Fire Touched (Mercy Thompson, #9)(26)

Adam crossed his arms, and said, “Do we have anyone who would like to start?”

Mary Jo shot to her feet, body tense, though her eyes were lowered.

“Not you, I think,” said Adam thoughtfully. I’d never seen him refuse to allow a wolf their say in a meeting. “Someone else.”

Mary Jo’s mouth squinched down until it was hard to be sure it was there. But she sat down without saying anything because there had been something in that thoughtful voice, an edge that was not calm, not quiet, no matter how relaxed Adam’s posture was.

A wave of . . . unease swept through the room as Adam’s werewolf gold eyes passed over them. Adam was well and truly angry. I wondered if there was some way I could fix it. I’d set the pack up against the whole of the fae. I had no trouble fighting with Adam when I knew I was right. Over this? I found myself wishing I hadn’t eaten the half of the burger I’d consumed at the barbecue to appease Kyle, who had, he said in his usual sardonic fashion, cooked it just for me. Warren must have told him what I’d done because the two of them had mother-henned me just as Ben had Joel.

Now that food sat, an indigestible lump, in my stomach.

Ben stood up, his body language casual, confident that he, at least, wasn’t the subject of Adam’s ire. This time.

Adam raised an eyebrow.

Ben took that as permission. “Tad told me that his father will be fine, and it was probably better just to leave him alone unless he asks for help. He also assured me that his father is more than capable of dealing with . . .” Ben stumbled.

“Aiden,” said Zack. “Probably not his real name, ’cause it means ‘little fire.’”

“Welsh?” Warren asked.

“Irish, I think,” said Zack. “Which doesn’t mean it couldn’t also be ‘fire’ in Cornish, or Welsh, or a hundred and one related languages.” I’d known English wasn’t Zack’s original language any more than Zack was his real name. When he’d first come to us, he’d hesitated answering to it, as if he had to remind himself that “Zack” meant someone was addressing him. It wasn’t unusual for wolves, especially old ones, to adopt new names. I wouldn’t have picked him out as Irish. Maybe he’d just spent some time in Ireland, the same way he’d spent some time in the US. Maybe I was overanalyzing, and he just knew that “Aiden” meant “little fire” because he’d read it in a book somewhere.

Zack’s speech had been a little blurry. The troll had crushed his jaw, too. But his eyes were happy. Very happy.

I leaned forward in my seat so I could get a better look at his face. He looked like a man who knew something no one else did. He’d been closeted with Adam in medical.

I frowned at him, but he didn’t see it.

“So Mercy’s fae friend can save us from her other fae friend,” said Alec bitterly. There were subpacks in the pack, groups of people who just liked one another and hung out together. Alec was one of Mary Jo’s cadre.

He didn’t get up because Ben had the floor. But Zack’s contributions, made while he was sitting down, had opened the way for audience participation.

Adam stared at him until Alec dropped his eyes. It didn’t take very long.

“Indeed,” said Adam, very softly. “Zee has shown himself to be a friend.”

Alec, his head bowed very low, tried not to squirm. Ben didn’t react at all, just waited for the drama to be done.

I tried, but couldn’t recall any time Zee did anything to help the pack. Okay, he had helped Adam find me when a fairy queen wouldn’t let me go—but that didn’t really count because he was helping Adam find me, helping me, not helping the pack.

“Are you finished, Ben?” asked Adam.

Ben glanced at Joel, who didn’t do anything I could see, but Ben nodded and sat down. Joel stood up.

Adam said, “How are you?”

Joel smiled. “Better than I’ve been in a long time,” he said, sounding it. “The boy told me he hadn’t killed the tibicena, and he’s right. I can feel it. But so far, I’ve been able to stay me for the past four hours.”

“The boy—Aiden—helped you,” said Adam.

Joel glanced at me. “I haven’t been able to stay human for longer than an hour or two since Guayota gave me to the tibicena,” he said. “Since Aiden drew out the fire, I’m in charge. I don’t know how long it will last, but absolutely he helped me.” He waited to see if Adam had more questions. When Adam didn’t say anything else, Joel sat down.

George stood up. George was pretty far up in the pack hierarchy. A good man and steady. I liked him.

Adam invited him to speak with a tilt of his head.

“We are werewolves,” George said heavily. “Mercy is not, so maybe she doesn’t understand how this works. We are pack, and we look out for ourselves. We cannot afford to take on the world and lose focus, forget what’s important. We take care of pack.”

“And that’s why you became a police officer, is it, George?” I couldn’t help myself, though I knew I should hold my peace. “Not to protect and serve all the citizens of Pasco, but to take care of the pack.”

He flushed angrily. “That’s got nothing to do with it.”

I met his gaze and held it. “Okay,” I said mildly.