Chapter Forty-Three

By the time I got back inside the news cycle was wall-to-wall MANITOU TWO, TOO. Often literally. I also had a bulging inbox, governors being savvier and better staffed than National Committees, and despite grumbling about coercive offers everyone would be there. I sent all a package that listed major pollution sources and consequences, flood-control infrastructure, ecorecovery projects, and river freight in the Mississippi Basin, and could be jigged by state or river. It had a bunch of overviews with attitude — interactive maps, charts, and timelines showing violent deaths and migration of First People, African Americans, and bison, by year and decade since 1800, matching the spread of Second People, measured by population density and constitutional status as territories or states. And I'd tacked on oral history recordings, mostly Comanche, that laid out some of the worst things. When Caroline, Penny, and the crews came to say goodbye I offered them coffee and sat with them at the kitchen table.

"I would very much like an unannounced transmission-delay on Friday. A few seconds will do, but unannounced is critical. I can't say why. Deal breaker. So if you won't, or can't, OK. But if you can, please do."

Penny and Caroline looked at one another, and Al shifted in his seat.

"I can put a delay on the camera, and Dwayne, but others will be filming, Mercy, and it would be noticed."

"Even so, Al. I'm playing odds, but you'll be the close-ups, and I won't let any other crew inside the security perimeter, which will include all of Gateway Arch Park. Public with cameras, yes, but no other broadcast media. Adam wrangled it into security contracts because all of you are already vetted, and the Director of the Secret Service leaned on the governor and NPS when we made basic arrangements."

Dwayne was frowning. "We're embedded?"

"Only if you want, and not in the army's sense. But you're in my kitchen, and I'm unarmed, so yeah, you're inside the perimeter. And while I cannot explain, I've told you all before about elevated risk. I'm a zone of it anyway, but even more so as a candidate."

"You think someone's gonna —"

"Don't go there, Al. I just want a three-second delay that no-one watching knows about."

"You have a specific threat?"

"Al, I have lots of specific threats, including whoever was responsible for those five bullets. You saw a chunk of my security last night, and there will be more on the ground. It all steepens the gradient whoever has to climb to get in. So will a transmission delay not known to viewers."

Al and Dwayne were looking at one another.

"Al and I can do this, Penny. It's just a tag on the data-store to lag output. And we vote yes."

"Al?"

"Mercy wouldn't ask if it didn't matter. We use lags all the time, and don't announce it. Any two live feeds will have a slight variation anyway, and more the longer any satellite bounces. We all know it."

"Yeah. Can you quantify the risk to us, Mercy?"

"How? I appreciate your priorities, but to the best of my knowledge no-one is likely to be aiming anything at any of you."

"Except envious eyes. And we owe you."

"No you don't. Not a thing, any of you. You vote your consciences."

Caroline blinked. "I was. And three seconds makes no odds to us."

"Thank you all. There'll be a security briefing Friday, before I arrive, and I'll ask the Secret Service to make sure you're all included. But forgive me, there's a call I need to make that will doubtless have me foaming. I can't not give Christy a heads-up about Jesse forgoing anonymity, and though I doubt it'll stay private that conversation is not going to leak first at my end."

Caroline, Al, and Vince had met Christy and they all knew about Jesse, so they sympathised and took themselves off. I wasn't actually going to call Christy until Jesse could be online, during an afternoon break forty minutes away, but messages were piling up. The Chancellor of WashU had spoken to Wazzu about manitou conferences but was finding the scale of Mississippi ones daunting. Columbia Basin governors had issued gleeful statements of support for colleagues who found themselves dropped right in it, and were beginning to feel the force of what the Pacific North-West leading might mean, with tart observations about geographical leverage as well as manitous of whatever colour. Bran and ap Lugh sent approvals I acknowledged, Coyote thought I should use the hashtag #SeriouslyBig, and the Man had taken time to say the Army Corps of Engineers wanted me canonised and would attend any conference as well as accepting invitations to Friday. Would they let themselves be read? I sent back, and with fresh chocolate braced myself for the call I really didn't want to make.

Adam had opted out, and Jesse was happier to lurk to begin with, so it was just Christy's pout that came onscreen.

"What do you want?"

I had a flash of Marsilia. "Hi to you too, Christy. I don't want anything except to give you a heads-up, in courtesy, as Jesse's birth-mother."

"About what? And … you're using that ridiculous system of Adam's. Why do—"

"That would be secure system, Christy. And the heads-up is about publicity that's about to happen. You know about the schools' intranet?"

"The what?"

"Schools' intranet."

"What the hell is that?"

"Christy, Jesse sent you a long email two days ago about this. I'm calling because you haven't replied. You haven't even read it?"

I was already feeling rage swell, but it wouldn't help.

"I'm busy. Teenage girls send their mothers all sorts of things."

I bit down hard. "Do they really, Christie? Jesse sends you a monthly email because I insist she does, however bland. This one was off-schedule and flagged. It said that as she'll lose her minor's rights to anonymity next year and sees advantage in controlling the process she's decided to allow photography as of now. A school civics intranet about representative democracy and its more personal costs is part of it, and there will be a photo of her with Adam and the pack in the public domain from 8 p.m. Pacific. Do you understand the implications?"

"What? What implications? What do you mean?"

I bit down harder. "Christy, if you really are as clueless as you are acting, talk to a lawyer, fast. Minor status means legal restrictions. Some of those will relax. Reporters who doorstep you or catch you in the street will be able to ask more intrusive questions in hope of indiscreet answers. And if you try the kind of wide-eyed ignorance you're showing now, you will be filleted and fried in a New York minute, which will, despite everything, hurt Jesse and Adam. It will hurt you a great deal more, so wising up would be a good idea. And given your tendencies to exaggerate and lie, be aware that if you put into the public domain anything that constitutes slander or is otherwise actionable, action will be taken. If Jesse is waiving minor anonymity, which she is, court records of custody hearings can be released, without redaction, unless you obtain a court order stipulating otherwise. Wanna try to explain to a judge why leaving ten-year-old Jesse alone for nine days while you trolled Reno was dandy but you'd rather it wasn't known to all your friends? No? Then have a plan for what you'll say when you do get doorstepped, because you will be."

"You're intimidating me! All these threats, and your ugly animal eyes. You've always brainwashed Jesse into hating me, and now you're using her so cruelly for your own ends. You make us all your … political pawns, Mercedes Thompson, and it's you that should have to explain yourself."

I was wondering if I could go on holding it in, and feeling golden heat in my eyes, when Jesse de-lurked. Her eyes were very bright, a worried-looking Dan behind her.

"Is it really, Birth Mom? I bet myself you hadn't bothered to read my email, and that within three minutes of Mercy calling you on it you'd claim I didn't make up my own mind about waiving anonymity. So far I'm two for two, so here's a newsflash. If you can't be bothered to read what I send, I won't bother. I won't sever all contact, but you're a skinny inch away. And I make up my own mind about most everything I do, because what matters — and you won't get it but I'll say it all the same, as I need to, once, if I'm to be at ease with myself — is that Dad and Mom, and that means Mercy, not you, Birth Mom, have let me lean on them, as much or as little as I needed to grow up as well as taller. To become adult. But to you I've only ever been a prop, in every sense. You lean on me, and it's hard to grow carrying a load like you. But the last thing you want is to recognise me as adult, so you insist I can't have made my own decisions. Get real, Birth Mom, or I'm gone. And we're done, Mercy. Fair warning given. See you later."

I was left with a Christy who after a calculating moment teared up.

"You've turned her against me!"

I had a flash of Bonarata, to match Marsilia, which tells you how much I really disliked Christy, and took a very deep breath.

"No, Christy, you did that on your own. Jesse's grown up, and your bill's fallen due. See a psychiatrist and get some insight into why you've always treated her so piss-poorly, or she will sever contact. You're still sulking about my having had the effrontery to survive Manannán and order you back to Eugene, and you've ignored Jesse ever since. I made her write monthly on principle, but I won't now she's adult. You were a mess before I met you, Christy, and you're now a worse mess. Get a grip, and try blaming yourself. A change is as good as a rest, after all. Be safe."

That was as much goodwill as I could manage, and I cut the connection, sent Adam a terse email, and called Jenny. Then I stomped back to the kitchen, though coyote stomping is an ugly thing. Everyone looked up.

"Uh-oh. You alright, Golden Eyes?"

"Not really, Jill. I want to bite something."

"Preferably the Sarge's ex, I take it?" Travis shook his head. "Never met her, but the boss says she's a real piece of work."

"You could say. Sorry, guys, I shouldn't vent about this, but as Christy is well into the borderlands of psychotic or fruitcake, you need to know Jesse has just, not severed, but sharply reduced contact. She won't initiate it, and has no wish to see or hear more of the same-old same-old. Christy does not get in anywhere, any time, no matter what the sob story, and if she tries anything legal call Jenny at once because our response will be severe and immediate. And as I rather wouldn't until I'm calmer, JJ, could you please tell the senior Secret Service guy all that? I don't think she's a physical threat, but there's a good chance she'll try to get in somewhere. She's already on their watchlist. Thanks."

JJ slipped out and Jill frowned.

"You are pissed. What does severe and immediate mean?"

"We've spoken to judges who ruled in Adam's favour, and if Christy tries to serve a writ affecting Jesse we can get an immediate staying order, which will trigger counter-litigation, plus slamming everything into the public domain. Think Batshit Roundheels Lush Birth Mom Seeks Revenge on Minor Daughter for Growing Up, with court records explaining exactly why a not-yet-remarried werewolf vet with any number of issues was given custody of an eleven-year-old girl, and how Guayota ended up murdering Christy-lookalikes in Finley. And thanks, Jill, because thinking about the interview I would give is letting me blow more steam."

"Blow away. How did Guayota end up here? No-one sent me the memo."

"Christy trolled him in Reno, not noticing he was a volcano god, and he got fixated. Who knows, but I'd say great pyschos think alike. Then she panicked and legged it, he followed, and it was oh helpetty-bat-bat, Adam, save poor little me. Which we did, not that she learned a damn thing."

"Helpetty-bat-bat? She's a mascara girl, I take it?"

"She's never met a cosmetic she didn't like. Her face is a graveyard of L'Oréal and Lancôme and whatever's highest-end this week."

"Ouch. Exes are always trouble but she sounds extreme. Wicked mother not stepmother. Tough for Jesse."

"Yeah, but Jesse has her measure now, however it's a load she should never have had to carry."

"She's good, Mercy." Travis nodded approval. "We saw footage of Christy watching the Sarge trying not to kill that Harris idiot, and she looked like she was getting off on it."

"She was. Testosterone kick, making nice strong men fight for her. Sick bitch. But I can't go there."

"We could just kill her, delightful daughter." Coyote came in through the back. "I offered to have an elk stand on Paul Harris. Now you have a stampede of them doing whatever."

"I dream of it. But getting Christy within a mile of anywhere a self-respecting elk would be is a very uphill task. She's as urban as a condo."

"Well, get her in a conservatory, and Elk himself could do it. He can be a stampede of one."

Laughter helped. "I bet, but Birth Mom Suing for Custody Dies in Lone Elk Stampede is probably not a good idea."

"There's that." He sat, having snagged a beer. "Lone Elk Stampede is a fine name. We should find someone it fits." He looked at me prettily, batting his eyes, and made me laugh again. "We don't have to look far."

"Oh hush. I have way too many names already. It was Rash Coyote Who Runs with Wolves, aka Dinner Woman. Then She Fixes Cars, which was your sisters, She Doesn't Only Fix Cars, which was me, and She Doesn't Only Fix Cars, She Drops People Right In It, which was you. And now I've lost count — She Unspins Things, She Impresses Trolls, She Does Brave Duckponds, Threshing Sledge, and Lone Elk Stampede."

"Good litany." He frowned. "What duckponds?"

"Ask Jill. I'm going to chop things into small pieces."

I'd decided on lasagne, but as wolf metabolisms made for more than one baking tin to fill, we could have variety. All got onions, peppers, and cubed zucchini, as well as tomatoes, herbs, and spices, but I graded jalapeño from laughable to tasty to sweating and varied cheese mix, while Jill explained the Fountain of Uphill Justice, Statue of Surprising Mercy, and possible importance of John James Audubon to the triad-completing Untenanted Duckpond of Valorous Impossibility. Coyote listened with rising eyebrows, and with the punchline gave a hoot and went coyote to chase his own tail, giving a yip when he caught it. Bouncing back to human he planted a proud fatherly kiss on my brow.

"Oh, oh, that's splendid. A permanent coyote joke Underhill? I must kiss Skuffles too. You do do brave duckponds, Lone Elk Stampede, exquisitely." He looked at me hard. "And remember that when Adam had the sense to ditch Mascara Bat, the Graught didn't only get you she got me, and Graunts. It was a really good deal."

Moved — and amused by Mascara Bat — I gave a daughterly kiss back.

"I know. It's just talking to Christy and her conspicuous constructions while watching Jesse lock herself down so she doesn't bleed too much fries my restraint. I really don't want Christy Elked, but if someone could lock her in with a shrink until her head is rewired I'd go for it."

"Tricky. An imploding wig would be easier, and she uses extensions."

That made me laugh too, and Coyote sat beside Jill.

"All these ducks and elk made me forget why I came, dynamite daughter, which was to say very good job with the manitous today. And you did a number on those National Committees too."

JJ gave a thumbs-up as he came back in. "The very unhappy pickle of their own silly making. You have a good line in casual backhanders, Mercy, and got your jabs in while crafting an arc that sat everyone right up, soothed them halfway down again, then went loaded-for-bear to knock them sideways with a great manitou of colour. Oh, sorry Jill, I—"

"No problem, JJ. Bears need loading for. And yeah, Mercy's good at that. She did the same to the state legislatures — lay down facts, conjure practical solutions out of far-left field, then gut-punch. Or spirit-punch, maybe. Works, whatever it is."

"And sets up more history round tables. Talk about birds and stones."

"I already did that with Edythe, Brent so I'd as soon not."

Lasagnes went in to cook, and a little later Jesse came in.

"Anything after I rang off?"

"The start of a you-poisoned-her-against-me rant I cut off. I repeated the warning, but who knows what she chose to hear, so I talked to Jenny, and all guards know Christy has no access whatever the sob story. I did most of my venting on vegetables but once Coyote got here I acquired the name Lone Elk Stampede and he dubbed Christy Mascara Bat. Sorry."

Jesse gave a tired grin but I could feel her strain. "Don't be. And Lone Elk Stampede's pretty much what you did. AED was right, and your nation-stunning was stunning."

"And so gracefully down to earth, I hope. But if we're keen on lone elk stampedes, maybe Ol' Manitou River could use that form for a secondary manifestation. I can't say I've ever regretted the lack of a North American Dire Elk before, to match the Irish Elk, but I might now."

Jesse blinked, and Coyote hooted more laughter.

"Dire Elk. Now there's a name to induce healthy caution."