Soul Taken (Mercy Thompson #13)(82)

“Probably not facing Bonarata today,” Adam said. “Larry says the seethe is empty. Bonarata might be patient, but he has better things to do than sit around in an empty building like a spider waiting for flies to hit his web.”

“Can we stop with the spider metaphors?” I asked politely. I could tell by the grimaces that George had passed around the story of the spiders.

“Are Marsilia’s people still friendly?” asked Mary Jo. “If Bonarata’s involved, isn’t that like Bran getting involved? Don’t they owe allegiance to him?”

“I don’t think we’ve gotten to the point that we need to worry about Marsilia’s people attacking us,” Adam said.

“Except for Wulfe,” I reminded him. “You all should know about Wulfe.”

Adam explained about my encounter with the Harvester.

“We are going into the seethe in the middle of the day, people,” said Darryl when Adam was finished. “Any vampires up and about are going to be weaker and slower.”

“Don’t count on that if it’s Bonarata,” Adam told them. “If you see him, don’t engage.”

“Don’t know what he looks like, boss,” said Warren flatly. He was, uncharacteristically, dressed in an all-black T-shirt and black jeans. His body posture was . . . wrong, his usual relaxed casualness nowhere in sight.

“If you run into a vampire you don’t know,” Adam told him dryly, “assume it’s Bonarata until someone who knows what he looks like says it’s not.”

“He looks like a Mafia thug,” I told them.

“Not always,” murmured Zee. He looked at Adam and spoke more loudly. “I know him. Do you want me to come with you?”

Adam tilted his head. It was a motion I saw the werewolves do all the time—but humans seldom used it.

“I appreciate the offer,” Adam said carefully. Zee was old enough to find “thank you” problematic and rudeness objectionable. “But if I’m wrong, I can justify bringing the pack through Marsilia’s door. I don’t want to explain to her that I let the Dark Smith into her home without more cause than we have. This is just a quick sweep to confirm that our allies are not there, and possibly find some clues into where they’ve been taken.”

“Fair enough,” said Zee, settling back into the body language of his old-mechanic guise. I hadn’t realized until that moment that he’d dropped it.

I wouldn’t be surprised if he gave us time to do our search and then went out and did his own.

“If Larry says the seethe is empty,” Darryl said, his voice a little sharp, “why are we going at all?”

Adam looked at him and said in an unfriendly voice, “Do you have anything better to do?”

Darryl’s nostrils flared. He didn’t like the vampires, and I didn’t blame him. I felt the same way about most of them. He didn’t like being put in his place, either.

“Marsilia’s our ally,” I told Darryl before the situation had a chance to get worse. “Someone spirited her and our vampires off. There may be clues. Emails, letters—something that tells us where they went and why.”

“Fair enough,” said Darryl. He had an easier time standing down with me than with Adam. I wasn’t an Omega like Anna, but I wasn’t a threat in any way, shape, or form, either. So his wolf didn’t bristle—and as the Alpha’s mate, I had enough authority that he didn’t feel the need to put me in my place.

Adam wasted no time loading two vehicles with the ten wolves. It might have been eagerness to get on with the task. But I wondered if it didn’t have something to do with Zee. Warren and Darryl ended up in Honey’s Suburban together. Usually this wouldn’t have been a problem. They liked each other. But Darryl was on edge because of the vampires, and whatever had been bothering Warren was still bothering him.

Adam saw it, caught Zack’s attention, and our pack submissive found a seat next to Warren in Honey’s car. Disaster hopefully averted, we loaded Adam’s car with the rest.

“Assuming I don’t die,” I told Zee as I stepped up to the shotgun seat of Adam’s SUV, “I’ll come back and relieve you this afternoon.”

Zee shook his head. “No, Mercy. It is all right. I have the shop today.”

“Okay,” I said. “Don’t drive off customers.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said innocently.

I pretended I hadn’t noticed him baiting me, waved my hand at him, and closed the door.

We got about half a block down the road when Ben, speaking from the far backseat, said, “Any of you sodding wankers know what’s done Warren’s nut for him?”

“Any of us sodding wankers know what Ben just asked?” George’s voice was very dry.

“On it,” Adam said, answering Ben, not George. “I’ve told him he has two days to tell me what his problem is. Just don’t push him before then.”

“Did you tell that to Darryl?” asked Mary Jo.

“I told Auriele,” Adam told her.

“Maybe he should take shotgun in your rig on the way home,” I suggested.

“No,” said Adam. “In my ride, that’s your spot.”

“Okay, then,” I said, a little surprised—and, unexpectedly, a little happy—at the growl in his voice.