Mercy Thompson 06 - River Marked

snorkel. It is not, strictly speaking, necessary to be able to swim when scuba diving, where sinking and rising are controlled by weight belts and an air-filled vest.
    I pulled out a pair of water socks that looked to be my size and the smaller of the sets of fins. The snorkel I left where it was. My old college roommate had spent an entire summer trying to teach me to snorkel. We proved that the fins greatly increased my speed in the water and that the snorkel greatly increased the chance of my drowning myself.
    Hank Owens called as I was closing up the compartment under the bench and asked for Adam.
    “He’s out running,” I told him.
    “Would you give him my apologies, ma’am. First time I’ve ever shot a civilian.”
    “You didn’t shoot him on purpose,” I said.
    “Not to argue, ma’am,” he said gently, “but I pointed my gun at him and pulled the trigger. That’s as ‘on purpose’ as it gets.”
    I sensed we could argue back and forth all day. “Fine. I don’t think you owe him an apology. He won’t think you owe him an apology, but I will tell him you offered it. How are you doing? That sand-and-drop thing Hawk did to you didn’t look very pleasant.”
    “No, ma’am. But I’m fine.”
    “Good.”
    “Thank you for conveying my message, ma’am.”
    “You’re very welcome.”
    By the time Adam came back, I had decided that Coyote’s plan stood as good a chance as any and that I was as prepared as I was going to be.
    “Catch anything?” I asked.
    He shook his head. Then he shook everything else.
    “Hank called to apologize for shooting you.”
    He flattened his ears.
    “That’s what I told him. But he seemed to feel the need, so I told him I’d let you know.”
    I had done all I could. If we stayed here, all I was going to do was lapse into a funk that Adam was only too likely to join.
    “Hey, Adam? Let’s go out to lunch.” This might be my last day on earth, and I refused to spend it moping around. Even if I’d had to let four people die this morning to preserve my life. I swallowed down my gorge.
    Adam woofed in agreement to my proposal and escorted me out to the truck.
    We ate takeout. Most restaurants don’t let dogs in. We drove to the first pretty place I saw and ate fast-food tacos with flowers blooming all around us. The seagulls mostly left us alone because of Adam. When we were through eating, I bundled up the garbage and lay down with my head on Adam and went to sleep, soaking up the heat of the day like a balm to my soul.
    And I didn’t dream at all that I remember.
    I woke with Adam licking my face—it felt a little hot. I don’t sunburn much, but falling asleep in the middle of a hot summer afternoon just might do it. I touched my face with my fingertips, but it didn’t seem sore, just warm.
    “You ought to use sunscreen if you’re going to sleep outside like this. Someday you might not have a fairy godfather to come and take care of the sunburn.” Coyote sat next to us, chewing on a piece of grass. “Are you ready?”
    I don’t know how long I’d been there, but the sun was nearly down. I sat up. Dinnertime had come and gone, but I wasn’t hungry. The werewolf would be another matter.
    “Adam will need more food,” I said, eyeing him sideways. “But yes, I’m as ready as I’m going to get.”
    “Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.
    “I didn’t know that you also played fairy godfather.”
    “It’s a secondary thing,” he said modestly, bouncing to his feet. “Let’s go get some food.”

    COYOTE RODE IN THE BACKSEAT AND ATE TWICE WHAT Adam did—and that was saying something.
    “I’ve got knives for you,” he said, licking the salt from the last french fry off his fingers.
    “Knives?”
    “Yes. Last time I did this, it took nine blades, so I brought you twelve. They are obsidian—be careful you don’t slice yourself while you’re at it. My sisters made the sheath and the knives, so they are as sharp as any knife I’ve seen. Remember, obsidian is brittle and doesn’t hold an edge forever, which is why I brought you so many.”
    “All right,” I said. I realized that I hadn’t lied to Coyote back in the little park: I was ready. The nap in the sun with Adam’s heartbeat in my ear had steadied me, had given me courage. Succeed or fail, I would do my best to make sure that the river devil died tonight. That was all anyone could do.

    THERE WERE SEVEN OF THEM WAITING FOR US AT OUR trailer. Evidently, Hawk had