Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

physical evidence of any other drugs, but Mac’s experiences seemed to indicate that there were more. After a moment I wrote down: Were Ketamine/silver nitrate/DMSO the only drugs ? Then I wrote down the names of people likely to have knowledge of all the drugs. Samuel , Dr. Wallace , and after a thoughtful pause I wrote Auriele , the chemistry teacher. With a sigh I admitted: it could be anybody. Then, stubbornly, I circled Dr. Wallace’s name.
    He had the ability and a motive for making a tranquilizer that would render him harmless to the people he loved. I quit playing with my pen. Or would it?
    Wasn’t the vampire’s Kiss a tranquilizer? It was possible a submissive werewolf might have come out of it like any other tranquilized animal, groggy and quiet. Stefan had said that only some wolves became problematic. Samuel had come out fighting, with his wolf ready to attack, just as if he’d been trapped.
    I thought of the broken manacles Adam had left behind in his house. He’d put his reaction down to Jesse’s kidnapping—but maybe that was only part of it. But, that was a side issue for now.
    I looked at the second page. Why replace Bran with Adam?
    I brushed my finger over the words. I wasn’t certain that was the motive, but it was the kind of motive that would leave bodies on the ground without discouraging the perpetrators. They left Adam alive when they could easily have killed him, so they wanted something from him.
    Bran had been Marrok for almost two centuries. Why would someone get desperate to change the way things ran just now?
    I wrote down: want change .
    Bran could be a bastard. He was a ruler in the old-fashioned despot sense—but that was something the werewolves seemed to want. Under his rule the werewolves in North America had prospered, both in power and numbers—while in Europe the wolves waned.
    But would Adam be any different? Well, yes, but not in any way that I could see would benefit anyone. If anything, Adam would be more despotic. Samuel said that Bran had considered using Adam as the poster child for the werewolves—but it would never have worked. Adam was too hot-tempered. Some reporter would shove a camera in his face and find himself flattened on the pavement.
    That was it.
    I sucked in my breath. It wasn’t change that someone wanted—it was to keep everything the same . Bran was planning on bringing the wolves out.
    Suddenly it didn’t seem so odd that one of Adam’s wolves might have betrayed him. (I wasn’t as confident that my instincts were right as everyone else seemed to be.) But I could see how one of Adam’s wolves could feel that aiding the enemy had not been a betrayal. They were preparing the way for him to take power. No harm was supposed to have come from their raid on Adam’s house—but they wouldn’t be discouraged by the deaths there. Werewolves die—and their wolves had died for a cause. A wolf like Mac, who wasn’t even pack, wouldn’t be a great loss when measured by what was at risk.
    The betrayer could be anyone. None of Adam’s pack had any personal loyalty to Bran.
    I took out the card Bran had given me and called the top number. He picked up on the second ring.
    â€œBran, this is Mercy.” Now that I had him on the phone I wasn’t certain how much to tell him—far too much of what I’d put together was pure speculation. Finally, I asked, “Have you heard from Adam?”
    â€œNo.”
    I tapped my toe. “Is . . . is Dr. Wallace still there?”
    Bran sighed. “Yes.”
    â€œCould you ask him if he developed a tranquilizer that works on werewolves?”
    His voice sharpened. “What do you know?”
    â€œNothing. Not a damn thing, including where Adam and your son are right now. Just when are you considering bringing the werewolves out in public?”
    â€œSamuel’s missing?”
    â€œI wouldn’t go that far. The whole pack is with them—they just haven’t bothered to check in with me.”
    â€œGood,” he said, obviously not surprised that they hadn’t seen fit to keep me updated. “In answer to your previous question—I believe it is something that must be donesoon. Not this week nor next, but not a year from now either. My contacts in the FBI laboratories tell me that our existence is an all-but-open secret right now. Like the Gray Lords, I’ve come to the