Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

him.”
    â€œYes’m,” he said. “David Christiansen. These are my men. My grandsons, Connor and John-Julian.” They nodded as he said their names. John-Julian was rubbing his shoulder where I’d gotten a good grip with my teeth, and Connor was holding a wad of tissue to his nose with one hand while the other held my Kleenex box.
    â€œMercedes Thompson,” I told him. “What do you want?”
    David Christiansen sat down on the floor, making himself as vulnerable as a werewolf could get.
    â€œWell, now, ma’am,” he said. “We’ve gotten ourselves into something of a fix, and we’re hoping you can help us out of it. If you know who I am, you probably know I’ve been a lone wolf by choice since the Change.”
    â€œYes,” I said.
    â€œI never finished high school, and the military was all I knew. When an old buddy recruited me for a mercenary troop, I was happy to go. Eventually I got tired of taking orders and formed up my own troop.” He smiled at me. “When my grandsons resigned their commissions and joined us, I decided to quit fighting other people’s wars for them. We specialize in extracting kidnapped victims, ma’am. Businessmen, Red Cross, missionaries, whatever, we get them out of the hands of the terrorists.”
    My legs were getting tired, so I sat down on the back of the couch. “What does this have to do with me?”
    â€œWe find ourselves somewhat embarrassed,” the werewolf said.
    â€œWe’re on the wrong side,” said the man who’d answered to John-Julian.
    â€œGerry Wallace came to you,” I whispered, as if a loudnoise would destroy my sudden comprehension. It was David’s talking about being a lone wolf that had done it. Lone wolves and Dr. Wallace meant Gerry, the Marrok’s liaison with packless wolves. “He told you that Bran intended to tell the world about the werewolves.” No wonder Gerry was too busy to spend time with his father.
    â€œThat’s right, ma’am,” agreed David. He frowned at me. “You aren’t a werewolf, I’d swear to it, so how do you know so much about us—” He broke off his speech as a look of sudden comprehension came into his face. “Coyote. You’re the girl who turns into a coyote, the one raised by the Marrok.”
    â€œThat’s me,” I said. “So Gerry talked to you about Bran’s decision to bring the werewolves out into the public?”
    â€œBran is abandoning the wolves to the humans, just like the Gray Lords did their people,” said Connor of the bloody nose. My strangeness evidently took second place to his indignation toward Bran. “He’s supposed to protect his people. Someone needed to challenge him before he could do it.”
    â€œSo you suggested Adam?”
    â€œNo, ma’am.” David’s voice was mellow, but I bet if he’d been in wolf form, his ears would have been pinned against his skull. “That was Gerry. He wanted me to come talk to him, one old friend to another.”
    â€œBran is not one of the Gray Lords. He would never abandon his wolves. I suppose it never occurred to you to call Adam on the phone and talk to him—or even Bran, for that matter,” I said.
    â€œWe were just back from a mission,” David said. “We had the time. Some things just work better in person.”
    â€œLike kidnapping?” I asked dryly.
    â€œThat was unplanned,” Connor said, a touch of heat in his voice.
    â€œWas it?” murmured David. “I’ve been wondering. The whole thing came off so badly—with four of Gerry’s wolves dead—that I can’t help but wonder if it was planned that way.”
    â€œThree of his wolves dead,” I said. “Mac was ours.”
    David smiled, more with his eyes than his lips. “Yes, ma’am. Three of his wolves died, then, and one of Adam’s.”
    â€œWhy would he want to kill his own wolves?” asked Connor.
    â€œWe’d have to look at the wolves who died.” David looked thoughtful. “I wonder if they were dominant wolves. I didn’t know any of them well—except for Kara. She wouldn’t have liked taking orders from Gerry for long. The boy, Mac, betrayed him by going to Adam for help.”
    â€œYou make Gerry sound like a psychopath,” said John-Julian. “He didn’t strike me as