Blood Bound (Mercy Thompson #2)(76)
Author: Patricia Briggs

Being a master strategist, he let me stew. He didn’t even get out of the car to open my door-which he usually did. I hopped out and stood with the door open for a minute.

"There’s supposed to be a good movie coming out," I muttered. "Would you like to come with me Saturday afternoon?" I hadn’t intended to ask. The invitation just popped out.

He smiled, that slow smile that started in his eyes and never quite made it to his mouth. I shifted my weight uneasily because that smile had an unsettling effect on me.

"Which theater?"

I swallowed. This was not a good idea. Not at all. "The one behind the mall, I think. I’ll check."

"Fine. Call me later with the time."

"I’ll drive."

"Okay." His lips were curling up now.

Dumb, I thought, dumb sheep waltzing right into the slaughterhouse. I shut the door without saying anything more and went into the house.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire, I thought, meeting Samuel’s gaze.

"Going to the movies?" he asked, having obviously overheard what I’d said to Adam.

"Yes." I jerked my chin up and refused to give in to the tight feeling in my stomach. Samuel wouldn’t hurt me. The problem was, I didn’t want to hurt him either.

His eyes were half-shut and he breathed in. "You smell like him again."

"He picked me up when I was running in coyote form, so he brought me clothes."

Samuel moved with the speed of a bora predator and put his hand behind my neck. I stood very still when he put his nose under my ear. I couldn’t help but smell him also. How could his scent have as powerful an effect on me as Adam’s smile? It was wrong.

"When you go with him," he growled, his body trembling with readiness or pain-I couldn’t tell which because I could smell both, "I want you to remember this."

He kissed me. It was utterly serious, beautiful-and, given the rage in his eyes when he started, surprisingly gentle.

He backed away and gave me a small, pleased smile. "Don’t look so worried, Mercy love."

"I’m not a broodmare," I told him, trying not to hyperventilate.

"No," he agreed. "I won’t lie to you about how I feel. The thought of having children who won’t die before they are born is powerful. But you should know that the wolf in me doesn’t care about such things. He only wants you."

He left while I was still trying to come up with a reply. Not to his room, but all the way out of the house. I heard his car start up and purr away.

I sat down on the couch and hugged one of the pillows. I was trying so hard not to think about Samuel or Adam, that I had to think about something else. Something like hunting down Andre.

Marsilia told me that the reason vampires feared walkers was that we were resistant to vampire magics and could talk to ghosts.

But as Darryl had reminded me, ghosts avoid evil-like vampires. I might not be susceptible to some vampire magics, but evidently the magic that kept me from sniffing their lairs out worked just fine. Maybe the other walkers had been more powerful than me.

Medea jumped on the couch beside me.

Marsilia couldn’t have meant something like the way I’d used Mrs. Hanna to find Littleton. That was a special case. Most ghosts aren’t capable of communication.

There aren’t many ghosts in the Tri- Cities, it is too newly settled for that. There weren’t very many people here until WWII, when the efforts to develop a nuclear bomb spawned the Hanford Project. Despite, or maybe because of, the military cause of the cities’ growth, the Tri-Cities didn’t have a lot of violence in its past-and violent, senseless death was the main cause of ghosts.

Violent, senseless deaths happened at a vampire’s menagerie.

I set the pillow down and Medea climbed into my lap.

I wasn’t the only person who could see ghosts. There are lots of haunted places in Portland where I’d gone to high school-and normal, everyday people see them. Of course, most humans don’t see them as well as I do, and then usually only at night. I never understood that. Ghosts are around in daytime as often as at night, though there are a lot of things that cannot bear the light of day.

Like vampires.

It couldn’t be that easy.

The next day, after work, I went out looking for Andre on two feet instead of four. I wasn’t sure that looking for ghosts would work. In the first place, ghosts aren’t all that common. A thousand people could die in a battle and there might be no ghosts at all. And even if there were ghosts, there was no guarantee I’d see them-or figure out they were ghosts if I did. Some of the dead, like Mrs. Hanna, appeared as they had in life.

I was looking for a needle in a haystack, so I could kill Andre.

I understood it wouldn’t be like killing Littleton  –  and that had been bad enough. Andre would be asleep and defenseless. Even if I managed to find him, I didn’t know that I could actually execute him.

And if I did kill him, Marsilia’s seethe would come after me.

At least then I wouldn’t have to make a choice between Adam and Samuel. Every cloud has its silver lining.

I hunted every afternoon and returned just before dark. Samuel was making himself scarce, but he’d started leaving meals in the fridge for me. Sometimes take-out, but usually something he’d cooked. When he was home, he acted as if he’d never kissed me, never told me that he was still interested. I didn’t know if that was reassuring or frightening. Samuel was a very patient hunter.

I took Adam to the movies on Saturday. He was very well behaved. Afterwards we drove out to the Hanford Reservation and ran as wolf and coyote through the open terrain. He didn’t have Samuel’s ability to throw off all his humanity and revel in the joy of being a wild thing. Instead, he played with the same intensity he used for everything else. Which meant that when I chased him, I wasn’t really sure I wanted to catch him-and when he chased me, I felt like a rabbit.

We were both tired out when I dropped him off at his home before dinner. He didn’t kiss me, but he gave me a look that was almost as good.

I didn’t want to go home to Samuel after that look. So I drove back into Kennewick and just cruised around. Watching Adam play tamed beast had been… heart wrenching. Adam wasn’t like Bran, who enjoyed role-playing. I didn’t like myself very much for making Adam do it. Playing in the Reservation had been better, he hadn’t subdued the wolf as well there.

I stopped at a stop sign in one of the plethora of new housing developments that had sprung up over the past few years, and there it was. Hollow eyed and sad, the middle-aged man stood on the porch of a respectable-looking house and stared at me.

I pulled the Rabbit over and parked it, and returned his stare. As I sat there, another one appeared beside him, this one an old woman. When the third ghost appeared, I got out of the car. The house was only a couple of years old: three people were a bit much for a normal household to lose in a couple of years-especially three people who had become ghosts rather than going on to the other side as most dead people do.