Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

just following my request.
    â€œWhat do you need?” She stopped within an easy arm’s reach.
    I put my arm through the bars and held out my hand. She looked at it a moment, but took it.
    â€œAmber,” I said solemnly, looking into her eyes. “Chad will be safe. I promise.”
    She nodded earnestly. “I’ll take care of him.”
    â€œNo.” I swallowed and then put authority in my voice. “You’re dead, Amber.” Her expression didn’t change. I narrowed my eyes at her in my best Adam imitation. “Believe me.”
    First her face lit up with that horrible fake smile, and she started to say something. She looked down at my hand, then over to Corban and Chad—who hadn’t noticed her yet.
    â€œYou’re dead,” I told her, again.
    She collapsed where she stood. It wasn’t graceful or gentle. Her head bounced off the floor with a hollow sound.
    â€œCan he take her again?” asked Corban urgently.
    I knelt and closed her eyes. “No,” I told him with more conviction than I felt. Who knew what Blackwood could do? But her husband needed to believe it was over for her. At any rate, it wouldn’t be Amber who walked around in her body. Amber was gone.
    â€œThank you,” he told me, with tears in his eyes. He wiped his face and tapped Chad on the shoulder.
    â€œHey, kid,” he said, and he stepped away so Chad could see Amber’s body. They talked for a long time then. Corban played it tough and gave his son the gift of the belief in the superman qualities of fathers for at least one more day.
    We slept, all of us, as far from Amber’s body as we could get. They pushed the bed up close to my cell and the two of them slept on that and I slept on the floor next to them. Chad reached though the bars and kept a hand on my shoulder. The cell floor could have been a bed of nails, and I would still have slept.
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    â€œMERCY?”
    The voice was unfamiliar—but so was the cement under my cheek. I stirred and regretted it immediately. Everything hurt.
    â€œMercy, it is dark, and Blackwood will be here soon.”
    I sat up and looked across the room at the oakman. “Good evening.” I didn’t use his name. Some of the fae can be funny about names, and the way Blackwood had overused it made me think that the oakman was one of those. I couldn’t thank him, and I searched for a way to acknowledge his honoring my request, but I didn’t find one.
    â€œI’m going to try something,” I said finally. I closed my eyes and called to Stefan. When I felt I’d done as good a job at that as I could, I opened my eyes and rubbed my aching neck.
    â€œWhat are you trying to do?” Corban asked.
    â€œI can’t tell you,” I said. “I’m very sorry. But Blackwood can’t know-and I’m not sure it worked.” But I thought so. I never had been able to feel Stefan like I did Adam. If Blackwood hadn’t managed to take me over ... yet ... that should mean Stefan could still hear me. I hoped.
    I tried touching Adam, too. But I couldn’t feel anything from him or the pack. It was probably just as well. Blackwood had said he was ready for werewolves, and I believed him.
    Blackwood didn’t come down. We all tried not to notice Amber, and I was grateful for the coolness of the basement. The ghosts didn’t show up either. We talked about vampires until I’d told them everything I knew in general—only leaving out the names.
    Stefan also did not come.
    After hours of tedium and a few minutes of embarrassment when someone had to use the buckets left for us, I finally tried to sleep again. I dreamed of sheep. Lots of sheep.
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    SOMEWHERE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NEXT DAY I REGRETTED that I had not eaten the food Amber had prepared. But I was more thirsty than anything. The fairy staff showed up once, and I told it to go away and be safe, speaking softly so no one would notice. When I glanced back at the corner it had been in, it was gone again.
    Chad taught me and the oakman how to swear in ASL and worked with us until we were pretty good at finger spelling. It left my hands aching, but kept him occupied.
    We knew that Blackwood was paying attention to us again when Corban stopped in the middle of a sentence. After a few minutes he turned his head, and Blackwood opened the door.
    The vampire looked at me without favor. “And where do you