Moon Called (Mercy Thompson #1)(81)

She'd gone from being utterly passive to shivering as if she were frozen as soon as I began talking to her. It was chilly in the room, and they hadn't covered her, so I supposed that might have been part of the problem. But she was sucking in air as hard as she could-a difficult task, since she could only breathe in and out of her nose.

I touched the edge of the dagger to my thumb. It was sharp, but not sharp enough to make cutting through climbing rope very easy. I slid the blade between a strand of the rope and the bed frame and almost stabbed myself when I pulled back and there was no resistance. I thought at first that the dagger had slipped out from under the rope-but the rope was clean-cut.

I gave the dagger a look of respect. I should have realized that any dagger Zee carried about as personal protection would have some surprises in store. I cut the rope at her feet, and she pulled her knees up to her chest and tucked her arms around her middle. Tears slid down her face, and I rubbed her back for a minute. When she seemed to be calming a little, I went back to the pack and pulled out a small, travel-sized can of WD-40.

"Next to vinegar and baking soda, WD-40 is the miracle discovery of the age," I told her. "Right now we're going to use it to loosen up this duct tape."

I wasn't certain it would work, although I had used it to clean up duct tape residue on cars. But as the oil worked into the edge of the tape I was able to peel it slowly off her skin. When enough of the tape was loose, I slid Zee's dagger against the tape and cut through it close to her ear. I wasn't worried about freeing her hair just now-I only needed to get it off her face.

It came up as nicely as any of the stuff I'd peeled off cars. It didn't take very long before her mouth was free, and I sliced the remaining tape so that all she had was a strip stuck in her hair.

"That tastes terrible," she said hoarsely, wiping her mouth with the bottom of her shirt.

"I don't like it either," I agreed, having gotten the oil in my mouth a time or two when I forgot I had it on my hands. "How long since you had something to drink?"

"When they brought Dad in," she whispered to her knees. "When I talked, he kept rousing from whatever they keep injecting him with, so they gagged me. I thought werewolves were impervious to drugs."

"Not this drug," I told her as I went back to my pack and pulled out the thermos of coffee. "Though I don't think it's working as well as they want.

"I should have thought to bring water," I told her, holding a thermos cup filled with the noxious-smelling black stuff near her face. I know that most people like the smell, but for some reason I can't stand it.

When she didn't move I snapped, "Come on now, you don't have time to wallow. Tonight, when you're home, you can go catatonic if you want to. You need to help me get your father up and running."

I felt like I was beating a whimpering dog, but she sat up and took the small metal cup in a trembling hand. I'd been expecting that, and only filled the cup halfway. She grimaced at the taste.

"Drink it," I told her. "It's good for what ails you. Caffeine and sugar. I don't drink it, so I ran over to your house and stole the expensive stuff in your freezer. It shouldn't be that bad. Samuel told me to make it strong and pour sugar into it. Should taste sort of like bitter syrup."

She gave me a small smile, then a bigger one, and plugged her nose before she drank it all down in one gulp. "Next time," she said in a hoarse voice, "I make the coffee."

I grinned at her. "That's it."

"Is there any way to get the handcuffs off?" she asked.

"We've got a conspirator coming in a couple of hours," I told her. "He'll have keys."

"Okay," she said, but her mouth trembled. "But maybe you could try to pick them. These aren't the good ones, like cops have, but more like the ones you find at BDSM stores."

"Jessica Tamarind Hauptman," I said in a shocked voice. "How would you know about that?"

She gave me a watery giggle. "One of my friends has a pair he got at a garage sale. He locked himself in and couldn't find a key. He was pretty panicked until his mom picked the lock."

I took a good look at the keyhole. It looked suspiciously clumsy to me. I didn't have any handy bobby pins or wire hangers, but Zee's dagger had a narrow point.

I took one of the cuffs and tried to insert the narrow end of the dagger. First I thought it wasn't going to fit, but with a little pressure it slid in just fine.

"Ow." Jesse jerked her arms.

I pulled the dagger back and looked at the scratch on her wrist. Then I looked at the cuff where the dagger had slid through the metal almost as easily as it had the rope.

"Metal mage indeed," I murmured.

"What kind of a knife is that?" Jesse asked.

"A dagger. A borrowed one." I set it against the chain between the cuffs and watched the chain melt away from the edge of the dark gray blade. "Hmm. I suppose I'm going to ask more questions next time I borrow something from a fae."

"Can it cut all the way through the cuffs?" Jess held up the damaged one, which was already half sliced through.

I held it away from her bruised skin and cautiously slid the dagger between her wrist and the cuff. It looked like some bad special effect as the metal parted from the blade. A filmmaker would have added sparks or a bright red glow-all I could detect was a faint whiff of ozone.