Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

I chipped up cement, but I couldn’t so much as put a smudge on that damned cup with the pry bar.
    I was searching for a sledgehammer, tracking blood and other stuff all over my garage, when I heard a car engine being revved hard as it peeled around a corner.
    I knew that engine.
    It was Adam, but he was too late. He couldn’t love me anymore.
    He would be so angry with me.
    I had to hide. He didn’t love me so he might hurt me when he was angry. When he calmed down, that would hurt him. I didn’t want him hurting because of me.
    There was nowhere for a person to hide. So I wouldn’t be a person. My eyes fell on the shelves that lined the far back corner. A coyote could hide there.
    I changed, and on three legs scrambled up the shelves and slipped behind a couple of big boxes of belts. The shadows were dark.
    There was a crash from the office as Adam proved that a deadbolt lock is no protection against an angry werewolf. I cowered a little lower.
    â€œMercy.” He didn’t shout. He didn’t need to.
    The voice carried and swept me up in its liquid rage. It didn’t sound like Adam, but it was. I pulled back from the boxes just a little so that they would quit shaking.
    What came through the door into the garage was like nothing I’d ever seen before. The closest I’d seen was one of the between forms a werewolf takes on when he’s changing. But this one was more complete than that, as if the between form had become finished and useful. He was covered from top to tail with black fur and his hands looked very functional—as did his teeth-laden muzzle. He stood upright, but not like a man. His legs were caught halfway between human and wolf.
    Adam.
    I had only an instant to take it in, because Adam caught sight of Tim’s body. With a roar that hurt my ears, he was upon him, ripping and tearing with those huge claws. It was horrifying, terrifying…and part of me wished it was I who was being torn to shreds.
    It would only hurt for an instant and then it would be over. I panted with pain and fear, but stayed where I was because Tim had told me that I was to find the river instead. And I didn’t want to hurt Adam.
    Werewolves filtered in cautiously from the office. Ben and Honey, both still in human form—I wondered how they did that with Adam in a frenzy. Maybe something about this halfway form protected them…but then Darryl followed. He had a grimace on his face and sweat glistened on his forehead and darkened his rib-knit shirt. His control was allowing the others to keep from being caught up in Adam’s rage.
    They looked around the garage though they stayed near the door and away from Adam.
    â€œDo you see her?” Darryl asked softly.
    â€œNo,” said Ben. “I’m not sure she’s still here—do you smell…”
    His voice stopped because Adam dropped an arm (not one of his) and focused on Ben.
    â€œObviously,” Darryl said in a strained voice, “we all smell her terror.” He knelt on one knee, like a man proposing to his beloved.
    Ben dropped to both knees and bowed his head. Honey did the same, and their attention was all for Adam.
    â€œWhere is she?” His voice was guttural and oddly accented from speaking out of a mouth meant for howling rather than talking.
    â€œWe will look, sir.” Darryl’s voice was very quiet.
    â€œShe’s here,” said Ben in a rush. “She’s hiding from us.”
    Adam’s great mouth opened and he roared, more like a bear at that moment than a wolf. He dropped to all fours—and I expected him to complete the change, to become all wolf. But he didn’t. I could feel him pull on the power of the pack and they gave it to him. Either it was easier to change from a transitional stage, or the pack sped his way, but it wasn’t five minutes before Adam stood naked and human in the harsh fluorescent light.
    He took a deep breath and stretched out his neck, the crack of his vertebrae loud in the silent garage. When he was finished, all that was left of the wolf was the scent of his anger and the amber of his eyes.
    â€œShe’s still here?” he asked. “You can tell?”
    â€œHer scent is all over,” Ben answered. “I can’t track her. But she’d have found a corner to hide in. She wouldn’t have run.” He said the last sentence absently as his eyes drifted over the shop.
    â€œWhy not?” asked