Fire Touched (Mercy Thompson, #9)(73)

The classroom was the largest of the five upstairs rooms. The pastor and a stranger were tied to folding chairs, gagged with duct tape. The floor of the room was covered in a dark brown carpet that showed the triple ring of salt someone had placed around them.

Between them and us stood Uncle Mike, a crossbow in his hand. He’d brought it up—but let the nose point down to the floor as soon as he saw it was me. There were three containers of Morton salt. Two of them were open, but the third still had a seal on the spout.

“Shut that door,” he said. “There’s a sprite lord out there, and I don’t want his sprites seeing what I have done until Zee’s through with them. Stupid louts.”

“What’s this about?” I asked.

“I can’t tell you,” he said. “All I can tell you is they gave me my orders—to bring these two upstairs and secure them.” He grinned fiercely. “My orders didn’t say secure them from whom. As long as those idiots”—he paused as the whole building vibrated—“don’t burn the place down, your pastor and this gentleman are safe from most of my kind. Who did you bring with you?” he asked. “Is it Zee?”

“Can’t you get across the salt?” I asked.

He shook his head. “This isn’t just salt, but salt bonded with magic. I’ve locked out most fae, including myself. Zee might manage it. One or two of the Gray Lords—but the only one of this group, the one who gave me my orders and is powerful enough to break this, isn’t here.” He stared hard at me. There was something he couldn’t tell me. He’d said he couldn’t tell me why they were here. I’d thought it was obvious—but if it were obvious, Uncle Mike wouldn’t have bothered to talk to me about it.

What did they gain from their actions so far? Two hostages—but they were human hostages, near enough to me that I’d respond. But, as Zee pointed out, if they knew anything about Adam or me, they’d never believe that we’d turn Aiden over to them. So what had they gained? They’d called me, let the pastor talk until they were sure I knew who he was, and hung up. And I’d come right over, hadn’t I?

I pulled out my cell and called Mary Jo.

“We’re on our—” she answered.

“No. Go to the pack house,” I said. “There are some fae coming for Aiden.”

Uncle Mike smiled.

I called the house, but no one picked up. I called Jesse, and it went to her voice mail. I called Warren, Darryl, Ben, and George with the same results.

I called Adam.

“Not a good time, Mercy,” he said tightly.

“Don’t hang up,” I told him. “Did you listen to my message?”

“No. I’m discussing bugs with Cantrip. We’re—” He would have said more, but I interrupted him.

“The fae are attacking our home,” I said. “Don’t listen to my message, waste of time.” Don’t worry about me—worry about Jesse, about Aiden and our wolves. “There’s a fae attack at the house,” I repeated. “And no one is answering their phones.”

“Headed home,” he said, and hung up.

Uncle Mike’s smile widened and took on a patronizing edge, as if he were a proud father, which he had no right to do.

“Zee says this is a small group,” I said. I didn’t want to be here; I needed to be home. “They aren’t likely to have all of Faery attack us at our home, right?”

“This group wants the Fire Touched,” he said, so apparently my question was not what he was forbidden to discuss. “Underhill talks to people in their sleep and whispers at them when they are awake, asking for the Fire Touched. We’ve been searching for a way to make nice with her for a decade or more. We need her to survive—and she’s been fickle and nasty. Some of us figure that if we give her the boy, she’ll be grateful. Truthfully, others of us figure if we give her the boy, she will shut up about him and we might be able to sleep for longer than five minutes at a time. It’s like Chinese water torture or that noise a car makes when your seat belt isn’t fastened.”

He frowned at me, but it wasn’t a directed frown. “Still, more of us aren’t happy that Underhill can do that.”

“Do what?” I asked.

“Talk to us in our heads.”

I nodded. The sounds from below weren’t getting louder, but the frequency of the crashes was denser. Zee should be finished soon.

Uncle Mike bent down, picked up the unopened container of Morton salt, and handed it to me.

“Here,” he said. “I will keep watch on your humans and secure them for you. I so swear. You two should get downstairs with the salt before Zee gets really upset.”

“We need to release them,” I said, nodding at the hostages. “Get them out of here, where they will be safe.”

Uncle Mike shook his head. “Once the salt circle is broken, I don’t have enough magic to renew it. They are safer here. Take out the threat, then release them.”

Pastor White made a wild sound and shook his head. The other man stared at me with old eyes, closed them, then opened them again. He was okay with our plan—which made me very curious about him.

I met Pastor White’s wild gaze. “Uncle Mike doesn’t lie. He’ll keep you safe—has kept you safe tonight. I’m going to make sure we stop the bad guys before he lets you out of the safe zone.”