Soul Taken (Mercy Thompson #13)(80)

Larry stopped and gave me a hard look. “Mercy, it is important that you know this. I know you think he’s your friend. But no one wants the Dark Smith to get his hands on the Soul Taker.”

“I’ve got that,” I said.

Larry nodded. “Bonarata does not, either. He killed the mortal child the Soul Taker had taken possession of and had one of the goblins drop the body and a replacement artifact on Uncle Mike’s doorstep. Uncle Mike being the only one my goblin could be sure would call Zee to deal with them, instead of stealing the sickle for their own use and leaving Zee still on the hunt.”

Larry gave a little cough. “Uncle Mike called me this morning and let me know that Zee is perturbed none of the goblins told him that he’d been given the wrong sickle. But since I was not here then, he will let matters lie.” He paused.

“If Bonarata pulled the Soul Taker out of play forty-odd years ago,” Adam said, “why did he bring it back now?”

“Higher stakes,” I said. “Getting rid of us is worth the risk of losing control of the artifact.” I looked at Larry. “Even to Zee.”

“Maybe he doesn’t know the Dark Smith stayed,” Larry suggested.

I shook my head. “No. I told him myself just a couple of months ago.”

“Maybe he thinks he can get Zee to work to his ends,” Adam said. “Given a big enough bribe.”

“That’s a twisty thought,” Larry said. “Could be, could be.” He gave Adam an interested look. “You have a reputation for being straightforward.”

Adam smiled but didn’t say anything.

“I know what the movie has to do with it,” I said in sudden astonishment. “Holy wow. It’s pretty clear from this viewpoint, isn’t it? The Tri-Cities is bigger than it was forty years ago—and we have a much larger population of lesser magical people because of the treaty. Lots and lots of new people who aren’t a part of any community yet. And we know they are transient, so when they disappear, we don’t worry.”

Adam nodded. “I think you’re on the right track. Bonarata was taking out the people who counted on us to save them.” His voice was a little rough. “But no one noticed. Maybe that was intentional. When he’d done enough damage, maybe he planned on making a call to the newspapers.” Adam tapped a finger on the one Larry had brought with him. “But then posters for that movie went up all over town—a movie based on the time when he set the Soul Taker loose here.”

Larry rubbed his face as if he was very, very tired. “He realized he had a more dramatic way to rock the illusion of safety that we’ve been maintaining. He set the Soul Taker out to kill here again.”

“Yes,” I said.





12





“You decided it was Bonarata, too,” I said. “When? Why didn’t you say anything?” That was a little disingenuous because I’d only come to the conclusion our enemy was Bonarata after I’d dreamt about him.

We’d spent the morning working. Adam mostly stayed on the phone with his people to take care of the issues that had developed while he’d been out of the office. I slogged through some of the endless paperwork that owning the shop entailed.

We’d eaten lunch and now were headed to my garage to meet the other werewolves, prepared for battle. My cutlass was toast, so I wore a similar-sized katana from Adam’s store of weaponry. I had my concealed carry in my waistband, covered with a light jacket over my usual T-shirt. The lamb that served as my holy symbol was safe around my neck on the new chain that also held one of Adam’s dog tags and my wedding ring.

It was daytime, but I wouldn’t have gone into the seethe without my lamb unless someone dragged me kicking and screaming.

Adam said, “I wasn’t certain. I’m not certain now. It could turn out that there’s a cult of fae spiders who practice some sort of mind control.”

When I winced, he glanced at me. “Sorry. A little close to the bone.”

“Next time, you get to be the spider incubator,” I told him.

“Fair enough,” he agreed meekly. “Anyway, the whole focus on scaring the public and reducing confidence in our pack’s ability to do our job is right in line with the reason Bonarata kidnapped you.”

He stopped speaking, and when I glanced at him to see why, his eyes were glittering bright gold.

“Truthfully, I am surprised that he moved again this soon,” I said, as much to give Adam something to distract himself with as to communicate anything important. “It sounded to me as though you convinced him that the real power in the TriCities rests with the Gray Lords, who are using us as a public shield.”

Adam had managed that because it was absolutely true.

He nodded. “Honestly, I expected him to move against us—if only because we make Marsilia’s position more powerful in a way that does not depend upon him. But Bonarata has the reputation of being a long-game thinker. So I expected him to spend the next forty years building his game before he engaged with us again.”

I thought about the silk belt in our weapons safe. Adam was right, Bonarata was a patient hunter.

“For a straightforward man, you think awfully twisty.”

“Thank you,” he said. “It’s all those years of dealing with Bran. He gets in your head.”