Blood Bound (22 page)

As far as my other, tougher neighbors were concerned…I was a little surprised the noise Littleton was making hadn't attracted them already. Still, Adam's house was well insulated. They might not hear Littleton's voice well enough to worry about it, but a gun shot would bring them running.

Werewolves and sorcerers were a bad combination, though, according to Uncle Mike. I believed him—which is why I hadn't tried calling for help. I was beginning to think that Littleton really couldn't come in. He could scare me, but he couldn't come in and hurt me unless I invited him in.

“Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin,” I muttered.

He banged the wall again and I jumped. Seconds passed, a minute, then two and nothing happened. No screams, no bangs, no ripping siding—how was I going to explain that to my insurance company?

“Yes, Ma'am,” I tried out. “This vampire queen asked me to hunt a vampire and demon combo. He found out somehow and it ticked him off so he ripped the siding off my house.”

I sat down in the middle of my floor with the gun under my arm. “I guess I'll have to fix it myself. I wonder how much siding costs. And whatever else he damaged out there.”

I couldn't remember if I'd gotten Medea inside before I went to bed. I usually did, but I'd been so tired…As soon as I got my courage up again, I'd go out and make sure Medea was sleeping in Samuel's room where she preferred to spend the night. I could call Andre—but…

My shoulders were stiff from the tension and I leaned my head to the side, stretching. Suddenly the floor underneath the carpet bent upwards with a tremendous noise. I sprang to my feet and shot my floor while it was still vibrating. I might not be super strong, but I am fast. I shot twice more in rapid succession. Then I waited, staring at the holes in my floor and the powder marks on my cream-colored Berber carpet.

Something moved in one of the holes and I jumped back, shooting again as several small objects were forced through holes that they were too large for. A moment later I heard a car door slam in my driveway and a German engine purred to life, a BMW like Littleton had been driving at the hotel. He drove off, not in a hurry, just another driver out on the road, and I stared at the four, misshapen, blood-covered, silver slugs he'd given back to me.

 

When my alarm went off, I was sitting in the middle of my bedroom floor with Medea curled up purring in my lap for comfort. Why is it that in all the adventure movies the heroine doesn't have to get up and go to work?

It had taken me an hour to send my neighbors back home. I'd told them the damage must have been done by some irate customer—or maybe one of the local gangs. Yes, I'd fired the shots to scare them off—I didn't think I'd hurt any of them. Maybe they hadn't known anyone was home. Of course I'd call the police, but there was no sense getting them out this late. I'd call them in the morning. Really.

I'd been planning on talking to Tony anyway, though I doubted I'd say anything about Littleton's attack. There wasn't anything the police could do about him.

I could call in Zee, just for the day, but I wasn't going to sleep today anyway. I might as well save Zee's help for another day. I turned off the alarm and pushed a protesting Medea off my lap and threw on clothes so I could take a look at the damage Littleton had done to my trailer in the morning light.

The damage was worse than it had seemed last night. He hadn't torn off the siding, he'd cut it to ribbons from the roof to the bottom in segments a finger-length apart. I also had the answer to how he'd gotten underneath it. The cinder block foundation in the back had a person sized hole broken through it.

My trailer was a 1978, fourteen-by-seventy-foot model, long past its prime. It wasn't a showpiece, but it had, at least, been in
one
piece when I went to bed last night. Fixing it was going to cost an arm and two legs—if it could be fixed at all.

To that end, I'd better get ready to go to work or there would be no money to fix anything, including breakfast.

While I showered I thought about what I'd learned and what I hadn't. I didn't know where Littleton was now. I didn't know if a gun was useful against a vampire. I had three bullets that said perhaps not, but then they had been covered with blood so at least they'd done some damage. I didn't know why seeing ghosts made me dangerous to vampires, or how being immune to their magic was going to help me against a vampire who could do what he'd done to my trailer. And, after the demonstration Littleton had given me last night, I knew I was going to need Andre to destroy him.

I called Adam's house before I left for work to check on Warren. I was also wondering why no one had come over to check out the shooting. The phone rang ten times before someone picked it up.

“Hey, Darryl,” I said. “How's Warren doing?”

“He's alive,” Adam's second told me. “Unconscious but alive. We heard the shooting last night, but the wolf we sent over said you had it under control. Is Samuel around?”

“Samuel stayed over there last night,” I told him.

He made a noncommittal grunt. “Samuel's not here, and Adam apparently left the house about two in the morning. I didn't think to ask the guard about Samuel.”

Darryl must be worried if he was telling me all of this. I rubbed my forehead. Two was a few hours before I'd had my visitor.

“Did anyone ask Kyle what they were talking about before they left?”

“Warren's…friend was asleep. Warren is drifting in and out, but he is pretty agitated when he is awake. He knows something, but his vocal cords are damaged and we can't understand a thing he tries to say.”

He was answering me as if I had some authority, I realized, as if he really were talking to Adam's mate.

“What do you think happened?” I asked.

“I think Adam—and Samuel if he is gone, too—figured out where the damned sorcerer is. I don't see Adam leaving Warren alone in this bad of shape otherwise.”

Neither did I. I pinched the bridge of my nose. “That could be bad.”

“How so?”

“Last night, Uncle Mike told me that having a demon and a werewolf together could be very dangerous. Demons have a deleterious effect on self control, which is very, very bad for werewolves. Uncle Mike was
very
concerned.”

He absorbed that for a moment. “That
could
be bad. It might have been nice to know that sooner.”

“Mmm.” I sucked in a breath. There was more that he should know, but I wasn't happy telling him. Still, with Samuel and Adam both missing, it wasn't smart to withhold information from one of the few allies I had left.

This was Darryl, and, since he was treating me as though I really was higher in the pack than he was—and since he was unlikely to care much about me one way or the other—he wasn't going to forbid me anything. “I was in Uncle Mike's meeting Marsilia. She wants me to find Littleton and kill the sorcerer for her.”

There was a very long, telling pause. “She thinks you can do this?” His disbelief might not be flattering, but I kinda felt that way myself so it was all right.

“Apparently. She's got one of her higher ranking vampires helping me out.”

“Mmm,” he said.

“I think he's actually okay. He's a friend of Stefan's.”

“Adam wouldn't let you do this.”

“I know. But he's not there. If Warren regains consciousness, I want you to call me.” I gave him my cell number, home number, and the number of the shop.

After he'd written it all down, I said, “You need to call Bran and tell him everything.”

“Even about you?” he asked. He knew what Bran would think about me going after a sorcerer with a vampire.

“Yes,” I said. I wasn't going to put him in a position that would get Bran angry with him. Bran could get angry with me—I'd had a lot of practice at dealing with that once upon a time. I supposed I could get used to it again. It helped that he was hundreds of miles away and I had caller ID on my cell phone.

Even so…“But only if he asks,” I added hastily.

Darryl laughed. “Yeah, I remember using that trick on my mother. Hope it works better for you than it did for me.”

I hung up.

Adam and Samuel had disappeared before Littleton had started his little performance at my trailer.

Littleton had Samuel's voice down pat. After four hours, Adam hadn't called to check in on Warren, who was not yet out of danger—nor had Samuel.

Littleton had them both. If Littleton was like other vampires, he would not be active in the day. There was a chance they were still alive. Littleton liked to savor his prey.

I had to find him before nightfall.

I called Elizaveta and got her answering machine.

“This is Elizaveta Arkadyevna. I am unavailable. Please leave a message with your name and phone number and I will return your call.”

“This is Mercy,” I told it after it beeped at me. “Adam and Samuel are missing. Where are you? Call me or Darryl as soon as you can.”

I didn't know enough about witchcraft to know if she could help or not. At the very least I could pick her brain about vampires and sorcerers—if I could convince her that Adam's orders not to talk to me were out of date.

I called all three of Tony's numbers and told him to call me on my cell. I called Zee, but only got his answering machine. I left a detailed message on his phone also. That way Darryl and Zee both knew what I was up to.

Then I took my cell phone and headed to work. I'd send Gabriel home for the day and close the shop.

 

My watch said I was fifteen minutes early, so I was surprised to see Mrs. Hanna. She was hours ahead of her customary schedule.

When I parked in my usual spot, she was next to my car. Frantic as I was, Mrs. Hanna's very presence demanded that I be polite. “Hello, Mrs. Hanna. You're early today.”

There was a pause before she looked up at me, and for a moment she didn't know me at all. A month or two more, I thought, and there would only be a little personality left.

But for today, her face eventually lit up, “Mercedes, child. I was hoping to see you today. I have a special drawing just for you.”

She fumbled around in her cart without success, becoming visibly more agitated.

“It's all right, Mrs. Hanna,” I told her. “I'm sure you'll find it later. Why don't you leave it for me tomorrow?”

“But it was just right here,” she fretted. “A picture of that nice boy who likes you. The dark one.”

Adam.

“Tomorrow will be fine, Mrs. Hanna. What brings you out so early?”

She looked around as if bewildered by the question. Then relaxed and smiled. “Oh that was Joe. He told me I'd better change my route if I wanted to keep visiting him.”

I smiled at her. When she'd been alive, she'd talked about John this and Peter that. I never had been sure if she really had boyfriends, or just liked to pretend that she had.

She leaned forward confidentially. “We women always have to change for our men, don't we.”

Startled I stared at her. That was it exactly. I felt as though Adam was changing who I was.

She saw that her words had hit home and nodded happily. “But they're worth it, God love them. They're worth it.”

She puttered off in her usual shuffle-shuffle step that covered a surprising amount of ground.

“No, sir, she's not—” Gabriel looked up as I walked into the shop. “Wait. She's here.”

I took the phone, thinking it might be Tony or Elizaveta. “This is Mercy.”

“This is John Beckworth, I'm calling from Virginia. I'm sorry, I forgot how much earlier you are than we.”

The voice was familiar, but the name was wrong. “Mr. Black?” I asked.

“Yes,” he sounded a little sheepish. “It's Beckworth, actually. I just got off the phone with a Bran Cornick. He suggested that there is some trouble in the Tri-Cities.”

“Yes, we have something of a…situation here.” Either Adam had called Bran yesterday, or Darryl had remembered the Blacks/Beckworths and talked to him this morning.

“So Mr. Cornick said. He suggested that we fly to Montana early next week.” He paused. “He seemed less intense than Adam Hauptman.”

That was Bran, quiet and calm until he ripped out your throat.

“Are you calling to make sure he's safe?” I asked.

“Yes. He wasn't on the list of men you gave me.”

“If I had a daughter, I'd have no qualms leaving her with Bran,” I said sincerely, ignoring the question of why Bran's name wasn't on the list. “He'll take good care of you and your family.”

“He talked to Kara, my daughter,” he said, and there was a world of relief in his voice. “I don't know what he said, but I haven't seen her this happy in years.”

“Good.”

“Ms. Thompson, if there is ever anything I can do for you, please don't hesitate to call.”

I started to automatically refuse, but then I stopped. “Are you really a reporter?”

He laughed. “Yes, but I don't cover celebrity sex lives. I'm an investigative journalist.”

“You have ways of finding out about people?”

“Yes.” He sounded intrigued.

“I need as much information as you can get on a man named Cory Littleton. He has a website. Fancies himself a magician. It would be particularly helpful if you could find out if he owns property in the Tri-Cities.” That was a long shot, but I knew that Warren had checked out all the hotels and rentals. If Littleton was here, he had some place to stay.

He read the name back to me again. “I'll get what I can. It may take a few days.”

“Be careful,” I said. “He's dangerous. You don't want him to know you're looking.”

“Is this connected to the trouble Mr. Cornick was telling me about?”

“That's right.”

“Tell me how to contact you—probably an e-mail address would be best.”

I gave him what he needed, and thanked him. Hanging up the phone, I noticed Gabriel's eyes on me.

“Trouble?” he asked.

Maybe I should have worked harder to keep Gabriel out of my world. But he had a good head on his shoulders, and he wasn't stupid. I'd decided it was easier to tell him what I could—and safer than if he went looking.

“Yes. Bad trouble.”

“That phone call last night?”

“That's part of it. Warren's hurt badly. Samuel and Adam are missing.”

“What is it?”

I shrugged. “That I can't tell you.” The vampires didn't like people talking about them.

“Is he a werewolf?”

“No, not a werewolf.”

“A vampire like Stefan?”

I stared at him.

“What? I'm not supposed to figure it out?” He shook his head reprovingly. “Your mysterious customer who drives the funky bus painted up like the Mystery Machine and only shows up after dark? Dracula he isn't, but where there's werewolves, there certainly ought to be vampires.”

I laughed, I couldn't help it. “Fine. Yes.” Then I told him seriously, “Don't let anyone else know you know anything about vampires, especially not Stefan.” Then I remembered that wouldn't be a problem. I swallowed around the lump in my throat and continued seriously. “It's not safe for you or your family. They'll leave you alone as long as they don't know you believe in them.”

He pulled his collar aside to show me a cross. “My mother makes me wear this. It was my father's.”

“That'll help,” I told him. “But pretending ignorance will help more. I'm expecting a couple of phone calls. One from Tony and the other from Elizaveta Arkadyevna, you'll know her by her Russian accent.” I'd intended to close the shop for the day, but I didn't have anything to do until Tony or Elizaveta called me back. If it had taken two weeks for Stefan and Warren to find the sorcerer, I was unlikely to find him by driving up and down streets at random. There are over 200,000 people living in the Tri-Cities. It isn't Seattle, but it's not Two Dot, Montana, either.

 

I couldn't concentrate on my work. It took me twice as long to replace a power steering pump as it should have, because I kept stopping to check my phone.

Finally, I broke down and called Zee again—but there was no answer on his phone. Elizaveta still wasn't answering her phone either, nor was Tony.

I started on the next car. I'd only been working on it for a few minutes when Zee walked in. From the scowl on his face, he was upset about something. I finished tightening the alternator belt on the '70 Beetle and scrubbed up. When I had most of the grease off my hands I leaned a hip on a bench and said, “What's up.”

“Only a fool deals with vampires,” he said, his face closed up into a forbidding visage of disapproval.

“Littleton ripped Warren to bits, Zee,” I told him. “It probably killed Stefan—and Samuel and Adam are missing.”

“I did not know about the Alpha and Samuel.” His face softened a little. “That is bad,
Liebchen
. But to take direction from the vampire's mistress is not smart.”

“I'm being careful.”

He snorted. “Careful? I saw your trailer.”

“So did I,” I said ruefully. “I was there when it happened. Littleton must have found out that Marsilia asked me to find him.”

“You obviously found him last night—not that it did you any good.”

I shrugged. He was right, but I couldn't just sit around and wait for Darryl to call and tell me they'd found Samuel and Adam dead. “Marsilia seems to think I can deal with him.”

“You believe her?”

“Uncle Mike did.”

That took him aback; he pursed his lips. “What else did Uncle Mike say to you?”

The stuff about heroes was too embarrassing, so I told him what Uncle Mike had told me about the effect of demons on werewolves.

“Uncle Mike visited me this morning,” Zee told me. “Then we both went out and visited some other friends.” He hefted a backpack at me.

I caught it and unzipped the bag. Inside was a sharpened stake as long as my forearm and the knife Zee had loaned me the first time I'd visited the seethe. It was very good at slicing through things—things a knife had no business cutting at all, like chains for example.

“I got the stake from a fae who has an affinity for trees and growing things,” he said. “It's made from the wood of a rowan tree, a wood of the light. She said that this would find its way to the heart of a vampire.”

“I appreciate your trouble,” I said, skirting around an outright “thank you.”

He smiled, just a little smile. “You
are
a lot of trouble, Mercy. Usually you're worth it. I don't think that knife will do anything to the vampire when his magic is still working. But once he's staked he will be more vulnerable to it. Then you can use it to cut off his head. Zzip.”

I reached down to the bottom of the bag, where something else was hidden. I brought it out into the light and saw it was a flat disk of gold. On the front was a lizard, and on the back were marks of some sort that might have been letters. Both the lizard and the lettering were battered.

“A vampire is not dead until its body is ashes,” Zee said. “Put this on its body, after you've cut off the head, then say the medallion's name.” He took it, brushed his fingers over the lettering, and, though I don't think the lettering actually changed, I could read it.
Drachen
.

It had been ten years ago, but I
had
taken two years of German in college. “
Kite
?” I said incredulously.

He laughed, the smile flashing wide on his narrow face. “Dragon, Mercy. It also means dragon.”

“Do I say it in German or English?” I asked.

He pulled my hand forward and put it in my reluctant palm, closing my hand upon it.
“Macht nichts, Liebling.”
It doesn't matter.

“So if someone says either word it burns whatever it's touching to ashes?” I hadn't meant to sound quite so appalled. How often did I really hear the word in everyday life anyway?

“Would I give you such a thing?” He shook his head. “No. Uncle Mike has given it your name, no one else may invoke it, and even then it takes both word and desire.”

“So I have to say it and mean it,” I said. I imagined if I was holding it against a vampire, desire to burn the creature to ashes wouldn't be hard to come by.

“Right.”

I leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “This will help a lot.”

He frowned at me for the kiss. “I would like to do more, but it is
verboten
. Even in so much as we have managed there is risk.”

“I understand. Uncle Mike told me.”

“If it were just risk to me, I would go with you to fight this thing. It is the whole of the Walla Walla Reservation who will suffer.”

Because of the violence shortly after the fae had revealed themselves, most of the fae who were not still hidden, had voluntarily relocated to one of several fae reservations, where they could live in safety. Zee lived there; I'm not sure about Uncle Mike. But I did know that the Gray Lords weren't above killing one fae to ensure the good behavior of others.

“I do understand,” I told him. “Besides, didn't you tell me once that your talents are not much use against vampires?”

His eyebrows lowered even further. “My magic would not help. But strength I have—I am a blacksmith. I worry for you who are so human-fragile.”

“That's why I'm taking one of Marsilia's vampires with me,” I told him.

My cell phone rang before he could say what he thought about that. I picked it up and looked at the caller ID, hoping for Tony or Elizaveta. It was Bran. I considered not answering it, but he was all the way in Montana—all he could do is yell at me.

“Hey, Bran,” I said.

“Don't do it. I will be there tomorrow morning.”

Bran said he wasn't psychic, but most of the werewolves were convinced otherwise. Moments like this made me agree with them.

I was tempted to feign innocence, but it was too much work. I was tired, and I doubted I was going to be able to sleep until Adam and Samuel were safe at home—or until Littleton was dead.

“Good,” I said. “I'm glad you're coming, but both you and Uncle Mike told me demons are very bad news for werewolves. What happens if
you
lose control?” It didn't even occur to me that Bran wouldn't know who Uncle Mike was. Bran just knew everything and everyone.

He said nothing.

“We don't have enough time to wait for you,” I said. “If Samuel and Adam are still alive, I have to find them before nightfall.”

He still didn't say anything.

“It doesn't matter if you object,” I told him gently. “You can't stop me, anyway. With Adam missing, I'm the highest ranking werewolf in town—since he declared me his mate.” Fancy that. And I wasn't even a werewolf—not that I expected my mythological rank to stand up without Adam around. Still, Bran of all people would have to follow his own laws.

“I'm not helpless,” I told him. “I have my very own superhero vampire/sorcerer-slaying kit, and the vampires have given me one of their own to guard my back.” Going after Littleton was probably suicidal, even with a vampire to back me up—it hadn't helped Warren any—but I wasn't going to sit around and wait for Adam's body to show up in Uncle Mike's garbage.

“You trust this vampire?”

No. But I couldn't tell him that—and I knew better than to try to lie to Bran. “He wants Littleton permanently dead.” I was sure of that much, I'd heard the anger in Andre's voice, the hunger for vengeance. “He was a friend of one of the sorcerer's victims.” I could almost say “sorcerer's victim” fast enough that I didn't think, “Stefan,” or “Adam,” or “Samuel.” A victim was someone nameless and faceless.

“Be careful,” he told me, finally. “Remember, the walkers may have taught vampires to fear them, but there are still lots of vampires, and only one walker.”