Storm Cursed (Mercy Thompson #11)(63)

“I said,” my husband said gently, “that I knew werewolves who felt the world would be a better place without you. But I didn’t say I was one of them. You are the honorable enemy, I suppose. But we, my kind, need you where you are. Giving voice to the fear, but also to reason. If you weren’t where you are, it would be that idiot from Alabama who wanted to make it legal to hunt werewolves.”

Campbell winced. “Right, her. It’s like when I played dodgeball in my high school gym class. The Republicans and the Democrats both get some good players—and to make things even, we both get some idiots. We have the Honorable Ms. Pepperidge from Alabama. The Democrats get the Honorable Mr. Rankin from California.”

He paused. “You should know that the reason that I’m here—that we are coming down from Washington”—he snorted— “Washington, D.C., I mean, is because of that. That you warned me when it would probably have made your life a lot easier if he’d managed to kill me.”

“To be fair,” Adam said, “I also did it to spite the people who tried to make me assassinate you.”

Campbell laughed. “I didn’t expect to like you.”

“Funny what happens when you talk to people,” I said.

Campbell nodded. “Fair enough.” He spread his hands out, palms up. I think they teach politicians to use their hands when they talk in politician school. “So talk, Ms. Hauptman. Tell me about the witches who spooked you.”

They also teach them to lie. Campbell had expected to like Adam and he wouldn’t push a button to eliminate all the werewolves and fae in the world—though he’d been honest enough about keeping the werewolves away from the general population.

“There are at least two witches who entered our territory a few weeks ago. We became aware of them last week. From their actions and what one of them told me directly, they intend to stop the talks between the fae and the government,” I said.

“I’ve been reading the Herald,” he said. The TriCity Herald is our local newspaper. “Are the witches responsible for the zombies?”

“The zombie cow made Facebook sit up and beg,” said Ruth. “That cowboy is fine.”

“His boyfriend thinks so, too,” I said.

“Honey, I am married,” she told me. “And my wife was the one who pointed out what a hunk your zombie-roping man is. There is something about a man with a lasso.”

I grinned at her. “I’ll tell him you said so.”

“When you are through flirting with the enemy, Ruth, we could get back on topic.” There was irony in the senator’s tone, but no bite.

I told him about the witches, beginning with the difference between a white witch, a gray witch, and a black witch. None of that, I saw, was news to either Ruth or the senator. I began with the zombie miniature goats all the way through the poppet at my garage yesterday. I brushed over Elizaveta’s fourteen dead with “a forceful attack on our local witches.” After a moment’s thought, I included what my nose had told me about Abbot.

“Oh no, honey,” Ruth said. “Tory Abbot is a good man. He goes to church every Sunday.”

“Abbot,” said Campbell slowly. “Abbot changed a few months ago.”

“He got married,” said Ruth. “That kind of thing changes a man a little.” But there was no conviction in her voice. Something about that change had bothered her, too.

“To a nice girl from Tennessee?” I was guessing, but . . . Abbot had smelled like the zombie witch.

“How’d you know?” asked Ruth.

“The Hardesty witches come from Tennessee,” Adam told them. “From what we can find out, the family is large. They own businesses all over the country. But the core of their power is in Tennessee.”

“You told me there was something off about Tory’s new wife,” Campbell said to Ruth. “You didn’t like the way she treated him.”

“Ordered him around like a dog,” said Ruth. “You think she is a witch?” She paused, thinking about it. “I could see that. There is a core of cold in her that chills my bones.”

“So what should we do?” Campbell asked.

“Don’t be alone in a room with Abbot’s wife,” I told him. “Don’t let her into your personal spaces.”

“Most witches are going to avoid you like the plague,” Adam told him. “They are trying to survive by hiding in plain sight. They don’t want to draw notice. I don’t know what’s up with this bunch, but they are not acting like normal witches.

“In the meantime,” Adam said, “I can send over some of my pack to keep an eye out.”

“No,” said Campbell heavily. “Let me think about this. I have some experts I can consult.”

“Okay.” Adam stood up, so I followed suit.

Ruth took out a card and gave it to me. “The senator gave me your number. Why don’t we do lunch tomorrow—just you and I. And we can discuss how best we should deal with the Gray Lords. I would be grateful for anything you could tell me.”

Campbell’s hawk eyes met mine. “You aren’t the only person we are talking to about this, but we’ll take anything you can add.”

The senator had gotten to his feet when Ruth and I had, but he let Ruth lead us from the room. I got to the door and turned back to him.