Moon Called

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."



Warren shook his head and gave me a despairing glance. "Do you have a death wish? Adam could have you and Kyle executed for it. I've seen it done."



"Just me, not Kyle," I said.



"Yes, damn it, Kyle, too."



"Only if your lover decides to take it to the news or police." Samuel's voice was mild, but Warren glared at him anyway.



"You risked too much, Mercy," said Warren, turning back to me. "How do you think I'd feel if I lost both of you?" All the anger left him suddenly, leaving only misery behind. "Maybe you were right. It was still my job. My risk. If he was going to know, it should have been me telling him."



"No. You are pack and sworn to obedience." Adam swayed at the top of the stairs, leaning a little on his cane. He was wearing a white shirt and jeans that fit. "If you'd told him, I'd have had to enforce the law or risk a rebellion in the pack."



He sat down on the top stair more abruptly than he meant to, I think, and grinned at me. "Samuel and I both can witness that Warren didn't tell Kyle anything, you did. Despite Warren's objections, I might add. And, as you keep insisting, you are not pack." He looked over at Warren. "I'd have given you permission a long time ago, but I have to obey orders, too."



I stared at him a moment. "You knew I was going to tell Kyle."



He smiled. "Let's just say that I thought I was going to have to come down and order you not to tell him so you would storm out the door before Kyle drove off."



"You manipulative bastard," I said, with a tinge of awe. That was it, three tires were going to come off that old Rabbit.



"Thank you." He gave me a modest smile.



And when we got Jesse back, she could help me with the graffiti.



"How did he take it?" asked Warren. He'd gotten off the couch and stood staring out his window. His hands hung loose and relaxed by his side, giving nothing of his feelings away.



"He's not gone running to the police," I told Adam and Samuel. I searched for something more hopeful to tell Warren, but I didn't want to raise his expectations in case I was wrong about Kyle.



"He said he'd talk it over with you," I told him at last. "After this business is finished."



He raised his hands to his face abruptly, in a gesture very like the one Kyle had used. "At least it's not over, yet."



He wasn't talking to any of us, but I couldn't stand the bleakness of his voice. I touched his shoulder, and said, "Don't screw it up anymore and I think he'll be okay with it."



Samuel and I headed out to meet with Zee and his informant, and I was still trying to figure out if I should have been mad at Adam for manipulating me like that. Except that he actually hadn't done any manipulation, had he? All he'd done was claim credit for my actions afterward.



The light turned red, and I had to stop behind a minivan a little closer than I usually did. Samuel's hand braced itself on my dash and he sucked in his breath. I made a face at the kid in the backseat of the van who had twisted around in his seat belt to look at us. He pulled his lower eyelids down and stuck out his tongue.



"It's not that I object to being in a car wreck," Samuel said. "I just prefer to have them on purpose."



"What?" I glanced over at him, then looked in front of us. The back of the other van made an all-encompassing wall about two feet from our windshield. Sudden comprehension made me grin. "Vanagons have no nose," I said gently. "Our bumper is about a foot from your toes. You could walk between our cars."



"I could reach out and touch that boy," he said. The boy had made another face, and Samuel made one back, sticking his thumbs in his ears and spreading his fingers out like moose antlers. "You know, one of Adam's jobs was to make sure you didn't run around telling the world about werewolves."



The light turned green, and the kid waved sadly as his van accelerated onto the interstate ramp. We were accelerating, too, but the ramp curled around in an uphill slant so it would take us a while to get to interstate speed.



I snorted. "Kyle's not the world." I glanced at him. "Besides, you knew what I was going to do as well as Adam did. If you'd really objected, you could have stopped me before I left."



"Maybe I think Kyle is trustworthy."



I snorted. "Maybe the moon is made of green cheese. You don't care. You think the werewolves need to come out in public like the fae." Samuel had never been afraid of change.



"We aren't going to be able to hide much longer," Samuel said, confirming my guess. "When I went back to school, I realized just how far forensic medicine has come. Ten years ago, when it was just the military and the FBI labs we had to worry about, having a few wolves in the right places was sufficient. But there aren't enough wolves to infiltrate every small-town police laboratory. Since the fae came out, the scientists are paying closer attention to abnormalities they used to attribute to lab equipment failure or specimen contamination. If Da doesn't pick his time soon, it'll pick him."



"You're the reason he's considering it at all." That made sense. Bran had always given close consideration to Samuel's advice.



"Da's not stupid. Once he understood what we faced, he came to the same conclusion. He has a meeting scheduled for all the Alphas this coming spring." He paused. "He considered using Adam-the handsome Vietnam war hero."



"Why not you?" I asked. "The handsome, selfless doctor who has been keeping people alive for centuries."



"That's why Da's in charge and you're just a minion," he said. "Remember, popular culture holds that all you need to become a werewolf is to have one bite you-not unlike AIDS. It will be a while before they're comfortable rubbing elbows up close and personal. Better to leave them thinking that all the wolves are in the military and the police. You know-'To Serve and Protect'."



"I'm not a minion," I objected hotly. "Minions have to be followers." He laughed, pleased at having gotten my goat again.



"You don't mind that I told Kyle early?" I asked after a while.



"No, you were right. He has too much to lose by going to the tabloids, and he's the kind of people we need behind us-to keep the mobs under control."



"Educated, well-spoken, well-bred lawyer?" I tried. Yes, that all fit Kyle. "But he's not exactly mainstream."



Samuel shrugged. "Being gay has a certain cachet today."



I thought of the story Kyle had told me about his family and thought Samuel was mistaken, at least in some quarters. But all I said was, "I'll tell Kyle he has a certain cachet with you."



Unexpectedly, Samuel grinned. "I'd rather you didn't. He'll just flirt with me some more."



"Speaking of uncomfortable," I said, "what had you and Warren so uptight?"



"It was mostly Warren," he said. "I'm a stranger, a dominant wolf in his territory-and he was already upset because he thought he was losing the love of his life. If I'd realized how dominant he was, I'd have taken myself elsewhere for the night. We'll manage, but it won't be comfortable."



"He's Adam's third."



"Would have been nice if someone had seen fit to tell me that," Samuel groused good-naturedly. "With Adam wounded and the second not there, that sticks Warren in the Alpha role-no wonder he was so wound up. I was ready to go out and take a walk myself when you showed up." He gave me a sharp look. "Odd how you showing up let him back down. Just as if Adam's second were there-or his mate."



"I'm not pack," I said shortly. "I'm not dating Adam. I have no status in the pack. What I did have was a long overdue conversation with Kyle-which is what distracted Warren."



Samuel continued to watch me. His mouth was quirked up, but his eyes were full of things I couldn't read, as he said, "Adam's staked his claim on you before his pack. Did you know that?"



I hadn't. It made me suck in an angry breath before I realized why he might have done that. "He had to keep his pack from killing me somehow. Wolves kill coyotes who are in their territory. A formal claim of me as his mate would keep me safe. I understand that was something Bran asked him to do. It doesn't make me pack, it doesn't make me his mate. The first is out because I'm a coyote, the second because somebody has to ask me before he can claim me for a mate."



Samuel laughed, but there was no amusement in it. "You can think as you please. How much time do we have before we find this bar?"



"It's in the far side of Pasco," I said. "We'll be there in ten minutes."



"Well," he said, "why don't you tell me about Zee and this fae we are supposed to meet?"



"I don't know a lot," I told him. "Not about the fae. Just that she's got some information we might be interested in. As for Zee, he's a gremlin. He gave me my first job out of college, and I bought the garage from him when he retired. He still helps out when I need him-or when he gets bored. He likes to take things apart and see what's wrong with them, but he usually lets me put them back together again."



"There's a fae reservation near here."



I nodded. "About forty miles away. Just outside of Walla Walla."



"Adam says that having so many lesser fae around has attracted more of the greater fae."



"I don't know about that," I said. "I can smell their magic, but I can't tell how strong they are."



"He thinks that's also why there are more vampires, ghosts, and whatnot around the Tri-Cities than, say Spokane, which is a larger city."



"I try to stay out of the other species' business," I told him. "I can't avoid the werewolves, not with Adam living right next door, but I try. The only fae I associate with are Zee and his son Tad."



"The fae are willing to talk to you." Samuel stretched his legs out and clasped his hands behind his neck, sticking his elbows out like wings. "Adam says your old boss is one of the oldest of the fae-and, just so you know, the metalsmiths-gremlins-are not included with the lesser fae. Also, Warren told me that Stefan the vampire visits you quite often. Then there's this human police officer. Drawing the attention of the police is dangerous."



It did sound as if I had my finger in all sorts of pies.



"Zee was forced public by the Gray Lords," I said. "So someone considers him to be one of the lesser fae. Stefan loves his bus, and I let him help me fix it."



"You what?"



I forgot he'd never met Stefan. "He's not like most vampires," I tried to explain. Even though Stefan was the only vampire I'd ever met, I knew how they were supposed to act: I went to movies just like everyone else.



"They are all like most vampires," Samuel said darkly. "Some of them are just better at hiding it than others."



It wouldn't do any good to argue with him-especially since I agreed with him in principle.



"And the police officer wasn't my fault," I muttered, taking my exit into Pasco. It seemed like a good time to change the subject, so I said, "The Fairy Mound in Walla Walla is the bar where tourists go to see the fae. The fae who don't want to be gawked at mostly hang out at Uncle Mike's here in Pasco. Zee says there's a spell on it that makes humans avoid it. It doesn't affect me, but I don't know about werewolves."



"You aren't going in without me," he said.



"Fine." Never argue with werewolves before you need to, I reminded myself.



Uncle Mike's was across the Columbia River from my garage, which put it near Pasco's Industrial Park. The old building had once been a small warehouse, and there were warehouses on either side, both heavily tagged by the local kids. I wasn't sure if magic kept the kids away, or someone with a lot of paint and a brush, but Uncle Mike's exterior was always pristine.



I pulled into the parking lot and turned off my lights. It was about seven, still a little early for the regular crowd, and there were only four other cars in the lot, one of which was Zee's truck.



Inside, the bar was dark enough that a human might stumble over the stairs that led from the entry to the bar proper. Samuel hesitated in the doorway, but I thought that it was a tactical thing and not a reaction to a spell. The bar took up all of the wall to our right. There was a small dance floor cleared in the center of the room, with clusters of small tables scattered around the outside.



"There they are," I told Samuel, and headed for the far corner, where Zee sat looking relaxed next to a moderately attractive woman in conservative business dress.



I've never seen Zee without his glamour; he told me he'd worn it so long that he was more comfortable in human guise. His chosen form was moderately tall, balding, with a little potbelly. His face was craggy, but not unattractively so-just enough to give it character.



He saw us coming and smiled. Since he and the woman already had the defensive seats, setting their backs against the wall, Samuel and I sat across from them. If having the rest of the room behind him, mostly empty as it was, bothered Samuel, I couldn't tell. I hitched my chair around until I could at least get a glimpse of the rest of the room.



"Hey, Zee," I said. "This is Dr. Samuel Cornick. Samuel, meet Zee."



Zee nodded, but didn't try to introduce his companion. Instead, he turned to her, and said, "These are the ones I told you about."



She frowned and tapped the table with long, manicured nails. Something about the way she used them made me think that beneath the glamour she might have claws. I'd been trying to pin down her scent, but finally was forced to conclude that either she didn't have one or that she smelled of iron and earth just like Zee.



When she looked up from contemplating her nails, she spoke to me and not to Samuel. "Zee tells me there is a child missing."



"She's fifteen," I said, wanting to be clear. The fae don't like it if they think you've lied to them. "The local Alpha's human daughter."



"This could be trouble for me," she said. "But I have talked to Zee, and what I have to tell you has nothing to do with the fae, and so I am at liberty to share it. I would not usually help the wolves, but I do not like those who take their battles to the innocents."



I waited.



"I work at a bank," she said at last. "I won't tell you the name of it, but it is the bank that the local seethe of vampires uses. Their deposits follow a regular pattern." Meaning that most of their victims' payments were monthly. She sipped her drink. "Six days ago, there was an unexpected deposit."



"Visitors paying tribute," I said, sitting up straighter in my chair. This sounded promising. A single fae or wolf or whatever wouldn't have paid a tribute high enough to catch anyone's eye.



"I took the liberty of speaking to Uncle Mike himself before you came," said Zee quietly. "He's heard of no new visitors, which means these people are keeping very quiet."



"We need to talk to the vampires," said Samuel. "Adam will know how to do it."



"That will take too long." I took out my cell phone and dialed Stefan's number. It was early for him to be up, but he'd called me not much later than this.



"Mercy," he said warmly. "Are you back from your trip?"



"Yes. Stefan, I need your help."



"What can I do for you?" Something changed in his voice, but I couldn't worry about that.



"Tuesday night or early Wednesday morning, a group of people including out-of-territory werewolves kidnapped the Alpha's daughter. She's a personal friend of mine, Stefan. Someone told me that your seethe might know of a visiting pack."



"Ah," he said. "That's not in my area of responsibility. Do you want me to inquire for you?"



I hesitated. I didn't know much about the vampires except that smart people avoid them. Something about the formality of his question made me think it was a bigger question than it sounded.



"What does that mean, exactly?" I asked suspiciously.



He laughed, a cheerful unvampire-like sound. "Good for you. It means that you are appointing me your representative and that gives me certain rights to pursue this that I might not otherwise have."



"Rights over me?"



"None that I will take advantage of," he said. "I give you my word of honor, Mercedes Thompson. I will force you to do nothing against your will."



"All right," I said. "Then yes, I would like you to inquire for me."



"What do you know?"



I glanced at the woman's expressionless face. "I can't tell you everything-just that I've been told that your seethe knows of visitors to the Tri-Cities who might be the group I'm looking for. If that group doesn't have any werewolves, then they're the wrong ones. They might be doing something experimental with medicines or drugs."



"I'll inquire," he said. "Keep your cell phone at hand."



"I'm not certain that was wise," said Zee, after I hung up.



"You said she deals with the werewolves." The woman curled her upper lip at me. "You didn't tell me she also deals with the undead."



"I'm a mechanic," I told her. "I don't make enough money to pay off the vampires in cash, so I fix their cars. Stefan has an old bus he's restoring. He's the only one I've ever dealt with personally."



She didn't look happy, but her lip uncurled.



"I appreciate your time," I said, narrowly skirting an outright thank you-which can get you in trouble. The wrong kind of fae will take your thanks as an admission that you feel obligated to them. Which means that you must then do whatever they ask. Zee had been very careful to break me of that habit. "The Alpha will also be happy to recover his daughter."



"It is always good for the Alpha to be happy," she said; I couldn't tell if she was being honest or sarcastic. She stood up abruptly and smoothed down her skirts to give me time to move my chair so she could exit. She stopped by the bar and spoke to the bartender before she left.



"She smells like you," Samuel said to Zee. "Is she a metalsmith, too?"



"Gremlin, please," said Zee. "It may be a new name for an old thing, but at least it is not a bad translation. She is a troll-a relative, but not a close one. Trolls like money and extortion, a lot of them go into banking." He frowned at me. "You don't go into that nest of vampires alone, Mercy, not even if Stefan is escorting you. He appears better than most, but I have been around a long time. You cannot trust a vampire. The more pleasant they appear, the more dangerous they are."



"I don't plan on going anywhere," I told him. "Samuel is right, the wolves don't pay tribute here. Likely they are people who have nothing to do with taking Jesse."



My phone rang.



"Mercy?"



It was Stefan, but there was something about his voice that troubled me. I heard something else, too, but there were more people in the bar and someone had turned up the music.



"Wait a moment," I said loudly-then lied. "I'm sorry I can't hear you. I'm going outside." I waved at Samuel and Zee, then walked outside to the quieter parking lot.



Samuel came with me. He started to speak but I held up a finger to my lips. I didn't know how good a vampire's hearing was, but I didn't want to risk it.



"Mercy, can you hear me now?" Stefan's voice was overly crisp and even.



"Yes," I said. I could also hear the woman's voice that said sweetly, "Ask her, Stefan."



He sucked in his breath as if the unknown woman had done something that hurt.



"Is there a strange werewolf with you at Uncle Mike's?" he asked.



"Yes," I said, looking around. I couldn't smell anything like Stefan nearby, and I was pretty certain I'd have noticed. The vampires must have a contact at Uncle Mike's, someone who could tell Samuel was a werewolf and who knew Adam's werewolves.



"My mistress wonders that she was not informed of a visitor."



"The wolves don't ask permission to travel here, not from your seethe," I told him. "Adam knows."



"Adam has disappeared, leaving his pack leaderless." They spoke together, his words so tight on the end of hers that he sounded like an echo.



I was relatively certain she didn't know I could hear her-though Stefan did. He knew what I was because I'd shown him. Apparently he hadn't seen fit to inform the rest of his seethe. Of course, someone as relatively powerless as I was of little interest to the vampires.



"The pack is hardly leaderless," I said.



"The pack is weak," they said. "And the wolves have set precedent. They paid for permission to come into our territory because we are dominant to Adam's little pack."



Samuel's eyes narrowed, and his mouth tightened. The vampire's contributors were the people who'd killed Mac, the people who had Jesse.



"So the new visitors have werewolves among them," I said sharply. "They are not Bran's wolves. They cannot be a pack. They are less than nothing. Outlaws with no status. I killed two of them myself, and Adam killed another two. And you know I am no great power. Real wolves, wolves who were pack, would never have fallen to something as weak as I." That was the truth, and I hoped they both could hear it.



There was a long pause. I could hear murmuring in the background, but I could not tell what they said.



"Perhaps that is so," said Stefan at last, sounding tired. "Bring your wolf and come to us. We'll determine if he needs a visitor's pass. If not, we see no reason not to tell you what we know of these outlaws who are so much less than pack."



"I don't know where your seethe is," I said.



"I'll come and get you," said Stefan, apparently speaking on his own. He hung up.



"I guess we're going to visit the vampires tonight," I said. Sometime during the conversation, Zee had come out as well. I hadn't noticed when, but he was standing beside Samuel. "Do you know vampires?"



Samuel shrugged. "A little. I've run into one a time or two."



"I'll go with you," the old mechanic said softly, and tossed back the last of the scotch in the shot glass he'd brought out with him. "Nothing I am will help you-metal is not their bane. But I know something of vampires."



"No," I said. "I need you for something else. If I don't call you tomorrow morning, I want you to call this number." I pulled an old grocery receipt out of my purse and wrote Warren's home number on the back of it. "This is Warren's, the wolf who's Adam's third. Tell him as much as you know."



He took the number. "I don't like this." But he shoved the note into his pocket in tacit agreement. "I wish you had more time to prepare. Do you have a symbol of your faith, Mercy, a cross, perhaps? It is not quite as effective as Mr. Stoker made it out to be, but it will help."



"I'm wearing a cross," Samuel said. "Bran makes us all wear them. We don't have vampires in our part of Montana, but there are other things crosses are good for." Like some of the nastier fae-but Samuel wouldn't mention that in front of Zee-it would be rude. Just as Zee would never mention that the third and fourth bullets in the gun he carried were silver-I made them for him myself. Not that he couldn't do it better himself, but if he got tangled up with werewolves, I figured it would be because of me.



"Mercy?" asked Samuel.



I don't like crosses. My distaste has nothing to do with the metaphysical like it does for vampires; when I lived in Bran's pack, I wore crosses, too. I have a whole spiel about how sick it is to carry around the instrument of Christ's torture as a symbol for the Prince of Peace who taught us to love one another. It's a good spiel, and I even believe it.



Really though, they just give me the willies. I have a very vivid memory of going to church with my mother on one of her rare visits when I was four or five. She was poor and living in Portland; she just couldn't afford to come very often. So when she could come, she liked to do something special. We went to Missoula for a mother-daughter weekend and, on Sunday, picked a church to attend at random-more, I think, because my mother felt she ought to take me to church than because she was particularly religious.



She stopped to talk to the pastor or priest, and I wandered farther into the building so I was alone when I turned the corner and saw, hanging on the wall, a bigger-than-life-size statue of Christ dying on the cross. My eyes were just level with his feet, which were tacked to the cross with a huge nail. It wouldn't have been so bad, but someone with talent had painted it true to life, complete with blood. We didn't go to church that day-and ever since then, I couldn't look at a cross without seeing the son of God dying upon it.



So, no crosses for me. But, having been raised in Bran's pack, I carried around something else. Reluctantly, I pulled out my necklace and showed it to them.



Samuel frowned. The little figure was stylized; I suppose he couldn't tell what it was at first.



"A dog?" asked Zee, staring at my necklace.



"A lamb," I said defensively, tucking it safely back under my shirt. "Because one of Christ's names is 'The Lamb of God. "



Samuel's shoulders shook slightly. "I can see it now, Mercy holding a roomful of vampires at bay with her glowing silver sheep."



I gave his shoulder a hard push, aware of the heat climbing up my cheeks, but it didn't help. He sang in a soft taunting voice, "Mercy had a little lamb..."



"I've been told it's the faith of the wearer that matters," Zee said, though he sounded doubtful, too. "I don't suppose you've ever used your lamb against a vampire?"



"No," I said shortly, still huffy over the song. "But if the Star of David works, and Bran says it does, then this should, too."



We all turned to watch a car drive into the parking lot, but its occupants got out and, after the driver tipped an imaginary hat at Zee, walked into Uncle Mike's. No vampires in that lot.



"Is there anything else we should know?" I asked Zee, who seemed to be the most informed of us. All I knew for certain about vampires came under the heading of "Stay Away From."



"Prayer doesn't work" he said. "Though it seems to have some effect on demons and some of the oldest of the dark fae. Garlic doesn't work-"



"Except like insect repellent," said Stefan, just appearing between two parked cars behind Zee. "It doesn't hurt, but it smells bad and tastes worse. If you don't irritate one of us, and make sure you bring a friend who hasn't eaten garlic, it'll at least put you last on the menu."



I hadn't heard him come, hadn't seen him or sensed him at all until he spoke. From somewhere, Zee drew a dark-bladed dagger as long as my arm and stepped between me and the vampire. Samuel growled.



"I'm sorry," Stefan apologized humbly, as he noticed how badly he'd startled us. "Moving unseen is a talent of mine, but I usually don't use it on my friends. I've just had an unpleasant episode, and it left me with my guard up."



Stefan was tallish, but he always seemed to take up less space than he should, so I seldom thought of him as being a big man unless he was standing next to someone else. He was, I noticed, just exactly the same height as Samuel and nearly as broad in the shoulders, though he lacked some of the werewolf's bulk.



His face had regular features and in repose he might be handsome, I suppose. But his expressions were so big that I lost the shape of his features for the bright engagement of his grin.



Just then, though, he frowned at me. "If I am to take you before the Mistress, I'd rather you had dressed up a bit more."



I looked down and realized I was wearing the clothing I'd had on when I'd gone over to check out Adam's house. It seemed like a week ago, rather than the night before last. The T-shirt was one Stefan himself had given me for teaching him how to correct the timing on his bus. It read "Happiness is German engineering, Italian cooking, and Belgian chocolate" and bore a large stain from the cocoa I spilled on it. Thinking about how long I'd been wearing it made me realize that it smelled a little bit stronger than it usually did-and not of detergent and fabric softener either.



"We just came back into town late this afternoon," I apologized. "I haven't had a chance to go home and change yet. But you're not much better."



He looked down at himself, rocking back on his heels and spreading his hands like a vaudeville comic exaggerating his motions for an audience. He was wearing a casual black long-sleeved shirt unbuttoned over a plain white T-shirt, and jeans with a hole over one knee. I've never seen him wearing anything more formal, but for some reason his casual clothes always looked... wrong somehow, as if he were wearing a costume.



"What, this?" he asked. "This is my best down-at-the-heels vampire look," he said. "Maybe I should have worn black jeans and a black shirt, but I hate overdoing it."



"I thought you were picking us up." I looked around pointedly. "Where's your car?"



"I came the fast way." He didn't explain what that was, but continued, "I see you have your van. There should be plenty of room for the four of us."



"Zee's staying here," I said.



Stefan smiled. "To bring in the troops."



"Do you know where the people who attacked Adam are?" I asked, rather than commenting on Stefan's observation.



He shook his head regretfully. "The Mistress didn't see fit to tell me any more than I conveyed to you." His face grew still for a moment. "I'm not even certain what she told me was truth. She may know nothing. You might want to find an excuse for not going, Mercy."



"These visitors have already killed one man and made a mess of Adam's house," I told him. "If your Mistress knows where they are, we need to go ask."



He gave me an oddly formal bow and turned to look at Samuel, giving him a wide smile that managed to keep from displaying his fangs. "I don't know you. You must be the new wolf in town."



I made introductions, but it was obvious that Samuel and Stefan were not going to be instant friends-and it wasn't Stefan's fault.



I was a little surprised. Both men shared the easygoing charm that usually had other people smiling. But Samuel's manner was unusually grim. Obviously, he didn't like vampires.



I hopped in my van and waited while Stefan and Samuel had a very polite argument about where they would sit. Both of them wanted the backseat. I was willing to believe that Stefan was trying to be considerate, but Samuel didn't want the vampire sitting behind him.



Before he dropped his politeness and told Stefan so, I broke in. "I need Stefan in front so he can tell me where we're going."



Zee knocked on my window and, when I turned on the power to roll it down, he gave me the dagger he'd pulled when Stefan first emerged from the shadows, along with a handful of leather that looked to be a sheath and belt.



"Take this," he said. "The belt ties so you can adjust it to fit you."



"May I?" Stefan asked diffidently, as he settled himself in the front seat. When Zee gave a curt nod, I handed it over.



The vampire held the blade up and turned it back and forth under the van's dome light. He started to hand it back to me, but Samuel reached between the seats and took it from him. He tested the sharpness of the edge, pricking himself lightly on the thumb. Sucking in his breath, he jerked his hand away and put his thumb in his mouth.



For a moment nothing happened. Then power washed through the van, not like the power the Alphas could call, nor did it feel like the magic Elizaveta Arkadyevna used. It was akin somehow to the fae power of glamour and tasted like metal and blood in my mouth. After a bare moment, the night was quiet again.



"I would suggest that feeding old blades your blood is not a good idea," said Stefan mildly.



Zee laughed, a full-throated openmouthed sound that made him throw his head back. "Listen to the vampire, Samuel Bran's Son. My daughter likes the taste of you a little too well."



Samuel handed the dagger and its accouterments back to me. "Zee," he said, then, as if he'd just realized something he continued in German, "Siebold Adelbertkrieger aus dem Schwarzenwald."



"Siebold Adelbertsmiter from the Walla Walla Fae Preserve," Zee said mildly.



"Siebold Adelbert's Smiter from the Black Forest," I translated, using my required two years of a foreign language course for the first time ever. It didn't matter; in German or in English, the words, which Sam made sound like a title of honor, still meant nothing to me.



Go to any Irish village and they'll tell you the names of the fae who interacted with their ancestors. There are rocks and ponds that bear the names of the brownies or kelpies that live there. The German stories tended to concentrate on the heros. Only a few of the German fae, like Lorelei and Rumpelstiltskin, have stories that tell you their names and give you fair warning about the fae you might be dealing with.



Samuel, though, knew something about Zee.



Zee saw the look in my eye and laughed again. "Don't you start, girl. We live in the present and let the past take care of itself."



I have a degree in history, which is one of the reasons I'm an auto mechanic. Most of the time, I satisfy my craving for the past by reading historical novels and romances. I'd tried to get Zee to tell me stories before, but like the werewolves, he would not say much. The past holds too many shadows. But armed with a name, I was going to hit the Internet as soon as I finally got to go home.



Zee looked at Stefan, and the laughter faded from his eyes. "The dagger probably won't help a great deal against vampires, but I'll feel better if she has something to defend herself."



Stefan nodded. "It will be allowed."



The dagger lay on my lap just like any other blade, but I remembered the caress of power and slid it carefully into its sheath.



"Don't look them in the eyes," Zee told me abruptly. "That means you, too, Dr. Cornick."



"Don't play dominance games with vampires," said Samuel. "I remember."



The second half of that old wolf aphorism is "just kill them." I was happy that he'd left it out.



"Do you have any other warnings, vampire who is Mercy's friend?" Zee asked Stefan.



He shrugged. "I wouldn't have agreed to this if I truly thought the Mistress had harm in mind. Mostly she just grows bored. Mercy is very good at soft answers that don't promise anything. If the wolf can manage the same, we should all be safe in our beds before dawn."