Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

pack.”
    â€œHow is any of this my fault?” I asked hotly.
    He sighed. “I don’t know. Does it matter whose fault it is once you’re sitting in the middle of the frying pan?” He gave me a despairing look. “And as my father used to point out, you find your way into that frying pan way too often for it to be purely accidental.”
    I put aside the urge to defend myself. For over a decade I’d managed to keep to myself, living as a human on the fringe of werewolf society (and that only because, at the Marrok’s request, Adam decided to interfere with my life even before he built a house behind mine). It was Adam’s trouble that had started everything. Then I’d owed the vampires for helping me with Adam’s problems. Clearing that up had left me indebted to the fae.
    But I was tired, I had to get up and work tomorrow—and if I started explaining myself, it would be hours before we got back to a useful discussion.
    â€œSo, finding myself in the frying pan once again, I came to you for advice,” I prodded him. “Like maybe you can tell me why neither Uncle Mike nor Zee wanted to talk about the sea man or how there happened to be a forest and an ocean—a whole ocean—tucked neatly into a backyard and a bathroom. And if any of that could have something to do with O’Donnell’s death.”
    He looked at me.
    â€œOh, come on,” I said. “I saw your face when I told you about the funny things that happened in the rez. You’re Welsh, for heaven’s sake. You know about the fae.”
    â€œYou’re Indian,” he said in a falsetto that I think was supposed to be an imitation of me. “You know how to track animals and build fires with nothing but sticks and twigs.”
    I gave him a haughty stare. “Actually, I do. Charles—another Indian—taught me.”
    He waved his hand at me; I recognized the gesture as one of mine. Then he laughed. “All right. All right. But I’m not an expert on the fae just because I’m Welsh.”
    â€œSo explain that ‘ah-ha’ expression on your face when I told you about the forest.”
    â€œIf you went Underhill, you just confirmed one of Da’s theories about what the fae are doing with their reservations.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œWhen the fae first proposed that the government put them on reservations, my father told me he thought that they might be trying to set up territories like they once had in Great Britain and parts of Europe, before the Christians came and started ruining their places of power by building chapels and cathedrals. The fae didn’t value their anchors in this world because their magic works so much better Underhill. They didn’t defend their places until it was too late. Da believes the last gate to Underhill disappeared in the middle of the sixteenth century, cutting them off from a great deal of their power.”
    â€œSo they’ve made new anchors,” I said.
    â€œAnd found Underhill again.” He shrugged. “As for not talking about the sea fae…well, if he were dangerous and powerful…you’re not supposed to speak about things like that, or name them—it may attract their attention.”
    I thought about it a moment. “I can see why they’d want to keep it quiet if they’ve found some way to regain some of their power. So does it have anything to do with figuring out who killed O’Donnell? Did he find out about it? Or was he stealing? And if so, what did he steal?”
    He gave me a considering look. “You’re still trying to find the killer, even though Zee is being a bastard?”
    â€œWhat would you do if, in order to defend you from some trumped-up charge, I told a lawyer that you were the Marrok’s son?”
    He raised his eyebrows. “Surely telling her that there were killings in the reservation doesn’t compare?”
    I shrugged unhappily. “I don’t know. I should have checked with him, or with Uncle Mike, before I told anyone anything.”
    He frowned at me, but didn’t argue anymore.
    â€œHey,” I said with a sigh, “since we’re friends and pack now, instead of potential mates, do you suppose you could loan me enough to pay Zee what I owe him for the garage?” Zee didn’t make threats. If he told his lawyer to tell me that he expected repayment, he was serious. “I