Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

figure hesitated a moment, then strolled in. The door slammed shut behind him.
    â€œAndre, how lovely to see you,” crooned Littleton. As his face came into the light I saw that Zee had been right—sooner or later, all sorcerers stop being demon riders and become demon ridden. Littleton was still in control, because his prisoners were still alive, but he wouldn’t be for much longer.
    â€œI’m sorry that you came while I was out getting a snack.” The T-shirt he wore had a dark stain on it. He stopped before he was halfway across the floor and smiled at Andre. “But I am here now so all is well. Come here.”
    I’d let Andre convince me that he was right, that Marsilia had managed to give him enough power to handle Littleton. I was so certain of it, that I thought he had some plan in mind when he walked around Stefan’s cage.
    I took a better grip on the stake, hiding it from Littleton with my body as I dropped the backpack quietly to the floor, ready for Andre to do something.
    Andre was shorter than Littleton so I could see Littleton’s face even though Andre stood between us. I was still waiting for Andre to make his move, when Littleton tipped Andre’s head to the side and struck while Andre just stood there.
    He didn’t feed, just bit into the side of Andre’s neck and then licked the blood. He laughed. “Thank you. How unexpected. Who’d have thought the selfish bitch would have shared her power with you? Did she think that would allow you to overcome us when we have the lovely and powerful Stefan to feed upon?” He kissed Andre’s cheek and whispered, “He tastes better than you do.”
    He held Andre against him for a moment. “You know, if it were only me, I’d let you serve us. But my friend, the one who shares my head, the nameless one, he’s been getting very bored. Yesterday we had the wolf and Daniel to entertain us. Today I thought to use the Master of the wolves, but then you came to play.”
    Andre didn’t fight, didn’t pull away. He just stood there like Stefan had done while Littleton killed the maid.
    My fear caught Littleton’s attention.
    He left Andre standing where he was and walked over to where I was crouched in front of Adam’s cage.
    â€œThe little girl Marsilia sent hunting me,” he said. “Yes, I knew about you. A master vampire can listen in on his children, did you know? I am master now, and he the child. I know all of his plans.” He could only be speaking of Andre.
    Littleton bent down too close to me. My hands were trembling and I could smell the stink of my fear even above the smell of demon. I should have used the stake, but my own fear paralyzed me where I was.
    â€œWhy did Marsilia think that you could hunt me down? What is a walker?” he asked.
    Quoting scripture doesn’t work well on vampires , Zee had once told me, though it is sometimes effective on demons and the like .
    â€œFor God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten son,” I said, so frightened that I could only whisper. He cried out, covering his ears. I grabbed my sheep necklace and pulled it out of the neck of my shirt. I held it out, a blazing shield. When I said the next bit, my voice was stronger. “ That whosoever believeth in —” Covering his ears must not have worked because he dropped them and grabbed me by my shoulder with one hand and hit me with the other.
    Â 
    I opened my eyes and it felt as if no time had passed at all—except that I was lying on the floor about fifteen feet behind Stefan’s cage, my face pressed against the cool, dark linoleum tile. I tasted my own blood when I licked my lips and my face was wet.
    Someone was fighting.
    I moved my head until I could see better.
    It was Andre and Ben. Ben’s fur looked black as he danced in the shadows, looking for an opening against the vampire. He lunged forward, but Andre was faster, clipping him in the muzzle with his open hand. Ben slid away, mostly unhurt.
    I think if they’d been fighting on dirt or something that gave Ben’s claws a proper grip, Ben would have had the upper hand. But in the dark, on the slick linoleum, it was almost even.
    Littleton stood with his back to the light, watching.
    â€œWait,” he said, sounding like nothing so much as a disappointed film director. “Stop.”
    Ben snarled angrily and whirled to face his tormentor. Andre