Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

that.”
    â€œYou think someone else made the decision to disobey orders.”
    Ben nodded slowly. “I do. Yes.”
    â€œSomeone Adam trusted enough that he didn’t insist on their attending the meeting he held at his house.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œDamn it.”

9

    AT THREE IN THE MORNING, I FOUND MYSELF DRINK- ing hot chocolate at the kitchen table in Adam’s house with Jesse, Darryl, Auriele, and Mary Jo. Given my druthers, I’d have had a couple of people between Mary Jo and me—because I don’t believe in throwing water on boiling oil—but by the time I’d finished pouring cocoa, the seat between Jesse and her was the only one open.
    The one good thing was that most of the wolves had returned to their homes, and Adam was still safe. Sam and Warren were in Adam’s room, doing guard duty, while the rest of us tried to decide how to proceed until Adam was up and about. All the other wolves who’d shown up had been sent away.
    I planned on joining Adam as soon as we were done here, but I knew he was all right without me. He’d eaten about ten pounds of meat and lapsed into a sleep so deep it resembled a coma. Warren was a big enough wolf to take on any two of the rest of the pack as long as the group didn’t contain Darryl, who outranked him. Mostly.
    Sam was a little unpredictable, but in his current state I was pretty sure he would be on our team. When a wolf is hurt, he is vulnerable. In the best scenario, an injured wolf will be protected by his pack mates—but when the pack is uneasy, as Adam’s was just then, it is best to keep trustworthy guards around.
    Between the two of them, Warren and Sam, they’d see to it that no harm came to Adam.
    Ben trudged in, towing one of the dining-room chairs. He slid it between Jesse and Auriele, painfully pulled his gory fingers off the chair back, and dropped to the seat. Jesse slid a cup of hot cocoa in front of him, then reached across with the can of nondairy whipped cream and squirted a bunch of sweet artificial white goo on top. Jesse’s curly hair had grown out a little, and she’d dyed it pink.
    â€œThanks, darling,” Ben told her in a suggestive voice, and she scooted her chair away from him. He tipped his head so she couldn’t see his face and smiled until he realized I was watching him. I narrowed my eyes, and he cleared his throat. “E-mail’s out to the list, detailing what happened and that Adam’ll be up and about in a day or two.”
    That there was a mailing list had been news to me. I wasn’t on it, probably so they could all complain about me without hurting my feelings. Given the state of Ben’s hands, Auriele had offered to send out the report, but he’d said that computer work was his duty, and as he still had ten fingers, he figured he could complete it.
    He leaned forward and sipped his cocoa without touching the hot cup.
    â€œIt’s instant,” I apologized. “My stash of spicy real stuff went up with the house.” I wished I hadn’t said it as soon as the words were out of my mouth. I had been doing just fine at forgetting that out in the darkness beyond the kitchen windows, my house was a pile of black scraps.
    â€œIt’s chocolate,” Ben said. “At this point, that is sufficient.”
    Silence fell, and I remembered that I was supposed to be running this. It reminded me in an odd way of the time I’d had to take over my sister’s Girl Scout troop when my mother had been sick. Fourteen preteen girls, a tableful of werewolves—there were certain monstrous similarities.
    I ran my hands over my face. “So what else needs to be dealt with before we can go to bed?”
    Darryl folded his big hands on the table. “The fire marshal hasn’t made it out yet—but the firemen seemed pretty convinced it was the wiring. The fire started near the fuse box in the hall. Apparently, the old manufactured homes sometimes go up like that, especially the first few weeks the heating system kicks in in the winter.” He glanced at me. “Do we accept that, or have you been riling people up again?”
    He might owe his ebony skin and his size to his African father, but he could do Chinese inscrutable better than anyone I’d ever met who was wholly Chinese instead of just half. It was hard to tell whether he meant the last sentence as a joke or a justifiable criticism.
    â€œIt