Mercy Thompson 06 - River Marked

Adam’s. It was battered and sported three colors in addition to the bright orange primer, and its motor purred like a happy lion.
    “My uncle,” said Calvin unnecessarily, since we could all see him getting out of the truck. “So maybe all of us will get some answers.”
    Adam glanced over his shoulder, then looked at Calvin. “So what did Faith do?”
    Calvin, like most people, obeyed Adam’s tone of voice without even thinking about it and continued the story as his uncle approached. “She reeled it in, and the line kept coming. She leaned over the boat. Benny, he was leaning the other way to keep the boat from tipping, so he couldn’t see what she did. But she said—”
    “‘There’s something funny on the line, Benny. It looks like tentacles. What do you suppose . . .’” Jim let his voice trail off, and then he said matter-of-factly, “And the next thing Benny knows, Faith is in the water. He jumps in after her, and something bumps his leg—he figures that was when his foot went. The water started frothing, and he got the impression that there was something really big in the water. Faith came up to the surface, and he grabbed her in one arm and grabbed a gunnel of the boat in the other. She opened her eyes, and says to him, ‘It’s so peaceful here,’ then her eyes go fixed. Benny, he’s seen people die before, so he knows she’s gone. About that time, he realizes that there isn’t any of her below her rib cage. So he makes the smart decision and drops her body so he can vault into the boat. He lies down on the bottom and feels something that bumps and bobs his boat all over the place. He’s gone shark fishing in the ocean, and he said it felt like when there’s a fish out there a lot bigger than your boat. At some point he passed out and woke up here and there until you found him.”
    Jim paused and looked at Adam and me. “After I heard his story, I called in Gordon Seeker because he knows more about this kind of stuff than anyone I know. He listened to Benny’s story and decided nothing would do but that he go down to that new campground and check out the werewolf. Whatever he found in your trailer made him believe that you are right in the middle of it. Part of it seems to be that you”—he centered his gaze on me—“are river marked now. Whatever that means.”
    He didn’t sound nearly as friendly as he had last night. But that seemed only natural. For all that he was human, and his cheerful manner was out there for all to see, Jim Alvin had all the hallmarks of an alpha, and we were intruders in his territory.
    “So,” he said heavily, “now you know what we know. What do you know?”
    “We told Calvin a few things,” said Adam. “Why don’t you give Mercy and me a little time to sort out what we know, and we’ll do the same. We have food enough for an army. Get Gordon and whoever else you think might need to know and come down to our campsite in two hours. We’ll feed you and talk.”

    WHEN WE WERE DRIVING BACK TO CAMP, ADAM SAID, “Did I read you wrong, or do you know more than I do about this?”
    “I think knowing more might be a misnomer,” I said. “Maybe I have a better handle on the scope of the questions?”
    He made a noise halfway between a grunt and a growl.
    For thirty-odd years, I’d been alone. For a season, I belonged to Adam and he to me. Sometimes the relief of it was almost more than I could bear.
    “The woman I saw at the museum and at Horsethief Lake, I suspect is Faith, Benny’s sister. She could, I suppose, be a random ghost, but she seems too interested in us not to be connected to us in some fashion. Benny’s sister is the best candidate. I’ll ask for a description of her before I tell them—if you think I ought. The only thing knowing who she is might do for them is confirm that she is dead, but I think Benny’s story is clear enough.”
    “I agree,” Adam said. “Probably, if she doesn’t reappear, there’s no reason to bring her up.”
    “Besides,” I said, looking out of the truck at the small orchard we were passing because I didn’t want Adam to see my face, “if they have a walker, he’ll be able to see her just fine, and she can talk to him.”
    But Adam knew me, and he put a hand on my knee. “Gordon is probably a walker.”
    “Right,” I agreed.
    “And he knew about you before he came into our camp. He just didn’t know that you were going to be with me until he saw you.”
    “Yep,” I agreed. The