Patricia Briggs Mercy Thompson: Hopcross Jilly

by Patricia Briggs

  Something scuttled behind me and I spun around, but it was only a mouse. We stared at each other for a moment before it went on its way. My heart was beating like a drum in my ears—stupid mouse.

  I came out to find Andre standing in front of the double doors next to the kitchen. The door was chained shut and locked with a shiny new padlock.

  He put his hand on the door and something beyond the door growled softly—a werewolf.

  “He won’t have left them free,” Andre said, though he made no effort to break the chain. “That door would never hold a werewolf who wanted out.”

  “Andre?” Stefan called out. “Is that you? Who’s with you?”

  “Stefan?” Andre whispered, frozen in place.

  “Open the door.” I pushed on his shoulder urgently. Stefan was alive. If I could have ripped the doors off the hinges myself, I would have. Stefan and at least one of the wolves were still alive.

  Andre took hold of the chain gingerly and pulled until one of the links broke.

  I reached past him and jerked on the chain, letting it fall to the floor as I pushed one of the heavy doors open. I slipped past Andre and found myself in a gymnasium the size of the sanctuary upstairs. The small windows on one side had been covered with black paper and taped with duct tape, but there was a torchiere lamp with a dim bulb hooked up to a car battery that provided enough light to see by.

  In the very center of the room, Stefan sat cross-legged inside a large dog crate, the kind you can buy at a pet store. About ten feet away there were more crates lined up next to each other. Something tight and angry eased as my eyes found a leggy red wolf, a muscular silver and black wolf, and a huge white wolf with crystalline eyes: Ben, Adam and Samuel.

  Andre rushed past me and knelt in front of Stefan’s cage. He touched the latch and the dim bulb flickered. Magic sometimes has an odd effect on electricity—I heard a humming noise and Andre jerked his hand back, shaking it briskly.

  “The cages are spelled,” said Stefan dryly. “Otherwise don’t you think my companions over there would have torn them to pieces?”

  I noticed then that he was being very careful not to touch the bars on the side of the cage. He looked drawn and as pale as I’d ever seen him. His usual T-shirt was splattered with old blood, but other than that he looked like himself.

  “A lot of people think you’re dead,” said Andre.

  “Ah,” said Stefan, turning his brooding gaze toward me. “They are mistaken.”

  Stefan was alive and well, but I wasn’t so certain about the rest.

  I took a step toward the wolves, and the red wolf in the nearest cage threw himself at me. The light blinked out entirely for a few moments and when it came back on Ben was crouched in the very middle of his cage making hoarse grunting noises and staring at me with hunger in his eyes. Despite the ferocity of his lunge and the laws of physics, his cage hadn’t moved. Magic.

  Ben hadn’t wanted out. He’d wanted to eat me. Uncle Mike had been right. Demons had a bad effect on werewolves.

  “The demon’s magic makes it quite impossible to escape these cages,” said Stefan behind me. His voice was mild, but somehow I knew he was angrier than I’d ever seen him.

  “Sam?” I said approaching the white wolf. He was too big for the cage and had to bend oddly in order to avoid touching it. As I came closer, he began to shake. He whined at me, then snarled.

  In the farthest cage, Adam growled but he was looking at Samuel, not at me.

  “Adam?” I asked and he looked back at me. He was angry all right, the scent of the werewolves’ frustrated rage rose over the scent of demon. But his brown eyes were clear and cold. It was Adam in control. Samuel, I wasn’t sure of.

  I reached out and touched Adam’s cage. Nothing happened. No flash of power, no blinking lights. The magic didn’t bother me though the bars felt warm under my fingers. I set the stake down on the floor and tried Zee’s knife, but I couldn’t get it to touch the bars—all it did was make the light go out again.

  The door was locked with a stout padlock, but there were lynch pins in all the corners, holding the cage together. I tried to pull one out, but I couldn’t budge it.

  Adam whined. I reached my fingers through the bars and touched his soft fur.

  “When Littleton is here, Adam loses it, too,” warned Stefan. “If I’d known the effect the demon would have on the werewolves, I’d have left them out of this. Warren and Daniel are dead.”

  “Warren’s not dead. He’s badly hurt, but he’s recovering at Adam’s house,” I said. “And I knew about Daniel.”

  Andre gave me a strange look, and I realized I hadn’t told him that Daniel was dead.

  “I am glad to be wrong about Warren. I was expecting Andre sooner or later”—Stefan leaned toward me and his voice took on a chiding note—“but Mercedes Thompson, what in the name of Hell are you doing here?”

  Suddenly, as if they were all puppets on the same strings, the werewolves jerked their heads toward a door I hadn’t noticed on the outside wall. Adam growled and Samuel hit the side of his cage. Slowly, carefully I pulled my fingers out of Adam’s cage, but he paid me no attention. I picked up the stake again, but it seemed a flimsy weapon to use against a vampire.

  The door opened to the night outside, and a dark figure hesitated a moment, then strolled in. The door slammed shut behind him.

  “Andre, how lovely to see you,” crooned Littleton. As his face came into the light I saw that Zee had been right—sooner or later, all sorcerers stop being demon riders and become demon ridden. Littleton was still in control, because his prisoners were still alive, but he wouldn’t be for much longer.

  “I’m sorry that you came while I was out getting a snack.” The T-shirt he wore had a dark stain on it. He stopped before he was halfway across the floor and smiled at Andre. “But I am here now so all is well. Come here.”

  I’d let Andre convince me that he was right, that Marsilia had managed to give him enough power to handle Littleton. I was so certain of it, that I thought he had some plan in mind when he walked around Stefan’s cage.

  I took a better grip on the stake, hiding it from Littleton with my body as I dropped the backpack quietly to the floor, ready for Andre to do something.

  Andre was shorter than Littleton so I could see Littleton’s face even though Andre stood between us. I was still waiting for Andre to make his move, when Littleton tipped Andre’s head to the side and struck while Andre just stood there.

  He didn’t feed, just bit into the side of Andre’s neck and then licked the blood. He laughed. “Thank you. How unexpected. Who’d have thought the selfish bitch would have shared her power with you? Did she think that would allow you to overcome us when we have the lovely and powerful Stefan to feed upon?” He kissed Andre’s cheek and whispered, “He tastes better than you do.”

  He held Andre against him for a moment. “You know, if it were only me, I’d let you serve us. But my friend, the one who shares my head, the nameless one, he’s been getting very bored. Yesterday we had the wolf and Daniel to entertain us. Today I thought to use the Master of the wolves, but then you came to play.”

  Andre didn’t fight, didn’t pull away. He just stood there like Stefan had done while Littleton killed the maid.

  My fear caught Littleton’s attention.

  He left Andre standing where he was and walked over to where I was crouched in front of Adam’s cage.

  “The little girl Marsilia sent hunting me,” he said. “Yes, I knew about you. A master vampire can listen in on his children, did you know? I am master now, and he the child. I know all of his plans.” He could only be speaking of Andre.

  Littleton bent down too close to me. My hands were trembling and I could smell the stink of my fear even above the smell of demon. I should have used the stake, but my own fear paralyzed me where I was.

  “Why did Marsilia think that you could hunt me down? What is a walker?” he asked.

  Quoting scripture doesn’t work well
on vampires, Zee had once told me, though it is sometimes effective on demons and the like.

  “For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten son,” I said, so frightened that I could only whisper. He cried out, covering his ears. I grabbed my sheep necklace and pulled it out of the neck of my shirt. I held it out, a blazing shield. When I said the next bit, my voice was stronger. “That whosoever believeth in—” Covering his ears must not have worked because he dropped them and grabbed me by my shoulder with one hand and hit me with the other.

  I opened my eyes and it felt as if no time had passed at all—except that I was lying on the floor about fifteen feet behind Stefan’s cage, my face pressed against the cool, dark linoleum tile. I tasted my own blood when I licked my lips and my face was wet.

  Someone was fighting.

  I moved my head until I could see better.

  It was Andre and Ben. Ben’s fur looked black as he danced in the shadows, looking for an opening against the vampire. He lunged forward, but Andre was faster, clipping him in the muzzle with his open hand. Ben slid away, mostly unhurt.

  I think if they’d been fighting on dirt or something that gave Ben’s claws a proper grip, Ben would have had the upper hand. But in the dark, on the slick linoleum, it was almost even.

  Littleton stood with his back to the light, watching.

  “Wait,” he said, sounding like nothing so much as a disappointed film director. “Stop.”

  Ben snarled angrily and whirled to face his tormentor. Andre just stopped where he was, like a windup toy that had been suddenly turned off.

  “I can’t get a good view from here,” Littleton said. “Come upstairs. You can play in the chapel while I watch from the loft.”

  He turned and strode off toward the doors that we’d left hanging open. He didn’t turn to make sure that the others followed him—though they did. Andre walked a few feet behind the sorcerer, Ben’s blood dripping from his fingertips. Ben was less obedient.

  He stopped to snarl at Adam and Samuel who growled and snarled in return. Samuel hit his cage with a full force blow that turned out the light for a count of three.

  When the light turned back on, Ben was standing in front of me.

  “Wolf,” said Littleton impatiently from outside the room.

  Ben took one step closer to me and licked his lips.

  “Come, Wolf.” There was power in that voice, I could feel it myself.

  Ben’s lips lifted off his fangs, then he turned and ran out of the room. I heard the sound of his claws on the steps.

  “Mercy, can you come to me?” asked Stefan in an urgent whisper.

  Good question. I tried to move, but there was something wrong with my shoulder joint. My left arm didn’t move at all. I tried moving my legs and saw stars. Hastily I dropped my head back to the floor and concentrated on breathing in and out. Cold sweat dampened my back.

  After a count of twenty I tried again. This time I think I actually did pass out, but not for more than an instant.

  “Nope,” I said. “Not moving anytime soon. Something’s wrong with my shoulder and neither of my legs is very excited about moving either.”

  “I see,” said Stefan after a moment. “Can you look at me then?”

  I tilted my chin and left my head on the floor where it wanted to stay. He was facing me, his eyes shimmering like a river of fire.

  “Yes,” I said—and that was all the invitation he needed.

  “Mercy,” he said, and his voice filtered through the cells of my body, filling me with purpose. “Come to me.”

  It didn’t matter that my arm didn’t work or that I couldn’t get to my feet. Stefan wanted me and I needed to go to him.

  Someone was snarling and the light was flickering crazily. Vaguely I noticed that Adam was throwing himself against his cage over and over again.

  My breath came out in pained grunts as I pulled my uncooperative body over the cool floor using the elbow of my good arm, because I still had the stake in my hand.

  “Shut up, wolf,” Stefan’s voice was soft. “Do you want him down here? I have a plan, but if he comes down here too soon, we’ll all be dead—including Mercy.”

  When his voice stopped calling me, I rested, keeping my gaze on Stefan’s. When he asked me to, I started moving again.

  It took a long time, and it hurt a lot, but at last my cheek pressed against Stefan’s cage.

  “Good girl,” he said. “Now put your fingers through the bars. No. You’ll have to set the stake down for now. Good. Good. That’s it. Rest now.”

  While Adam growled quietly, something sharp cut into my index finger. The pain was over too fast to worry about—just one small pain among many. But when Stefan’s mouth closed around it I felt a sudden euphoria and all the pain went away.

  Chapter 13

  Cold and bitter, something dripped into my mouth. I would have spit it out but it was too much effort. Gentle fingers, chill as ice, touched my cheek and someone whispered words of love against my ears.

  A snarl wove its way into my world as the freezing liquid turned to fire and slipped down my throat into my stomach, forcing me back into awareness. The wild anger in that wolf ’s tone called an adrenaline rush of fear that brought me fully awake.

  I lay curled around Stefan’s cage. The stake had rolled under me and lodged uncomfortably between my ribs and the floor. The light was off again and I could smell burning flesh, even over the scent of demon.

  Part of me knew I shouldn’t be able to see anything this clearly, but for some reason my night vision was even better than usual. I could see Adam staring over my head, his muzzle wrinkled and his eyes brilliant yellow lit with rage that promised death.

  I rolled my head a little so I could see what Adam was looking at. All I saw was Stefan.

  The vampire had threaded his fingers through the bars a few inches above my hand. He had a cut on his hand, a wide open slash that was pouring blood. Some of it caught on the bars, but most of it slid down his fingers to drip on the floor. My neck and cheek were wet with it.

  I licked my lips and tasted something that might have been blood—or it might have been the finest elixir of some medieval alchemist. One moment it tasted like blood, iron and sweet, and the next it burned my tongue.

  Sparks glittered in the dark blood on the bars and sizzled on his skin where it touched the cage.

  His face was hidden against his upright knee. “It’s done now,” he murmured.

  I pulled back from the cage and then pushed awkwardly with my single good hand at his smoking limb, which was very cool to the touch, shoving Stefan back inside, away from the bars.

  Slowly, he pulled his hand in toward his body and then raised his head, shutting his eyes when the dim lightbulb, freed from the odd effect of the cage’s sorcery, came back on.

  “It’ll only last for a little while,” he told me. “You’re still hurt, so be careful not to damage yourself more than you can help.”

  I started to ask him a question, but Samuel howled and Adam, turning his attention away from Stefan and I, joined in the chorus. As their cries died away, I heard someone coming down the stairs. It sounded like Littleton was dragging something.

  I dropped back to the ground, my hair over my face to hide it—only then realizing that I felt better. A lot better. Amazingly better.

  One of the hallway doors was pushed open with a crash. Through the curtain of my hair I watched Andre fly through the doorway and land in an ungraceful heap on the floor.

  Littleton liked to throw things.

  “You didn’t do it right,” the sorcerer complained as he dragged a limp red werewolf through the doorway by one hind leg. “You have to do what I tell you. I didn’t tell you to kill the wolf, it’s not even midnight yet. You are not going to ruin my fun with an early kill.”

  He looked over at us, or rather at Stefan. I closed my eyes most of the way, and hoped my hair hid them well enough that he didn’t realize I was awake.

  “I am sorry,
” he said contritely as he approached Stefan, still dragging Ben. “I haven’t been much of a host. I didn’t realize you were thirsty or I’d have provided a meal. But then I suppose I just did.”

  He dropped Ben in front of me, then nudged me with a toe. “I might have played a little with this one,” he said with a sigh. “But humans don’t last as long anyway. Maybe I’ll bring in a few more for food for you though. It might be fun to turn them loose in here and make you call them to you.”

  Ben wasn’t dead, I could see his ribs rising and falling. He wasn’t healthy either. There was a flap of torn skin on his hip that oozed blood, and one front leg bent oddly about two inches below the joint. I couldn’t see his head because the rest of his body was in the way.

  Littleton went back to get Andre. He picked him up and carried him like a lover as he brought him to the light in the center of the cages.

  With Andre still in his arms, he sat down next to the light. He arranged the other vampire on the ground like a doll, pulling Andre’s head on his knee. Andre’s face was covered with blood.

  I licked my lower lip and tried not to enjoy the buzz of vampire blood on my tongue.

  Littleton bit himself on the wrist, giving me a glimpse of his fangs and then he put the open wound over Andre’s mouth.

  “You understand,” he murmured to Andre. “Only you. You understand that death is more powerful than life. More powerful than sex. If you can control death, you control the universe.”

  It should have sounded melodramatic. But the fevered whisper lifted the hair on the back of my neck.

  “Blood,” he told the unconscious Andre. “Blood is the symbol of life and death.”

  Andre moved at last, grabbing Littleton’s wrist and holding it to him, curling around it. Much as a starving Daniel had curled around Andre’s wrist during Stefan’s trial. I wished the lingering touch of Stefan’s blood didn’t taste so good.