Bone Crossed (Mercy Thompson #4)(69)

The last time he'd come here, Lily had taken him for a snack - and Marsilia had done worse, robbing him of his will until he was hers.

For me it would have been terrifying. I couldn't imagine what it would feel like to a werewolf who lived only because he controlled his wolf. All the time.

I reached up and put my hand over his. "Let's get out of here," I said. And all the way through the room, I was conscious of the two still bodies on the floor, and of the vampires and their menageries, who sat silently on the bleachers, obedient to orders I couldn't hear. They watched us leave with their predatory eyes, and I felt them on my back all the way to the door.

Just like the ghost in the bathroom at Amber's house.

I SAT SHOTGUN IN THE SUBURBAN ADAM HAD DRIVEN over. I didn't know if it was a rental or a new vehicle - which is what it smelled like. Paul, Darryl, and Aurielle filled the first backseat. Samuel drove his own car, a nifty new Mercedes in bing cherry red.

Mary Jo, who had been heading toward Adam's vehicle until she saw me, abruptly changed directions and got into Warren's old truck. Alec, trailing her around like a lost puppy, followed.

"And I thought Bran could be Byzantine," I said finally, trying to relax in the safety of the leather upholstery as Adam drove through the gates.

"I didn't catch it all," said Darryl. He must have been tired because his voice was even deeper than usual, buzzing my ears so I had to listen closely to catch all of his words. "For some reason she had to convince Stefan that he was out of the seethe. Then, when her traitors approached him, he had to refuse their offers before he could witness that they'd made them?"

"That's what it sounded like to me," said Adam. "And only with his witness and their maker's consent could she deal with her traitors."

"Makes sense," offered Paul almost shyly. "The way the seethe works, if he belonged to her - his witness is hers. If those two were imposed on her, she couldn't have them killed at her word. She'd need outside verification."

I wondered if I'd been set up. I thought of Wulfe's oh-so-convenient aid when I'd killed Andre. He'd known I was looking for Andre - I'd stumbled upon his resting place before I found Andre's. I'd thought he kept it from the Mistress for his own reasons... but maybe he hadn't. Maybe Marsilia had planned it.

My head hurt.

"Maybe we were suspecting the wrong vampire of trying to take over Marsilia's seethe," Adam said.

I thought about the vampire who had been Bernard's maker and had stood to watch this... trial.

I didn't want to be sympathetic; I wanted to hate Marsilia cleanly for what she had done to Stefan. But I'd become passing familiar with evil and all its shades, and that vampire, Bernard's maker, set off every alarm that I had. Not that all vampires weren't evil... I wished suddenly that I could say except for Stefan. But I couldn't. I'd met his menagerie, the ones Marsilia had killed - and I knew that for most of them, except for the very few who became vampire, Stefan would be their death. Still, the other vampire had hit pretty high on my coyote's "get me out of here" scale. There had been something in his face...

"Makes me glad I'm a werewolf," said Darryl. "All I have to worry about is when Warren will lose his self-control and challenge me."

"Warren's self-control is very good," said Adam. "I wouldn't wait dinner on his losing it."

"Better Warren as second than a coyote in the pack," said Aurielle tightly.

The atmosphere in the car changed.

Adam's voice was soft, "Do you think so?"

"'Rielle," Darryl warned.

"I think so." Her voice brooked no argument. She was a high school teacher, Darryl's mate, which made her... not precisely third in the pack - that was Warren. But second and a half, just below Darryl. If she had been a man, I didn't think she would have ranked much lower.

"Unlike vampires, wolves tend to be straightforward critters," I murmured, trying not to feel hurt. Rejection, for a coyote raised by wolves, was nothing new. I'd spent most of my adulthood running from it. I wouldn't have thought that exhaustion and hurt was a recipe for epiphany, but there it was. I'd left my mother and Portland before she could tell me to go. I'd lived alone, stood on my own two feet, because I didn't want to learn to lean on anyone else.

I'd seen my resistance to Adam as a fight for survival, for the right to control my own actions instead of a life spent following orders... because I wanted to obey. The duty that Stefan clung to with awful stubbornness was the life I'd rejected.

What I hadn't seen was that I had been unwilling to put myself in a place where I could be rejected again. My mother had given me to Bran when I was a baby. A gift he returned when I became... inconvenient. At sixteen, I'd moved back in with my mother, who was married to a man I'd never met and had two daughters who hadn't known of my existence until Bran had called my mother to tell her he was sending me home. They had been all that was loving and gracious - but I was a hard person to lie to.

"Mercy?"

"Just a minute," I told Adam, "I'm in the middle of a revelation."

No wonder I hadn't just rolled over at Adam's feet like any sensible person would when courted by a sexy, lovable, reliable man who loved me. If Adam ever rejected me... I felt a low growl rise in my throat.