River Marked (Mercy Thompson #6)(59)
Author: Patricia Briggs

"Hold on," I told him. "There’s help about."

I pulled on my clothes, stuck my shoes on my feet, and grabbed Adam’s clothes as fast as I could. Then I bounded back up the hill, hoping like heck that Coyote hadn’t already vanished like the rest of them.

Why I was so sure that Coyote knew anything about werewolves was a mystery to me, but it seemed right. He’d known Adam would have trouble shifting when the earth magic was singing.

The candles were all out. Jim and Calvin were gone; Fred and Hank had left before we’d headed out to change. Stonehenge looked deserted.

"Coyote?" I called.

"Mercy?"

I’d been almost certain he was gone, but he and Raven had apparently been sitting on the altar playing a card game in the dark. Hard to believe I’d missed them, but Coyote was that sort, so I didn’t worry about it. I had other things on my mind.

"Adam can’t change back. Would the earth magic have done something that keeps him from shifting?"

"He can’t change back to human?" Coyote folded up his hand of cards and set them on the bronze plaque, giving us his full attention. "That’s awkward, this being your honeymoon."

"He can’t change," I said, ignoring the last sentence. "Is it the earth magic? Will the effects go away after we leave here?"

Coyote considered it. "The earth magic shouldn’t do anything unless directed by a shaman, and I think Jim likes you."

Raven gave his head a birdlike twitch. "It wasn’t Jim, and it wasn’t the earth magic." His voice left no room for doubt. "Your werewolf bit our Wolf, remember?"

Raven grinned at me, a big warm expression that was infinitely reassuring though I could think of no reason I should trust him. "Wolf takes things like that personally. But he’s not one to cling to his angers, either." His face became a little pensive. "Not like Owl."

Coyote snorted. "He still bearing a grudge for that? That happened a long, long time ago."

"How was I to know that it was his favorite thing?" Raven’s eyes twinkled with starlight. "It was shiny." He glanced at me. "But it was heavy, so I dropped it in the ocean. It was an accident."

"You think that this is something Wolf did?" I had a good grip on the ruff around Adam’s neck. It was a habit I’d developed over the past few months because I found it reassuring.

Adam didn’t look worried or nervous, but he wouldn’t, not in front of people who were essentially strangers. I was doing the worried and nervous for both of us.

A werewolf can stay wolf for a while. A couple of days, no trouble. A few weeks . . . well, not so good, but most of them will be okay afterward. Months were possible–one or two. After that, he would be all wolf with no human. Bran’s son Samuel had experienced that, and his wolf had behaved in a mostly civilized fashion for a couple of weeks without losing it, astonishing everyone. It was unlikely that Adam, who had not seen his first century, could do the same.

"How long?" I asked.

Coyote sighed. "Mercedes, it takes power to pull forward Adam’s wolf so strongly that his human half cannot change. We . . . None of us has a lot of that kind of power over here anymore, which is probably why Wolf did it: to show that he is not to be trifled with." Coyote looked at Adam. "He could have killed you had he desired. It would have been easier. After tomorrow’s battle, I should be very surprised if Wolf’s punishment does not fade away. It would be easy to be angry with him –but he and the others have agreed to sacrifice themselves. It is, I think, unlikely that he will return to this place soon after that."

"If ever," agreed Raven quietly. He had picked up all the cards and laid out a solitaire pattern. Spider, I thought, or some variant. "So give him his dignity and don’t worry."

"Thank you," I told them both. I started to go, then I remembered something. "Hey, Coyote?"

He had just scooped up the cards again and was in the middle of shuffling. "Yes."

"Your sisters told me to tell you that they thought your plan was a good one."

"Did they tell you what it was?" He resumed shuffling, but there was a rapidity to his movement that told me he was feeling something strongly.

"Yes." I took a deep breath. "Weak link here, I think. But I’ll do my best."

He smiled. "Yes, I expect you will."

WHEN SOMETHING WOKE ME UP FROM A SOUND SLEEP in the middle of the night, I assumed it was Coyote again. This time I woke Adam up, too.

"Someone wants me outside," I told him, tapping my head. "I think Coyote might want to talk again."

When I got out of bed, I tripped over the walking stick. I picked it up gently, instead of swearing at it, and leaned it against the wall. Swearing at ancient artifacts seemed a little unwise. Not something I’d do unless I’d carefully considered all the possible effects.

Adam and I made our way out to the swimming hole, where the call was coming from. But it wasn’t Coyote.

Out in the darkness I could see her–or at least her wake. The roiling water burbled and swirled as she swam in lazy circles.

Mercedes Thompson. Her voice was in my head.

I sat down on the ground with a thump, in the faint hope that it would somehow make it harder for her to get me into the water. Coyote had been too precipitous in declaring me immune to her charms. Perhaps she couldn’t make me drown my own children–and Jesse, thank goodness, was a hundred miles away. But she could call me out to her, and she could speak to me.

I thought as hard as I could, Go die.

Mercedes, she said again, her voice like a cool liquid in my head, giving me the mother of all ice- cream headaches. Are you listening to me? Do you see what I want you to see?

"Do you hear her?" I asked Adam.

He looked out toward the river.

"No." I tapped him, then tapped my head. "She’s in here."

His teeth gleamed white in the darkness.

MacKenzie Hepner was eight years old as of four days ago. She was supposed to be in the tent with her little brother, but something had woken her up. She hitched up her nightgown and waded in the cold water. On her arm she could see the mark that that weed had left when she went swimming too far out in the river, and her stepdad had to swim out and rescue her. It made her reconsider how she felt about her stepdad. He hadn’t even yelled at her, just hugged her. It took her a while to figure out he was scared, too . . .

Do you see what I want you to see, Mercedes?

My breath started coming in panicked gulps. I hadn’t been just dreaming about the ill-fated Janice and her family. The river devil had fed me the details afterward. Maybe that hadn’t been on purpose. Maybe. But they had been real, and this eight-year-old named MacKenzie was real, too.