I drove back to camp and started writing. A letter to my mother and one to each of my sisters. I did not, of course, mention Coyote. A long letter to Samuel and Bran. A letter to Jesse. A letter to Stefan. A lot of pages that I’d burn if I survived the night.
Jesse called Adam’s phone while I was in the middle of writing the letter to her. He brought his phone to me so I could answer it—after a little fumbling.
“I need Daddy,” Jesse said intensely. “Now.”
“He can’t talk.” Adam put his chin on my leg.
“I don’t care. Take the phone to him in the bathroom.”
“He’s a wolf, Jesse,” I told her patiently. “He can’t talk. Is there something I can do for you?”
“Why is he a wolf?” she said, sounding shocked. “It’s your honeymoon.”
“Jesse. Much as I’d love to discuss my honeymoon with you—what do you need?”
“It’s Darryl,” she wailed. “He’s impossible. Auriele left to do something or other, and he says I can’t go shopping. My favorite store has a four-hour sale, from noon to four, and he won’t let me go.”
Jesse, to my certain knowledge, had never cared about shopping. There were other things she did worry about, and I could think of only one of them that would put that frantic tone in her voice.
“Gabriel wants to go do something,” I interpreted. “Maybe a movie? Darryl would be an inconvenience, and you thought if you figured out something that he would not do, he’d let you do it without him.”
“Darryl’s right here, you know?” she said.
“Your father might have bought your story, but I doubt it,” I told her. “Where are you going?”
“Darryl critiques movies,” she said. “Loudly. During the movie, and Gabriel . . .”
Gabriel had changed in the last half year. He’d been kicked out of his house by a mother he loved (and who loved him back—that was part of the problem) and held captive by a fairy queen. Things like that change a person. Mostly he was a little more wary and a lot more somber.
Gabriel was living in the house that replaced my old one, so he and Jesse were now neighbors. But he’d lost the easy confidence that everything would turn out right—once he’d seen the monsters being monsters. Around some of the werewolves he was very . . . cautious. Adam didn’t seem to bother him, but Darryl did.
“How about Kyle and Warren?” I asked. Warren had that whole aw-shucks-ma’am going for him and was nearly as good at hiding his dominance as Bran. People tended to like Warren, and he and Gabriel got on just fine.
There was a little silence. “Kyle’s important, Mercy. He and Warren can’t just take the time to go to a movie with a couple of kids.”
I laughed, and Adam sneezed. “Did you hear that, Darryl? Kyle’s important.”
“Good to know someone is important around here,” he grumbled. He wasn’t angry, though. Darryl had a Ph.D. and worked in a federally funded think tank as an analyst of things too complex for most people’s brains. He and his mate, Auriele, had become Jesse’s de facto babysitters when her mother left because female werewolves were few and far between: Adam’s pack only had two. And Darryl was Adam’s second in command, a wolf more than up to taking on anyone who might try to hurt the daughter of the Columbia Basin Pack’s Alpha.
“I’ll call them,” Darryl said. “Now that I know what the trouble is. You could have told me, Jesse.”
“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings,” Jesse muttered. “It’s not that he doesn’t like you.”
“I know exactly what it’s about.” Darryl’s voice was so deep it rumbled. “It’s okay. I don’t mind scaring people. I especially don’t mind scaring your boyfriends.”
“Everything good now?” I asked.
“I guess,” Jesse said.
“If Kyle and Warren can’t go, check with Samuel and Ariana.”
“I’ll do that,” said Darryl.
“Love you, Jesse.” I kept it casual. “See you.” Probably. Maybe. The death of eight-year-old MacKenzie in the wee small hours this morning had taken the edge off my usual optimism.
“Tell Daddy he better not spend the whole honeymoon in wolf shape,” Jesse said. “Love you both.”
Adam had been reading my letter. I finally figured out how to hang up his phone, then met his eyes.
“I’m not planning on dying,” I told him. “But, Mr. Always Prepared for Anything, there are things I’d like to tell people if I do.”
Like I loved them. Like someone needed to watch out for Stefan, who still didn’t seem to be doing too well. Warren had called with an update a couple of days ago and reported that Stefan’s people seemed to be better. Stefan had collected a couple of people in Portland, but he was still too thin. Warren and Ben would be taking turns dropping by and feeding Stefan themselves, but that was a temporary fix. And someone needed to wait about ten more years, then track down the grown-up kids who belonged to that poor trucker who’d been framed for murders committed by a vampire and tell them he hadn’t suddenly gone crazy and killed a bunch of innocent people. Those kinds of things needed to be taken care of if I wasn’t there to do it.
Adam was restless and angry, so I sent him out to hunt something. Maybe killing something would make him feel better.
I wrote his letter while he was gone. When I was through, I lay down on the bed and tried to figure out some other way out of this disaster.
Calling the werewolves for help was out. The fae . . . Zee was my friend. I could call Zee. I considered it. Was it a good idea?
Not if the river devil could mark the fae, I realized. Fae were not proof against magic. I’d seen a fairy queen force other fae to worship her—and some of those had been fairly powerful.
If the river devil could suborn Zee . . . I’ve only seen Zee without his glamour a couple of times, and it was impressive. More impressive was the way the other fae treated him: wary respect—even from the Gray Lords themselves. If he had to obey the river devil, it would not be a good thing.
So. Coyote and his kinfolk were going to get themselves eaten. And Heaven help anyone left if I didn’t kill the monster. I was going to swim over and try to take it out with a flint knife—presumably Coyote would provide that.
Scuba gear might be good.
I seemed to remember . . .
I went to the bench in the kitchen area and pulled up the cushion and set it aside. The hard top of the bench opened, revealing two complete sets of snorkeling gear. I’d noticed it when I was exploring the trailer, and now it made me wonder just how much Yo-yo Girl had seen in her vision. It wouldn’t have been Adam who put them there.
I know a couple of adrenaline-junkie werewolves who scuba, but none that snorkel. It is not, strictly speaking, necessary to be able to swim when scuba diving, where sinking and rising are controlled by weight belts and an air-filled vest.
I pulled out a pair of water socks that looked to be my size and the smaller of the sets of fins. The snorkel I left where it was. My old college roommate had spent an entire summer trying to teach me to snorkel. We proved that the fins greatly increased my speed in the water and that the snorkel greatly increased the chance of my drowning myself.
Hank Owens called as I was closing up the compartment under the bench and asked for Adam.
“He’s out running,” I told him.
“Would you give him my apologies, ma’am. First time I’ve ever shot a civilian.”
“You didn’t shoot him on purpose,” I said.
“Not to argue, ma’am,” he said gently, “but I pointed my gun at him and pulled the trigger. That’s as ‘on purpose’ as it gets.”
I sensed we could argue back and forth all day. “Fine. I don’t think you owe him an apology. He won’t think you owe him an apology, but I will tell him you offered it. How are you doing? That sand-and-drop thing Hawk did to you didn’t look very pleasant.”
“No, ma’am. But I’m fine.”
“Good.”
“Thank you for conveying my
message, ma’am.”
“You’re very welcome.”
By the time Adam came back, I had decided that Coyote’s plan stood as good a chance as any and that I was as prepared as I was going to be.
“Catch anything?” I asked.
He shook his head. Then he shook everything else.
“Hank called to apologize for shooting you.”
He flattened his ears.
“That’s what I told him. But he seemed to feel the need, so I told him I’d let you know.”
I had done all I could. If we stayed here, all I was going to do was lapse into a funk that Adam was only too likely to join.
“Hey, Adam? Let’s go out to lunch.” This might be my last day on earth, and I refused to spend it moping around. Even if I’d had to let four people die this morning to preserve my life. I swallowed down my gorge.
Adam woofed in agreement to my proposal and escorted me out to the truck.
We ate takeout. Most restaurants don’t let dogs in. We drove to the first pretty place I saw and ate fast-food tacos with flowers blooming all around us. The seagulls mostly left us alone because of Adam. When we were through eating, I bundled up the garbage and lay down with my head on Adam and went to sleep, soaking up the heat of the day like a balm to my soul.
And I didn’t dream at all that I remember.
I woke with Adam licking my face—it felt a little hot. I don’t sunburn much, but falling asleep in the middle of a hot summer afternoon just might do it. I touched my face with my fingertips, but it didn’t seem sore, just warm.
“You ought to use sunscreen if you’re going to sleep outside like this. Someday you might not have a fairy godfather to come and take care of the sunburn.” Coyote sat next to us, chewing on a piece of grass. “Are you ready?”
I don’t know how long I’d been there, but the sun was nearly down. I sat up. Dinnertime had come and gone, but I wasn’t hungry. The werewolf would be another matter.
“Adam will need more food,” I said, eyeing him sideways. “But yes, I’m as ready as I’m going to get.”
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.
“I didn’t know that you also played fairy godfather.”
“It’s a secondary thing,” he said modestly, bouncing to his feet. “Let’s go get some food.”
COYOTE RODE IN THE BACKSEAT AND ATE TWICE WHAT Adam did—and that was saying something.
“I’ve got knives for you,” he said, licking the salt from the last french fry off his fingers.
“Knives?”
“Yes. Last time I did this, it took nine blades, so I brought you twelve. They are obsidian—be careful you don’t slice yourself while you’re at it. My sisters made the sheath and the knives, so they are as sharp as any knife I’ve seen. Remember, obsidian is brittle and doesn’t hold an edge forever, which is why I brought you so many.”
“All right,” I said. I realized that I hadn’t lied to Coyote back in the little park: I was ready. The nap in the sun with Adam’s heartbeat in my ear had steadied me, had given me courage. Succeed or fail, I would do my best to make sure that the river devil died tonight. That was all anyone could do.
THERE WERE SEVEN OF THEM WAITING FOR US AT OUR trailer. Evidently, Hawk had decided to help as well. They’d let themselves in and helped themselves to food, drink, and—from the looks of it—every sweet thing in the place. It looked like an invasion of pirates. If I’d known what they liked, I’d have brought back a couple of dozen doughnuts.
Dark was falling.
No one said much, but when the sun touched the western horizon, clothing disappeared as they garbed themselves in things suitable to war. Like the old clans of the Scots, for most of the tribes of the Americas, war meant as close to naked as makes no never mind. Apparent age dropped away, and the animal spirits who walked out to the river with me wore bodies as smoothly muscled as any werewolves. They also were furred or feathered as their aspect demanded, and their heads were those of beasts—their true shapes, as beautiful and strange as anything I have ever seen. It reminded me of the Egyptian gods; I’d never thought about the similarity before. They went armed, too—all but the birds, who would fight the battle from the air in their animal forms.
There were no passive sacrifices here. They would go fighting, but none of them seemed to believe that they wouldn’t go down.
They all knew the river devil better than I.
I wore my old blue tank swimsuit with a soft leather sheath packed with obsidian knives. The sheath wrapped around me like a snug Miss America sash or one of those old bandoleer bullet belts. The knives were stuck in and held tightly by the pale, well-tanned leather of the sheath. They didn’t look a great deal like a normal knife—or even the knives Coyote had drawn to drive the river devil back to the water. These were knives like the one Gordon had used to dig the bullet out of Adam. Using them would be more like using the blade of a box cutter than anything else. There was no handle, just a blunt side that was safe to hold and a very sharp side for cutting.
Over the top of the bandoleer I wore one of Adam’s dark gray dress shirts. No sense advertising our plans.
Coyote nodded at me, and I walked out into the river. Adam paced unhappily back and forth on the shore just beyond where the river devil had landed, so he would be out of her reach. He hadn’t been happy about agreeing to stay out of the river, but he wasn’t stupid. We couldn’t risk that she could gain control of him as she had Hank.
The plan was for me to stay safe until it was my turn to act—but still we needed me to be the bait that drew her in close. We’d decided, Coyote and I, that I should go in no farther than knee-deep, which put me about fifteen feet from shore. So close, Coyote was confident he could grab me before she pulled me out into the deep water. Knee-deep meant the entirety of the river mark on my leg was underwater. Raven took to the skies to see if he could spot her from the air when she came, though it was unlikely. The night-dark river didn’t give up her secrets easily.
I was ready. Ten minutes came and went.
Nothing happened. Nothing except that I was getting cold. And scared because I’m not stupid. Somewhere in this river was a monster who wanted to eat me, and I was daring her to do just that.
I looked at the shoreline, but no one seemed impatient—except Adam. Even with him, it was not so much impatience as growing frustration. Raven waved, and I waved in return before the feeling of having nothing to watch my back made me turn around again.
“She’s not stupid,” I muttered to myself as I stared at the dark water. “She’s got to be wondering what I’m doing going out into the river again after this morning.” I tried to put myself inside her head. “I wouldn’t come to her to save a child, but now I’m cavorting about in the water. Is this woman merely stupid? she’ll wonder. Is Mercedes the bait for one of Coyote’s traps? He’s killed her before, but she is stronger now and he weaker. Even if it is a trap, what does she have to fear?” I hoped that she would be more arrogant than suspicious.
“Maybe she can sense the assault team on the shore.” I thought about it for a minute. “But that shouldn’t worry her. None of them think they have a chance of killing her. She probably doesn’t think they can, either.”
Their fatality had surprised me a little. I know a bit about warriors and testosterone—and Coyote and his friends were the first and definitely had the second. Good warriors understand how to assess risk, but they also tend to beat their chests and brag a bit. Coyote certainly didn’t seem to eschew bragging, but no one was predicting victory here.
After a half hour, I decided that knee-deep wasn’t working. I took a deep breath and held it, listening intently to the river. Nothing—or at least nothing I could distinguish from the normal sounds. The problem was that there was too much noise. Water brushing the shore, night birds and insects hunting food or mates, even the highways all worked to camouflage any sound the river devil might make.
I stared out at the far shore and imagined her
out there, watching me and waiting. I took another step out, feeling the ground under my feet start to drop off. Another step, and I was abruptly waist-deep.
From the shore, Adam howled. I turned around and waved to them to show that the move had been voluntary.
“Knee-deep isn’t working,” I said. “I thought I’d try a little deeper.” Two steps was all it had taken—I was still quite close to shore.
An otter head popped up about ten feet from me, looking smug. He couldn’t hurt me here in the swimming area, according to Uncle Mike. But where the otters were, quite often the river devil was as well. I lost my nerve and turned to go back—and something wrapped around one ankle and hauled me through the water like a water-ski boat. Something that might have been Coyote’s hand brushed mine, then was gone.
I spread my body out, trying to create as much drag as I could, even as I fumbled with Adam’s shirt, trying to get it open enough to get at the knives. I knew what she was doing; I’d seen her do it to others. I had no intention of being her meal, but I wasn’t sure if I’d have time to do anything to stop it.
I had to try. If I died first, the whole enterprise was at risk.
So I concentrated on the advice Sensei Johanson had once told me was the first and most important way to win a sparring match: “Be ready.”
The river devil had pulled me deep under the surface, and it was dark. I was watching for her, and I saw nothing—but I felt the change in the currents of the water as she opened her mouth.
You, I shall consume with much pleasure, the river devil told me. And then I shall know how you defy me when no other mortal thing has. I shall learn and learning grow stronger.
Mercy! It was Adam, his voice a roar in my head overwhelming her words so I could move again.
More by luck than by skill, though I was trying to feel for anything I could grab, my free foot caught the outside of a tooth that was longer than my shinbone, and I grabbed another upper tooth with my left hand and stopped myself, arching my body away from her.
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