Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

“I can tell you for certain that we haven’t had any werewolves arrested and let out on bail. Since when does our department give arrest warrants to bounty hunters? I’m inclined to agree with Mercy—you must be mistaken.”
    Holbrook kept his attention on Sam, but Green and Tony both showed better sense.
    â€œOfficer Holbrook,” I said, “you could make things a lot easier on my friend here if you didn’t look him in the eye. He won’t do anything.” I hoped. “But the wolf instincts tell him that direct eye contact is a challenge.”
    Holbrook looked at me. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said. “I appreciate the information.”
    â€œThe warrant’s in the van,” said Heart. “I can have my assistant bring it here.”
    While the police were talking to Heart and me, Adam, Zee, and Gabriel had been doing their best to fade into the background. But I caught motion out of the corner of my eye: Zee, catching Adam’s attention. When he had it, he tilted his head toward the storage yard across the street.
    Like Adam, I followed Zee’s gesture with my eyes and spotted it right away. On top of the nearest storage unit was something that blended in with the red metal roof. With enough glamour, a fae can take on the appearance of any living thing, but something inanimate—like a roof—is harder. I couldn’t see what he or she was, just that something was there. It took less than an instant, and I pulled my eyes away quickly so as not to alert the fae creature of our notice.
    â€œBen,” Adam said very quietly.
    â€œWhat did you say?” asked Tony.
    Ben was leaning against the van and chatting up Tanya-the-Bounty-Hunter’s-Woman, Leather Boy (Heart’s too-handsome sidekick), and Tech-Girl. They all must have had really bad instincts, because they were flushed and smiling. When Adam spoke, Ben looked over to his Alpha. The van would hide him from the fae on the rooftop—but it would also hide the fae from him.
    â€œNothing important,” Adam said, while he made a few unobtrusive gestures with his right hand, about hip level. Ben made a gesture in return, and Adam closed his fist, then opened it.
    â€œWho are you, anyway?” asked Heart.
    â€œYou were going to show us this warrant?” asked Tony, changing the subject.
    By the van, Ben smiled. He ducked his head, said something to the people he was talking with that had them all looking our way, then walked casually around the end of the van. I couldn’t see him as he crossed the street because of the van, but I saw the fae notice him and drop off the far side of the warehouse.
    Heart said, “Bring it on over, sweetheart.” I understood then that they had some sort of mic system that allowed her to hear everything we said. Probably recorded it, too. I supposed that was okay.
    Ben hopped the tall chain-link fence without touching it—if any mundane saw him, there would be no question that he wasn’t human. But the police, including Tony, were watching the famous TV star.
    No one but Adam, Zee, and me—as far as I could tell—noticed anything. Gabriel was gone. I realized that I’d seen Gabriel go back through the garage when his sister had cried out—because Sylvia had pulled her away from the werewolf.
    Paying attention, I could hear him talking in Spanish, his voice sharp with anger as he and his mother argued about something—and my name was definitely a part of the discussion.
    I tuned them out as the bounty hunter’s tech-girl came running over with a thick folder that she handed over to Heart. He leafed through the pages tucked into a pocket of the notebook and produced an official-looking document that he handed over to Tony.
    â€œHe has a warrant,” Tony told me, carefully not looking at Adam. “And you’re right. It’s not for this werewolf.” He handed the paper to Holbrook.
    The older man took one look at it and harrumphed. “It’s a fake,” he said, absolute certainty in his voice. “If you’d have told me the name, I could have told you it was a fake—without even looking at the elegant signature that looks less like Judge Fisk’s than mine does. No way there’s a warrant out for Hauptman and it’s not all over the station.”
    â€œThat’s what I thought,” agreed Tony. “Fisk’s signature is barely