Moon Called (Mercy Thompson #1)(60)
Author: Patricia Briggs

"Mercedes Thompson," I told him. "What do you want?"

David Christiansen sat down on the floor, making himself as vulnerable as a werewolf could get.

"Well, now, ma’am," he said. "We’ve gotten ourselves into something of a fix, and we’re hoping you can help us out of it. If you know who I am, you probably know I’ve been a lone wolf by choice since the Change."

"Yes," I said.

"I never finished high school, and the military was all I knew. When an old buddy recruited me for a mercenary troop, I was happy to go. Eventually I got tired of taking orders and formed up my own troop." He smiled at me. "When my grandsons resigned their commissions and joined us, I decided to quit fighting other people’s wars for them. We specialize in extracting kidnapped victims, ma’am. Businessmen, Red Cross, missionaries, whatever, we get them out of the hands of the terrorists."

My legs were getting tired, so I sat down on the back of the couch. "What does this have to do with me?"

"We find ourselves somewhat embarrassed," the werewolf said.

"We’re on the wrong side," said the man who’d answered to John-Julian.

"Gerry Wallace came to you," I whispered, as if a loud noise would destroy my sudden comprehension. It was David’s talking about being a lone wolf that had done it. Lone wolves and Dr. Wallace meant Gerry, the Marrok’s liaison with packless wolves. "He told you that Bran intended to tell the world about the werewolves." No wonder Gerry was too busy to spend time with his father.

"That’s right, ma’am," agreed David. He frowned at me. "You aren’t a werewolf, I’d swear to it, so how do you know so much about us-" He broke off his speech as a look of sudden comprehension came into his face. "Coyote. You’re the girl who turns into a coyote, the one raised by the Marrok."

"That’s me," I said. "So Gerry talked to you about Bran’s decision to bring the werewolves out into the public?"

"Bran is abandoning the wolves to the humans, just like the Gray Lords did their people," said Connor of the bloody nose. My strangeness evidently took second place to his indignation toward Bran. "He’s supposed to protect his people. Someone needed to challenge him before he could do it."

"So you suggested Adam?"

"No, ma’am." David’s voice was mellow, but I bet if he’d been in wolf form, his ears would have been pinned against his skull. "That was Gerry. He wanted me to come talk to him, one old friend to another."

"Bran is not one of the Gray Lords. He would never abandon his wolves. I suppose it never occurred to you to call Adam on the phone and talk to him-or even Bran, for that matter," I said.

"We were just back from a mission," David said. "We had the time. Some things just work better in person."

"Like kidnapping?" I asked dryly.

"That was unplanned," Connor said, a touch of heat in his voice.

"Was it?" murmured David. "I’ve been wondering. The whole thing came off so badly-with four of Gerry’s wolves dead-that I can’t help but wonder if it was planned that way."

"Three of his wolves dead," I said. "Mac was ours."

David smiled, more with his eyes than his lips. "Yes, ma’am. Three of his wolves died, then, and one of Adam’s."

"Why would he want to kill his own wolves?" asked Connor.

"We’d have to look at the wolves who died." David looked thoughtful. "I wonder if they were dominant wolves. I didn’t know any of them well-except for Kara. She wouldn’t have liked taking orders from Gerry for long. The boy, Mac, betrayed him by going to Adam for help."

"You make Gerry sound like a psychopath," said John-Julian. "He didn’t strike me as crazy."

"He’s a werewolf," David told him. "We’re a little more conscious of the chain of command than humans. If he wants to stay in control, he’d have to get rid of the wolves who were more dominant-and, eventually, the wolves who betrayed the pack."

I looked at David. "I don’t know Gerry well, but if I were to guess, I’d say you were dominant to him, too."

David grimaced. "I have my people. I don’t want Gerry’s, he knows that better than anyone. He’s watched me for years."

"So he felt safe calling you in," I said tentatively. "Knowing you wouldn’t challenge his leadership."

"Gerry told Grandpa that Adam didn’t want to challenge Bran, but he might listen to an old friend," said John-Julian mildly. "He offered to fly us out here to talk, so we agreed. It didn’t take long before we realized matters were a little different than presented."

"I’d made inquiries." David took over the narrative. "I called friends and found out that Bran really does intend to tell the Alphas at the December meeting that he is going to take us public. So we came here to talk to Adam. I didn’t think it would do much good. Adam likes the Marrok too much to challenge him."

"But matters weren’t quite as they were presented," said Connor. "Gerry never told us he was assembling an army of mercenaries and werewolves."

"An army?" I said.

"A small army. Two or three of the lone wolves like Kara, who couldn’t find a pack of their own," John-Julian explained. "And a small group of mercenaries, loners he apparently offered to turn into werewolves."

"I should have put a stop to it when the damn fool armed a bunch of frightened idiots with tranquilizer guns." David shook his head. "Maybe if I’d realized Gerry’d come up with something that could hurt a werewolf… Anyway, from that moment on it was a classic SNAFU."

"Adam said they shot Mac when he opened the door," I said.

"Gerry’d gotten them so worked up about how dangerous Adam was that before they even checked to see who it was, they shot him." John-Julian’s voice held only mild regret-and I had a feeling that was mostly for the stupidity of the shooting rather than Mac’s death.

"Did you know Mac?" I asked, looking down at Zee’s dagger because I didn’t want them all to know how angry I was. But, of course, the werewolf knew.

"No, they didn’t," David said. "We flew in last Monday afternoon." He gave me an assessing look. "We were there when one of Gerry’s mercenaries, a human, came in thoroughly spooked."

"The man said someone killed his partner," said John-Julian looking at me, too. "A demon."

"No demons." I shrugged. "It doesn’t take a demon to kill an untrained, newbie werewolf who was too stupid to live."