Silver Borne mt-5

by Patricia Briggs

  That book had taught me a lot more about the fae than I’d known before. I hoped something would help us find Gabriel before the fairy queen decided to keep him.

  “You are patient,” she said. “That doesn’t match what I’ve heard of you.”

  “Not so patient,” I told her. “I don’t think I’ll play your game by myself. I think the Gray Lords might as well take care of my problems for me.” They wouldn’t, of course, and I wasn’t so stupid as to invite them in. But I wanted to hear what her reaction would be to it.

  She laughed again. “You do that. You just do that, Mercedes Thompson. And if they figure out what you have—and have any inkling that you might know what it is—they will kill you, werewolves or no. They’d kill you to get it, too—and trust me, it is easier to kill you, human, than it is to bother looking for it wherever you have it stashed.”

  I didn’t doubt that she was telling the truth about the Gray Lords. Fae always tell the truth. They usually respond to taunts, too—which is why I added a smug tone to my voice as I said, “Most especially because you don’t know what it is, either.”

  “The Silver Borne,” she said.

  She wasn’t looking for the book. I had no idea what “the silver borne” was, but the book was made of leather and embossed with gold; there wasn’t anything silver about it. I had nothing to bargain with for Gabriel. So we’d have to find them and take him back in such a way that she never bothered us again. A lot of fairy tales ended “and the evil fairy never bothered them from that day until this.”

  “You don’t know what it looks like,” I said confidently. “You think I have it because Phin is dead, and it didn’t reveal itself to his killers as it would have if he were in possession of it.” I told her as if I knew it to be fact.

  “Do you have it?” she asked. “Maybe he did give it to someone else. Though if you don’t have it, I shall take this beautiful young man as consolation and continue looking for it.”

  I bit my lip. Phin was dead.

  “I have something of Phin’s,” I said with obvious caution. In the morning, I’d feel bad about the man who’d stuck his neck out to help me in defiance of the Gray Lords, who loved books and old things—and who’d had a grandmother who’d called him and worried about him. As things were, I needed to keep my wits. I was tired, and Adam’s pain and fatigue were starting to trickle through me as our bond chose this inconvenient time to begin to mend itself.

  “You will not tell the wolves,” she said. “That is the first step. I will know if you break your word. Then I will take the boy and redouble my efforts to see you dead.”

  I glanced at the wolves around the table. “You didn’t seem so anxious to kill me that you would risk my mate’s ire yesterday morning.”

  She hissed. “When I have that which is silver borne, I shall have no need to fear. Not wolves, not Gray Lords. The only thing that saves you at this moment is that it might take some time after you die for it to reveal itself. If you make this too difficult for me, I will risk it.”

  “What did you want me to do?” I asked her.

  “Tell me you won’t tell any of the werewolves about me, about what you have, and that Gabriel is in any kind of distress or danger.”

  “Okay,” I said reluctantly. “I won’t tell any of the wolves about you, about the thing I have that was Phin’s, or about Gabriel’s current danger.”

  “You will not tell any of the fae. Not the Gray Lords, not the old fae who was at your place of work this morning.”

  I looked at Darryl, and he nodded grimly. He’d tell Zee for me.

  “I will not tell any fae I know about you, about the thing I have that was Phin’s, or about Gabriel’s current danger.”

  “I can’t force you to adhere to that agreement,” she told me. “That magic is no longer mine. But I will know the instant you break your word—and our deal will be off. This young and beautiful man will be mine, and you will die.”

  Jesse’s cold hand gripped mine. She and Gabriel had been sort of dating for a while. “Sort of” because he was concentrating on school since he needed scholarships for college.

  “All right,” I told the fae.

  “Second. You will bring this thing to the bookstore and give it to my knight of the water.”

  Fishy Boy, I thought. Though Knight of the Water didn’t ring any bells. Maybe it was a title rather than a type of fae.

  “Nope. I’m not bringing it to the bookstore to your knight.” One of her people could kill us all, and leave her not foresworn. We needed to deal only with her.

  “You will—”

  “Not trust you unless it is a full exchange. You bring Gabriel, and I get him safe and unharmed in exchange for this thing I will bring you.”

  “I cannot bring you Gabriel unharmed,” she said, sounding amused.

  Mary Jo gave a very soft rumbling growl, and I poked her to stop it. Maybe the fae wasn’t paying attention. She’d heard the earlier sound Jesse had made, but as Bran liked to tell me, you can have the best senses in the world, but if you forget to use them, they can do you no good.

  “No more harmed than now,” I said. “Himself, in his own mind, his body no more bruised than it is at this instant.”

  “That I can manage,” she said, still sounding amused.

  “I would consider death as further damage.”

  She laughed. The sound was beginning to get on my nerves. “So distrustful, Mercedes. Don’t you read your fairy tales? It is the humans who betray their bargains. Get a good night’s sleep . . . Whoops, too late. Rest, then. I’ll call you at this number sometime tomorrow when I have a chance to organize a safe meeting place.”

  I wracked my brain because she was too happy, like she knew something we didn’t.

  “Gabriel is the only human you have,” I said, suddenly worried that she had more hostages.

  She laughed again. “You don’t really think I’ll answer that, do you?”

  And she hung up.

  “Does anyone know what area code 333 belongs to?” I asked.

  “There isn’t one,” said Ben. “No 333, no 666. Phone company doesn’t officially believe in numerology, but they have a lot of customers who do.”

  “You want me to call Zee right now?” rumbled Darryl. “Or does he get grumpy when you wake him up?”

  I looked at him. “I can’t answer your first question. And Zee is almost always grumpy. Don’t let it bother you.”

  “I’ll call him,” said Auriele.

  “Wait before . . .” I hesitated to say anything about her calling Zee, not knowing just how far I could go without triggering the fae’s spell. But Auriele understood and sat back down.

  “Did anyone hear anything that might pinpoint where she was calling from?” asked Jesse—who watched several forensic police procedural TV shows regularly.

  “No trains,” Mary Jo said dryly. She pushed the table so she wasn’t pinned anymore. “No water noises. No highway or car sounds. No airplanes. No distinctive church chimes. No dolphins playing in the background.”

  “Which eliminates a lot of places,” said Auriele. “I’m pretty sure it was indoors. I heard a hum that might have been a fluorescent light fixture.”

  “I heard echoes, like she was in a room with hard sides,” said Darryl. “Not a huge room, though. It didn’t sound hollow.”

  “When—” I couldn’t say “she hit him,” because I’d promised not to talk about the fairy queen or Gabriel’s danger to the werewolves. “When Mary Jo heard something, there was a slight scuffing sound,” I said. “Like a chair sliding on cement.” I closed my eyes and thought about the feel of the background sounds.

  “The lack of outdoor noises might mean that she was in a basement instead of just indoors,” said Darryl. “If she’s not from around here, she’d need to acquire someplace secure—not a hotel. Rentals are hard to find in the area right now—one of my coworkers was complaining about it. If Phin is dead, maybe the fae is using his house.”

&nbs
p; “He lived in an apartment, one of the newer ones in West Pasco—and he has nosy neighbors.” I got up and got a dishcloth and wet it down so I could clean up the cocoa.

  “The bookstore, then,” said Auriele. She took the cloth and tossed it to Mary Jo. “Your mess, you clean it up.”

  Mary Jo’s shoulders were tight, but she started to clean up without protest.

  “Sam and I were in the bookstore’s basement tonight,” I said. “But the lighting there is incandescent—no buzzing. Beyond that, the sound was wrong. There were a lot of books down there, so it wasn’t as echo-y. The room in the phone call sounded emptier.”

  “You were at the bookstore? Did you catch a scent?” Ben had been dozing, I thought. Even after he spoke, his eyes were closed. The stress of his wounds and the full belly from Warren’s mysterious ice chest of roasts would work like a narcotic.

  “Do you need to go downstairs and sleep?” I asked.

  “No, I’m fine. Did you find out anything?”

  “We picked up Phin’s scent—and four other fae who had been in there. One of them, some kind of forest fae, came back, and Sam killed it. There was another forest fae, a female we didn’t meet. She was the same kind as the one Sam killed—I’m pretty sure of it. And then there was one who smelled of swamps and wet things who hopefully is her knight of the water. The fewer allies she has, the happier I am. I met the fourth, who left traces in the bookstore earlier today . . . I guess that’s yesterday now. She looked like a happy-grandmother type. I couldn’t tell what she was.”

  “Was it her?” asked Ben, and nodded at the phone.

  “I can’t answer that,” I told him.

  “But you can answer me,” said Jesse. “Was the old woman the one who took Gabriel?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. I closed my eyes and thought about what had happened and when. “No. She was looking through Phin’s records, trying to find out who Phin gave something to. The bad guys had already tried to kill me once—if you didn’t pick up on it, the incident at my garage yesterday morning was aimed at me. They knew where they were looking.” Maybe if I could have talked to her, we’d know more about what it was that the fairy queen wanted.

  “She’s not smart, this fairy queen,” said Ben. “If she were, she’d have known that you weren’t human.”

  “I don’t exactly advertise,” I told him. “And, other than my connection to Adam and the Marrok, I’m not important. There’s no reason that she should know. Especially since she’s been producing shows in California.”

  “She makes assumptions,” Darryl said. “Most people look at you, Mercy, and wonder if you are fae or wolf and just hiding it, because you’re mated to a wolf and working with a fae.” He stopped and raised a speculative eyebrow. “Or she thinks you are one or the other and might react and tell her which one if she kept taunting you with being human.”

  “That sounds about right,” I said.

  “Why not just give them whatever she wants and get Gabriel back,” Mary Jo said. “It’s not yours, and it sounds like the rightful owner is dead anyway.”

  Ben snorted. “You aren’t usually this dumb. You want to hand a woman like this fairy queen an object of power that she believes can protect her from us?”

  Darryl tilted his head and looked at Mary Jo. She flushed and dropped her gaze. “Don’t think I don’t remember that you disobeyed Adam,” he said. “You have no standing here, and you will not leave this house until your punishment.” He waited, then answered her question. “Ben’s right. Besides, you really think she’s going to let anyone live who knows what she has? I don’t know a damn thing about what she wants. If the Gray Lords are willing to kill Mercy just because she knows about it—Mercy who has their favor and is beloved by our Alpha—don’t you think they’d kill one of those under their power, who has no such protections? If I can figure that out from one phone conversation, this Daphne, she knows it, too. She has no intention of letting anyone go. She’d make the exchange, then kill both Mercy and the boy.”

  “Or keep the boy and kill Mercy,” added Jesse, who had her dad’s clear eye for strategy. “Gabriel would rather be dead.” She was still a teenager with a streak of drama, though. I wasn’t so sure Gabriel would rather be dead than serve the fairy queen—from all accounts it was fairly pleasant from the victim’s side because they had no willpower to object.

  I’d rather be dead. Maybe she was right.

  “Mercy,” grumbled Darryl, “she was right about one thing: you need some sleep. Go to bed.” His voice softened. “You, too, Jesse. We can all help your boy better on a full night’s sleep.”

  He was right. I was so tired I could hardly keep my eyes open.

  I yawned and hooked my arm through Jesse’s. “Okay.”

  * * *

  AFTER DROPPING JESSE OFF AT HER ROOM, I OPENED the door to Adam’s as quietly as I could. Someone had stripped the comforter and thrown it on the floor. Adam was sprawled naked on top of the sheet—and he looked horrible. A mass of dark red scabs covered most of his extremities as well as here and there on the rest of his body.

  Warren had taken off his boots and was lying on the near side of the bed on his side, facing the doorway. Sam was curled up between them at the foot of the bed.

  I’d worried a little about leaving him with a wounded Alpha, but apparently he was still behaving atypically for an uncontrolled werewolf. While I closed the door, he rolled flat on his side and half looked at me. He wiggled a bit and let out a satisfied oof as he pushed Warren’s feet over a few inches. I noticed that he didn’t touch Adam.

  Warren was awake—even if he looked like he was deeply asleep. I crawled over him and the corners of his mouth tipped up. I settled in between him and Adam, curling my legs up so I didn’t kick Sam.

  I tried not to touch Adam, but he rolled over and threw an arm over my hip. It felt warm and safe and good—and probably hurt him. His eyes opened a slit, then closed.

  I lay there a while in simple appreciation that he’d survived the fire. The door opened just as I was drifting off to sleep.

  “Is there room for one more?” asked Ben. I lifted up my head to see him standing in the doorway in a pair of baggy sweats. His hair was ruffled on one side as if he’d been lying down before he came up. “If not, I can go—”

  “Come on in,” rumbled Warren. “I’ll go take the upstairs guest room.”

  Warren rolled off the bed, and Ben crawled on. He put one foot on mine, then let out a sigh and collapsed like a puppy who’d been playing for too long. Pack is for comfort when you hurt, I thought, putting my head back down. And for the first time in a long time, maybe the first time ever, I appreciated being a part of one.

  * * *

  I WOKE UP BECAUSE THE TOP OF MY HEAD WAS TOO warm. The sensation was vaguely familiar so I started to go back to sleep when sharp, pokey things started digging into my scalp. And then I remembered why there shouldn’t be a cat sleeping on my head.

  I sat up and stared into the cool gaze of the slightly singed calico Manx who expressed her irritation with my abrupt change of position with an irritated meow. She smelled of smoke, and there was a raw spot on the top of her back, but otherwise she seemed to be fine.

  Adam didn’t move, but Ben rolled over and opened his eyes.

  “Hey, cat,” I said, tearing up, as she adjusted to my new position and maneuvered herself so she was within easy petting distance of both Ben and me. “I thought you were toast.”

  She pushed her head under my hand and rolled so my hand slid through her coat. Ben started to reach out, but stopped as soon as he moved his fingers. They looked better than they had before—though they still looked like something that might appear in a horror movie.

  “I didn’t realize you didn’t know,” Ben said, his voice still rough. “I should have told you. Adam went to your room. I went to Sam’s and found her under the bed.”

  I wiped my eyes and nose on my shoulder (both hands being occupied with cat and covered with cat hair any
way). Then I leaned forward and kissed Ben’s nose.

  “Thanks,” I said. “I’d have missed her a lot.”

  “Yeah.” He stretched out on his back, hands carefully laid across his belly. “We’d have missed her, too. Only cat I’ve ever seen who tolerates werewolves.” He sounded oddly vulnerable. I don’t think he was used to being the hero.

  “Don’t feel too flattered,” said Adam dryly. “Medea likes vampires, too.”

  “Adam?” I said.

  But he was asleep again. And I could feel him in my head, just as he should be.

  Chapter 10

  I WOKE UP, AND MY FIRST THOUGHT WAS SURPRISE that I was so sore. Then I remembered the huge fae who’d knocked me silly. In the wake of my home burning down and Adam getting hurt, the encounter with the fae in the bookstore had become incidental. There was a goose-egg-sized knot on the back of my head, nothing wanted to move very much, and my ankles—both of them—ached.

  Sam was snoring, something he actually didn’t do very often. He was stretched out across my feet, which couldn’t have been very comfortable for him, though he seemed happy enough. He must have felt my attention because he rolled onto his back and stretched—an instant of half wakefulness that ended with him going back to snoring.

  Adam was still sleeping like the dead, as he had for most of the night—except when he woke up coughing blood tinged gray with smoke particles. Sometime during the night, he’d rolled away from me, and now he slept on his side. I ran a hand over his shoulder blade and he moved into my touch without waking up.

  “Hey,” I told him. “I love you.”

  He didn’t answer, but I didn’t need one—I knew how he felt. Only after I rolled painfully off the edge of the bed did it occur to me that Ben was missing. A glance out the window told me it was still morning, not early, but not late enough to make me feel like a slugabed either.