Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

look. I took the opportunity to glance at my speedometer and make sure I wasn’t speeding.
    â€œYou’re going to cause a wreck, Samuel Llewellyn Cornick. Just you keep your nose out of my business.”
    He snorted and put one paw on my knee, patted it twice—then stuck his nose in my belly button again. He was quicker than my slap this time, withdrawing all the way back onto his seat.
    â€œMy tattoo?” I asked, and he yipped—a very bassy yip. Just below my naval I had a pawprint. He must have seen it while I was scrambling into my clothes. I have a couple on my arms, too.
    â€œKaren, my college roommate, was an art major. She earned her spending money giving people tattoos. I helped her pass her chemistry class, and she offered to give me one for free.”
    I’d spent the previous two years living with my mother and pretending to be perfect, afraid that if I weren’t, I’d lose my place in my second home as abruptly as I had the first. It would never have occurred to me to do something as outrageous as getting a tattoo.
    My mother still blames Karen for my switching my major from engineering to history—which makes her directly responsible for my current occupation, fixing old cars. My mother is probably right, but I am much happier as I am than I would have been as a mechanical engineer.
    â€œShe handed me a book of tattoos that she had done andabout halfway through was a guy who’d had wolf tracks tattooed across his back from one hip to the opposite shoulder. I wanted something smaller, so we settled on a single pawprint.”
    My mother and her family had known what I was, but they’d asked no questions, and I’d hidden my coyote self from them, becoming someone who fit their lives better. It had been my own choice. Coyotes are very adaptable.
    I remember staring at the man’s back and understanding that, although I must hide from everyone else, I could not hide from myself anymore. So I had Karen put the tattoo on the center of my body, where I could protect my secret and it could keep me whole. I’d finally started to enjoy being who I was instead of wishing that I were a werewolf or human so I’d fit in better.
    â€œIt’s a coyote pawprint,” I said firmly. “Not a wolf’s.”
    He grinned at me and stuck his head out the window again; this time his shoulders followed.
    â€œYou’re going to fall out,” I told him.

chapter 12
    â€œThe pack is coming,” I told Samuel, as we cruised slowly by Warren’s house for a look-see. “I don’t know how much you remember from while you were changing, but Warren called for help. Adam was sleeping and couldn’t be woken up—” With Samuel safe, I could worry about Adam. “Is that normal?”
    Samuel nodded, and I felt a wave of relief. Clearing my throat, I continued, “Since we can’t trust the pack, I think Warren is going to try to keep them away from Adam—which would be fine except that Darryl is Adam’s second.” Which meant a fight.
    Samuel told me once that, despite all the physical benefits they gain, the average life span of a werewolf from his first Change until his death is ten years. People, like my old friend Dr. Wallace, who had to be eliminated within their first year, accounted for some of that. But most werewolves died in dominance fights with other wolves.
    I didn’t want Warren or even Darryl to die tonight—andif one of them did, it would be my fault. Without my flash of intuition or paranoia that there was something wrong with the pack, Warren wouldn’t have been trying to keep Darryl away from Adam.
    Richland was quiet, but both sides of the street on Warren’s block were solid with parked cars. I recognized Darryl’s ’67 Mustang as I passed it: the pack was already here. I parked a block away and jogged back with Samuel at my side.
    A woman stood under the porch overhang in front of Warren’s door. Her black, black hair was pulled back into a waist-length ponytail. She folded her sleekly muscled arms and widened her stance when she saw me. She was a chemistry teacher at Richland High and Darryl’s mate.
    â€œAuriele,” I said, climbing up the stairs until I shared the porch with her.
    She frowned at me. “I told him that you wouldn’t do anything to hurt Adam, and he believed me. I told him you would not act against the pack. You have some