Bone Crossed (Mercy Thompson 4) - Page 46

"Mary Jo almost died," I said. "And it could have been worse." I thought of the snow elf, and said, "A lot worse."

"Would Marsilia have cared? Worried about your friends here - and informed that the crossed bones on the door of your shop means that all of your friends are at risk - you take the rope Blackwood has thrown you. And you follow his bait all the way to Spokane."

Samuel shook his head. "It doesn't quite track," he said. "Vampires don't cooperate the way the wolves do. Blackwood doesn't have the reputation of doing anyone favors."

"Hey, my pretty," said Adam in a deadpan imitation of a Disney witch, "would you like a taste of something sweet? All you have to do is lure Mercy to Spokane."

"No," I said. "It works on the surface, but not when you really look. I can ask, but I'd bet the relationship between Amber's husband and Blackwood goes back years, not months. So he knew them first. If Marsilia just called him and gave him my name, it would be unlikely that he'd know that Amber knew me - we haven't spoken since I got out of college."

I'd had my paranoid moments because of the timing of Amber's request. But there was simply no way Marsilia had sent Amber, and the likelihood of further Byzantine plots went down from there. I drew a breath. "I expect that Blackwood thought I was human, at least until he bit me the first time.

Bran says I smell like a coyote - doglike unless you know coyotes - but not magic. Stefan told me Blackwood would know I wasn't human after he tasted me."

Both of the werewolves were watching me now.

"Bad luck does just happen," I told them.

"Blackwood doesn't seem to be the kind of person to do favors for another vampire." Samuel's voice sounded almost cheery.

He didn't. Vampires were evil, territorial, and... I thought of something.

"What if he's making a play to add the Tri-Cities to his territory," I asked. "Say he read about the attack on me - and saw that I was Adam's girlfriend. Maybe he has connections and got to see the video of Adam tearing into Tim's body, so he knows our relationship isn't casual. Maybe Corban sees him read the article and mentions that his wife knew me, and the vampire sees an opportunity to make the Tri-Cities werewolves cooperate with him in preparation to move in on Marsilia. Maybe he doesn't know he can't use me to take over the pack. Maybe he would have used me as a hostage. The ghost is happenstance. Just a convenient reason to convince Amber to invite me over."

"Marsilia's just lost her two right-hand men," said Samuel. "Andre and Stefan. She's vulnerable now."

"She has three other powerful vampires," I told him. "But Bernard and Estelle don't seem pleased with Marsilia lately." I told them about the confrontation the night before. "There's Wulfe, I guess, but he's..."

I shrugged. "I wouldn't want to have to depend upon Wulfe for loyalty - he's not the type."

"Vampires are predators," Adam said. "Same as us. If Blackwood smells weakness, I suppose it makes sense that he'd try for more territory."

"I like it," Samuel said. "Blackwood isn't a team player. This fits. It doesn't mean it's right, but it fits." Adam stretched the tension out of his neck, and I heard vertebrae pop. He gave me a little smile.

"Tonight I call Marsilia and tell her what we just talked about. It's not set in stone, but it's plausible. I bet we'll find Marsilia more cooperative." He looked at Samuel. "If you're home, I'd better go to work. I'll have Jesse come here when school's out, too - if you don't mind. Aurielle's booked, Honey has work to do, and Mary Jo is... not up to snuff."

After Adam left, Samuel went to bed. If anything started happening, he'd be up fast enough - but it told me that Samuel, at least, didn't think there'd be an attack in the daytime.

Neither of them even so much as mentioned the cranberry juice I'd thrown on them.

A FEW HOURS LATER, A CAR DROVE UP AND JESSE GOT out. She waved at the receding car, then bounced into the house in a wave of optimism, black-and-blue-striped hair, and -  I put a hand over my nose. "What is that perfume you're wearing?"

She laughed. "Sorry, I'll go wash up. Natalie had a new bottle and insisted on spraying everyone with it." I waved her to my bedroom with the hand that wasn't plugging my nose. "Go use mine. Samuel's trying to sleep next to the main bath." And when she just stood there. "Hurry, for Pete's sake. That stuff is rank."

She sniffed her arm. "Not to my nose. It smells like roses."

"There are no roses," I told her, "that smell like formaldehyde."

She grinned at me, then bounced off to my bathroom to scrub up.

"So," she said when she returned, "since we're both under house arrest until the vamps settle down, and since I was an ace student today and got my homework done at school - how about you and I make some brownies?"

We made brownies, and she helped me change the oil in my van. It was getting dark by the time we set up my air compressor to blow out the water in my very small underground sprinkler system for the winter when Samuel appeared at the door bleary-eyed and growly, a brownie in one hand.

He made some grumbles about twittering girls who made too much noise. I looked up at the darkening sky and thought the lateness of the hour had more to do with his rising than the roar of my air compressor.

He made Jesse laugh with his snarls. He made a pretense of being offended and turned to me. "Are you finished?"

He could see I was rolling up cords and hose, so I rolled my eyes at him.

"Disrespect," he told Jesse, shaking his head sadly. "That's all I get. Maybe if I take you out and feed you, she'll start treating me with the respect I deserve."

But he grabbed the compressor before I could start rolling it to the pole barn.

"Where are you taking us?" Jesse said.

"Mexican," he said positively.

She groaned and suggested a Russian cafe that had just opened nearby. The two of them argued restaurants all the way to the pole barn and back and into the car.

In the end, we went out for pizza, a place on Columbia with a playground, noise, and great food. Adam was waiting, watching the little TV in my kitchen, when we got back. He looked tired.

"Boss run you ragged?" I asked sympathetically, handing him a brownie.

He looked at it. "Did you make this, or did Jesse?"

Her indignant "Dad" got her an unrepentant grin. "Just kidding," he said as he ate.

"I've been staying up nights," he told me. "Between the vampires and the Washington bigwigs, I'm going to have to start taking naps like a two-year-old."

Tags: Patricia Briggs Mercy Thompson Fantasy
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