attracted trouble, and always will. Coyotes do. I am trying hard to reduce the threat environment for everyone, and I don't think I've done badly so far, but my presence elevates risk that will spread to your family, and you need to be good with that, which a sane person very reasonably wouldn't be."

She looked at me hard. "Scruples, Leslie said. Am I correct you want me to accept an offer, so you're pouring on the warnings?"

I liked her even more. "Un huh. Leslie told me I'd like you. I have also had to argue this with Jesse, who vetoed Adam's veto on me running."

"Yeah. Jenna told me Wednesday. I hear you, Ms Hauptman, but my kids have a veto veto too, and I know when I've been served it. They've done it before, and did again this morning, when we heard the statement Wiseman gave about coming to see you not because of your candidacy but because of your role in the Columbia Restoration and Cascadia projects."

I nodded, and held out a hand. "Welcome aboard, Maya. Mary will take you to Jenny's to look over the contract. There's a bunch of secrecy stuff, national and preternatural, but as soon as you sign they can brief you on what matters." She nodded. "Meantime, if you'll give me an oath of secrecy until this one breaks, there's something I'd appreciate thoughts on."

When she had I laid out Ol' Manitou River and my thoughts on its manifestation, earlier readings, and desirable affinity for Sam Fathers and Robert Johnson. Very wide eyes looked at me.

"This is a hypothetical, Mercy, right?"

"Nope, a practical. The Mississippi Basin is going to manifest. It will manifest as whatever it wants. But it has, indirectly, asked for advice, so I am canvassing opinions. Jude and Jenna are in this loop. It's a great manitou, so none of us get to decide for it, ever, but we have voices it'll hear. You do. If you want."

"You bet I want. Fuck. Sorry." I held back a grin, thinking even Adam might be more amused than not. "Medicine Wolf asked you about this, and you thought of Ol' Manitou River first off?"

"Yeah. But what do I know? I'm a Pacific North-Western coyote-girl, and though I listen seriously to Blues my ancestors weren't kidnapped from Africa and horribly enslaved on another continent."

"Maybe not, Mercy, but you get it. And asking me about this has taken my breath away. Damn. This is going to be so much really scary fun."

"Oh yeah. I'm just hoping the fun wins."

Mary took Maya to Jenny's, and I made a call to let her know they were on their way that extended, filling me in on hiring, launch and rally plans, and updates on the website after Wednesday. Jenny passed me to Andrea for news from other Basin states, happy with the joint bill and busy preparing their own versions. Canada worked differently, but was in hand. Andrea had also had a conversation with a fascinated if alarmed Frank, and I reassured her I was good, if still thinking hard about implications.

Those stayed at the top of the agenda when Leslie called a while later, or rather SAC Fisher did, sounding wry.

/Nothing on vamp dust yet, Ms Hauptman, though I had the pleasure of croggling a senior chemist at Quantico, but we've done ballistics on that rifle, which European police are very interested in. A score of open cases, no less, in six countries over forty-odd years. Explaining that we have only dust has been … tricky./

"An advanced state of decomposition?"

/That's the one, and fortunately there are no travel records saying that's not naturally possible. Mr di Ragusa has been a busy boy, though, and more than half his victims were in one or another form of organised crime — drugs and people smuggling, mostly, but there were politicians in there, and a magistrate./

I shrugged. "Surprise. The CIA will be briefing European authorities on that. Neither wolves nor fae have much intel — surveilling Eurovamps is not our business — but the Marrok and Gray Lords knew Bonarata was into mafia stuff, and had plenty of politicians in his pocket. Whether they know whose pocket they're in, though …"

/Yeah. I wondered about that. No local hotel booking in di Ragusa's name, nor any registered guest who's disappeared./

"He'd have stayed at Marsilia's, I'd think. And probably translocated, so I wouldn't waste resources, given that he's done and dusted."

/You could say./ Leslie blew out a breath. /I am not squicked, but I am still kinda freaked./

"Seeing is believing."

/Un huh. But it's more the oak than the vampire. Huorns got real on me, fast. And others./

"Me too, SAC, and Gwyn ap Lugh and The Dagda were as surprised as I've ever seen them. But while I'm pretty happy about it, I reinforce what I said last night — I do not want his method of demise discussed at all, because it points to things I'd greatly prefer Bonarata not wonder about, and the jacket and shirt will only tell them he was staked, not how."

/Un huh. I'm not sure I can quite get my head around being surprised by your own defences, Ms Hauptman./

"Synergy happens, SAC. Living beings do their own thing. And there's a long association of sacred groves with blood and magic. Aulis and Colonus, as well as all those Welsh druids. Or file under cloak."

/I guess. And thanks to someone for the data from the phone and wallet. Oddly, all the bank accounts have been siphoned dry./

"Money's in the Borrowed Warchest — more tens of millions, though he put his main wealth in real estate. But there was some data on the phone behind hard encryption that has the Marrok rethinking Plan B, so there might be some interesting Italian news, by the by."

/Huh. Never a dull moment. Any local reaction yet?/

"Not a peep. Warren said a sheep answered the door, and he saw no-one else. It'll be a night or two, I'd think. After Wednesday might appeal to Bonarata's vanity."

/Vanity? Damn. I'm not sure how you stay so calm, Mercy./

"No point fretting, Leslie, and my stomach can mind its own. I've rolled the dice, and done all I can to weight them."

/Even so. Hang on./ Something bleeped and I heard her clicking. /Oh ho. Main parties are making a joint statement at 4 p.m. Eastern. National Committee chairs, majority and minority leaders, and candidates./

1 p.m. Pacific was only forty minutes away. They'd been quicker than they might have been, but their silence in the Sunday papers had been deafening, and the speed suggested they were taking the easy option.

"Interesting. You want to bet a Benny's pie about what they'll say?"

/Not much. You're usually way ahead of the curve. I'll take the prediction, though./

"No pie, no prophecy. But I think they're going to do what I want. Work it out."

She thought I was mean, but Maya Lucas pleased her better, and we rang off. Bran and ap Lugh already knew about the ballistics report and the cases it matched, and ap Lugh let me know the oakmen had returned Underhill and reported the oak recovering and quite proud of itself.

"It is digesting your concern for its welfare, Mercy, and I am sorry it doesn't have a vote. Not that huorns would attend a polling station."

I grinned. "Shame. It would be quite the photo op, if they allowed photography."

"Indeed. If we had some bacon, we could have bacon and eggs, if we had some eggs."

"That's the one. But tell me what oaks like, if you will. I do appreciate that one's … initiative."

"So delicately put. And besides good earth and clean water, I have no idea how to reward an oak. The question has not arisen before."

"Huh. Winter trunk warmer? Branch accessories?"

He shook his head, smiling. "Ask it, if you will. A name, perhaps."

"Maybe, but I don't want Leafy the Vampire Slayer out there just yet."

I thought for a second he might roll his eyes, but only shook his head again. "Oaks have some dignity, Mercedes."

"So did Buffy, in her own sweet way. I'll think about it. But there's a joint statement to enjoy coming up. All guns blazing, I should think."

He would too, and neither of us was disappointed. Adam rescheduled appointments, and we watched it together, with Brent, Warren, and Jill. It turned out declared candidates meant only senior men, two younger women being absent, and it started with national chairs deploring the Man's actions and reasoning, implying an unhealthy loss of perspective in an unfortunate obsession with the preternatural, but conceding Basin states were in a peculiar position, given the Columbia Restoration, so they would take no action against governors who had endorsed me. Any further endorsements, however, would lead to withdrawal of funding, expulsion, and official candidates to run against incumbents. I rubbed my hands, and Adam nodded.

"They're letting themselves in for a ruinous bunfight. Bile all over."

"Yup. The Basin doesn't need a double standard."

"Nice one. Say that on Wednesday."

"Oh yeah. And here we go."

Candidates were on, and as I'd expected their chosen route was a collective impression of John McEnroe going You cannot be serious! I'd said it myself — too young, no experience, a coyote-girl — but that didn't stop them repeating it, often, and adding plenty of their own. I was plainly unfit in every way, not to be trusted in the least, and killing a federal agency that had become hopelessly corrupt was no kind of evidence I could work with ones that hadn't. I might be married to a vet, but could not hope to understand or sensibly control our great armed services, and the bi-state Columbia bill showed my absurdly skewed priorities. Moving interstates and railways was quixotic — one of them said so — and puerile, not the sort of thing any potential president should countenance, and amounted to a land-grab by Elder Spirits on the back of the deal the Yakama had made. It was true I'd done the nation a service in exposing Cantrip, though no-one mentioned Heuter, but my eyes had grown a great deal bigger than my head, I'd bitten off more than I could chew, and was additionally flailing about in the dark while already way out of my depth.

"Lucky you have excellent night-vision and can swim, then."

"Isn't it, Brent?"

Then the ones who took NRA money turned on SAGE, denouncing it as the Thin End of the Wedge and a Threat to All Patriotic Americans — what else could they try? — and a couple denounced doing anything sensible about drugs, attacking my offensive levity and defeatism about the noble war of purity the right-thinking properly waged on behalf of all children. Jibes about Adam came in, it not being a good idea to have a presidential spouse who went furry at full moons and chased animals, nor a president who went along with it. But none of them said anything at all about crowdfunding, or the numbers on the website, and they were far more mealy-mouthed than I'd expected about Frank and a crowdsourced slate — only a few invocations of a wildly woolly plan indicating my gross unsuitability for the serious business of national security and governance. Wednesday would change that, and I was rubbing hands some more, though the relentless invective was a bore, when thoughts coalesced.

"You know, Adam, it strikes me that if they all feel so strongly about this, I should offer them an early TV debate to prove their points and catch me out on whatever."

He looked at me steadily. "Un huh. And you feel so generous because?"

"Debate could be in St Louis. Washington University's hosted them before. Make it happen a lot sooner than later and I could meet Ol' Manitou River, so that's out of the way before campaigning really begins. Quite different from anything electoral, and I like clear boundaries."

"Of course you do. Alright, I see that, love. And the other shoe is?"

"I was thinking end of next week. Assume the seethe attack's been and gone, with the results we're hoping for, meaning a very jumpy Bonarata has to upgrade whatever he deploys. A late afternoon walk from the riverside to wherever would be a nice predictable target."

He was silent but his brain was working, and after a moment he nodded. "Too long a timescale and things will leak while he gets to recalibrate."

"Yes. And if Bran can pull off that bit of Plan B …"

"He'll be under immense pressure. You're offering a path of least resistance, going off your own ground, out of the Basin. I loathe the risk, but I see the shape of it. Suppose he reverts to sniping?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, but that's true anywhere. I asked the cloak about fogging telephoto lenses of all kinds, and it didn't disagree. Manannán's Bane, too. But there's psychology. Will clinical efficiency be enough for him, when he's 161 billion and change down, maybe much more, plus di Ragusa and whoever? What little he did say was about making my death worse, so that might weigh — he'll want me to see it coming."

All that had, however oddly, made Adam less unhappy, and Brent and Warren, while Jill was looking at me inscrutably, saying nothing, so while he went back to work I started one ball rolling by calling Medicine Wolf to ask about a swifter timetable. There were enough ramifications it said it'd come by, and did, head half-through the back door to read me, as Adam did not want me outside without compelling reason.

If those for me and my neighbour to read can be assembled so soon, Mercy, I think this will be acceptable. My neighbour was interested by your responses, and Raven played it the song you thought of. It quite liked it. It will also be able to warn you of any Undead within its territory. I am not sure I understand making this distinct from your campaign, though. It will boost it, surely?

"Almost certainly, but I'll be seen to try to do the right thing, and it'll be a screwball for other candidates, because if they bring it up to attack me, they'll be boosting the effect and looking silly."

A coyote joke, then?

"A human one, too. Political snookering."

As you will. And once my neighbour is talking to hydro-engineers and governors, it will become a separate process from the election cycle, so that is not untrue. One moment.

Its eyes went distant, and I sensed strong magic swirling somewhere before its gaze sharpened again.

My neighbour is willing, and has decided that unless any of those we are to read object cogently, Ol' Manitou River is acceptable. So is Friday next week. The musical idea is also appealing, but I believe you will get something closer to Paul Robeson than Robert Johnson.

"Huh. Has it heard Robert Johnson?"

Not yet, but I did ask Raven.

"He's not big on Blues — says he'd rather be cheerful. I'll ask Coyote"

How else will you proceed?

I laid it out, and shortly started other balls rolling, talking to Bran and ap Lugh, before calling the Chancellor of WashU. His secretary blinked when I popped onto her screen, cloak round my shoulders, but put me right through. To no-one's surprise he was delighted to make the Athletic Complex available, even with heavy preternatural security involved as well as the Secret Service, and Friday week would be fine.

"I have no guarantee I can make it happen, sir, but I will make the offer publicly Wednesday, and can promise to turn up myself, so even if the rest have enough sense to stay away there'll be something to see."

"Fair enough, Ms Hauptman. The sense to stay away?"

"Oh yeah. That joint statement omitted a bunch of facts, burked critical issues, and didn't do such a good job hiding fear and bigotry. If you keep them from packing the audience — faculty and current students only, select alumni as personal guests — I can give them a much harder time than most will think possible."

"Ah. Yes, I imagine you can. But while I take your point about packing audiences, it could be said that with those restrictions you are doing as much yourself, Ms Hauptman. The university is of course neutral, but your support among 18-to-25s is sky high already."

"Un huh. And you have official main-party campus chapters. Invitations to both, please, and any smaller parties with chapters. I want questions from the floor, and youngsters committed to parties are in an interesting position just now, that for my money Beltway and backroom types should be asking better questions about."

"Ye-es. I can't disagree. And we can hardly be faulted for inviting our own students to attend. In the past we have reserved blocks for St Louis U., UMSL, and Harris-Stowe."

"No problem with that, sir, nor any genuine selection of the public. Just not DC stooges."

"No-one has seriously tried that before, Ms Hauptman."

"Glad to hear it, sir. Thing is, though, both main parties are jammed on this one, and have just shown they'll be going for maximally negative campaigning, while I prefer heading trouble off at the pass."

"Mmm. But what would such stooges do?"

"Inappropriate questions, most obviously. My rape, and killing the rapist. Jesse. Sex on four legs." I shrugged. "Splatter tactics, plus goading in the hope anger will make me say something I shouldn't."

His face showed distaste, but he nodded. "That makes unpleasant sense, and I agree I would not put such tactics past some of your opponents, especially given the statements today. Very well, Ms Hauptman, I will set things in motion here, and get a copy of the standard contract to Ms Trevellyan. What about associated events? Any chance of a class visit or lecture?"

"Um. Maybe, sir, but I have a lot of balls in the air, just now, and will have other engagements in St Louis on the day. Something informal the day after, maybe, but I don't want to agree and then have to let you down. Frank Lafferty could do a lecture on our education policy, though, and the compulsory school course we want, Others 101 — everything from boy and girl cooties to Quiltbag and preternaturals, on the principle that I do not need enemies to know who I am."

"That's a lecture I'd really like to hear."

"I'll ask Frank, and he'll get back to you."

That made for my next call, and after reassuring Frank about all the invective, and giving my assessment of how stupid it had been, with which he agreed, I laid out the new plan, including second and third strings. Ol' Manitou River made him very happy, me being even more obvious bait much less so, but there we were. A lecture was no problem, and he had Jesse's stuff from yesterday, with notes on recruitment paths, so it would be a good chance to lay out the developing policy. With one more box ticked I left him to call the Chancellor, and once Maya returned from Jenny's I set about her and the Fishers, putting searches on overdrive, and then Alphas of major cities on the river and its larger tributaries. Bran would be asking all Alphas, but I wanted First People and African Americans who worked the river, or had, and I thought even the retired would mostly have stayed close. I wasn't telling Alphas everything, yet, but put some urgency into it, and with Ol' Manitou River having agreed the date anyone who fitted the bill could have the request properly explained. There were raised eyebrows, but calls would be made, wolves given orders, and I thanked them nicely. Tom Yearman in St Louis needed a fuller heads-up, so I asked him to stay connected and laid it out again.

"Hell's teeth, Mercy. Has there been an attack already?"

"Yeah. I'm keeping shtum for good reasons, Tom, but di Ragusa is dust as of last night, and the timetable is shortening. Ol' Manitou River will happen anyway, and the debate, or stump speech if the other candidates are sensible. The other might or might not, but making some assumptions I think it's odds-on. There'll be a lot of preternaturals in my entourage."

"I bet. Angus was so right. Darryl, too. Good luck." He flicked pages of a desk diary. "Friday week, mmm. I can be clear all day, and twenty-plus wolves at WashU in the evening is no problem. Early afternoon at the Arch is trickier, though. Eight or ten, maybe, but more would be awkward."

"Not a problem, Tom, and don't give yourself headaches, please. Wolves I have — Freed as well as my own pack — so more perimeter isn't urgent. What might be is numbers after vamps happen, if they do. Might be contained, but could be on the street somewhere. Who knows, but crowds, confused police, and reporters going crazy all seem probable. Leave most of your wolves at work but on call for emergency response?"

"Makes sense." He scratched his head. "You're thinking shots fired, dust in the wind?"

"Yeah. Silver shots too, maybe, if Lenka Yakovlevna's involved."

"Point. You pack silver?"

"And lead, wood, and other things. Mmm. What I don't pack, though, is a white witch. Do you have one?"

"Afraid not." He frowned. "Oh, for reversing her change if she's dead?"

"Un huh. I'll ask Angus about Moira Franklin."

Tom was good with that, so I brought in Angus, already briefed by Bran, and called Moira, assuring both she wouldn't have to be present, just available in case. As human she'd need to fly in, but flights were booked, and hospitality with the St Louis pack sorted for her and her husband. By then I'd had enough of phones, but I sent the Man a message asking him to call when he could, and asked Coyote, when he breezed in, to play Ol' Manitou River as much Robert Johnson as there was, which amused him, while St Louis made him whistle.

"Friday week?" He thought about it. "Hmm. Get it right, strategic daughter, and you'll be laughing."

"Maybe. And if so, won't campaigning from a position of strength be interesting? Advertising parameters might shift, but no discussing that as and until, please."

"That I get. Stalking is quiet-time."

Exactly right, and I smiled daughterly gratitude, posing the question about how to reward the oak, and what a praise-name might be.

"It Grows Through Vampires, of course. Or It Dismisses The Undead, I suppose, if it has those prickly fae ideas about language."

"Huh. Those I'll think about, If Tolkien was on the money, though, maybe it should be longer and accumulative. Great Oak of Underhill that Moved Overhill and Slew the Would-be Assassin of the Self-deluded Roman Dictator of the Undead. Or whatever."

"Maybe, but there's no end to that. And for all we know, including the soil Ph it prefers might please it better. Good for idle moments, though."

More meantime was taken up by an unexpected call from the Director of the CIA, bearing a gift I'd asked for, in the shape of licenses for me, Adam, Jesse, Brent, Dan, and the Joes to carry, concealed and otherwise, in every state. David Christiansen had told me they'd done as much for him and his boys when they got into the rescue business, and with the weapons I might be carrying escalating and a bunch of campaign touring inevitable the idea had come back to me. Adam and Brent already had some states, but now it was all fifty, and Puerto Rico, with blades of any length also covered. Plastic copies would be couriered in, but all were already in effect, and I made gratitude plain.

"No problem, Ms Hauptman, and our righteous pleasure." He hesitated. "Any comment on that statement today?"

"All the better to eat you with, Mr Director. Exactly as anticipated. More detail on Wednesday, and you'll want to keep Friday week clear."

"Because?"

"Payback. Wait and see."

"Right. More fun that way. But I've seen the footage from last night, Ms Hauptman, and I'm still trying to absorb it. The way you read scenes so fast is very impressive. As were your responses, down the line."

More wonder I could do without, but we talked Italy for a few minutes, so he learned a bit more about Plan B possibilities, and I learned he'd reinforced CIA presence there and would respond helpfully, if and when. We were just done when the phone rang, and I put the Man on screen.

"We're strictly one-on-one, sir?"

"We are, Ms Hauptman. Last night or that sorry show today?"

"Both, sir, and Ol' Manitou River, now a confirmed name. A heads-up and the usual request for opinion, very seriously to go nowhere else at all."

"OK. Shoot." He listened with surprise, calculation, and amusement tempered by worry. "Hoo boy. Let me see." He sat motionless, thinking, then raised fingers. "One, so far as I can tell, I agree about Bonarata, especially if that Plan B bit happens. Two, I also agree about the idiot show today, and an early debate offer is way smart. You could whack them sideways anyway, but putting it right after saying hi to Ol' Manitou River is icing a mile thick, and if the other shoe drops, ten miles. Three, yes, I can and will have people on standby if, including myself. But, four, should I not be there to say Hi to the Mississippi Basin?"

"Your call, sir. You're welcome, but if I'm walking provocatively down a dark alley, where are you? And if it does happen, I would be calling you to say Geronimo, so you need to be where you can push the button. Plus, political distancing, however it looks specious from more than one angle. Fly in next day to say hi back yourself?"

"Points, Ms Hauptman. Valid ones, so yes, provisionally." He thought some more, smile widening. "You are seriously good at lining up ducks, and though I'm not sure it's remotely rational, last night has … assuaged my fear of the risks you're running, some at least. Coyote said you were on another roll, and I agree. Wiseman and the AED were singing your praises when they reported this morning, not only for your cooking, and the whole Others 101 thing has me thinking them myself." The smile widened further. "Good chaos won't be the half of it. And high time." He sobered. "But I again second the AED and Chair, Ms Hauptman. Steel-spined does not cover it. Why aren't you terrified witless?"

"Who says I'm not, Mr President? But running from predators on two legs rarely works, and I've been fighting vamps since I was 18, one way or another. Fussing doesn't help anyone."

"Fussing." Something bleeped. "I have to go, but roll on Wednesday, , and I wish you all luck and good fortune. I do admire you, you know."

The break in calling let locks disengage, admitting Jesse, plus Dan and the Joes, to say things at school had been calmer, if not by so much after the DC statement, reactions ranging from indignation to weary unsurprise at adult failure to be anything except kneejerk stupid. Jesse's guards had met Jill at breakfast, but Jesse hadn't had much chance to say more than hi, and having spilled immediate concerns asked her about her day.

Jill quirked an eyebrow. "I am having the least boring day I've had in a millennium, Jesse Hauptman. It's been hard not to hear tales of She Doesn't Only Fix Cars this last year or two, but seeing her about it is something else. I hear you met those you call graunts."

"I did, Jill. They agreed things had really gone sideways with me, but seemed good with it, as I certainly am. I liked them a lot."

"Why am I not surprised? You call Coyote Gramps, as you're Graught?"

"Un huh. We're one big happy family."

Jill did something bearlike with her shoulders. "Coyotes. Step-sideways. Seriously not-boring. And Mercy thinking spirit-fast on her feet. You can't say Momma was wrong, girl."

I blinked, something clicking. "Bear's your mother?"

"She is, and it might be one reason for my age. More to the point, though, Mercy, is that with this much of interest happening, there should be decent husband material around somewhere. Momma said I was ripe for number thirty-two, and I am — preternatural or human, any age or colour. I've voted strange before, so no parameters except male and mostly sane. Any ideas?" She eyed Brent. "Muscle and speed are always good. Which way do you swing?"

I quite enjoyed the ensuing silence.