Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

he told me, with his eyes shut. “Don’t make me do that.”
    Samuel had stepped unobtrusively closer, but relaxed when Adam resumed his forward progress without toppling over. I opened the sliding door behind the passenger seat.
    â€œDo you want to lie down?” I asked him. “Or would you rather sit up on the bench seat? Sitting shotgun is out—you need something easier to get in and out of.”
    â€œI’ll sit up,” Adam grunted. “Ribs still aren’t happy about lying down.”
    When he got close to the van, I backed out of the way and let Samuel help him up.
    â€œMercy,” said Bran behind my shoulder, surprising me because I’d been paying attention to the expression on Adam’s face.
    He was carrying a couple of blankets.
    â€œI meant to get here sooner to tell you that Samuel was coming with you,” Bran said, handing the blankets to me. “But I had business that took a little longer than I expected.”
    â€œDid you know that you were sending him with me when you talked to me last night?” I asked.
    He smiled. “I thought it was probable, yes. Though I had another talk with Adam after I left you, and it clarified some things. I’m sending Charles to Chicago with a couple of wolves for backup.” He smiled wider, a nasty predatory smile. “He will find out who is out trying to create new wolves without permission and see that it is stopped in such a way that we’ll not see a problem like this again.”
    â€œWhy not send Samuel and give me Charles?”
    â€œSamuel has too weak a stomach to handle Chicago,” said Adam, sounding breathless. I glanced at him and saw that he was sitting upright on the short middle bench seat, a sheen of sweat on his forehead.
    â€œ Samuel is a doctor and dominant enough to keep Adam from eating anyone until he gets better,” responded Samuel, climbing back out of the van and snatching the blankets out of my hands.
    Bran’s smile softened with amusement. “Samuel was gone for a long time,” he explained. “Other than Adam, I think that only Darryl, Adam’s second, has ever met him. Until we know what is going on, I’d rather not have everyone know I’m investigating matters.”
    â€œWe think the time is coming when we will no longer be able to hide from the humans,” said Samuel, who had finished wrapping Adam in the blankets. “But we’d rather control how that happens than have a group of murdering wolves reveal our existence before we’re ready.”
    I must have looked shocked because Bran laughed.
    â€œIt’s only a matter of time,” he said. “The fae are right.Forensics, satellite surveillance, and digital cameras are making the keeping of our secrets difficult. No matter how many Irish Wolfhounds and English Mastiffs George Brown breeds and crossbreeds, they don’t look like werewolves.”
    Aspen Creek had three or four people breeding very large dogs to explain away odd tracks and sightings—George Brown, a werewolf himself, had won several national titles with his Mastiffs. Dogs, unlike most cats, tended to like werewolves just fine.
    â€œAre you looking for a poster boy like Kieran McBride?” I asked.
    â€œNope,” Adam grunted. “There aren’t any Kieran McBrides who make it as werewolves. Harmless and cute we are not. But he might be able to find a hero: a police officer or someone in the military.”
    â€œYou knew about this?” I asked.
    â€œI’d heard rumors.”
    â€œWhat we don’t need right now is a murdering bastard running free around the Tri-Cities, using werewolves to kill people,” Bran said. He looked over my shoulder at his son. “Find the blackguard and eliminate him before he involves the humans, Samuel.” Bran was the only person I knew who could use words like “blackguard” and make them sound like swear words—but then he could have said “bunny rabbit” in that tone of voice and weakened my spine with the same shiver of fear.
    But I shivered more from the cold than fear. In the Tri-Cities it was still above freezing most days. It wasn’t particularly cold for November in Montana—for instance, my nostrils weren’t sticking together when I breathed, so it wasn’t ten below zero yet—but it was considerably colder than I was used to.
    â€œWhere’s your coat?” asked