Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

vampire had none of her soft curves. Even in the dim light, her skin was too pale against the white of her dress.
    Someone should tell Marsilia that the style didn’t flatter her. Maybe she’d tick me off enough to do it myself.
    My temper seemed to be on edge, too.
    Startled at that thought, I stopped where I was and turned in a slow circle, but I didn’t see Littleton anywhere. Or smell him either. I started toward the vampires again.
    Marsilia had brought only one escort, and I wasn’t surprised to see it was Andre, Stefan’s friend and rival. Weaving through the crowd gave me a little time to think on how to play my part. Marsilia knew she had me on her hook already, all that was left was to decide who was in charge. Since it was almost certainly going to be my skin at risk, I had an interest in making sure I had control of the hunt. I pulled the necklace I always wore out from under my T-shirt so they could get a good look at the stylized silver sheep as I approached.
    I don’t wear a cross. As a child, I’d had a bad experience with one. Besides, a crucifix was the instrument of Our Lord’s death—I don’t know why people think a torture device should be a symbol of Christ. Christ was a willing sacrifice, a lamb, not a cross for us to hang ourselves on; or at least that’s my interpretation. Maybe other people think of religion and God differently than I do.
    Anyway, my little lamb works at least as well for me against vamp, as a cross is supposed to—and Marsilia knew it.
    When I walked up to the table, I smiled at them, showing my teeth. Then I took the chair they’d left me and spun it so I could sit on it backward with my arms folded across the top. In a wolf pack, a little attitude can save you a whole lot of bruises.
    I’d show no more weakness to these predators, I told myself. I wasn’t in their territory now, and they had no power over me. Well, not unless I considered how much stronger they were, and how much more practice they’d had at killing. So I tried not to consider it. At least the noise would keep them from hearing my heart beat like a rabbit’s.
    â€œSo,” I said, “You want me to go hunt your vampire for you?”
    Marsilia’s face could hardly be any stiller, but Andre raised an eyebrow. “Sorcerer hunting, surely,” he murmured. Like Marsilia he wore white. His natural skin color—though pale as all the vampires were for lack of sun—was just dark enough that the white looked good on him. His shirt was rich silk, cut in a vaguely Oriental style with white on white embroidery. It looked better on him than his pirate shirts did.
    â€œHmm.” I flashed another smile at Marsilia. “But you need me because I’m a walker, and we’re supposed to be good at killing vampires. And this sorcerer is exactly that. A vampire.”
    Marsilia smiled back, the expression looking more human than anything I’d seen on her face—she was probably making an effort.
    She rolled the mostly empty glass in her hands, making the inky black liquid swirl. I didn’t know if Uncle Mike’s served blood in wine glasses, but since all I smelled was various flavors of alcohol, I expected not. Since she was making such a show though, I was pretty sure I was supposed to think it might be blood and be unnerved.
    â€œThank you for meeting me here,” she said at last.
    I shrugged and exaggerated just a little bit. “I was going after it anyway.” I realized only after I said it, that it was the truth. “Since it’s a vampire though, having your approval for this hunt makes it…” I pretended to search for a word. “Safer—for both of us.”
    I was playing a dangerous game. If she really thought I was a danger to her seethe she’d kill me. But if she didn’t respect me, I was likely to end up just as dead.
    She sighed and set her glass on the table. “You were raised with the wolves, Mercedes, so I understand the need for playing dominance games. But two of mine are missing and I fear for them. Stefan was among the strongest of mine, but the return of the remains of one of his companions tells me that he has failed.”
    All of her body language was just a little off. Perhaps she was really worried about her vampires, but her performance set my hackles up. To the wolves, body language is more important than words—and her body language was