Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

O’Donnell took?” he asked.
    â€œOur librarian was trying to compile a list of everything our people had. Since she was the first one to die…” He shrugged. “He stole the list and there are no copies that I know of. Maybe Connora gave one to the Gray Lords.”
    â€œWas O’Donnell looking for the artifacts when he started to date her?” I asked.
    He frowned at me. “How did you know they were dating?” He shook his head. “No. Don’t tell me. It’s best I don’t know if you’ve fae who are talking to you.”
    He was trying to keep Tad out of it, I thought.
    Uncle Mike flopped on the couch, closing his eyes, giving in to the exhaustion that he was obviously feeling—and giving Samuel the upper hand without a fight.
    â€œI don’t think he planned the thefts to start with. We’ve talked to her friends. Connora chose him. He thought he was doing her a favor—she thought he deserved what she planned to do with him.” He looked at me. “Our Connora could be kind, but she despised humans, especially anyone connected to the BFA. She played with him awhile before tiring of her game. The day before she died, she told one of her friends she was dropping him.”
    â€œSo why did you need Mercy?” Samuel asked. “He was the obvious suspect.”
    Uncle Mike sighed. “We had just set our sights on him when the second victim turned up dead. It took a while before anyone would talk to us about her affair. For a fae to take up with a human is encouraged. Half-breeds are better than no children at all. But O’Donnell—all the guards really are the enemy. And a fae doesn’t consort with the enemy…especially when they are someone like O’Donnell.”
    â€œShe was slumming,” I said.
    He considered it. “If one of your friends was consorting with a dog, would it be considered slumming?”
    â€œSo he thinks he’s doing her a favor and she tells him what she really thinks of him—and he kills her.”
    â€œThat’s what we think. When the second victim was found—we thought it was unlikely that a human could have killed her so we didn’t look at O’Donnell again. It wasn’t until the third murder that we realized that the motive was theft. Connora had a few items, but no one thought to check if any were missing. She also must have had something else, something that allowed him to hide from our magic. Something much more powerful than anything someone like her should have had.”
    He looked at me and gave me a tired smile. “We are a secretive people, and even the risk of disobeying the Gray Lords’ orders is not worth giving up all of our secrets. If something you possess is too powerful, They will confiscate it. If They had known that she had something of power, she’d have been forced to give it to someone who could take care of it.”
    â€œSo O’Donnell gets it instead.” I closed the book and set it beside me.
    â€œAnd the list she had compiled for the Gray Lords, of the items they wanted recorded.” He spread his hands. “We aren’t sure that she had a copy in her house. One of her friends saw it, but Connora might have turned it over to the Gray Lords without keeping a copy.”
    That didn’t sound like the woman whose house I’d searched. A woman like that would have kept a copy of everything. She loved the storage of knowledge.
    â€œSo O’Donnell takes that list,” I said. “After playing with whatever toys he stole from Connora, he decided he wanted more. He looks at the list and goes after the things he wants.” My sample size was limited, but—“It seemed to me that he was killing the least powerful, Connora, to the most, the forest fae who was last killed. Is that right?”
    â€œYes. She might have told him or maybe she had the list organized that way. He didn’t get it quite right, by the way, but close enough. I suppose whatever items he stole allowed him to kill people he would otherwise never have been able to touch.”
    â€œDo you have any idea at all what things O’Donnell’s killer might have?” Samuel growled.
    Uncle Mike sighed. “No. But he doesn’t either. The list said things like ‘one walking stick’ or ‘a silver bracelet,’ but it didn’t explain what they were. Mercy, the walking stick wasn’t in your