River Marked (Mercy Thompson #6)(43)

Jim paused and looked at Adam and me. "After I heard his story, I called in Gordon Seeker because he knows more about this kind of stuff than anyone I know. He listened to Benny's story and decided nothing would do but that he go down to that new campground and check out the werewolf. Whatever he found in your trailer made him believe that you are right in the middle of it. Part of it seems to be that you"--he centered his gaze on me--"are river marked now. Whatever that means."

He didn't sound nearly as friendly as he had last night. But that seemed only natural. For all that he was human, and his cheerful manner was out there for all to see, Jim Alvin had all the hallmarks of an alpha, and we were intruders in his territory.

"So," he said heavily, "now you know what we know. What do you know?"

"We told Calvin a few things," said Adam. "Why don't you give Mercy and me a little time to sort out what we know, and we'll do the same. We have food enough for an army. Get Gordon and whoever else you think might need to know and come down to our campsite in two hours. We'll feed you and talk."

WHEN WE WERE DRIVING BACK TO CAMP, ADAM SAID, "Did I read you wrong, or do you know more than I do about this?"

"I think knowing more might be a misnomer," I said. "Maybe I have a better handle on the scope of the questions?"

He made a noise halfway between a grunt and a growl.

For thirty-odd years, I'd been alone. For a season, I belonged to Adam and he to me. Sometimes the relief of it was almost more than I could bear.

"The woman I saw at the museum and at Horsethief Lake, I suspect is Faith, Benny's sister. She could, I suppose, be a random ghost, but she seems too interested in us not to be connected to us in some fashion. Benny's sister is the best candidate. I'll ask for a description of her before I tell them--if you think I ought. The only thing knowing who she is might do for them is confirm that she is dead, but I think Benny's story is clear enough."

"I agree," Adam said. "Probably, if she doesn't reappear, there's no reason to bring her up."

"Besides," I said, looking out of the truck at the small orchard we were passing because I didn't want Adam to see my face, "if they have a walker, he'll be able to see her just fine, and she can talk to him."

But Adam knew me, and he put a hand on my knee. "Gordon is probably a walker."

"Right," I agreed.

"And he knew about you before he came into our camp. He just didn't know that you were going to be with me until he saw you."

"Yep," I agreed. The river had a scattering of fishing boats that were dwarfed by a pair of barges traveling upstream.

"They left you to be raised by a wolf pack," he said. "Their loss. Would you rather have had them, or Bran and his pack?"

He wore the pair of dark sunglasses that he sometimes did while driving. He used to wear them more often when the wolves were still trying to hide what they were. And his face was as bland as his voice.

"You have an irritating way of pointing out the obvious," I told him, touching his arm to let him know I was teasing. One of my favorite things about being mated and now married was that I got to touch him whenever I wanted to--and the more I touched, the more I wanted to.

"Good that you find it obvious," he said. "Maybe Gordon and the other walkers had their reasons for staying away, but it doesn't matter anymore. Who do you think is the second walker, the hawk? Is it Jim?"

"Could be," I said, thinking hard. "But I don't have any medicine-magic, almost the opposite, because magic doesn't work on me like it does everyone else. I suppose he could be two things at once. It could also be someone we haven't met as a human yet."

"What bothered you so much about the river- devil petroglyph?" He made the turn into the campground and swiped the card on the box that opened the gate. "All I caught was your shock. I couldn't pick up anything else."

"Remember that nightmare I had on the way to Horsethief Lake?" I said. "I saw something that could have inspired a drawing like that." And I told him what I remembered of the dream. By the time I'd finished, we were at our campsite. Adam didn't say anything for a while, and I helped him set up to feed an unknown number of people.

"Do you often have dreams like that? About people you don't know?"

"No," I told him. "Usually the people I do know are sufficient to spawn any number of nightmares without inventing any."

He stopped what he was doing and pulled out his magic phone.

Okay, the phone isn't magic, but it does things my computer struggles with.

"Good," he said. "We have a signal. What was your teacher's name? Do you remember?"

"Janice Lynne Morrison," I said.

He glanced at me, a little surprised by my ready answer. I had trouble remembering the names of people I should know. An unfortunate number of my customers were known to Zee and me as Yellow-Spotted Bug or Blue Bus. I've had to check my paperwork to make certain of the names of people I'd known for years.

I shrugged. "Horror has a way of making things stick."

He tapped into his magic phone for a while. If I had a phone that complicated, I'd have to bring Jesse along to run the damned thing.

"There's a Janice Lynne Morrison who teaches third grade at a school in Tigard, one of the Portland suburbs," Adam said with a frown. He turned the phone so I could see its screen. The face that looked back at me was grainy and too formal.