Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

Maybe more than can be explained away to the humans.” I’d been doing a lot of thinking about this.
    I let that hang in the air for a little while. We needed that week to justify Sam’s reprieve to the other wolves.
    â€œStay by the phone,” he said, and hung up.
    Sam looked at me and sighed, then flattened out on the floor on his side like a big fur rug.
    When the phone rang next, it was Charles, Samuel’s brother and Bran’s enforcer. “Mercy?”
    â€œRight here,” I answered.
    â€œTell me about Samuel.”
    â€œIs it safe?”
    â€œI won’t know until you tell me, will I?”
    Was he trying to be funny? With Charles, I could never tell. Of all the Marrok’s wolves, his younger son was the most intimidating—at least to me.
    â€œI meant for Samuel,” I said.
    â€œI’m under orders,” he said, with a cool smile in his voice, “to keep the contents of our conversation to myself.”
    â€œAll right.” I cleared my throat and took Charles through my discovery that Samuel had tried to commit suicide all the way through Kelly Heart trying to apprehend Adam.
    â€œHe played with the children?” Charles asked.
    â€œYes. I told you. Maia got on his back and rode him like a pony. It’s a good thing for him she wasn’t wearing spurs.”
    Still flat on the floor, Sam thumped it with his tail twice—otherwise, he might have been asleep.
    â€œThat’s good, isn’t it?” I asked. “It means he has some time.”
    â€œMaybe,” Charles answered. “Mercy, for werewolves—all of us have different relations with our wolves.” Charles didn’t usually talk a lot, and when he did, his speech was deliberate, as if he thought through everything twice before saying anything out loud. Bran sounded that way on the phone, but Charles did it all the time, even in person.
    â€œThink of werewolves as conjoined twins. Some of us are quite separate, barely sharing anything at all with our wolves. Just two entities under the same skin—we all start out that way. When our human side is able to take control, wolf and man work out a . . . ‘Truce’ is the wrong word. ‘Balance’ is better. And just as our human soul loses parts of what it was to be human, our wolf loses part of what it means to be wolf.”
    â€œSo Samuel’s wolf isn’t dangerous?”
    â€œNo,” he said quickly, and Sam picked up his head, rolled up to his belly, and took a more sphinxlike stance. “Never think that. He’s not whole anymore—he isn’t equipped to be in charge. Like a conjoined twin, he shares his heart and head with Samuel. And if he succeeds in wresting complete control from Samuel, or if Samuel lets him do it, that heart will quit beating.”
    I dropped to my knees and put a hand on Sam’s shoulder because the pain in Charles’s voice found its echo in mine.
    â€œI doubt he’ll survive for very long that way—do you hear me, wolf?”
    Sam’s upper lip curled, showing teeth.
    â€œHe does,” I said.
    â€œHe’ll grow tired and more hungry than usual. He’ll slowly lose the chains that Samuel forged to control him, but all that will be left is a ravenous beast. A new wolf, a whole wolf in charge, kills easily and often, but usually there is a reason for it, even if that reason is that he doesn’t like the way his victim smelled. What will be left of Samuel will kill and destroy until he drops dead.”
    â€œHow do you know?” Charles was only a couple of centuries old. He hadn’t ever lived in a place outside of the Marrok’s control, and the Marrok killed the wolves who lost control. But he sounded absolutely certain.
    â€œLet’s say that, like you, I once had a friend I wished to help, and I kept him out of sight of my father in a place he could do no harm. It would have been kinder to kill him from the first.”
    My fingers sank into Sam’s fur.
    â€œHow long do we have?”
    â€œMy friend was old, but not as old as Samuel. He lost his humanity over a few days, became sick and lethargic toward the end of that. I thought he was just fading—but he went into a frenzy.” He stopped speaking for a moment. “Then just dropped dead. Less than a week. I have no idea how long Samuel will last.”
    â€œIf he’d lost it when the wolf took over?” I asked.