I didn’t say anything, and he laughed. “Pout all you want, Mercy. It won’t change anything.”
Pout? I looked away. I’d show him pout.
He started for the door.
I swallowed my rage and managed to not let it choke me. “So how did you do it?”
Vague questions are harder to ignore than specific ones. They inspire curiosity and make your victim respond even if he wouldn’t have talked to you at all otherwise.
“Do what?” he asked.
“Catherine and John,” I said. “They aren’t like normal ghosts.”
He smiled, pleased I’d noticed. “I’d like to claim some sort of supernatural powers,” he told me, then laughed because he found himself so funny. He wiped imaginary tears of mirth from his eyes. “But really it is their choice. Catherine is determined to somehow avenge herself upon me. She blames me for ending her reign of terror. John ... John loves me. He’ll never leave me.”
“Did you tell him to kill Chad?” I asked coolly, as if the answer were mere curiosity.
“Ah, now, that is the question.” He shrugged. “That’s why I need you. No. He ruined my game. If he’d done as I’d told him, you’d have brought yourself here and given yourself to me to spare your friends. He made them run. It took me half the day to find them. They didn’t want to come with me—and ... Well, you saw my poor Amber.”
I didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to ask the next question. But I needed to know what he’d done to Amber. “What did you eat that let you make zombies?”
“Oh, she’s not a zombie,” he told me. “I’ve seen zombies three centuries old that look almost as fresh as a day-old corpse. They’re passed down in their families like the treasures they are. I’m afraid I’ll have to get rid of Amber’s body in a week or so unless I put her in the freezer. But witches need knowledge as well as power—and they’re more trouble to keep than they are worth. No. This is something I learned from Carson—I trust Catherine or John told you about Carson. Interesting that one murder left him unable to do anything with his powers, when I—who you’ll have to trust when I tell you that I’ve done much, much worse than a mere larcenous homicide—had no trouble using what I took from him. Perhaps his trouble was psychosomatic, do you think?”
“You told me how you keep Catherine and John,” I said. “How are you keeping Amber?”
He smiled at Chad, who was standing as far from his father as he could get. He looked fragile and scared. “She stayed to protect her son.” He looked back at me. “Any more questions?”
“Not right now.”
“Fine—oh, and I’ve seen to it that John won’t be coming back to visit you anytime soon. And Catherine, I think, is best kept away, too.” He closed the door gently behind him. The stairs creaked under his feet as he left.
When he was gone, I said, “Oakman, do you know when the sun goes down?”
The fae, once more sprawled on the cement floor of his cage, turned his head to me. “Yes.”
“Will you tell me?”
There was a long pause. “I will tell you.”
Corban stumbled forward a step and swayed a little, blinking rapidly. Blackwood had released him.
He took a deep, shaky breath, then turned urgently to Chad and began signing.
“I don’t know how much Chad caught of what’s going on ... too much. Too much. But ignorance might get him killed.”
It took me a second to realize he was talking to me—his whole body was focused on his son. When he was finished, Chad—who still was keeping a lot of space between them—began to sign back.
While watching his son’s hands, Corban asked me, “How much do you know about vampires? Do we have any chance of getting out of here?”
“Mercy will grant me freedom this Harvest season,” said the oakman hoarsely. In English this time.
“I will if I can,” I told him. “But I don’t know that it’ll happen.”
“The oak told me,” he said, as if that should make it as real as if it had already happened. “It is not a terribly old tree, but it was very angry with the vampire, so it stretched itself. I hope it has not... doneitselfpermanentharm.” His words tumbled over each other and lost consonants. He turned his head away from me and sighed wearily.
“Are oaks so trustworthy?” I asked.
“Used to be,” he told me. “Once.”
When he didn’t say anything more, I told Corban the most important part of what I knew about the monster who held us. “You can kill a vampire with a wooden stake through the heart, or by cutting off his head, drowning him in holy water—which is impractical unless you have a swimming pool and a priest who will bless it—direct sunlight, or fire. I’m told it’s better if you combine a couple of methods.”
“What about garlic?”
I shook my head. “Nope. Though a vampire I know told me that given a victim who smells like garlic and one that doesn’t, most of them will pick the one who doesn’t. Not that we have access to garlic or wooden stakes.”
“I know about the sunlight—who doesn’t? But it doesn’t seem to affect Blackwood.”
I nodded toward the oakman. “Apparently he is able to steal some of the abilities of those he drinks from.” No way was I going to talk about blood exchanges with Chad watching. “The oakmen like this gentleman here feed from sunlight—so Blackwood gained an immunity to the sun.”
“And blood,” said the oakman. “In the old days we were given blood sacrifices to keep the trees happy.” He sighed. “Feeding me blood is how he keeps me alive when this cold-iron cell would kill me.”
Ninety-three years he’d been a prisoner of Blackwood’s. The thought chilled any optimism that had survived the ride here from the Tri-Cities. The oakman wasn’t mated to a werewolf, though—or bound to a vampire.
“Have you ever killed one?” the oakman asked.
I nodded. “One with help and another one who was hampered because it was daytime and he was sleeping.”
I didn’t think that was the answer he’d been expecting.
“I see. Do you think you can kill this one?”
I turned around pointedly, looking at the bars. “I don’t seem to be doing so well at that. No stake, no swimming pool of holy water, no fire—” And now that I’d said that, I noticed that there was very little that was even flammable here. Chad’s bedding, our clothes ... and that was it.
“You can put me down as something else that won’t be of any use,” Corban said, bitterly. “I couldn’t even stop myself from kidnapping you.”
“That Taser was one of Blackwood’s developments?”
“Not a Taser—Taser’s a brand name. Blackwood sells his stun gun to ... certain government agencies who want to question prisoners without showing any harm. It’s a lot hotter than anything Taser makes. Not legal for the civilian market but—” He sounded proud of it—proud and slick, as if presenting the product at a sales meeting. He stopped himself, and said simply, “I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault,” I told him. I looked at Chad, who still seemed thoroughly spooked. “Hey, why don’t you translate for me a minute.”
“Okay.” Corban looked at his son, too. “Let me tell him what I’m doing.” He wiggled his hands, then said, “Go.”
“Blackwood’s a vampire,” I told Chad. “What that means is that your father can’t do anything but follow Blackwood’s orders—it’s part of what a vampire does. I’m a little protected for the same reason I can see ghosts and talk to them. That’s the only reason he hasn’t done the same thing to me ... yet. You’ll know when your father’s being controlled, though. Blackwood doesn’t like your dad signing to you—he can’t read sign. So if your dad’s not signing to you, that’s one thing to look for. And your dad fights his control, and you can see that in his shoulders—”
I broke off because Chad began gesturing wildly, his fingers exaggerating all the movements. His equivalent of yelling, I supposed.
Corban didn’t translate what Chad said, but he
signed very slowly so he wouldn’t be misunderstood and spoke his words out loud when he answered. “Of course I’m your father. I held you in my arms the day you were born and sat vigil in the hospital when you almost died the next day. You are mine. I’ve earned the right to be your dad. Blackwood wants you alone and afraid. He’s a bully and feeds on misery as much as blood. Don’t let him win.”
Chad’s bottom jaw went first, but before I saw tears, his face was hidden against Corban.
It wasn’t the best time for Amber to come in.
“It’s hot upstairs,” she announced. “I’m to sleep down here with you.”
“Do you have the key?” I asked. Not that I expected Blackwood to have forgotten. Mostly I just wanted to keep her attention and let Chad, who hadn’t noticed her, have his moment with his dad.
She laughed. “No, silly. Jim was not very happy with you—I’m not going to help you escape. I’ll just sleep out here. It’ll be quite comfortable. Just like camping out.”
“Come here,” I said. I didn’t know that it would work. I didn’t know anything.
But she came. I didn’t know if she was compelled, or just following my request.
“What do you need?” She stopped within an easy arm’s reach.
I put my arm through the bars and held out my hand. She looked at it a moment, but took it.
“Amber,” I said solemnly, looking into her eyes. “Chad will be safe. I promise.”
She nodded earnestly. “I’ll take care of him.”
“No.” I swallowed and then put authority in my voice. “You’re dead, Amber.” Her expression didn’t change. I narrowed my eyes at her in my best Adam imitation. “Believe me.”
First her face lit up with that horrible fake smile, and she started to say something. She looked down at my hand, then over to Corban and Chad—who hadn’t noticed her yet.
“You’re dead,” I told her, again.
She collapsed where she stood. It wasn’t graceful or gentle. Her head bounced off the floor with a hollow sound.
“Can he take her again?” asked Corban urgently.
I knelt and closed her eyes. “No,” I told him with more conviction than I felt. Who knew what Blackwood could do? But her husband needed to believe it was over for her. At any rate, it wouldn’t be Amber who walked around in her body. Amber was gone.
“Thank you,” he told me, with tears in his eyes. He wiped his face and tapped Chad on the shoulder.
“Hey, kid,” he said, and he stepped away so Chad could see Amber’s body. They talked for a long time then. Corban played it tough and gave his son the gift of the belief in the superman qualities of fathers for at least one more day.
We slept, all of us, as far from Amber’s body as we could get. They pushed the bed up close to my cell and the two of them slept on that and I slept on the floor next to them. Chad reached though the bars and kept a hand on my shoulder. The cell floor could have been a bed of nails, and I would still have slept.
“MERCY?”
The voice was unfamiliar—but so was the cement under my cheek. I stirred and regretted it immediately. Everything hurt.
“Mercy, it is dark, and Blackwood will be here soon.”
I sat up and looked across the room at the oakman. “Good evening.” I didn’t use his name. Some of the fae can be funny about names, and the way Blackwood had overused it made me think that the oakman was one of those. I couldn’t thank him, and I searched for a way to acknowledge his honoring my request, but I didn’t find one.
“I’m going to try something,” I said finally. I closed my eyes and called to Stefan. When I felt I’d done as good a job at that as I could, I opened my eyes and rubbed my aching neck.
“What are you trying to do?” Corban asked.
“I can’t tell you,” I said. “I’m very sorry. But Blackwood can’t know-and I’m not sure it worked.” But I thought so. I never had been able to feel Stefan like I did Adam. If Blackwood hadn’t managed to take me over ... yet ... that should mean Stefan could still hear me. I hoped.
I tried touching Adam, too. But I couldn’t feel anything from him or the pack. It was probably just as well. Blackwood had said he was ready for werewolves, and I believed him.
Blackwood didn’t come down. We all tried not to notice Amber, and I was grateful for the coolness of the basement. The ghosts didn’t show up either. We talked about vampires until I’d told them everything I knew in general—only leaving out the names.
Stefan also did not come.
After hours of tedium and a few minutes of embarrassment when someone had to use the buckets left for us, I finally tried to sleep again. I dreamed of sheep. Lots of sheep.
SOMEWHERE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NEXT DAY I REGRETTED that I had not eaten the food Amber had prepared. But I was more thirsty than anything. The fairy staff showed up once, and I told it to go away and be safe, speaking softly so no one would notice. When I glanced back at the corner it had been in, it was gone again.
Chad taught me and the oakman how to swear in ASL and worked with us until we were pretty good at finger spelling. It left my hands aching, but kept him occupied.
We knew that Blackwood was paying attention to us again when Corban stopped in the middle of a sentence. After a few minutes he turned his head, and Blackwood opened the door.
The vampire looked at me without favor. “And where do you suppose I’m going to find another cook for you?” He took the body away and returned a few hours later with apples and oranges and bottled water—tossing them carelessly through the bars.
His hands smelled of Amber, rot, and earth. I supposed he’d buried her somewhere.
He took Corban away. When Chad’s father returned, he was stumblingly weak and had another bite mark on his neck.
“My friend is better at that than you are,” I said in a snotty voice because Blackwood had paused, with the cage door open, to look at Chad. “He doesn’t leave huge bruises behind.”
The vampire slammed the door, locked it, and stowed the key in his pants pocket. “Whenever you open your mouth,” he said, “I marvel that the Marrok didn’t wring your neck years ago.” He smiled a little. “Fine. Since you are the cause of my hunger, you may feed it.”
The cause of his hunger ... when I sent Amber away from her dead body, it must have hurt him. Good. Now all I had to do was get him to make a lot more zombies or whatever he wanted to call them. Then I could destroy them, too. I might weaken him enough that we could take him. Of course, the nearest available people to become zombies were us.
He opened my cage door, and I had to think really hard about the present not to panic. I fought him. I didn’t think he’d expected it.
Years of karate had honed my reflexes, and I was faster than a human would have been. But I was weak—an apple a day might keep the doctor away, but it’s not, by itself, the best diet for optimum performance. After a time that was too short for my ego to be happy, he had me pinned.
He left me aware this time when he bit my neck. It hurt the whole time, either a further punishment or Stefan’s bites were giving him trouble—I didn’t know enough to tell. When he tried to feed me in return, I fought as hard as I could and finally he grabbed my jaw and forced his gaze on me.
I woke up on the far side of the cage, and Blackwood was gone. Chad was making noise, trying to get my attention. I rose to hands and knees. When it was quite clear that I wasn’t going to get up farther than that, I sat up instead of standing. Chad stopped making those sad, desperate sounds. I made the sign he’d taught me for the “f-word” and finger-spelled, very slowly with clumsy fingers. “That’s it. No more Ms. Nice Girl. Next time I scalp him.”
It made him smile a very little. Corban was sitting in the middle of their cage looking at a mark in the cement.
“Well, oakman,” I said, tiredly. “Is it daylight or darkness?”
Before he answered me, Stefan was there in my cage. I blinked stupidly at him. I’d given up on him, but I hadn’t realized it unti
l he was there. I reached out and touched his arm lightly to make sure he was real.
He patted my hand and gave a quick look up as if he could see through the ceiling to the floor above. “He knows I’m here. Mercy—”
“You have to take Chad,” I told him urgently
“Chad?” Stefan followed my gaze and stiffened. He started to shake his head.
“Blackwood killed his mother—but left her a zombie to do his chores until I killed her for real.” I told him. “Chad has to be taken to safety.”
He stared at the boy, who was staring back. “If I take him, I can’t come back for a couple of nights. I’ll be unconscious, and no one knows where you are but me—and Marsilia.” He bit her name out as if he still weren’t happy with her. “And she wouldn’t lift a finger to help you.”
“I can survive a couple of nights,” I told him with conviction.
Stefan clenched his hands. “If I do it,” he told me fiercely, “if I do this and you survive—you will forgive me for the others.”
“Yes,” I said. “Get Chad out of here.”
He was gone, then reappeared standing next to Chad. He started to use ASL to say something—but we both heard Blackwood race down the stairs.
“To Adam or Samuel,” I said urgently.
“Yes,” Stefan told me. “Stay alive.”
He waited until I nodded, then he disappeared with Chad.
BLACKWOOD WAS MUCH MORE UNHAPPY ABOUT STEFAN’S presence in his house than he was with Chad’s escape. He ranted and raved, and if he hit me again, I was worried I might not be able to keep my promise to Stefan.
Apparently he came to the same conclusion. He stood looking down at me. “There are ways to keep other vampires out of my home. But they are taxing, and I expect that your friend Corban won’t survive my thirst.” He bent forward. “Ah, now you are frightened. Good.” He inhaled like a wine taster with a particularly fine vintage.
Patricia Briggs Mercy Thompson: Hopcross Jilly Page 115