Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

just come back and get it. If his neighbor or someone other than Phin was around instead, I’d regroup.
    â€œI’m going to leave the book in the backseat,” I told Sam. “I should be right back.”
    In the short time since we’d left the park, the temperature had dropped, and the wind had picked up. My light jacket wasn’t quite up to the wind and the damp. I gave the gray skies a good look—if it rained tonight and the temperature dropped much from here, we might have a good, hard freezing rain. Montana may have steep, windy roads that are nasty when covered with snow and ice, but those are nothing compared to the Tri-Cities when the freezing rain turns the pavement into a polished ice-skating rink.
    I trotted through the parking lot and narrowly avoided getting run over by a Subaru that was backing out without looking. I kept an eye out for other idiots, and so it wasn’t until I stepped onto the sidewalk and looked up into the window of the bookstore that I saw a gray- haired woman behind the counter. I felt a frizzle of relief: she wasn’t the creepy neighbor.
    I reached for the door and saw that the closed sign was still up—with an addition. Someone had taped a piece of white paper with UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE printed in thick black Sharpie.
    While I hesitated, the woman inside gave me a cheery smile and walked up to the door, turning the dead bolt so she could open it. Her movements were surprisingly brisk and sprightly for a woman of her grandmotherly roundness and wrinkles.
    â€œHello, dear,” she said. “I’m afraid we’re closed today. Did you need something?”
    She was fae. I could smell it on her—earth and forest and magic with a touch of something burning, air and salt water. I’d never smelled the like, and I’ve met two of the Gray Lords who rule the fae.
    Most fae smell to me like one of the elements the old alchemists claimed made up the universe—earth, air, fire, and water. Never more than one. Not until this woman.
    Her faded hazel eyes smiled into mine.
    â€œIs Phin around?” I said. “Who are you? I haven’t seen you here before.” I wasn’t a regular customer; maybe she worked with Phin all the time. But I was betting she didn’t. If she’d helped often, I’d have smelled her in the store the first time I’d come here. I would have remembered if I’d caught her scent.
    Lots of things scare me—like vampires, for instance. Since I’ve become more intimately acquainted with them, they scare me even more than they used to. I know that they can kill me. But I’ve killed one and helped to kill two others.
    The fae . . .
    In the most terrifying horror films, you never see what is killing people. I know that’s because the unknown is far scarier than anything some makeup or special-effects person can come up with. The fae are like that, their true faces concealed behind other forms—and designed to blend in with the human race and hide what they truly are.
    This sweet-faced person who looked like someone’s grandmother might be one of those who ate children who were lost in the woods, or drowned young men who trespassed in her forest. Of course, it was possible that she might be one of the lesser or gentler fae—just as she looked. But I didn’t think so.
    I’m smarter than Snow White: I wouldn’t be eating any apples she gave me.
    She ignored my questions—fae don’t give out their true names—and said, “Are you a friend of his? You’re shivering. I don’t suppose it would hurt anything if you came in and sat down a bit to warm up. I’m just helping straighten out the books while Phin is gone.”
    â€œGone?” I wasn’t going into that shop alone with her. Instead, I pounded her with the kind of questions any customer . . . okay, any obsessive customer would ask. “Where is he? Do you know how I can get in touch with him? Why isn’t the store open?”
    She smiled. “I don’t know where he is at the moment.” Another evasion. She might know that he was in the basement, for instance, but not exactly where he was standing. “He’ll probably let me know when he gets a chance to call me. Who should I tell him came asking after him?”
    I looked into her guileless eyes and knew that Tad had been right to be worried. All I had was Phin’s unresponsive phone, a nasty