Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

always been more of a man of action than words. He hugged me and thumped me on my back.
    â€œDon’t be such a stranger, Mercy,” he said, then laughed at my look of shock and ruffled my hair. I’d forgotten he liked to do that, forgotten the easy affection he showed to everyone—even Bran. “Lisa said you have Adam here and he’s in bad shape?”
    Of course he’d know who the Alpha of the Columbia Basin Pack was. Adam’s pack was closest to Aspen Creek.
    I nodded and opened the back of my van so he could see what we were dealing with. Adam looked better than he had when I first put him in the van, but that wasn’t saying much. I couldn’t see the bones of his ribs anymore, but his coat was matted with blood and covered with wounds.
    Carl whistled through his teeth, but all he said was, “We’ll need to tie his jaws shut until we get him in. I’ve got something we can use in the Jeep.”
    He brought an Ace bandage and we wound it round and round Adam’s muzzle. The wolf opened his eyes once, but didn’t struggle.
    It took a lot of grunting, a few swear words, and a little sweat, but the two of us managed to get Adam out of the van and into the room. Once we had him on the bed, I made Carl get back before I unwound the bandage and freed the wolf. I was fast, but even so, Adam caught my forearm with an eyetooth and drew blood. I jumped back as he rolled off his side and struggled to stand—driven to defend himself against the pain we’d caused him.
    â€œOut,” Carl said, holding the door for me.
    I complied and we shut the door behind us. Carl held it shut while I turned the key in the dead bolt. Unlike most motel rooms, this dead bolt operated by key from both sides—for just such situations. The windows were barred, the vents sealed. Number one served as prison and hospital on occasion: sometimes both.
    Adam was safe—for now. Once he’d regained a little more strength things could still get problematical unless I tracked down Bran.
    â€œDo you know where Bran took the new wolves?” I asked, shutting the back hatch of the van. Carl hadn’t asked me about Mac—he didn’t have a wolf’s nose to tell him what was in the tarp—and I decided that Mac could ride with me for a while longer. Bran could decide what to do with his body.
    â€œYou don’t want to go after him, Mercy,” Carl was saying. “Too dangerous. Why don’t you come home with me. We’ll feed you while you wait.”
    â€œHow many wolves are left in town?” I asked. “Is there anyone who could resist Adam’s wolf?”
    That was the downside of being dominant. If you did go moonstruck, you took everyone who was less dominant with you.
    Carl hesitated. “Adam’s pretty weak yet. Bran will be back by dark.”
    Something hit the door, and we both jumped.
    â€œHe took them up to the Lover’s Canyon,” Carl told me, giving in to the obvious. “Be careful.”
    â€œBran will have control of the new ones,” I told him. “I’ll be all right.”
    â€œI’m not worried about them. You left enemies behind you, girl.”
    I smiled tightly. “I can’t help what I am. If they are my enemies, it was not by my choice.”
    â€œI know. But they’ll still kill you if they can.”
    Â 
    The lovers were a pair of trees that had grown up twined around each other near the entrance to a small canyon about ten miles north of town. I parked next to a pair of old-style Land Rovers, a nearly new Chevy Tahoe, and a HumVee—the expensive version. Charles, Bran’s son, was a financial genius, and the Marrok’s pack would never bebegging on street corners. When I left here, I’d had ten thousand dollars in a bank account, the result of part of my minimum wage earnings invested by Charles.
    I stripped off my clothes in the van, jumped out into knee-deep snow, and shut the door. It was colder up in the mountains than it had been in Troy, and the snow had a crust of hard ice crystals that cut into the bare skin of my feet.
    I shifted as fast as I could. It might have been safer to go as a human, but I didn’t have the right kind of clothing on for a winter hike in Montana. I am not absolutely sure there is a right kind of clothing for a winter hike in Montana. Running as a coyote, I don’t mind the cold all that much.
    I’d grown used to