Blood Bound (11 page)

“That's right,” agreed Stefan mildly.

When Daniel tried to stand up, his legs wouldn't hold him. His hands also seemed to be stuck. Stefan helped him pry his hands free and then picked him up off the chair when it became apparent that despite the feeding, Daniel was still too weak to stand.

Stefan took a step toward Andre, but then he hesitated and brought him back to where the wolves and I were standing.

He set him down on the floor a few feet from Warren. “Stay there, Daniel,” he said. “Can you do that?”

The young man nodded his head. “Yes.” He held onto Stefan's arm though, and Stefan was forced to unwrap the other vampire's fingers before he could return to the chair. He took a handkerchief out of a back pocket and cleaned the arms of the chair until the brass tacks gleamed. No one complained about the time it took.

“Mercy,” Stefan said, putting the handkerchief back in his pocket. “Would you please come and bear your truth before my mistress?”

He wanted me to go stick my hands on those sharp thorns. Not only did it seem somewhat sacrilegious, thorns and pierced palms, but it was going to hurt. Not that it came as a terrible surprise, not after Stefan and Daniel.

“Come,” he said. “I've cleaned them so that you will suffer no taint.”

The wood was cool and the seat a little too big, like my foster father's favorite chair had been. After he'd died, I'd spent hours in that chair, smelling his scent, ingrained into the polished wood by years of use. The thought of him steadied me, and I needed all the nerve I could get.

The thorns were longer and sharper than they'd looked when I wasn't about to push them into my flesh. Better to do it quickly than to stew about it. I closed my hands over the ends of the arms and pulled them tight.

It didn't hurt at first. Then hot tendrils of magic snaked in through the break in my skin, streaking up the veins in my arms and closing around my heart like a fiery fist.

“Are you all right, Mercy?” Warren asked, his voice rumbling with the first hint of challenge.

“Wolves have no tongues in our court,” snapped Bernard. “If you cannot be silent you will leave.”

I was glad that Bernard said something. He bought me time to understand that the magic wasn't hurting me. It was uncomfortable, but not painful. Not worth causing the fight Warren was ready to begin. Adam had sent him to guard me, not to start a war over a little discomfort.

“I'm fine,” I said.

The teenager stirred. “Not true,” he said.

Truth, huh? Fine. “My face hurts, my shoulder hurts, my neck hurts where the freaking demon-riding vampire bit me, and the magic of this chair is about as gentle as a lightning strike, but I'm not suffering from anything that will do irreparable harm.”

The boy, Wulfe, resumed his catatonic rocking. “Yes,” he said. “Truth.”

“What happened last night?” Stefan asked. “Please begin with my phone call.”

I found myself telling the story with far more detail than I'd intended to. Certainly they didn't need to know that Stefan's driving had scared me, or the smells of the woman's death. But I was unable to edit, the memories coming out of my mouth as they rushed through my head. It would seem that there was some of the vampire's magic that had no trouble dealing with my walker blood.

That didn't stop Bernard from claiming that it did. “You cannot have it both ways,” he said when I was through. “We cannot believe that the seat has power over her and at the same time that she was able to resist a vampire who was able to feed memories into Stefan. Stefan, who of all of us, is able to resist the Mistress's, his
maker's
, commands.”

“The seat isn't dependant upon our power,” Stefan said. “It functions by blood, but it was a witch who worked the magic. And I don't know if the sorcerer could have done the same to Mercedes as he did to me. He didn't know what she was, so he didn't try.”

Bernard started to say something, but Marsilia held up her hand. “Enough.”

“Even five hundred years ago, sorcerers were rare,” she told Stefan. “I have not seen one since we came to this desert. The seat has shown us that you believe that there is a sorcerer, a sorcerer that some vampire turned. But you will have to forgive me for not believing along with you.”

Bernard almost smiled. I wished I knew more of how justice worked in the seethe. I didn't know what I could say that would keep Stefan safe.

“The walker's testimony is compelling, but like Bernard, I have to question how well the seat works on her. I have seen walkers ignore far more dangerous magics.”

“I can feel her truths,” whispered the boy as he rocked. “Clearer than the others. Sharp and pungent. If you kill Stefan tonight, you'd better kill her, too. Coyotes sing in the daylight as well as the night. These are the truths she carries.”

Marsilia stood up and strode to where I was still held captive in the chair. “Would you do that? Hunt us while we sleep?”

I opened my mouth to deny it, like any sane person faced with an angry vampire, then closed it again. The seat held me to the truth.

“That would be a stupid thing for me to do,” I said finally, meaning it. “I don't hunt for trouble.”

“Wulfe?” She glanced at the boy, but he merely rocked.

“It doesn't matter,” she said at last, dismissing me with a wave of her hand as she turned to survey her people. “Wulfe believes what she says. False or true, we cannot have vampires, any vampires,” she glanced briefly at Stefan to make her point, “running around killing without permission. We cannot afford the risk.” She stared at the seated vampires for a moment, then turned back to Stefan. “Very well. I believe that this vampire did the killing—not you. I give you four sennights to find this sorcerer of yours and present him—or his body—to us. If you cannot do it, we will assume it is because he does not exist—and we will hold you responsible for endangering the seethe.”

“Agreed,” Stefan bowed while I was trying to remember what a sennight was. Seven nights, I thought, four weeks.

“You may pick someone to help you.”

Stefan's eyes traveled over the seated vampires without stopping. “Daniel,” he said at last.

Andre was surprised into protest. “Daniel's hardly fit to walk.”

“It is done,” Marsilia said. She brushed her hands together, as if to rid herself of the whole matter, and then stood up and walked out of the room.

I started to get off the chair, but I couldn't pull my hands away: they were stuck fast, and wiggling
hurt
. I couldn't make myself pull hard enough to get free. Stefan noticed my problem and gently pried my hands up as he had for Daniel. The sudden warmth as the spell disengaged made me gasp.

As I stood, my glance fell on Wulfe, who was the only vampire still seated in the room. He was staring at me with a hungry look. Bleeding in a room full of vampires wasn't very smart, I thought.

“Thank you for coming,” Stefan said to me, putting a hand under my elbow and turning me away from Wulfe's eyes.

“I don't think I helped much,” I said. Either the chair, or the eye contact with Wulfe had made me dizzy so I leaned a little harder on Stefan than I meant to. “You still have to hunt down a sorcerer on your own.”

Stefan smiled at me. “I would have anyway. This way, I'll have help.”

Andre, who'd been standing somewhat to the side, came up to us. “Not much help. Daniel, even healthy, isn't much better than a human—and starved as he has been, he's weak as a kitten.”

“You could have prevented that.” There was no reproof in Stefan's voice, but something told me that he was angry with Andre over Daniel's condition.

Andre shrugged. “There was food for him. If he did not take it, I wasn't going to force him. He'd have been driven to feed eventually.”

Stefan handed me over to Warren and then bent to help Daniel to his feet. “Since you brought him over, it is your job to protect him—even from himself.”

“You've been hanging around the werewolves too long,
amico mio
,” Andre said. “Vampires are not so fragile. If you had wanted to bring him over, you had plenty of time to do it.”

Stefan's face was turned away from Andre's as he steadied Daniel on his feet, but I could see the red glow stirring in the chocolate depths. “He was mine.”

Andre shrugged. “That is an old argument—and I don't believe I ever disagreed with you. It was an accident. I didn't mean to turn him, but I had no choice other than to let him die. I believe I have apologized enough for it.”

Stefan nodded. “I'm sorry I brought it up again.” He didn't sound it. “I will return Daniel to you when I have accomplished the Mistress's will.”

Andre didn't walk out with us. I couldn't tell if he was angry or not. Without normal body scents, the vampires were difficult for me to read.

Warren waited until we were standing by his truck before he spoke. “Stefan, I'd like to help you. I think that Adam would agree that a demon-riding vampire is not something to be taken lightly.”

“And I,” said Ben, unexpectedly. He saw my look and laughed. “Been right boring around here lately. Adam's too much in the spotlight for now. He hasn't let us do more than a Moon hunt once a month since the first of the year.”

“Thank you,” said Stefan, sounding as if he meant it.

I opened my mouth, but before I could say anything, Stefan put a cool finger across my lips.

“No,” he said. “Samuel is right. I almost got you killed last night. If Littleton had had the faintest inkling of what you are, he'd never have let you live. You are too fragile—and I have no desire to start a war with Adam—or worse, the Marrok himself.”

I rolled my eyes—as if I was important enough to the Marrok for him to take on the seethe while he was trying so hard to keep the werewolves looking good. Bran was too pragmatic for that. But Stefan was right; besides, there was nothing I could do that a pair of vampires and werewolves couldn't do better.

“Get him for her,” I told him. “For that maid and for the others who should be with their loved ones tonight and not buried in the cold ground.”

Stefan took my hand and bowed low over it, touching his lips to the back. His elegant gesture made me conscious of how rough my skin was—mechanic work is not easy on hands.

“As my lady desires,” he said, sounding utterly serious.

“Hello?” Adam's voice was brisk.

“It's been nearly a week,” I said. “Littleton's not coming after me—he's busy playing games with Warren and Stefan.” Warren had kept me more or less updated on the hunt for the vampire-sorcerer, such as it was. Somehow Littleton was always a step ahead of them. “Call off the bodyguards.”

There was a little silence on the other end of the phone line, then Adam said, “No. We're not discussing this over the phone. If you want to talk to me, you come over and talk to me. Wear something to spar in, I'll be working out in the garage.” Then he hung up.

“How about some different bodyguards?” I asked the phone plaintively. “Someone I actually get along with shouldn't be too much to ask.”

I set the phone down and glared at it. “Fine. I'll just deal with her.”

 

When I got home from work the next day, I grimly put on my gi and called him again. “You win,” I said.

“I'll meet you in my garage.” To his credit, he didn't sound smug—proof that Adam is a man of tremendous self-control.

As I trudged across my back field, I told myself it was stupid to be so worried about talking to him. He was hardly likely to jump my bones without permission. All I had to do is keep this on a business setting.

I found Adam practicing high kicks on a sandbag in the dojo he'd made out of half of his garage, complete with a wall of mirrors, padded floor, and air-conditioning. His kicks were picture perfect—mine would be too if I'd been practicing them for thirty or forty years. Maybe.

He finished his reps, then came up to me and touched the side of my face. His scent, stronger for his exercise, enveloped me; I had to fight not to press my head against his hand.

“How's the head?” he asked. The bruises had faded a bit, enough that customers didn't look embarrassed when they saw me.

“Fine.” This morning was the first time I'd woken up without a splitting headache.

“All right.” He walked away from me, out to the middle of the padded floor. “Spar with me a bit.”

I'd been taking karate at the dojo just over the railroad tracks from my shop for a few years, but even so, I was doubtful. I am nowhere near as strong as a werewolf. But, as it turned out, he was the perfect sparring partner.

My teacher, Sensei Johanson, doesn't teach the “pretty” karate most Americans learn for exhibition and tournament.
Shisei kai kan
is an oddball form of karate Sensei likes to call “reach out and break someone.” It was originally designed for soldiers who were facing more than one opponent. The idea is to get your attackers out of the fight as soon as possible and make sure they don't come back. I was the only woman in my class.

The biggest problem I've had is slowing down enough not to raise questions, but not so much as to allow myself to get hurt. That wasn't a problem when sparring with Adam. For the first time ever, I got to fight at full speed and I loved it.

“You're using aikido?” I asked, backing away after a brisk exchange.

Aikido is a kinder, gentler method of fighting. It can be used to break people, too, but most of the moves have a milder version. So you can lock the elbow and immobilize your opponent, or put a little more force behind it and break the joint instead.

“Running a security business with a bunch of ex-soldiers, I've found it necessary to do a little sparring once in a while. Clears the air,” he said. “Aikido lets me take them down without hurting them or—before this year—advertising that I'm not exactly human anymore.”

He closed with me again, grinning as he caught my strike and guided it past his shoulder. I dropped down and swept his leg, forcing him to roll away from me before he could do anything nasty. When he regained his feet, I noticed he was panting, too. I took it for the compliment it was.

Though we fought at full speed, we were both still careful about how much force we used. Werewolves heal fast, but their bones still break and a punch still hurts. If Adam hit me full force, I suspected I wouldn't get up soon, if ever.

“You wanted me to pull the guards I set on you?” Adam asked in the middle of a quick exchange of soft-blocked punches.

“Yes.”

“No.”

“The sorcerer thinks I am a coyote,” I explained impatiently. “He's not going to come looking for me.”

“No.”

I landed a blow that forced him off balance, but didn't fall into the trap of getting too close to him. Grappling with a werewolf is really stupid—particularly one trained in aikido.

“Look, I didn't mind Warren or Mary Jo. Mary Jo even knows one end of a wrench from another and helped out. But Honey…doesn't her mate desperately need her to sit and be pretty for his customers?”

Honey's mate-and-husband was a plumbing contractor, Peter Jorgenson. He was a wiry, homely, quiet man who did more work in an hour than most people did in their entire lives. Despite being a bimbo with no appreciation for anything except what she could see in a mirror, Honey loved her husband. Though when she said so, she
always
prefaced it with how she didn't care that—unlike herself—he wasn't a dominant wolf. Not that she ever talked to me: she didn't like me any more than I liked her.

“Peter follows my orders,” Adam told me.

Adam was Alpha, so Peter followed his orders. Honey was Peter's wife, so Peter gave her orders—which she followed. Male werewolves treat their mates like beloved slaves. The thought set my back up.

It wasn't Adam's or Peter's fault that werewolves had yet to come out of the Stone Age. Really. It was just a good thing I wasn't a werewolf or there would be a slave rebellion.

I aimed a kick at Adam's knee that he caught and used to drag me forward and off balance. Then he did something complicated and I ended up face down on the mat twisted like a pretzel while he held me there with one hand and a knee.

He smelled like the forest at night.

I slapped the mat quickly and he let me up.

“Adam. Close your eyes and envision Honey in my shop. She wore three-inch heels today.” The thought of her was like a dash of cold water in my face—which I needed.

He laughed. “Out of place, was she?”

“She spent the whole day standing up because she didn't want to risk staining her skirt on any of my chairs. Gabriel has a crush on her.” I frowned at him when he laughed again. “Gabriel is a sixteen-and-a-half-year-old male. If his mother finds out he's flirting with a werewolf, she'll quit letting him work at the shop.”

“She won't find out Honey is a werewolf. Honey isn't out yet. And Honey's used to male attention, she won't take Gabriel seriously,” Adam said, as if that was the point.

“
I
know that,
Gabriel
knows that—his mother won't care. And she will find out. That's just the way my luck runs. If Gabriel leaves, I'll have to do my
own
paperwork.” I hadn't meant to whine, but I hated paperwork and it hated me back.

Sylvia, Gabriel's mother, had just found out that Zee was fae. She'd been okay with that, because she already knew and liked Zee when she found out. But I doubted she'd be so accommodating about werewolves, especially pretty female werewolves who might be after her boy.

“I don't want to lose Gabriel just because you're paranoid. No more guards, Adam. It's not like Honey would be much of a defense anyway.”

He sighed unhappily. “Stefan is hunting out this sorcerer full-time. With Warren, Ben, and a few other wolves helping him, it shouldn't be too much longer before they take care of him and you're free. As far as Honey's suitability as a guard goes—she fights mean. She's taken Darryl down a time or two in training.” Most packs don't have “training.” Sometimes Adam's background as a soldier really shows. “If Honey weren't a woman she'd be someone's second or third.”

I wasn't surprised that Honey fought mean. I was a little surprised she fought well enough to take down Darryl, even a time or two. As second, he'd have had plenty of experience in real fights, not just training.

I knew why Adam was only sending female guards—for the same reason he sent Warren and Ben to accompany me to the seethe. Warren wouldn't make sexual overtures toward me because he wasn't interested—and Adam knew how much I disliked Ben.

Werewolves are very territorial. Since, supposedly for my protection, Adam had claimed me as his mate before the pack, I was his territory. As far as the pack was concerned, Adam's word was law. Just because I hadn't agreed, didn't change what the pack took as truth. Adam had managed to come to some agreement about it with Samuel. I didn't really want to know what it was because it would only tick me off.

So I got Honey because Mary Jo was working twenty-four hour shifts at the fire department and Darryl's mate Auriele, the only other female in Adam's pack, was in Ellensburg taking a class to keep up her teaching certification. Complaining about Honey wasn't going to get me a different guard—there wasn't anyone else Adam could send.

“Littleton is a
vampire
,” I said, trying to infuse a little logic into the situation. “He's not going to attack during the daytime. I could make sure to be home before dark until he's caught. He can't get into my home unless I invite him. Not that he would, since he has no reason to think I was anything but a prop for Stefan's costume.”

“I had a talk with the Marrok about sorcerers,” said Adam gently. “He's the one who told me to put a guard on you, day and night. No one knows what kind of monster a demon-ridden vampire is going to be, he said.”

“I know
that
,” I snapped—if Bran had ordered me guarded, I was doomed. Adam knew it, too.

“Elizaveta told me you called her and asked about sorcerers,” he said.

“Yeah, well, you should be happy. All she told me was that you had given her orders not to tell me anything.” Which wasn't exactly true.

What the witch had said was, “
Adamya says you are to leave it alone. He is a smart man, that one. Let the wolves hunt this sorcerer, Mercedes Thompson. A coyote is no match for a demon.
”

“Warren and Stefan will take care of Littleton,” Adam said. There was sympathy in his voice. He could afford to be sympathetic because he knew he'd robbed me of any chance of argument.

“Stefan and Warren are both out hunting tigers with slingshots,” I told him. “Maybe they'll get a lucky hit, and maybe the tiger will turn and kill them both—while Honey wears white slacks and watches me tune up cars.”

I walked over to one of the hanging sandbags and began practicing punches. I hadn't intended to say that, hadn't realized how worried I was. Adam could be confident, but he hadn't been in the same room with that
thing
.

“Mercy,” Adam said after watching me a while.

I switched to sidekicks.

“A screwdriver is a very useful tool, but you don't use it when what you need is a blowtorch,” he said. “I know you are frustrated. I know you want to be in on the kill after what you saw Littleton do. But if you went out with them, someone would get killed trying to protect you.”

“Don't you think I know that?” I snapped. It was scary that he knew me well enough to understand it was waiting while others went after Littleton that bothered me the most. I stopped kicking and stared at the swinging black bag, fighting the urge to kick Adam instead.

I could change into a coyote. I was faster than a human. I was partially immune to some of the vampire's magics, but I wasn't even sure which ones. That was the extent of my preternatural abilities. It wasn't enough to go after Littleton.

If I'd been able to break the harness that night, the sorcerer would have killed me. I knew that, but it didn't diminish the guilt I felt for watching the maid struggle alone.
I
wanted to go after the sorcerer myself.

I wanted to feel his neck under my fangs and taste his blood. I took a deep shuddering breath. What I really wanted, what I hungered for, was to kill that smiling, cadaverous son of a bitch.

“Elizaveta won't go after him,” Adam said. “Demons apparently have an odd effect on witchcraft. You're not the only one sitting on the sidelines.”

“You know, today one of the TV stations interviewed the sister of the man the vampires framed for the murders.” I kicked the sandbag twice. “She cried. She admitted that her brother had been having marital problems, but she'd never imagined he would do something like this.” I kicked again, grunting with the effort. “You know why she'd never imagined it? Because the poor bastard didn't do anything except be in the wrong place at the wrong damn time.”

“None of us can afford for the vampires to come out now,” Adam said.

I could tell the lies bothered him, too. Adam was a straightforward person—but he understood necessity. So did I. That didn't mean I had to like it.