Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

rather it never happened again.
    My mother looked at me. “Do you have orange juice or something else with sugar in it for the blood donors?”
    I should have thought of that. I hopped over Stefan’s legs so I could go to the kitchen and look. Once my roommate had declared me completely unadventurous in my food choices, he’d taken over shopping. I had no idea what he’d managed to stuff into the fridge.
    I found a half-full bottle of low-pulp orange juice and poured two glasses. I handed the first to Adam and held the second in front of Peter.
    â€œDo you need help?”
    Peter gave me a half smile, shook his head, and took the glass, downing it in quick time and handing me back the glass.
    â€œMore?”
    â€œNot now,” he said. “Maybe when it’s over.”
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    MOM AND I SAT ON THE COUCH, ADAM TOOK A CHAIR, and Darryl stayed where he was, pointedly not looking at the vampire.
    There was a sharp knock on the door, and Darryl said, “Ben.”
    He made no move to answer it, but it popped open anyway and Ben stuck his head in. His blond hair looked almost white illuminated by the porch light. He glanced at Stefan and said in his nifty British accent, “Bloody hell. He’s in bad shape.”
    But his attention was all for my mother.
    â€œShe’s married,” I warned him. “And if you call her a rude name, she’ll shoot you with her pretty pink gun and I’ll spit on your grave.”
    He considered me a moment and started to open his mouth.
    Adam said, “Ben. Meet Mercy’s mother, Margi.”
    Ben paled, closed his mouth, and opened it again. But nothing came out. I didn’t think Ben was used to meeting mothers.
    â€œI know.” I sighed. “She looks like my younger, better-looking sister. Mom, this is Ben. Ben is a werewolf from England, and he has a foul mouth when Adam’s not around to ride herd on him. He’s saved my life a couple of times. Against the wall is Darryl, werewolf, genius, Ph.D., and Adam’s second. Peter, also a werewolf, is the nice man feeding Stefan.”
    And after that, the awkwardness set in. Darryl wasn’t talking. Ben, after one more bemused look at Mom, kept his head down and his mouth shut. Peter was obviously distracted by the feeding vampire. Adam was staring at Stefan with a worried frown.
    He knew what Stefan’s first words had meant, too. But he couldn’t talk to me about it in front of my mom until I did. And I wasn’t going to let her know that Marsilia and her vampires were after me. Not unless I had to.
    Mom wanted to ask me about ... about the incident last week. About Tim and how he died. But she wouldn’t ask me about anything until everyone else was gone.
    Me? I’d just as soon not talk about any of it. I wondered how long I could keep everyone together, awkwardness being better than the stomach-churning panic that conversation with Adam or my mother was going to cause.
    â€œI’m done in,” Peter said.
    Stefan wasn’t any happier about changing donors this time. But having an additional wolf did the trick and, with only minor damage done to my end table, he was soon feeding off Ben. But only a few minutes later, Stefan went limp, his mouth falling away.
    â€œIs he dead?” Peter asked and took a sip of his second glass of orange juice.
    â€œHim?” asked Ben, extracting his wrist. “He’s been dead for years.”
    Peter grunted. “You know what I mean.”
    Truthfully, it was difficult to tell. He wasn’t breathing, but vampires didn’t, not unless they needed to talk or pass for human. His heart wasn’t beating, but again, that didn’t mean much.
    â€œWe’ll take him to my house,” Adam said. “The...” He glanced at Mom. “My basement has a room without windows, where he’ll be safer.” He meant the cage where they locked up werewolves when they had control issues. He frowned. “Not that that will stop whoever dumped him in the middle of your living room, Mercy.” He knew “whoever” all right.
    Marsilia, I thought, though maybe it had been Stefan himself. Or maybe some other vampire. The one who’d explained that Marsilia and Stefan were the only ones who could teleport like that was Andre, the one I’d had to kill. Hard to trust his information too far.
    â€œI’ll be careful,” I told Adam. “But you have to