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Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

Titel: Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION Kostenlos Bücher Online Lesen
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“I sent Daniel home, but I had a tip I had to check out. I thought I’d have time, but my powers lessen as dawn approaches and I found myself on your doorstep”—he grinned—“begging for mercy .”
    I escorted him to my bedroom door. “I thought Warren and Ben were working with you. Why didn’t you have them check it out?”
    â€œI sent them home earlier. They have jobs to do today, and even werewolves need sleep.”
    â€œThey’re working on a Saturday?”
    â€œWarren has a job for his lawyer friend, and Ben had things to do that he couldn’t get done when everyone else was working.”
    Ben was a computer geek working at the Pacific Northwest Nation Laboratory which was affiliated in some arcane manner with the Hanford Nuclear Site. Darryl, Adam’s second, had gotten him the job—and from all accounts Ben was a pretty decent nerd. I think it surprised Darryl, who wasn’t accustomed to being surprised.
    I pulled open the closet door—Stefan’s pillow and blanket were still there from the last time he’d spent the day. “Are you sure the sorcerer is still here? He could have moved on.”
    Stefan looked grim. “Watch the news this morning,” was all he said before stepping into my closet and closing the door.
    Â 
    The car wreck that had so upset Samuel made the early news. So did the violent deaths of three young men who had gotten in an argument. We were two weeks into a heat wave that showed no signs of letting up anytime soon. There was another Arts festival in Howard Amon Park this weekend.
    I assumed Littleton wouldn’t have anything to do with the Arts festival or the weather (at least I hoped that a sorcerer wasn’t powerful enough to affect the weather), so I paid close attention to the report on the dead men.
    â€œDrugs are a growing problem,” the newscaster said, as EMTs carried black sheathed bodies out on stretchers behind him. “Especially meth. In the last six months the police have shut down three meth labs in the Tri-City area. According to witnesses, last night’s violence apparently broke out in a meth lab when one man made a comment about another’s girlfriend. All of the men were high, and the argument quickly escalated into violence that left three men dead. Two other men are in police custody in connection to the deaths.”
    On the brighter side, all of Samuel’s patients were apparently still alive, though the baby was in critical condition.
    I turned off the TV, poured a bowl of cereal, then sat down at my computer desk in the spare bedroom while I ate breakfast and searched the Internet.
    The online story had even fewer details than the morning news. On a whim I looked up Littleton’s name and found his website offering online tarot readings for a mere $19.95, all major credit cards accepted. No checks. Not a trusting soul, our sorcerer.
    On impulse, since Elizaveta wouldn’t tell me anything, I Googled for demons and sorcerers and I found myself buried under a morass of contradictory garbage.
    â€œAny idiot can put up a website,” I growled, shutting down the computer. Medea meowed in sympathy as she licked the last of the milk out of my cereal bowl and then cleaned her face with a paw.
    Dirty bowl in hand, I checked in on Samuel, but his room was empty. When he hadn’t gotten up at Stefan’s arrival, I should have realized he was gone. He didn’t have to work today.
    It worried me, but I wasn’t his mother. He didn’t have to tell me where he was going anymore than I usually told him my plans. So I couldn’t pry, no matter how worried I was. With that thought in mind I wrote him a note.
    Â 
    S sleeping in my closet.
    I’m at work until ?
    Stop by if you need anything.
    Me
    Â 
    I left it on his bed then rinsed out my bowl and left it in the dishwasher. I started for the door, but the sight of the phone on the end table by the door stopped me.
    Samuel had been in a bad way last night; I knew his father would want to know about it. I stared at the phone. I wasn’t a snitch. If Samuel wanted the Marrok to know about his problems, he would have stayed in Aspen Creek. Samuel had his own cell phone—he could call Bran if he needed help. Which would be when Hell froze over. Samuel had taught me a lot about independence, which was actually an unusual trait for a werewolf.
    Bran might be able to help. But it

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