Moon Called (Mercy Thompson #1)(38)
Author: Patricia Briggs

"The fae all came out years ago."

He snorted. "You’re not that dumb. I know a few doctors and teachers who are still in the closet about being g*y-and all they have to worry about is losing their jobs, not having a group of idiots burn their houses down." I could feel him deciding Warren was fae, and his agitation dropped appreciably. "That would explain some things, like how strong he is and how he knows who’s coming before he answers the door."

Well, I thought feeling hopeful, being fae wasn’t quite the same as being a werewolf. But if he could accept the one, maybe the other wouldn’t be too big a stretch.

"He’s not fae," I said. I started to tell him just what Warren was, but the words caught in my throat.

"Warren should be the one telling me this," said Kyle.

"Right," I agreed. "But he can’t."

"You mean he won’t."

"No. Can’t." I shook my head. "I don’t have many friends," I said. "Not ‘come over and eat popcorn and watch a stupid movie’ friends. You and Warren are sort of it." I don’t have many girlfriends. My work isn’t conducive to meeting other women.

"Pretty sad," Kyle commented. Then he said, "You and Warren are the only people I eat popcorn with, too."

"Pathetic." The banter helped. I drew in a breath and just said it. "Warren’s a werewolf."

"A what?" Kyle stopped the swing.

"A werewolf. You know. The moon-called, run-on-four-feet-with-big-fangs kind of werewolf."

He looked at me. "You’re serious."

I nodded. "And you’re not going to breathe a word of it."

"Oh?"

"That’s why Warren couldn’t tell you. That and because Adam-the pack Alpha-forbade it. If you go out now and talk to the authorities or the papers, even if they don’t believe you, the pack will kill you." I knew I was speaking too fast, but I couldn’t seem to slow down. In Warren’s house, with only Samuel and Warren, it hadn’t seemed so dangerous. Samuel and Warren might care for me, but there were plenty of werewolves right here in town who would be happy to see me-and Kyle-dead for what I had just told him. "Warren will fight them, but there are too many of them. He’ll die, and you’ll die with him."

Kyle held up a hand. "Hold on. It’s a little soon for you to have Warren and me dead, don’t you think?"

I took a deep breath. "I hope so. You have to believe me on this-they take their secrecy very seriously. How do you think they’ve remained undetected for so long?"

"Mercy." He caught my hand-his own felt cold, but that might have been from the wind. "A werewolf?"

He didn’t really believe me-that might be more dangerous. "Twenty years ago no one believed in the fae, either. Look, I can prove it to you."

I looked at a thicket of leafless bushes. They weren’t really thick enough for me to strip and shift in, but there weren’t any boats out on the water, and as long as we didn’t get another biker at the wrong moment… I could just shift in my clothes-I get smaller, not bigger-but I’d rather be given a ticket for indecent exposure. A coyote in human clothes looks ridiculous.

"Wait here." I gave him the trench coat so it wouldn’t get dirty, then hopped off the swing and waded through the old grass into the bushes. I took off my clothes as fast as I could and shifted as soon as I dropped the last piece of clothing.

I stopped on the path and sat down, trying to look harmless.

"Mercy?" Kyle had his lawyer face on, which told me how shocked he was. He really hadn’t believed me.

I wagged my tail and made a crooning noise. He got out of the swing like an old, old man and approached me.

"A coyote?" he asked.

When I went down to get my clothes, he followed me. I shifted right in front of him-then scrambled back into my clothes as I heard another bicycle coming along.

"I’m not a werewolf," I told him, running my fingers through my hair. "But I’m as close as you’re going to get until you talk Warren into changing for you."

Kyle made an impatient sound and pulled my hands away, rearranging my hair himself.

"Werewolves are bigger," I said, feeling as though I ought to warn him. "A lot bigger. They don’t look like wolves. They look like really, really big wolves who might eat you."

"Okay," he said, stepping back. I thought he was talking about my hair, until he continued. "Warren’s a werewolf."

I looked at his lawyer face and sighed. "He couldn’t tell you. If I tell you, and you don’t do anything stupid-you and he are both safe. But if he told you, no matter how you reacted, he would have disobeyed a direct order. The penalty for that is brutal."

He still wasn’t giving anything away. He was so closed off, I couldn’t sense what he was feeling. Most humans don’t have that kind of control over themselves.

"Won’t his pack-" He stumbled over that word a little. "Won’t they think he told me?"

"A lot of werewolves can smell a lie," I said. "They’ll know how you found out."

He went back to the swing, picked up the trench coat, and held it out to me. "Tell me about werewolves."

I was in the middle of trying to explain just how dangerous a werewolf could be and why it wasn’t a good idea for him to flirt with Samuel-or Darryl-when my cell phone rang.

It was Zee.

"Business?" Kyle asked when I hung up.

"Yes." I bit my lip.

He smiled. "It’s all right. I think I’ve heard enough secrets for one day. I take it you need to go back to Warren’s?"

"Don’t talk to him yet," I said. "Wait for it to sink in. If you have other questions, you can call me."

"Thanks, Mercy." He wrapped an arm around my shoulder. "But I think I need to talk the rest out with Warren-after his business is finished."

Chapter 9

Samuel and Warren were seated on opposite sides of the living room when I walked in, and the air smelled thick with anger. I couldn’t tell, just by looking at them, whether they were angry with each other or something else. But then, werewolves are always ready to be angry about something. I’d forgotten what it was like.

Of course, I wasn’t the only one with a nose. Warren, sitting closest to the door, took a deep breath.

"She’s been with Kyle," he said, his voice flat. "She smells like the cologne I gave him. You told him." He swore at me, but there was more pain than anger in it. I felt a sharp twinge of guilt.

" You weren’t going to tell him," I said. I was not apologizing. "And he deserved to know that all the crap he has to put up with is not all your doing."