Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

knew what it was like to sit around while people were in trouble, and you couldn’t do anything about it.
    At my question, she stilled—just like her father did when something important was going on. “I have a sweet forty-cal 1911 Dad got me for my last birthday,” she said. “Tell me you found Gabriel?”
    And the intensity of her voice made my decision for me. They were young—he was trying not to be serious because he was aiming for college; she was trying not to be serious because she knew he felt that way. Nothing might ever come out of it, but she cared a lot for him. That gave her a great big stake in this mess—and if she could shoot, she could protect herself.
    Jesse was her father’s daughter. Smart, quick-witted, and tough. And yet I already had one of my fragile humans in danger, and I was considering another.
    But I couldn’t talk to the fae or the werewolves about Gabriel, and writing, as my attempt to write down everything for Adam had demonstrated, was too time-consuming. I needed Jesse.
    I pulled Jesse all the way into the room and shut the door. “Zee called and wants me to meet him at the garage in fifteen minutes. He has a fae who is terrified of werewolves who can help us. We need to find something that belongs to Gabriel that he’s pretty attached to. I don’t think she intends to hunt for him by scent, so it can be something hard like a ring instead of just things that carry smell, like a sock or shirt.”
    â€œI get to come?”
    â€œYou get to come to this meeting,” I told her. “I need you. But you need to understand that I will not be exchanging Gabriel for you. I’m not going to get you hurt.” I gave her the best smile I could manage because the fae scare the pants off me. “I need you. But I need you to listen to me when I send you home, too.”
    She watched me with her father’s eyes, and I saw the moment when she decided. “Okay. Shall we tell them we’re going out to get you stuff that you need because your house burned down yesterday?”
    â€œSecret girl stuff,” I said. “Remember they can tell if you lie.
    So when this is all done, I’m going to go get a gallon of chocolate mint chip ice cream.”
    â€œSecret girl stuff,” she said. “And if they try to send Warren with us because for some reason they think he ought to be interested in girlie things—which really makes no sense, since Kyle likes men, after all, the more manly the better—what do we do?”
    â€œPreemptive strike,” I told her. “Let’s find Warren first and send him up to keep an eye on your father, who is sleeping.”
    And then Sam crawled out from under the bed.

    IT WORKED. WE MADE IT ALL THE WAY OUT TO MY CAR with only Sam beside us. All the wolves in the house were fine with Jesse and me going out together—because we had Sam.
    â€œYou have to stay here, Sam,” I said. And then stopped. Looked at him. Really looked at him.
    Sam the wolf wouldn’t have turned his back while everyone was trying to fix Mary Jo—and he wouldn’t have looked like he felt guilty about it. Because Sam the wolf wasn’t a doctor—he was a wolf. This morning, Darryl had recognized pretty quickly that Samuel was in trouble. But in the garage, not one of the wolves even looked funny at Sam. Because it had been Samuel.
    â€œWelcome back,” I said, trying to act like it was no big thing. I didn’t know why he’d decided to take charge again—or if it was a good thing—but I figured the less drama about it, the happier Samuel would be. But . . .
    â€œYou can’t come with us,” I told him. “You heard Zee. We’re going to see a lady who—” I stopped. “How do the fae manage this lying-without-lying stuff? It really sucks. Look, Samuel, we’re going to see the lady who is scared to death of wolves. You have to stay here. You can’t come as a wolf, and you don’t have any clothes.”
    He just stood there looking at me.
    â€œStubborn,” I said.
    â€œWe’re going to be late,” said Jesse. “And Darryl is looking out the window and frowning at us.”
    I grabbed my purse out of my car and held the back door of Adam’s truck open for Samuel. “There should be jeans and sweats and stuff in a pack in the backseat if you want to dress,” I told Samuel. “And when we