Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

dollars.”
    â€œLeo sold you for twelve thousand dollars,” I said, as much to myself as to Mac. My voice might have been matter-of-fact, but only because Mac was right: it was unbelievable. Not that I thought he was lying. “He had one of his wolves attack you and your girlfriend and when you survived, he sold you to someone else as a newly turned werewolf.”
    â€œI think so,” said Mac.
    â€œYou called your family this afternoon?” I asked. I smiled at his wary look. “I have pretty good hearing.”
    â€œMy brother. His cell phone.” He swallowed. “It’s broken. No caller ID. I had to let them know I was alive. I guess the police think I killed Meg.”
    â€œYou told him that you were after her killer,” I said.
    He gave an unhappy laugh. “Like I could find him.”
    He could. It was all a matter of learning to use his newsenses, but I wasn’t going to tell him that, not yet. If Mac did find his attacker, chances were Mac would die. A new werewolf just doesn’t stand a chance against the older ones.
    I patted his knee. “Don’t worry. As soon as we get word to the right people—and Adam is the right people—Leo’s a walking dead man. The Marrok won’t allow an Alpha who is creating progeny and selling them for money.”
    â€œThe Marrok?”
    â€œSorry,” I said. “Like I told you, except for the occasional rogue, werewolves are organized into packs under an Alpha wolf.”
    It used to be that was as organized as werewolves got. But the only thing it takes to be Alpha is power, not intelligence or even common sense. In the Middle Ages, after the Black Plague, the werewolf population was almost wiped out along with real wolves because some of the Alphas were indiscreet. It was decided then that there would be a leader over all the werewolves.
    â€œIn the US, all the packs follow the Marrok, a title taken from the name of one of King Arthur’s knights who was a werewolf. The Marrok and his pack have oversight of all the werewolves in North America.”
    â€œThere are more of us?” he asked.
    I nodded. “Maybe as many as two thousand in the US, five or six hundred in Canada, and about four hundred in Mexico.”
    â€œHow do you know so much about werewolves?”
    â€œI was raised by them.” I waited for him to ask me why, but his attention had drifted toward the body. He inhaled deeply and gave an eager shudder.
    â€œDo you know what they wanted with you?” I asked hurriedly.
    â€œThey told me they were looking for a cure. Kept putting things in my food—I could smell them, but I was hungry so I ate anyway. Sometimes they’d give me shots—and once when I wouldn’t cooperate they used a dart gun.”
    â€œOutside, when you were talking to them, you said they had others like you?”
    He nodded. “They kept me in a cage in a semitrailer. There were four cages in it. At first there were three of us, a girl around my age and a man. The girl was pretty much out of it—she just stared and rocked back and forth. The man couldn’t speak any English. It sounded like Polish to me—but it could have been Russian or something. One of the times I was taking a trip on something they pumped in me, I woke up and I was alone.”
    â€œDrugs don’t work on werewolves,” I told him. “Your metabolism is too high.”
    â€œThese did,” he said.
    I nodded. “I believe you. But they shouldn’t have. You escaped?”
    â€œI managed to change while they were trying to give me something else. I don’t remember much about it other than running.”
    â€œWas the trailer here in the Tri-Cities?” I asked.
    He nodded. “I couldn’t find it again, though. I don’t remember everything that happens when. . .” His voice trailed off.
    â€œWhen you’re the wolf.” Memory came with experience and control, or so I’d been told.
    A strange car approached the garage with the quiet purr common to expensive engines.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” he asked, when I stood up.
    â€œDon’t you hear the car?”
    He started to shake his head, but then paused. “I—yes. Yes, I do.”
    â€œThere are advantages to being a werewolf,” I said. “One of them is being able to hear and smell better than the average Joe.” I stood up. “It’s turning into