Silver Borne (Mercy Thompson #5)(40)
Author: Patricia Briggs

Samuel stalked away from us all. There wasn’t much room to get away, though, and he stopped with his head down. "I was hoping this could be easier, Mercy. But I forgot – you don’t do easy." He turned around and met my eyes. When he spoke again, it was in that gentle patronizing tone I thought I’d cured him of a long time ago. "You can’t save me, Mercy. Not when I don’t want to be saved."

"Samuel," said Adam in a demanding tone, much stronger than his condition allowed. He raised himself up on his elbows and stared at the other wolf.

Samuel met Adam’s eyes . . . and I saw shock in his face for just an instant before he began to shift to wolf. It was a dirty trick, something Alphas – strong Alphas – could do, forcing the change on another wolf. I suspected that if Adam hadn’t caught Samuel by surprise, it would never have worked. Adam held Samuel’s gaze while we waited with bated breath. Fifteen minutes is a long time to hold still. And at the end of it, Samuel was gone, leaving the white-eyed wolf in his place. The wolf smiled at Adam.

"Might not be able to save you, old son," Adam said, lying back again and closing his eyes. "But I can buy us a little time to kick you in the butt hard enough you stop thinking about ‘tomorrow and tomorrow’ and start thinking about how much your butt hurts."

"Sometimes," said Warren, "it’s real easy to see you were in the military, boss."

"Butt kicking being part and parcel of the service, both on the giving and receiving end," agreed Adam, without opening his eyes.

Mary Jo had been staring at Sam. "His wolf is in control," she said, horrified.

"Has been for a couple of days," agreed Adam. "No bodies yet."

He didn’t know about the fae at the bookstore . . . but I wasn’t sure the fae counted. It had been a defensive killing rather than an uncontrolled killing spree, though Sam had nearly taken me as dessert afterward.

Sam met my eyes thoughtfully, and I realized that he seemed . . . different, more expressive, than he had in Phin’s bookstore – just as I was used to seeing Samuel’s wolf. I’d thought he was getting more aggressive earlier, but I could see that he’d also been becoming . . . less Samuel, even less Sam. Our little disaster might have bought us a little more time.

"Ah take it that the Marrok does not know about Samuel?" Warren broke the silence, sounding very cowboy, very laid-back – which was usually a sign that he wasn’t.

"Sort of," I said. "I told him he didn’t want to know yet, and he believed me. But only on the condition that I’d talk to Charles. According to Charles, the good news is that if Samuel’s wolf was more independent of him, he’d have started causing mayhem right away. Bad news is that if we don’t get Samuel out of his funk soon, his wolf is going to fade, too." As he had been doing. "And we’ll be left with a dead Samuel anyway, but only after a bonus of lots of other dead bodies."

"A regular Vikin’ funeral," commented Warren.

Mary Jo gave him a sharp look, which he returned.

"Ah can read, as long as they’s lotsa good pictures," he said, speaking even slower than usual and using a lot more Texas-cowboy grammar.

"That’s my line," I told Warren. "I resent your stealing it."

Ben laughed. But then asked, "How is fading different from just having the wolf in control?"

Wolves are blunt creatures, mostly impatient with the softpedaling that the rest of the world considers politeness.

"I gather Sam will turn all fang and no brain and will eventually just fall over dead," I told them. "Probably less damage than what normally happens when the wolf is in charge. Especially since the wolf doesn’t stop until someone stops him. But not good."

"He’ll be easier to kill if it comes to it," said Warren, recognizing the advantages. Samuel was old, powerful, and clever – if his wolf was half as smart, it would take Bran or Charles to take him. This way, any of us with a silver-loaded gun could do it.

Sam didn’t seem bothered by the conversation. He half closed his eyes and snapped his teeth at Warren with mock fierceness. His ears were up, showing that he was only playing.

They hurt my heart with their fierce full-on acceptance of reality.

"Pack up, kids," said Adam, with his eyes still closed. "It’s time to take this party home."

Home.

I glanced worriedly at Warren. Adam would be up and functional in a day or two – thanks to nifty werewolf superpowers of healing. But the pack was still a mess.

"Right, boss." Warren nodded at me and continued to talk to Adam. "I reckon I’ll stick by you for a bit, though, if you don’t mind. Darryl will be there, too."
* * *

WE PACKED ADAM INTO THE BACK OF WARREN’S TRUCK on top of a thick camping pad and underneath a sleeping bag. Werewolves are pretty immune to the cold – especially the kind of cold the Tri-Cities could manage most winters. But we weren’t taking any chances with him. He accepted our fussing with a sort of royal amusement that managed to be appreciative, too, though he didn’t say a word.

"Camping?" I murmured to Warren under my breath after we’d gotten Adam settled. "You actually got Kyle to go out camping?" Kyle was very happy with the comforts of civilization. I couldn’t see him spending a weekend in the woods voluntarily.

"Nah," he muttered. "Not overnight anyhow. But I’m hopeful for next spring."

"But you had sleeping bags and camp pads in your truck." I couldn’t help the smile that grew on my face. "Does this have anything to do with the ice chest full of meat?"

He ducked his head, but he was grinning. "You don’t ask me what you don’t want to know, Mercy."

Mary Jo rode in the back of the truck with Adam while I drove my car with Ben beside me and Sam in the back. Ben had offered to drive the Rabbit so I could ride with Adam, but his hands were raw and painful. Mary Jo wasn’t going to do anything to hurt Adam; whatever resentment or hatred she felt for me didn’t interfere with her desire to keep him safe.

As soon as I started driving, Ben said, "You need to find out who the second man on watch was."

"What?"

"The other wolf Adam had watching with Mary Jo. She doesn’t want to tell, and she’s higher rank than I am, so I can’t ask her. If Warren asked . . . She’s one of the crowd that thinks he shouldn’t be pack."

"What?" I’d thought the homophobic elements in the pack were all men.

Ben nodded. "She’s quieter about it than most, but she’s also more stubborn. If Warren gave her an order she didn’t want to comply with – like one that would make her narc on someone she cares about – she’s likely to defy him. He’d have to hurt her, and that would hurt him more because he likes her – and doesn’t have any idea that she’s one of the stupid people."