I shook my head ... and then tempered it. “Not yet.”
Bran gave me an amused look under his eyebrows. “Fine. Just ask. And no, I’m not mad. Adam is Alpha of his pack. I do not see how anyone has been harmed by this.” Then he grinned, one of the rare smiles he had when he wasn’t acting, just genuinely amused. “Except maybe Adam. At least he doesn’t have a Porsche you can wrap around a tree.”
“That was a long time ago,” I said hotly. “I paid for that. And after you practically dared me to steal it, I don’t see why you were so angry about it.”
“Telling you not to take it out wasn’t daring you, Mercy,” Bran said patiently ... but there was something in his voice.
Was he lying?
“Yes, it was,” said Samuel. “And she’s right—you knew it.”
“So you didn’t have any reason to be so mad I wrecked the car,” I said, triumphantly.
Samuel laughed out loud. “You still haven’t figured it out, have you, Mercy? He never was mad about the car. He was the first one at the scene of the accident. He thought you’d killed yourself. We all did. That was a pretty spectacular wreck.”
I started to say something and found I couldn’t. The first thing I’d seen after hitting the tree was the Marrok’s snarling face. I’d never seen him that angry—and I’d done a lot, from time to time, to inspire his rage.
Samuel patted me on the back. “It’s not often I see you absolutely speechless.”
“So you had Charles teach me how to fix cars and how to drive them.” Charles was Bran’s oldest son. He hated to drive, and until that summer I’d thought he couldn’t drive. I should have known better—Charles can do anything. And everything he did, he did very well. That’s only one of the reasons that Charles intimidates me and everyone else.
“Kept you busy and out of trouble for a whole summer,” said Bran smugly.
He was teasing ... but serious as well. One of the oddest things about being grown-up was looking back at something you thought you knew and finding out the truth of it was completely different from what you had always believed.
It gave me courage to do what I did next.
“I need some advice,” I told him.
“Sure,” he said easily.
I took a deep breath and started with my killing Marsilia’s best hope of returning to Italy, jumped to Stefan’s appearance in my living room and the unexpected visit from my old college nemesis, and ended it all with the nearly fatal adventure at Uncle Mike’s and the little bag that smelled like vampires and magic. I told him about Mary Jo and my fear that if I told Adam about the bag, it would cause a war.
“I’ll stop by and see if I can help Mary Jo,” Bran said after I’d finished. “I know a few tricks.”
Samuel looked relieved. “Good.”
“So,” I told Bran, “it is my fault. I chose to go after Andre. But Marsilia’s not attacking me.”
“You expected a vampire to be straightforward?” asked Bran.
I supposed I had. “Amber gives me a reason to get out of town for a little while. Without me around, Marsilia might leave everyone else alone.” And it would give me a chance to think through my response. A day or two to figure out something that wouldn’t lead to more killing.
“And give Adam and me a chance to mount a proper response,” Samuel growled.
I started to object ... but they had the right to go on the offensive. The right to know that they were targets.
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.