Chapter Sixty-Three

Being President-elect is extremely odd, and I don't like to think how it might have been if the Man and I hadn't been in cahoots. He'd greeted my formal acceptance with open satisfaction, addressing the enormous proportion of first-term Congressmen, -women, and -trolls with clarity and vigour. The outgoing were marshalled to allow themselves to be shadowed by successors, unable to demur in the face of a presidential request and the sheer size of my majority, and I spent long days doing as much with the Man and being taught many, many protocols.

Where those involved the Secret Service I pulled in Adam and Skuffles, and a long, frank discussion generated a special oversize preternatural squad, mostly serving wolves for day-to-day with avatar and fae cover for full moons and special occasions. Brent and Jill declined full-time positions, disliking DC, but were happy to instruct and agreed to stay in Kennewick, where I'd be as often as I could, especially while Jesse was finishing school. The new western White House was already pretty secure but we had to agree to heavy fencing, with proper animal tunnels. A gatehouse was sensible, and the government purchased a patch of scrubland beyond Earth Fae Creek to build a security centre and small barracks with kitchen facilities, though I'd bet Benny's would feed guards often enough.

Neighbours were vetted, to Mr Andrews's grumbling approval, and checkpoints put in on Piert Road, by its junction with East Riek, and Meals Road, a mile south. Passes were issued to residents, with strict instructions about visitors, and people Adam and I specified, from Ramona and the Freed to delivery drivers for Benny's and Yoke's. Faced with the impossibility of vetting earth fae there was Secret Service head-scratching that amused Pirandella though not Nuthatch, but he was mollified by the issue of wooden ID cards, though when they were expected to need them was beyond me. Agents were better pleased when crowds in Pasco revealed that from across the river, though nowhere closer, the house was not only unphotographable but invisible, humans seeing a glamoured Executive Mansion surrounded by oversize oaks. Ap Lugh said publicly it was a free fae contribution to presidential security, form determined by purpose, but told me, a glint in his eye, the choice of oaks was in honour of the one who despatched di Ragusa, and that while it had been pondering a name its grove-mates had decided on Quick Thinker. My mild exasperation was qualified by laughter, and the immediate pride the view engendered in all three cities, though Pasco would reap the biggest tourist benefit.

The Secret Service had taken the point about rural roads and presidential limos, so one nice thing I did in DC was inspect plans for armoured SUVs and see work-in-progress, with a laughing Man. On the principle that friends in high places are wonderful but friends in low places essential, I made nice to the staff of the motor-pool, got my hands properly dirty, and issued an unexpected edict.

"Every federal vehicle I've ever seen has been black. Is there a rule?"

"Ah, no, Ma'am, I don't believe so. It just saves argument."

"So does this. Marsh Sedge green. All of them, please, and the limos, except one for state funerals, and even then I might go for putting a green one into mourning — black ribbons or whatever."

There was a brief pause.

"Marsh Sedge green, Ma'am?"

"Yeah. Like Jesse's hair the last few months. I like it, and green's on message. But as you have respraying capacity, we can go for some … mmm, thematic variation. Pink if I was visiting the Irish Taoiseach, say." I was feeling mischievous. "And decals — I know a guy who makes really superior ones." I relented at the looks of horror, and the Man guffawed. "Well, for the coach maybe, but I mean it about variation. And there are these."

Ariana had made me an exquisite little statue of a leaping coyote, by way of congratulations, and the original stood on my desk, but with her permission and Zee's help I'd created a mould with a different base, and gave it to the Chief Mechanic with a sample cast.

"Hood ornament, on everything from Inauguration Day, please. The cast is silver, because it was to hand, but they can be anything shiny."

He peered at the statuette, turning it. "It's beautiful work, Ma'am."

"Isn't it? One of my sisters-in-law is a fae artisan. The hood ornaments are a joke, but not undignified, and I'm afraid you'll have to get used to that sort of thing."

After the threat of decals beautiful hood ornaments were not a problem, and I didn't need that strategy in the spectacular kitchens. A conversation about hospitality spells, and the idea that my invading the kitchens sometimes might be magical policy, let me segue to the one real change of furnishing I wanted, besides upgrading the gym to meet wolf needs, which was to redo the kitchen in the private quarters. The First Lady, not being a cook, hadn't cared, but as I wasn't using much allowed budget anywhere else I had a lovely time making sure I could cook for family with pleasure and pack with ease. Accounts with suppliers were adjusted, quantities raising eyebrows until I imported my standing orders with Yoke's and our last Benny's bill. Miracle pies were his province, but who in DC made good ones was canvassed, experiments identifying an Italian family place in Georgetown as a runaway winner.

It was oddly possible in DC to get around without too much fuss, even for the Man. His presence wasn't unusual, any number of VIPs dined out nightly, and media knew intrusion on family drew serious ire while licit photo-ops were plentiful. Collective Hauptman presence strained that, especially with Skuffles in ebullient mood, and the restaurant got heavy publicity, the owners delighted to accept a retainer and stand by for regular presidential visits and occasional very large orders for takeout. With high hopes I put them in touch with Benny, as purveyors of superior pies to eastern and western White Houses, putting them on their joint mettle.

Sixteen days after the election I turned thirty-five, losing my last excuse, a joke only Adam and Jesse appreciated, but I did get a fine party. I had a lot of people to thank, as well as scores of introductions to make, and as we were in a clear dry spell I took two days out from DC, cooked up a storm, and threw a bash. The musicians came, and though I didn't ask them to sing for their suppers compulsively played acoustic stuff, with an insane performance of 'Happy Birthday' in 11/8 Phil Lesh had scored. House and garden were full of Alphas, including Cornicks and Asil, Gray Lords, a distinctly large and bright Medicine Wolf, Elder Spirits, a bunch of avatars and First People, Tri-Cities friends, Stefan and Thomas Hao, the Man and Glen Sawyer, Grant, and for part of the day all the new independent federal representatives and senators.

The party was for introductions, congratulations, and mind-opening, and next day we did proper conferencing in a downtown hotel, ruthlessly thrashing out legislative priorities, with who could reasonably do what. It was easier than I'd feared, because for many reasons, including irony, representatives were willing to accept Irpa's leadership, and senators Jeremiah's, and they were all even nervier than I was, with few exceptions sensibly more interested in gaining experience in junior posts than jumping at senior ones. As that became clear I could shift to what a cabinet might look like, and garner relieved approval and assent.

I had no intention of changing directors of agencies, though I gathered Homeland's might have to go once a certain audit came in, and wanted several cabinet secretaries to stay, starting with Sawyer at Interior, and including the woman who'd held State for the last two years. But I needed a wider ethnic and preternatural mix, and to reach out to the defeated, which was also easier than feared because I took people by surprise and left them feeling grateful. It took me into December, but before Christmas I published a list and found myself commended for inclusivity.

Figuring they needed to develop a sense of humour, I delighted Coyote by making a bemused US Mint issue the Shortchanger as an Inaugural collector's item, a golden coin worth several hundred bucks but with a face value of $2.99 and his human and coyote profiles facing away from one another. Genuine amusement and high demand left Wall Street grumbling money was meant to be serious, but soothed them all the same.

Strong welcomes from Russia and China were also helpful. The warmth was because I'd made a quiet trip over Thanksgiving, using the cloak at full stretch to meet them on their border at Lake Khanka. China had called Hao, who found his requests reasonable, and Elder Spirits had spread word over the Bering Strait. Bran knew Siberian, Manchurian, and other wolves round and about, who if wary were interested in high-level governmental contact. Surrounded by wolves Skuffles and I emerged into twilight from an arch to find Russia and China had with mutual amusement set up an insulated tent on the frozen lake, straddling the border so neither had to leave their own territory, and gone into outdoorsy winter mode, braziers round fishing-holes. After some straight conversation and limited but willing oaths, I made calls, and over the next hour wolves, vamps, and the local variety of First People from both countries came warily in to talk.

I had been right tribespeople and preternaturals avoided state contact for hard-learned reasons, Stalin's and Mao's commissars not having been so indigenously or magically minded, but they'd been tracking events in the US since Medicine Wolf had woken with growing envy. They weren't rushing into anything, but for genuine recognition and security were willing to deal, and a delicate conversation with shamans revealed absolute historical knowledge of dragons, which sounded like some kind of spirits, but agreement no-one living was known to have talked to one, though they were still sensed occasionally in some places. Yetis didn't seem more likely than sasquatches, though no-one present knew the highest mountain territories, but there were manitous great and small, equivalents of earth and garden fae, as well as what might be cousins of coblynau, and quite numerous wolves and vamps, though given higher levels of surveillance nothing like as tightly organised as western packs and seethes. And there were starting-points all could agree, protocols for further contact and direct personal involvements of China and Russia.

When I decided I could leave them to it I got honest thanks from both men. Russia got off on wolf strength and attitude, I thought, and if he'd been thirty years younger would have been a wannabe, an idea his gift of matching competition-shooting pistols did nothing to dispel. China seemed more complicated, liking me as well as appreciating a rival power's convulsions, and he'd found a stunning seventeenth-century soapstone, coiling dragons in deep relief I had a nasty suspicion had been appropriated from a state collection but wasn't giving up (though I did register both gifts, under presidential seal). What mattered was that both men were content to look forward to warmer US relations than had been the case lately, and respected my bottom lines, as I did theirs.

While waiting for beings to arrive we'd canvassed various problems and state visits in many directions, and I stirred them up by pointing out any two of us coinciding in a given nation would give all sorts of people pause. What would the Oaf do if he had to entertain China and Russia simultaneously? Or Israel, if all three of us descended? Queen Elizabeth I kept nobles in check with punitive hospitality, descending unrefusably with large retinues for weeks at a time, and I thought she'd had a point. They were also both as weary of North Korea as everyone, so something might be done with some co-ordination. I had, of necessity, a bug-eyed woman from State with me, on a two-time only Underhill let, and though she wasn't permitted to say anything about the Garden of Manannán's Death her report put me in so much good and bad odour, depending, that I wound up spending two long days talking to State en masse. I confirmed that where First Peoples and preternaturals needed aid I didn't care what colour, creed, or nominal nationality they were, and you bet the degree of co-operation I got from governments concerning such beings in their territories would affect the US web of allies and those given favoured status. That included Russia, China, India, and other large nations, and being a sensible coyote I saw very well, thanks, that US relationships with rival superpowers would be transformed by new bonds that would change them as well as us. No, preternaturals weren't taking over, but yes, they were at last able to contribute properly, file under Path of Mercy. Oh, and Russia and China were coming to my inauguration, as was Italy. State herself was more interested than disapproving, if startled I'd been at ease with both men, but after Gray Lords chief execs were not a problem.

I also made Advent visits to Quantico, Langley, West Point, and Annapolis. Wearing my blouson and nametag, with my Presidential Medal of Freedom, was excellent PR, but in sessions with generals and admirals I shifted mode, brought Adam and David in, with Dan and the Joes, which sat everyone up, and had them get honest answers about US deployments they all hated. Announcements had to wait, but tentative decisions hardened, and assessments tipped, making useful conversations possible.

After months seeing I really did reward courtesy and punish rudeness, media were generally well-behaved, and went with the flow to recognise I had agency and military credit, and the worried could relax. Better still, they actually did step back when I told them after the mid-December hunt I'd be off-radar for Christmas, enjoying a last uninterruptable holiday, though they'd see me on Christmas Day, and there would be announcements in due course about the Inauguration.

Uninterruptability was a pipe dream, but I can't say I minded approving Time's choice of Jesse as Person of the Year, though they used a picture of all three of us, and Coyote gave an interview confessing amazement at how sensible Anglos were suddenly being, and asked about a Great Manitou of the Year now the title could alternate. Adam and I were less amused Jesse had to respond, but that cat was long out of the bag and she nailed everyone by saying it was of course an honour but she did wonder about naming me, Ol' Manitou River, and Irpa as any kind of runners-up. She was tickled pink, though, and wise enough to make sure Sally and Jenna kept her grounded with friendly ragging. Neither was sure they wanted to major in Foreign Relations, but were looking hard at Georgetown and had worries about what the reality would be, so after a pleasingly surreal conversation over dinner one Sunday, with Clay, Donna, Jude, and Leslie, I called surprised people, got answers, and went back with a grin.

"Jenna, Sally, I can't resist saying you're clear to bunk at the White House if and when, because being able to do that cracks me up, but it's actually a good idea." I sat. "The Secret Service accepts moving to dorms is a thing people going to college do, even First Daughters, but they'd be much happier if Jesse was resident at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, and so would Adam. I have mixed feelings. The downside is not fitting in or building peer networks because of security, but one, Jesse's gonna be doing everything differently anyway, two, she's already got more peer-networks than anyone can count, and three, when she tells me d'oh, it's worth using that address while she can, I can't argue, so that's what she'll do. Having either or both of you on board with her would be welcome, and though I can't promise travel by cloak I will ask Underhill."

Jesse knew what security protocols would be like, but while it was designed to protect them while they did what they needed academically, not constrict that, what inevitably suffered were spontaneity and hanging out. Even Jude and Clay, who went with Adam on security, had mixed feelings, but stuff the ex-kiddos did together was going to be inside a perimeter anyway. While they were talking it through, Clay shifted to sit opposite me, and spoke about scent forensics. KPD knew, with a resigned if respectful Secret Service, that the presidential nose would still be available when I was in Kennewick, because it was about the best nose around, as Charles could prove. The logistics of a serving president going coyote to track things promised to be complicated, but I waved a hand.

"I'll deal when I have to, Clay. I dunno what might leave a scent I could track but not a wolf with me, but if it happens, it happens. We'll have to juggle the roster, though."

"Un huh." He shook his head, smiling. "Gotta tell you, Mercy, when it came out you'd still be on call there was about one second's complete crogglement before everyone said they weren't surprised. Meant it, too."

"Citizens come first, Clay, and I'd be pushing scent laws even if Jesse hadn't smacked her grand-slam out of the park."

"I know. And she did, didn't she? But I wanted to say a dad's thank you. Donna and I have talked with Leslie and Jude about the way Sally and Jenna have grown up so well and so fast since Jesse has been in their lives, with you and Adam, but knowing how to thank you is tough."

Leslie, Jude, and Donna were listening, and Jude grinned.

"With you on that, Clay. Medicine Wolf solved the general problem but not the personal version."

"Oh pish, Jude. Just file under friends and mutual benefits. I even got the Gray Lords to think about that one, so you can too."

"Right." Leslie gave me a look. "I've been hearing a few things about that, Mercy, but I can't say they've made much sense."

"Oh?"

"Yes, oh. A half-fae in Tennessee told a Farout Underhill used you to rebuke the Gray Lords, and when I asked Ymir he said that wasn't quite right but very few people knew what was, and he wasn't messing with any of your something-I-didn't-catch, sounded like geese-on."

"Huh. Probably geasan, the plural of geas, but I've only laid one. Still, who knows what jötnar count as …" A thought dropped. "Anyway, it really isn't human business, Leslie."

"If it concerns you and threats, it's federal business, Mercy."

"Half-point, but there's no threat. It's just working through what some of the new actually means, amicably resolved."

Her eyes narrowed. "You whacked them politely about something and made it stick?"

"You could say, and so far, so good."

"Alright, but you're the one who says never be off-guard with any fae, never mind a Gray Lord."

"Yup, and it's true, but I have been working on that." I waggled a hand. "It took a while to work out how to leverage being an Elf-friend."

Clay and Jude laughed.

"And how do you do that, Mercy?"

"Sideways logic, Clay, and that's all I'm saying."

"Your privilege, though it sounds like we've even more reasons to be grateful than I knew. Can't count them anyway. Jim Alvin said last year you'd pushed the world and moved it, and now you've got us all doing it."

He raised his beer, others echoing him, and when I'd swallowed emotion I thought collective world-pushing was just about right. There were other seasonal parties where people said something similar, a decorous KPD bash for families and a rather less decorous one the three mayors threw in Sacajawea State Park, though meeting Kyle's jug-band friends again was nice. It was also luckily timed, for next day a blizzard blew in, closing everything early, which suited us all except Brent, who couldn't fly back from seeing his parents in SF.

It was still snowing hard on the solstice, when Coyote dragged the three of us with Skuffles and Jill by cloak to the Sacred Space. Residents were sensibly home or in the longhouse, but Elder Spirits were there, and the throb of earth magic very strong as we went down to Celilo Falls, thundering the river's song against that special hush heavy snow brings. Medicine Wolf was waiting, and serious magic gave me an early present, however it would need practicing. Coyote brought Jesse because the magic opened space for her Graunts, and Adam because they wanted to meet him to offer family blessing. Jesse was teased about her hair, which they thought she should grow and braid, whatever colour it happened to be, and though time with them was never long it always left a sense of blessing.

With spirit magic done Jill went grizzly to have a natter with guardian animals, and we paid a courtesy visit to the longhouse, Coyote deflecting questions by telling everyone they'd find out soon enough. There were visitors who'd come to do solstice things getting more than they'd bargained for, and a sense of vibrant life. A table sported an architect's model of the village and newly undrowned land, with blocks to try possible constructions and arrangements, and we had a good discussion of whether a longhouse ought to be straight or could, say, snake down a slope, and how salmon catch should be handled. As my First Person ID had become stronger Adam had found he liked tribal gatherings, appreciating native courtesy, and the way that had become soft-spoken respect for me hit all his buttons, so we took real ease away as snow continued to fall, and everyone was happy except snowplough-drivers.

On Christmas Day we decked SUVs in snow-chains and crunched to church through the deepest accumulation in years, while the Freed amused everyone by running a swiftly arranged route to bring older and nearer congregants in on an enormous cargo sled Ramona had persuaded SEALs to liberate from army stores somewhere. It arrived at church in grand style, ten wolves pulling seventeen well-wrapped people, including the beaming Wrights, and as a camera was there despite the snow it was in the news cycle for a while and made a lot of people sentimental. The church was cold enough no-one minded Reverend Jenkins being brisk, while properly thankful, though she did get in a joke about becoming the First Congregation and new responsibilities in the new year. There was mulled wine afterwards, courtesy of Ramona and the Freed, and her speech of thanks for the congregation's care left everyone warm and fuzzy, so we saw the sled off on its return round, and headed home.

I am not a good shopper, even without security hassle, and have bought enough presents on frantic Christmas Eves, but this year I'd been smart, and while I'd toured reservations fairies — one of the Freed, or Jill — had done some buying on my behalf. It was easy for briefs about each venue to include the kind of shops and artisans I was interested in, and I'd acquired several years' worth of presents. A bunch was First People's craftwork — clothing, pottery, leatherwork, ornaments and jewellery, beadwork, baskets, blankets, even a small carpet — but my travels had taken me near all sorts of outlets that had never before been within my means, and in bigger cities when I could ditch media I'd done some buying myself. Jesse would need a professionally budgeted wardrobe, as would Adam, but I could make personal starts, and a really well-cut tux, with better pockets than you'd think possible and an MC-style curving FIRST GENTLEMAN embroidered on the back over a beautiful wolf-head, was a good one. I'd paid a silly amount for an evening dress I knew Jesse would love, and splashed on a Clyde Aspevig oil I'd fallen for, a view of the Grand Tetons from an overlook on the east bank of the Snake, to hang in the Oval Office, with a print of Ansel Adams's photo of the same view. And my inner cook had a field day with local delicacies, gadgets, cookbooks, and seeds and starts of rarer herbs and spices earth fae were tending.

I love giving gifts, and Adam and Jesse did a lot of pleased laughing, but her present to us brought us up short. She assured us she'd had Underhill's and Gwyn ap Lugh's let to take it — Adam and I fast asleep on a bench in the Garden of Manannán's Death, zonked out after St Louis while wolves inspected the Duckpond. Excalibur, Carnwennan, and a Glock 22 were visible on my belt, my head rested on his shoulder, his head on mine, hands intertwined, faces, even in deep sleep, shining exhausted relief. The print was small, the frame hand-carved wood, and Jesse spoke while Adam and I were staring at it in consternation.

"It's to remind you not to overdo quite so much. And to remind me not to expect you to overdo. I really hadn't thought the costs through."

"No-one can, Jesse, and we're not repining. Much. I'm just feeling guilty we both zoned out while you were Underhill."

Jesse snorted. "Of course you are, Mom. Stop it. I was fine, and there were any number of wolves and the complete collection of bodyguards. JJ and Connor begged a copy for David, and I thought that was OK."

Adam and I thought so too, however we were both a little stricken, not only by guilt. Jesse had been using adult-to-adult with us for a while, but this was admirably wise advice mixed with wider smarts, and we'd both been hit by our own version of Leslie's and Clay's thinking about ex-kiddos becoming really sharp adults. Hugs were necessary, and for me cooking. The earth fae, happy with the water snow would become, were due, and cold encouraged pigging-out, so I made sure we could do that.

The deep cold continued, wolves everywhere making themselves visibly useful checking on the elderly and shovelling snow. My down time was interrupted again when Mount Redoubt erupted, dumping ash all over Anchorage, and producing a steady lava flow. With Anchorage airport closed I received a call from California asking if I could deliver a heart and lungs for transplant, the patient being the best match by far and at death's door. I couldn't refuse, and though I hadn't asked for one found a press conference had been set up. Alaska came with Alaska-elect to thank me, which I had to respect, with the gratitude of the patient's family, and as there were others with respiratory problems from ash Skuffles and I wound up visiting. When I was in hospital the very last thing I'd wanted was a politician turning up for a photo-op, and insisted the hospital check we'd be welcome, but we were, and as they were interesting people it was enjoyable despite continuing ashy gloom.

New York invited Vanna to launch the Times Square ball-drop, so we had VIP invitations, but nipped home in time to do it all again three hours later, more privately. The new year would bring major changes, not only on January 20th. Jesse would turn 18 in March, graduate in May, so school prom, and start at Georgetown. Adam would still be in business, but restructuring and extra deputies would let him step back from federal work and make room for whatever on his schedule. He, Darryl, Warren, and Bran had done some talking, and though Bran wasn't ready for any non-urgent changes agreed to recognise Darryl and Warren as Legates of the Columbia Basin Pack. They both got the magic that let Bran aid Alphas, and Alphas aid their packs, which meant a lot of cannibalism and chest burn but left everyone happier. Adam and I remained co-Alphas, but formally delegating executive dominance opened the way to Alphas Emeritus, and the innovation was greeted by other packs with interest.

Despite the weather tempo began to pick up as days ticked down, but to my infinite relief the PR I was expected to do dropped right off as handover preparations began in earnest. The federal government has a lot of very high-level secrets, many of which made my head hurt, and half of which you wouldn't believe if I told you. Adam and Jesse were rocks, and we began with Skuffles to build protocols around what we could and couldn't say when gratefully back in Kennewick. It wasn't comfortable, but Adam understood it militarily, Jesse pragmatically, while my lifetime of concealing myself from other preternaturals and humans meant I could live with interlocking circles of secrecy. I didn't enjoy it, but like manitou-glass it insulated me from emotional separation. Our matebond was unchanged so we were good.

Another blizzard hit DC on the 16th, and it was still gently snowing as inauguration guests gathered, settling on a white city, but no-one cared. The music was excellent, and among a very multicultural throng First People were holding spaces to dance all along the National Mall, around braziers, and anyone not wearing feathers had sensible hats. Wolfpacks were, by Bran's word, on four legs, with families on two, so there was a display of wolf power, unity, and numbers that made a fascinating sight, and fae were also out in force, Þorgerðr and Vorðr full-size and ignoring the temperature in Yves St Laurent. My dress was Blackfeet, a beautiful gift from their Chiefs — deep red ankle-length wool, gathered at the waist to take a wide leather belt, and colourful stripes with beaded fringes that went up both arms to meet over my cleavage, imitating a modest neckline while the wool rose to a high collar. Fastenings down the back were disguised by more stripes, though the cloak would conceal them.

Nor were wolves the only animals gathered. I'd vetoed Coyote's notion of massed wild animals, but he brought in about thirty coyotes, trotting over Arlington Memorial Bridge to take a position close to the main platform people were oddly willing to cede. They seemed to be behaving, and it was keeping him out of other trouble, so by and large I thought it a good deal and kept fingers crossed. Just as entertainingly there were avatars on two legs and four, disciplined grizzlies, cougars, moose, and elk making the PD's job easier, if giving them heebie-jeebies — not helped by ravens massing in trees, or the deep silence that fell when Raven led four bald eagles out of the snowclouds to circle at low altitude and settle along a branch by the main platform. Adam, Jesse, Skuffles, and I were watching a monitor in the waiting-area, and I swallowed emotion.

"Anyone warn you about that one?"

"Nope. But you can't argue with the symbolism."

"Or the timing. Here we go."

Gordon, Wolf, and Bear were representing Elder Spirits, and I noticed mounting the steps, Adam, Jesse, and Skuffles beside me, that magic was keeping snow off Gray Lords, trolls, Zee, Uncle Mike, and earth fae, without apparently making it worse elsewhere. Charles and Anna, with Asil, Jeremiah, the Columbia Basin and Freed Packs, plus assorted Alphas, rounded out wolves, and Stefan and Thomas completed the preternatural delegations. Stands were overflowing with friends, governors, Congress, ambassadors, China, Russia, Italy, the Beltway, and tribal chiefs in fullest fig, while Medicine Wolf and Ol' Manitou River, in Kennewick and St Louis respectively, watched from the largest screen DC could muster.

Everything was set when The Dagda produced and politely handed Stefan a large jet-black beach umbrella, saying Underhill was about to arrive, and I stared as he took it with thanks and spread it over himself and Thomas. Overhead, an iris opened, banishing clouds to cover the National Mall in sunlight, making birds bate and caw among shouts followed by even deeper silence, and beside Gwyn ap Lugh an archway opened, revealing a smiling Underhill as if behind a gauze veil.

I didn't like to think about the power being expended, and a glance at Stefan and Thomas deep under their umbrella also suggested maximal despatch, but opportunity beckoned. The Chief Justice held the bible up, Frank swore his Veep's oath, and I stepped up to swear my own, then looked at Underhill and added the text I wanted constitutionally mandated, reaffirming my predecessor's oath to uphold the Medicine Wolf Accords. The Gray Lords gave bows, which I returned, before repeating the whole thing in Salish, Siksiká, and Spanish.

"One to go, gentlebeings, and this is new magic for me, a gift from my living father and the spirits to mark the occasion, so I hope I don't embarrass myself."

It had taken the cloak and Manannán's Bane a while to grasp how the magic of clothes when changing worked, and I thought they and spirits saw magic very differently. What was eventually worked out, with a deal of advice from Skuffles, made little sense to me, but the cloak could support itself, with Manannán's Bane and Thunderbird's feather, and clothes went somewhere else but could get mixed up coming back if I wasn't careful. Coyote thought my mishaps hilarious, but Jesse told him that if he messed with me on the day she'd make it her life's work to dye him the most violent pink she could find. With a deep breath, I felt my way into the magic, gave the Chief Justice a smile, and changed. The cloak opened to let me trot forward and leap onto a stool Adam set. I put one paw on the bible, threw my head back, and gave the longest, purest howl I've ever managed, answered in close harmony by Skuffles, Coyote, and my gathered sisters and brothers, sound arching over the city amid rainbows and stray snowflakes. Then I could give myself a shake, hop down, circle within the cloak, and just as carefully re-enter the magic, changing back without mishap, and feeling Thunderbird's feather re-engage my hair as Manannán's Bane met my hand. I turned to Underhill and spread my arms in burnished silence.

"Underhill, Prince Gwyn ap Lugh, and all Gray Lords of the Fae, I have yet to persuade you thanks need not be so dangerous between friends, but there is surely gladness today for all. And perhaps it might be that future inaugurations, where the combined oaths I have sworn are also to be sworn, will have guaranteed sunshine in recurring acknowledgement of the compact between the Fae and United States."

Underhill smiled, and Gwyn ap Lugh nodded gravely.

"That would seem a wise tradition, Ms President. And truly we are all glad today, though Underhill must depart now."

"I understand, Prince Gwyn ap Lugh."

I gave Underhill a last nod and she faded, arch vanishing, sunlight narrowing and paling away as cloud and snowflakes got back to where they ought to be. Stefan closed the umbrella with a shake of relief and handed it back, telling The Dagda how glad he was made by such courtesy. Then before I could hug Adam and Jesse, and Charles and Anna, and shake the Man's hand, and all the million things waiting for me, I finally found out what else Gordon's feather could do. Spirit magic began, startlingly close but offering no threat, and Jesse looked up with widening eyes.

"Mom, your feather is … multiplying."

"Just so, Mercy." Gordon was for once human on camera but in that moment he was all Thunderbird. "To deal with matters of undrowned land a token of authority was sufficient, but now you must deal with more. And as you become the first First Person to hold your office, brightening all hopes, so we acknowledge you, President and Paramount Chief She Doesn't Only Fix Cars, She Drops People Right In It." He grinned, all Gordon. "And Paramount Chiefs have paramount warbonnets. Everyone knows that."

There wasn't anything I could do except smile as magic went right on doing, and I felt the press of a headband and growing weight. A monitor let me see it was in the most elaborate Sioux and Cheyenne traditions, but the feathers had colours no natural bird managed, including shades of my cloak and a highly amused Skuffles; Raven, Owl, and Hawk were all represented, with a bunch of eagles, and an arc of Thunderbird's distinctive primaries framed my face. There was deep silence until it was complete, but as First Person hollering and whooping began, other cheering behind it, I stepped to the mike and looked at musicians, catching Bob Weir's eyes above a wide grin.

"Mr Weir, sir, I'll be very happy to have some 'Sugar Magnolia' later, but just now it has to be 'Sunshine Daydream', don't you think?"

He laughed, assenting, so did the Man, visibly relaxing into ex-Presidency, and musicians crashed out the staccato chords that set off and punctuated the punching lyrics.

Sunshine daydream

Walk you in the tall trees

Going where the wind goes

Blooming like a red rose

Breathing more freely

Light out singing

Bob's voice was sharply clear, and he gave sunshine and roses a pure punch before everyone came in and the song took off for Never Never Land and brought in down to earth, and now. I spun to give Adam a kiss, feeling the warbonnet flare, and recognised his look, because he really does have a thing about me looking Amerindian and feathers had come into it before.

I kept my voice to a murmur. "Down, boy."

"For now." He gave a heartstopping smile. "But it's not just that warboa." I smiled back, swallowing a laugh and feeling some heat. "It's just you, miracle mine, and ours. La Belle Dame Mercy, and the best hope of all preternaturals. I do love you so much more than I can ever say."

The only possible response was to kiss him fiercely, so I did. The footage tells me the crowds went crazy for some reason, and even VIP guests allowed themselves a certain enthusiastic levity, but I can't say I paid any of them much attention at the time. Tomorrow was soon enough.