Silver Borne (Mercy Thompson #5)(38)

"Yes. I told you. Maia got on his back and rode him like a pony. It's a good thing for him she wasn't wearing spurs."

Still flat on the floor, Sam thumped it with his tail twice - otherwise, he might have been asleep.

"That's good, isn't it?" I asked. "It means he has some time."

"Maybe," Charles answered. "Mercy, for werewolves - all of us have different relations with our wolves." Charles didn't usually talk a lot, and when he did, his speech was deliberate, as if he thought through everything twice before saying anything out loud. Bran sounded that way on the phone, but Charles did it all the time, even in person.

"Think of werewolves as conjoined twins. Some of us are quite separate, barely sharing anything at all with our wolves. Just two entities under the same skin - we all start out that way. When our human side is able to take control, wolf and man work out a . . . 'Truce' is the wrong word. 'Balance' is better. And just as our human soul loses parts of what it was to be human, our wolf loses part of what it means to be wolf."

"So Samuel's wolf isn't dangerous?"

"No," he said quickly, and Sam picked up his head, rolled up to his belly, and took a more sphinxlike stance. "Never think that. He's not whole anymore - he isn't equipped to be in charge. Like a conjoined twin, he shares his heart and head with Samuel. And if he succeeds in wresting complete control from Samuel, or if Samuel lets him do it, that heart will quit beating."

I dropped to my knees and put a hand on Sam's shoulder because the pain in Charles's voice found its echo in mine.

"I doubt he'll survive for very long that way - do you hear me, wolf?"

Sam's upper lip curled, showing teeth.

"He does," I said.

"He'll grow tired and more hungry than usual. He'll slowly lose the chains that Samuel forged to control him, but all that will be left is a ravenous beast. A new wolf, a whole wolf in charge, kills easily and often, but usually there is a reason for it, even if that reason is that he doesn't like the way his victim smelled. What will be left of Samuel will kill and destroy until he drops dead."

"How do you know?" Charles was only a couple of centuries old. He hadn't ever lived in a place outside of the Marrok's control, and the Marrok killed the wolves who lost control. But he sounded absolutely certain.

"Let's say that, like you, I once had a friend I wished to help, and I kept him out of sight of my father in a place he could do no harm. It would have been kinder to kill him from the first."

My fingers sank into Sam's fur.

"How long do we have?"

"My friend was old, but not as old as Samuel. He lost his humanity over a few days, became sick and lethargic toward the end of that. I thought he was just fading - but he went into a frenzy." He stopped speaking for a moment. "Then just dropped dead. Less than a week. I have no idea how long Samuel will last."

"If he'd lost it when the wolf took over?" I asked. "Like the new wolves do? He'd have been better off?" I'd been so happy that he'd been different.

"Then he'd have lived until our father caught up with him - but you would have died along with the people in the hospital where you found him. This is better, Mercedes. But do not trust him, too much."

"Do you have any suggestions how I can help him?"

"The first is to convince the wolf to allow Samuel back in the driver's seat, if only for a short period of time."

"He wants to survive," I told them both. "That's why he took over from Samuel in the first place. If that means letting Samuel back in, he'll do it." I sounded much more convinced of that than I felt, but Sam sighed and gave me a tired, faint whine.

"And then you have to convince Samuel that he wants to survive."

"And if I can't? If the wolf lets Samuel out, and he still wants to kill himself?"

"Then the wolf will have to fight for control again - or my brother dies." Charles let out a breath of air. "All things die, Mercedes. Some just take longer than others."

Chapter 7

I TOOK SAM WITH ME TO THE BOOKSTORE THAT NIGHT, which was inconvenient.

I suppose we both could have stayed home, but I wanted in to look at Phin's bookstore. The woman had been searching for something; maybe I could figure out what it had been. Maybe I'd find Phin there, happy and healthy. Maybe I wouldn't sit home all night, worrying about things I couldn't change.

I couldn't leave Sam by himself, not after my little talk with Charles. But he wasn't the best partner to bring with me to break into the store.

People would overlook a woman wandering around the Uptown mall in Richland even after most of the stores were closed. It wasn't that late, a little after nine at night. The crime rate is relatively low in Richland - and most of what crime there is tends to be committed by gang members or teenagers. Sam . . .

I imagined the hypothetical conversation as I drove down the interstate.

Officer: "Tell me, did you see anything unusual last night?"

Random witness: "There was this big white dog. Huge. And really white, stood out in the darkness like a beacon."

Yep. Sam made matters more difficult. So I would just act like I knew what I was doing and hope no one ever called the police to investigate.