Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

“You’ll have to save me from myself. When I have you to pet, I won’t need her.”
    Faintly, through his phone, I heard the doorbell ring.
    â€œIt’s pretty late for visitors,” I said.
    Adam started to laugh.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œIt’s Samuel. He just asked Jesse if we’ve seen your cat.”
    I sighed. “Men are so easy. You’d better go confess your sins.”
    When I disconnected, I stared into the dark wishing I were home. If I were sleeping with Adam next to me, no stupid vampire would be chewing on my neck. Finally, I got up, turned on the light, and brought out the fairy book to read. After a few pages, I quit worrying about vampires, pulled the comforter closer around my shoulders-Amber must like her AC down at werewolf levels—and lost myself in the story of the Roaring Bull of Bagbury and other fae who haunt bridges.
    I woke up shivering sometime later, clutching the fairy staff, which I’d last seen leaning against the wall next to the door. The wood under my fingers was hot—a contrast to the rest of the room. The cold was so intense my nose was numb and my breath fogged.
    A moment after I woke up, a high-pitched, atonal wail rang through the walls of the house, abruptly cutting off.
    I dumped my covers on the floor. The rare old book met the same fate—but I was too worried about Chad to stop and rescue it. I ran out of my bedroom and took the requisite four steps to the boy’s room.
    The door wouldn’t open.
    The knob turned, so it wasn’t locked. I put my shoulder against the door, but it didn’t budge. I tried to use the walking stick, which was still warmer than it should have been, as a crowbar, to force the door open, but it didn’t work. There was nowhere to get a good place to pry.
    â€œLet me,” whispered Stefan just behind me.
    â€œWhere have you been?” I said, relief making me sharp. With the vampire here, the ghost would go.
    â€œHunting,” he said, putting his shoulder to the door. “You looked like you had everything under control.”
    â€œYeah,” I said. “Well, appearances can be deceiving.”
    â€œI see that.”
    I heard the wood begin to break as it gave reluctantly for the first few inches. Then it jerked away from the vampire and flung itself against the wall with a spiteful bang, leaving Stefan to stumble into the bedroom.
    If my room had been cold, Chad’s was frigid. Frost layered everything in the room like unearthly lace. Chad lay still as the dead in the center of his bed—he wasn’t breathing, but his eyes were open and scared.
    Both Stefan and I ran for the bed.
    The ghost wasn’t gone though, and Stefan didn’t scare it away. We couldn’t get Chad out of the bed. The comforter was frozen to him and to the bed, and it wouldn’t release him. I dropped the walking stick on the floor and grabbed the comforter with both hands and pulled. It quivered under my hold like a living thing, damp from the frost that melted from contact with my skin.
    Stefan reached both hands just under Chad’s chin and ripped the comforter in half. Quick as a striking snake he had Chad up and off the bed.
    I collected the staff and followed them out of the room and into the hall, wishing I’d updated my CPR skills since high school.
    But, safely out of the room, Chad started sucking in air like a vacuum.
    â€œYou need a priest,” Stefan told me.
    I ignored him in favor of Chad. “You okay?”
    The boy gathered himself together. His body might be thin, but his spirit was pure tungsten. He nodded, and Stefan set him down on his feet, steadying him a little when Chad swayed.
    â€œI’ve never seen anything like that,” I admitted. I could see inside Chad’s room to the water that ran down the rapidly clearing window. I looked at Stefan. “I thought ghosts avoided you.”
    He was staring into the room, too. “So did I. I ...” He looked at me and stopped speaking. He tilted my chin up and looked at my neck, at both sides of my neck. And I realized that I’d been bitten a second time. “Who’s been chewing on you, cara mia?”
    Chad looked at Stefan, then hissed and used his fingers to make a pair of vampire fangs.
    â€œYes, I know,” Stefan told him—signing it, too. “Vampire.” Who knew? Stefan could sign; somehow it didn’t seem like a vampire kind of thing to