Moon Called (Mercy Thompson #1)(42)

"Still in hiding" meant either that the Gray Lords hadn't noticed her yet, or that she was of the terrible or powerful sort.

This time it was Adam who growled. Such are the joys of trying to have a private phone call in the presence of werewolves. Somehow it didn't bother me so much when I was the eavesdropper.

"We're about an hour out of town," I said. "Could you set up a meeting tonight at a place of her choice?"

"All right," he said, and hung up.

"You caught all of that?" I asked them.

"Adam can't go," Samuel said firmly. "No, Adam, you know it yourself."

Adam sighed. "All right. I even agree I'm not fit to be on my own-but I want Mercy there. We can call Darryl and-"

Samuel held up a hand. "Mercy," he said, "what caused you to bring Adam all the way to Montana rather than calling on his pack for help?"

"It was stupid," I said.

"Maybe, but tell us anyway."

"I was trying to get in touch with Darryl, and I suddenly felt uneasy. I remembered a snippet of conversation between Ben and Darryl earlier that night, but in retrospect it wasn't much."

"What were Ben and Darryl doing talking to you?" asked Adam in that mild voice he used to cozen people into thinking he wasn't angry.

"I can take care of myself, Adam," I told him. "I was taking the trash out and ran into them. All Darryl did was tell Ben to leave me alone. He said, 'Not now. I don't know why I decided it meant he knew that something was going to happen."

"First you felt uneasy," said Samuel. "Then you came up with this stupid reason."

"Yes." I felt my face flush.

"How do you feel about his pack now?"

I opened my mouth, then shut it again. "Damn it. Something's wrong. I don't think Adam should go to the pack until he can defend himself."

Samuel settled back with a small, smug smile.

"What?" I asked.

"You noticed something," Adam said. "A scent or something at my house that makes you think someone from my pack is involved. Instincts." He sounded grim. "I thought it was odd that they came so soon after my wolves left."

I shook my head. "Look, I don't know anything."

"We're not going to kill anyone," said Samuel. "Not on the basis of your instincts, anyway-but what's the harm in being careful? Call your friend back. We'll see to his information tomorrow, when Adam has enough control to be on his own."

"No," said Adam.

"Damned if I will." It felt odd not to be arguing with Adam. "The faster we find Jesse, the better."

"I can't be in two places at once," Samuel said. "And I won't allow you to go out on your own and talk to who knows what kind of fae."

"We need to find Jesse," I said.

"My daughter comes first."

Samuel twisted around to look at Adam. "You have a dominant wolf in your pack that you trust? Someone not in line to be pack leader?"

"Warren." Adam and I said his name in the same instant.

Warren was my favorite of Adam's pack, and the only wolf whose company I sought out. I met him shortly after I moved to the Tri-Cities, before I even knew there was a pack in town.

I hadn't met a werewolf since I'd left Montana, and I certainly hadn't expected to meet one working the night shift at the local Stop and Rob. He'd given me a wary look, but there were other people in the store, so he accepted my payment without a word. I accepted my change with a nod and a smile.

After that we'd mostly ignored each other, until the night a woman with a fresh shiner came into the store to pay for the gas her husband was pumping. She gave Warren the money, then took a firmer grip on the hand of the boy at her side, and asked Warren if he had a back door she could use.

He smiled gently at her and shepherded the two frightened people into a small office I'd never noticed before at the back of the store. He left me to watch the till and went out and had a short talk with the man at the pump. When he came back, he had two hundred dollars cash for her, and her husband drove away with a speed indicating either terror or rage.

Warren and I waited with the battered pair until the lady who ran the local women's shelter drove over to collect her newest clients. When they left, I turned to him and finally introduced myself.

Warren was one of the good guys, a hero. He was also a lone wolf. It had taken him a while to trust me enough to tell me why.

Perhaps in other ages, in other places, it wouldn't have mattered that he was g*y. But most of the werewolves in power in the US had been born in a time when homosexuality was anathema, even punishable by death in some places.

One of my professors once told me that the last official act of the British monarchy was when Queen Victoria refused to sign a law that made same-sex acts illegal. It would have made me think more highly of her, except the reason she objected was because she didn't believe women would do anything like that. Parliament rewrote the law so it was specific to men, and she signed it. A tribute to enlightenment, Queen Victoria was not. Neither, as I have observed before, are werewolf packs.

There was no question of Warren's staying in the closet, either, at least not among other werewolves. As demonstrated by Adam and Samuel just a few hours ago, werewolves are very good at sensing arousal. Not just smells, but elevated temperature and increased heart rate. Arousal in werewolves tends to bring out the fighting instinct in all the nearby males.