Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

us—big surprise. None of us talked as we made our way through the garden and out the main gates, which someone had propped open while we had been inside.
    I slid the door of the van open and pointed to the long bench seat. The pirate-clad vampire pulled Samuel off his shoulder and put him on the far backseat. I decided that much strength was creepier in vampires than it was in werewolves—at least the wolves looked like people who should be strong.
    With Samuel safely stowed, the vampire turned directly to me.
    â€œMercedes Thompson,” he said. “My mistress thanks you for your visit, which has allowed us to discover problems that otherwise might have gone unnoticed. She also thanks you for allowing her to keep her honor and that of her vassal, Stefano Uccello.” He saw the skepticism on my face and smiled. “She said that she’d never been repulsed by a sheep before. Crosses, scriptures, and holy water, but not a sheep.”
    â€œThe lamb of God,” explained Stefan. He was looking almost like his usual self, with one elbow propped against the door of the van. “I didn’t think it would work either. Otherwise, of course, I would have told her to give it to Estelle.”
    â€œOf course.” The other vampire gave me another quick, charming smile. “In any case, I am to extend Signora Marsilia’s apologies for any discomfort you or yours experienced this night and we hope that you will extend our apologies also to Dr. Cornick. Please explain that the Mistress intended him no hurt, but that her recent indisposition has allowed some of her people to become . . . obstreperous. They will be punished.”
    â€œTell the Signora that I find her apologies gracious and that I, too, regret any trouble she suffered this night,” I lied. But I must have done it well, because Stefan gave me a half nod of approval.
    The vampire bowed, then, holding it gingerly by its chain, handed me Samuel’s cross and a small sheet of paper, the thick handmade kind. It smelled of the same herbs that scented the house and upon it, written in a flourishinghand that had learned to write with a quill, was a Kennewick address.
    â€œShe had intended to give this to you herself, but has asked me to tell you more. The wolves paid us just under ten thousand dollars for the rights to live at this address for two months.”
    Stefan straightened. “That’s too much. Why did she charge them so much?”
    â€œShe didn’t. They paid us without any negotiation. I expressed my concerns about the oddity of the transaction to the Signora, but . . .” He glanced at Stefan and shrugged.
    â€œMarsilia has not been herself since she was exiled here from Milan,” Stefan told me. He looked at the other vampire, and said, “It is a good thing that happened tonight. To see our Mistress potent with her hunger again is wondrous, Andre.”
    â€œWondrous” was not the word I’d have chosen.
    â€œI hope so,” said the other harshly. “But she has been asleep for two centuries. Who knows what will happen when the Mistress awakens? You may have outsmarted yourself this time.”
    â€œIt was not I,” murmured Stefan. “Someone was trying to stir up trouble again. Our Mistress has said I might investigate.”
    The two vampires stared at each other, neither of them breathing.
    At last Stefan said, “Whatever their purpose, they have succeeded in awakening Her at last. If they had not put my guests in danger, I would not willingly hunt them.”
    Vampire politics , I thought. Humans, werewolves, or, apparently, vampires, it doesn’t matter; get more than three of them together and the jockeying for power begins.
    I understood some of it. The older wolves pull away from the world as it changes until some of them live like hermits in their caves, only coming out to feed and eventually even losing interest in that. It sounded as if Marsilia suffered from the same malady. Evidently some of thevampires were happy with their Mistress’s neglect while Stefan was not. Andre sounded as if he didn’t know which side he was on. I was on whichever side meant that they left me alone.
    â€œThe Mistress told me to give you something, too.” Andre told Stefan.
    There was a sound, like the crack of a bullet, and Stefan staggered back against the van, one hand over his face. It wasn’t until the faint blush of a