Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

was muttering in Andre’s hair, his eyes closed. So I took a chance and shifted my body just a little, drawing Andre’s gaze. When he looked at me, I moved an inch more so he could see the stake.
    He closed his eyes again, then, abruptly let Littleton’s arm fall away and he rolled to his hands and knees, somehow managing to shift so that Littleton was between us, his back toward me.
    â€œBlood is life,” said Andre in a voice I’d never heard him use. It drifted through the room like a mist and settled on my skin. “Blood is death.”
    â€œYes.” Littleton sounded dazed and I remembered how it had felt when Stefan fed from me. Until that moment I’d almost forgotten he had fed from me.
    Littleton, unconcerned by my fears, said, “Blood is the life and the death.”
    â€œWho commands death?” Andre asked his voice calling for a response that my mouth wanted to form.
    Littleton came up to his knees and I could see the imprint of his spine on the back of his shirt. “I do!” he shrieked. He reached over and grabbed Andre under the jaw and pulled the vampire where he wanted him. He bit down right over the top of the wounds he’d made in Andre’s neck earlier.
    It was the best chance I was going to get. I tried to surge to my feet and almost fell. One of my ankles wouldn’t hold any weight, though it didn’t hurt.
    I didn’t have far to go.
    Bent over Andre, Littleton’s ribs were clearly outlined on his shirt. Someone should tell him that thin people shouldn’t wear fabrics that cling. I picked a spot between the delicate, arching bones, just to the left of his spine, and struck with my whole body, just as Sensei had taught me to hit.
    If my ankle had been working, I might have managed it. Training worked against me and I instinctively tried to use my weight to help push the sharpened wood through. My leg collapsed under me and the stake only went in an inch before it stuck between his ribs instead of breaking through them.
    Littleton jerked to his feet with an outraged cry. He struck out blindly, just missing me because I was already rolling away as fast as I could. Luckily I was faster than the vampire. I rolled until I bumped against the car battery powering the light.
    â€œBitch,” Littleton hissed.
    I felt my neck, but my sheep necklace was gone, lost when he’d thrown me across the room. While I was fumbling, the sorcerer leapt at me.
    Andre grabbed him around the middle and they both crashed to the ground just short of me. Littleton managed to put Andre on the bottom and I saw that the stake was still embedded in his back.
    I grabbed the car battery by its plastic handle and hefted it in my right hand. Grunting with the effort, I raised it above the struggling vampires and brought it down on the end of the stake.
    The light, still attached to the battery, crashed to the floor, leaving the room in darkness once more. This time I had trouble seeing clearly—the benefits of Stefan’s blood were fading.
    I twisted until I could free Zee’s knife from its sheath. It took more effort than it should have.
    Littleton had gone limp, his body flopped over faceup when Andre pushed him off. The stake had gone all the way through Littleton and protruded several inched through his chest. It had sliced into Andre, just above his collarbone, but he didn’t seem to mind. He lay flat on his back and laughed, though he didn’t sound happy.
    The pain was back with interest, making me nauseous and light-headed. I swallowed bile and sat up using my good arm to push down and lever myself into a useful position. The knife in my hand clicked on the floor.
    I’d killed mice, rabbits, and, once, a deer while running as a coyote. I’d killed two men—three, now. It didn’t help me face the next task. Bryan, my foster father, used to hunt, both as a wolf and with a gun. He and Evelyn, his wife, had butchered the meat while I wrapped it in freezer paper. I’d never had to cut up the carcass myself.
    Zee’s knife cut into Littleton’s neck with a wet slurping sound. I’d thought Littleton to be dead…deader than he’d been before, I mean. But as the knife slid in, his body began to spasm.
    The motion attracted Andre’s attention and he sat up, “What? No, wait!”
    His hand closed on mine hard enough to leave bruises, and he jerked my hand back. Littleton’s head flopped to