Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

ago.”
    Samuel smiled a little. “But you’re not convinced the Fideal did it.”
    I shook my head. “He’s put himself on the top of my list, but…”
    â€œBut what?”
    â€œHe was so hungry. Not for sustenance, though that was part of it, but for the hunt.” Samuel the werewolf would understand what I meant. “I think that if Fideal had killed the guard, O’Donnell’s death would have been different. He’d have been found drowned, or eaten, or never found at all.” Putting it into words made it more than a suspicion. “I’ll call Uncle Mike and see what he thinks, but I don’t believe it was Fideal.”
    I remembered that I had something else to talk to Uncle Mike about, too. “And that walking stick showed up in my car tonight, again.”
    I started to get up to get the phone, but my legs had had enough and I fell back. “Darn it.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” The tired relaxation left Samuel between one heartbeat and the next—I gave him an exasperated glance.
    â€œI told you, I’m fine. Nothing some stretches, Icy Hot, and a good night of sleep won’t cure.” I thought of all the little cuts and decided to do without the Icy Hot. “Can you throw me the phone?”
    He plucked it off its base on the table next to the couch and tossed it to me.
    â€œThanks.” I’d been calling him so often the past few days that I had Uncle Mike’s number memorized. It took me a few minutes of wading through minions before Uncle Mike himself got on the phone.
    â€œCould Fideal have killed O’Donnell?” I asked without ceremony.
    â€œCould have, but didn’t,” answered Uncle Mike. “O’Donnell’s body was still twitching when Zee and I found him. Whoever killed him did it while we were still standing on the doorstep. The Fideal’s glamour isn’t good enough to hide himself from me if he were that close. And he’d have bitten O’Donnell’s head off and eaten it, not just torn it off.”
    I swallowed. “So what was Fideal doing at the Bright Future meeting and why wasn’t his scent at O’Donnell’s?”
    â€œThe Fideal went to a couple of meetings so he could keep an eye on them. He told us that they were more talk than action and mostly quit attending meetings. When O’Donnell was killed, he was asked to take another look. And he found himself a nosy coyote with a death sentence on her head—a nice evening snack.” Uncle Mike sounded irritated, and not with Fideal.
    â€œAnd when did the coyote end up with a price on her head and why didn’t you warn me?” I asked, feeling indignant.
    â€œI told you to leave it alone,” he said, his voice suddenly cold with power. “You know too much and you talk too much. You need to do as you are told.”
    Maybe if he’d been in the room, I’d have felt intimidated. But he wasn’t, so I said, “And Zee would be convicted of murder.”
    There was a long pause, which I broke. “And then he’d be summarily executed as called for by the fae laws.”
    Samuel, whose sharp ears had no trouble hearing both sides of the phone conversation, growled. “Don’t try throwing this on Mercy, Uncle Mike. You knew she wouldn’t leave it alone—especially if you told her to. Contrary is her middle name and you played her into looking further than you could. What did the Gray Lords do? Did they order you and the rest of the fae to stop looking for the real killer? Excepting only Zee’s capture, they really have no quarrel with the person who killed O’Donnell, do they? He was the one killing the fae and got killed in return. Justice is served.”
    â€œZee was cooperating with the Gray Lords,” said Uncle Mike. The apology that had replaced the anger told me not only was Samuel right—Uncle Mike had wanted me to continue investigating—but also Uncle Mike’s ears were as sharp as the werewolf’s. “I didn’t think they would send anyone else to enforce the punishment and the fae here I have some control over. If I’d known they were sending Nemane, I’d have warned you. But she’s issued a stay of execution.”
    â€œShe’s an assassin,” growled Samuel.
    â€œYou wolves have your own assassin, don’t they, Samuel Marrokson?” snapped Uncle Mike. “How many