Bone Crossed

As long as Mary Jo survived, Adam wouldn’t bring a war to Marsilia’s doorstep. And if Mary Jo didn’t survive ... Perhaps Marsilia was crazy. I’d seen that kind of madness in the Marrok’s pack, where the oldest wolves often came to die.

“If you leave, Marsilia might take that as a victory,” said Bran. “I don’t know her well enough to know if that will help you or hurt you in the end. I do think that getting out of here for a few days might not be a bad idea.”

He didn’t say Marsilia would quit targeting my friends, I noticed. I was pretty sure Uncle Mike would figure out that the vampires had used his place to target the wolves—and if I thought that, Marsilia surely would. She must be truly furious if she was willing to anger Uncle Mike and enrage Adam in order to get to me.

I was betting that if I left, she’d wait, because she wanted me to witness the pain I’d made her rain down upon my friends. But I wasn’t sure. Still, it wouldn’t hurt.

“The problem is ... there’s something a little off about Amber’s offer. Or maybe just after Tim ...” I swallowed. “I’m afraid to go.”

Bran looked at me with keen yellow eyes, weighing something in his mind. “Fear is a good thing,” he said at last. “It teaches you not to make the same mistake twice. You counter it with knowledge. What are you afraid of?”

“I don’t know.” Which wasn’t the right answer.

“Gut check,” Bran said. “What does your gut tell you?”

“I think that maybe it’s the vampires again. Stefan lands in my lap to give me a good scare—and look, here’s a way out. Out of the frying pan and into the fire.”

Samuel was already shaking his head. “Marsilia isn’t going to send you to Spokane to get you out of our protection before she takes care of you. Not that it isn’t a good idea, but she’d send you to Seattle maybe, she has some allies there. But in Spokane, there’s only one vampire, and he doesn’t allow visitors. There are no packs, no fae, nothing but a few powerless creatures who manage to stay out of his sight.”

I felt my eyes widen. Spokane is a city of nearly half a million people. “That’s a lot of territory for a single vampire.”

“Not for that single vampire,” said Samuel at the same time Bran said, “Not for Blackwood.”

“So,” I said slowly. “What will this vampire do if I stay in Spokane for a few days?”

“How would he know?” Bran asked. “You smell like coyote. But a coyote smells a lot like a dog to someone who doesn’t hunt in the forests—which I assure you, James Blackwood doesn’t do—and most dog owners smell like their pets. I wouldn’t want you to move to Spokane, but a couple of days or weeks won’t put you in danger.”

“So do you think it’s a good idea if I go?”

Bran raised his hip and pulled his cell phone out of his back pocket.

“Don’t you break them like that?” I asked. “I killed a couple of phones by sitting on them.”

He just smiled and said into the phone, “Charles, I need you to find out about an Amber ... ?” He looked at me and raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry to wake you, Charles. Chamberlain was her maiden name,” I told Samuel’s brother apologetically. “I don’t know her married name.” Charles would hear me as clearly as I heard him. Private phone calls around werewolves needed headsets, not a cell phone speaker.

“Amber Chamberlain,” Charles repeated. “That should limit it to a hundred people or so.”

“She lives in Spokane,” I said. “I went to college with her.”

“That helps,” he told us. “I’ll get back to you.”

“Arm yourself with knowledge,” said Bran when he hung up. “But I don’t see why you shouldn’t go.”

“Take some insurance with you.”

“It’s Stefan,” I shouted. Before I had the last word out of my mouth, Bran had Stefan up against the opposite wall from where he’d been sitting.

“Da.” Samuel was on his feet as well, a hand on his father’s shoulder. He didn’t try to pry Bran’s hands off Stefan’s neck—that would have been stupid. “Da. It’s all right. This is Stefan. Mercy’s friend.”

After a very long couple of seconds, Bran stepped back and dropped his hands from Stefan’s throat. The vampire hadn’t fought back, which was good.

Vampires are tough, maybe tougher than wolves because vampires are already dead. Stefan had been one of Marsilia’s lieutenants, powerful in his own right. He’d been a mercenary in life ... which had been in Renaissance Italy.

But Bran is Bran.

“That was stupid,” said Samuel to Stefan. “What part of ‘never sneak up on a werewolf’ don’t you understand?”

The Stefan I knew would have bowed gracefully, expressed his apologies with a hint of humor. This Stefan gave a stiff jerk of his neck. “I’m no use here. It’s a good idea to get Mercy out of the line of fire—she’s the weakest target. Send me to keep her safe in Spokane.” He sounded almost eager ... and I wondered what he’d been doing since he’d left Adam’s. What was there for him to do? Maybe I wasn’t the only one who was trying to find some action to take that wouldn’t get me and everyone I cared about killed.

Still, I couldn’t let him get away with calling me ... “Weak?” I said.