Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

want to kill you. I’m afraid that, except to you, my father is an acceptable loss.”
    â€œI’ll see what I can do to change that.”
    â€œGo get that book,” he said, then coughed a bit. “Stupid geas.” There was real rage in his voice. “If it cost me my father, I’m going to have a talk with Uncle Mike. Get that book, Mercy, and see if you can’t find something that will give you some bargaining room.”
    â€œYou’ll stay there?”
    â€œUntil Friday. If nothing breaks by then, I’m coming home.”
    I almost protested, but said good-bye instead. Zee was Tad’s father—I was lucky he agreed to wait until Friday.
    Â 
    The Uptown Mall is a conglomeration of buildings cobbled together into a strip mall. The stores range from a doughnut bakery to a thrift store, plus bars, restaurants, and even a pet store. The bookstore wasn’t hard to find.
    I’d been there a time or two, but since my reading tastes run more to sleazy paperbacks than collectibles, it wasn’t one of my regular haunts. I was able to park in front of the store, next to a handicapped space.
    I thought for a moment it had already closed. It was after six and the store looked deserted from the outside. But the door opened easily with a jingle of mellow cowbells.
    â€œA minute, a minute,” someone called from the back.
    â€œNo trouble,” I said. I took in a deep breath to see what my nose could tell me, but there were too many smells to separate much out: nothing holds smells like paper. I could detect cigarettes and various pipe tobaccos, and stale perfume.
    The man who emerged from the stacks of bookcases was taller than me and somewhere between thirty-five and fifty. He had fine hair that was easing gracefully from gold to gray. His expression was cheerful and shifted smoothly into professional when he saw that I was a stranger.
    â€œWhat can I help you with?” he asked.
    â€œTad Adelbertsmiter, a friend of mine, told me you could help me with a problem I have,” I told him and showed him the stick I was carrying.
    He took a good look at it and paled, losing the amiable expression. “Just a moment,” he said. He locked the front door, changing the old-fashioned paper sign to CLOSED and pulling down the shades over the window.
    â€œWho are you?” he asked.
    â€œMercedes Thompson.”
    He gave me a sharp-eyed look. “You’re not fae.”
    I shook my head. “I’m a VW mechanic.”
    Comprehension lit his face. “You’re Zee’s protégé?”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œMay I see it?” he asked, holding out his hand for the stick.
    I didn’t give it to him. “Are you fae?”
    His expression went blank and cold—which was an answer in itself, wasn’t it?
    â€œThe fae don’t consider me one of them,” he said in an abrupt voice. “But my mother’s grandfather was. I’ve just enough fae in me to do a little touch magic.”
    â€œTouch magic?”
    â€œYou know, I can touch something and have a pretty good idea how old it is, and who it belonged to. That kind of thing.”
    I held up the staff to him.
    He took it and examined it for a long time. At last he shook his head and gave it back. “I’ve never seen it before—though I’ve heard of it. One of the fairy treasures.”
    â€œIf you’re a sheep farmer, maybe,” I said dryly.
    He laughed. “That’s the one, all right—though sometimes those old things can do unexpected things. Anyway, it’s a magic they can’t work anymore, enchanting objects permanently, and they hold those things precious.”
    â€œWhat did Tad think you could tell me about it?”
    He shook his head. “If you already know the story about it, I suppose you know as much as I do.”
    â€œSo what did touching it tell you?”
    He laughed. “Not a darn thing. My magic only works on mundane things. I just wanted to hold it for a bit.” He paused. “He told you I could find you information on it?” He looked me over keenly. “Now this wouldn’t have any bearing on that trouble his father is in, could it? No, of course not.” His eyes smiled slyly. “Oh, I expect that I know just exactly what Tad wants me to find for you, clever boy. Come back here with me.”
    He led me to a small alcove where the books were all in