Mercy Thompson 06 - River Marked

cautious. Adam didn’t seem to bother him, but Darryl did.
    “How about Kyle and Warren?” I asked. Warren had that whole aw-shucks-ma’am going for him and was nearly as good at hiding his dominance as Bran. People tended to like Warren, and he and Gabriel got on just fine.
    There was a little silence. “Kyle’s important , Mercy. He and Warren can’t just take the time to go to a movie with a couple of kids.”
    I laughed, and Adam sneezed. “Did you hear that, Darryl? Kyle’s important .”
    “Good to know someone is important around here,” he grumbled. He wasn’t angry, though. Darryl had a Ph.D. and worked in a federally funded think tank as an analyst of things too complex for most people’s brains. He and his mate, Auriele, had become Jesse’s de facto babysitters when her mother left because female werewolves were few and far between: Adam’s pack only had two. And Darryl was Adam’s second in command, a wolf more than up to taking on anyone who might try to hurt the daughter of the Columbia Basin Pack’s Alpha.
    “I’ll call them,” Darryl said. “Now that I know what the trouble is. You could have told me, Jesse.”
    “I didn’t want to hurt your feelings,” Jesse muttered. “It’s not that he doesn’t like you.”
    “I know exactly what it’s about.” Darryl’s voice was so deep it rumbled. “It’s okay. I don’t mind scaring people. I especially don’t mind scaring your boyfriends.”
    “Everything good now?” I asked.
    “I guess,” Jesse said.
    “If Kyle and Warren can’t go, check with Samuel and Ariana.”
    “I’ll do that,” said Darryl.
    “Love you, Jesse.” I kept it casual. “See you.” Probably. Maybe. The death of eight-year-old MacKenzie in the wee small hours this morning had taken the edge off my usual optimism.
    “Tell Daddy he better not spend the whole honeymoon in wolf shape,” Jesse said. “Love you both.”
    Adam had been reading my letter. I finally figured out how to hang up his phone, then met his eyes.
    “I’m not planning on dying,” I told him. “But, Mr. Always Prepared for Anything, there are things I’d like to tell people if I do.”
    Like I loved them. Like someone needed to watch out for Stefan, who still didn’t seem to be doing too well. Warren had called with an update a couple of days ago and reported that Stefan’s people seemed to be better. Stefan had collected a couple of people in Portland, but he was still too thin. Warren and Ben would be taking turns dropping by and feeding Stefan themselves, but that was a temporary fix. And someone needed to wait about ten more years, then track down the grown-up kids who belonged to that poor trucker who’d been framed for murders committed by a vampire and tell them he hadn’t suddenly gone crazy and killed a bunch of innocent people. Those kinds of things needed to be taken care of if I wasn’t there to do it.
    Adam was restless and angry, so I sent him out to hunt something. Maybe killing something would make him feel better.
    I wrote his letter while he was gone. When I was through, I lay down on the bed and tried to figure out some other way out of this disaster.
    Calling the werewolves for help was out. The fae . . . Zee was my friend. I could call Zee. I considered it. Was it a good idea?
    Not if the river devil could mark the fae, I realized. Fae were not proof against magic. I’d seen a fairy queen force other fae to worship her—and some of those had been fairly powerful.
    If the river devil could suborn Zee . . . I’ve only seen Zee without his glamour a couple of times, and it was impressive. More impressive was the way the other fae treated him: wary respect—even from the Gray Lords themselves. If he had to obey the river devil, it would not be a good thing.
    So. Coyote and his kinfolk were going to get themselves eaten. And Heaven help anyone left if I didn’t kill the monster. I was going to swim over and try to take it out with a flint knife—presumably Coyote would provide that.
    Scuba gear might be good.
    I seemed to remember . . .
    I went to the bench in the kitchen area and pulled up the cushion and set it aside. The hard top of the bench opened, revealing two complete sets of snorkeling gear. I’d noticed it when I was exploring the trailer, and now it made me wonder just how much Yo-yo Girl had seen in her vision. It wouldn’t have been Adam who put them there.
    I know a couple of adrenaline-junkie werewolves who scuba, but none that