Adam didn't move.
"Adam…" Samuel's tone was wary, his posture carefully neutral. A truck drove up and the tension in the garage dropped appreciatively. No one said anything, though, until Warren came in to the garage. He looked pale and strained, and he slowed down as he got a good look around him.
He walked into the center of the garage and nudged a piece of meat with the toe of his boot. Then he looked at Adam. "Good job, boss."
His eyes went to Samuel and the blanket he was holding. Then he looked at the chair resting on the floor in front of Honey.
Samuel's body language told Warren what had been going on and what he wanted without saying a word.
Warren strolled over to us and snagged the blanket from Samuel, snapping it out. "Let's get her warm and covered up."
Adam let Warren take me without argument. Instead of setting me in the chair, though, Warren sat in it and pulled me snugly against him. Adam watched us for a moment—I couldn't read his face at all. Then he leaned forward and kissed me on the forehead.
"If you called the police, they will be here shortly," said Nemane as soon as Adam had gone to the bathroom to wash up. "I need to be gone with these before the police come."
"There's a ring," I told her, still basking in the peace that Adam had gifted me with.
"What?"
"A silver ring on his finger." I yawned. "I think there are a few more things in Tim's house. He keeps them in a cabinet in his bedroom."
"The Mac Owen ring," Nemane said. "Would you all help me to look for it?"
"Maybe Adam swallowed it," I suggested and Warren laughed.
"No more horror movies for you," he murmured. "But Adam didn't eat any of him."
"Here it is," Honey said, bending down to pick something up. Instead of giving it to Nemane, she closed her hand over it. "If you go and take that cup, they're going to prosecute Mercy for murder."
"Give it to me." The temperature in the room dropped appreciatively with the ice in Nemane's voice.
"We have the video," Darryl said. "It should be enough."
Honey laughed and turned on him. "Why? All it shows is that Mercy was drunk. She drank more every time he asked her to. She might have said no, but he never appeared to force her to drink. From the video, a prosecutor could argue that her judgement was impaired by alcohol—but that's not enough to get her freed from a murder charge. She had him incapacitated and she deliberately got up and took a crowbar and hit him with it."
"Then that is what may be," Nemane said. "It is too dangerous for humans to know we have these things."
"Not everything," said Honey. "Just the cup."
"By itself it would answer most of the police's questions," said Samuel. "Though you might have to explain how a human managed to rip a man's head off."
"He had bracelets," I told him. "Called them bracers of giant strength—but they weren't bracers. They'll be around someplace, too."
"Ben," said Adam, sounding cool and controlled as he came back into the garage bay. "Go get my laptop." He was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved gray shirt. His hair was damp. "Nemane, I will make you a deal. If you watch what happened tonight, I will let you take your toys and run away—if that's what you still want to do."
"I am the Carrion Crow," Nemane said. "I've seen more death and rape than you can imagine."
Shame slipped through the warm peace Adam had given to me. I didn't want anyone to watch. "She's blind," I said. "She can't see anything."
"She can use my eyes," Samuel said.
I saw Nemane stiffen.
"My father is a Welsh bard as well as the Marrok," Samuel told her. "He knows things. You can use my eyes, if Adam thinks it's important to see this."
Ben brought Adam's laptop and handed it to him. Adam set it up on the counter.
I buried my head against Warren and tried to ignore the sounds coming from Adam's laptop. The speakers weren't very good so I pretended I couldn't hear the helpless noises I made or the wet sounds…
He let it play until the moment Nemane walked in and turned it off.
"She should be dead," Nemane said flatly when he was finished. "If I'd seen it first, I'd never have given her another drink so soon."
"Will she be all right?" Warren asked sharply.
"If she hasn't gone into convulsions and died yet, I don't suppose she's going to." Nemane stroked the cloak she held on her arm, sounding troubled. "I don't know how she managed to kill him while he was wearing this. It should have kept her from touching him."
"It only protected him from his enemies," I told Warren's shirt. "I wasn't his enemy because he told me not to be."
A storm of police sirens was brewing up outside.
"All right," Nemane said. "You may have the bracelets to explain how a human killed O'Donnell. And the cup. Adam Hauptman, Alpha of the Columbia Basin Pack, you will take possession of them on your honor and return them to Uncle Mike when they are of no further use."
"Samuel," said Warren, and I realized I was starting to shiver helplessly.
"She needs to sleep," Nemane told them.
Adam knelt beside us and looked me in the eye. "Mercedes, go to sleep."
I was too tired to fight the compulsion, even if I had wanted to.
CHAPTER 12
I woke up with the smell of Adam in my nose and my stomach cramping. I didn't have time to wonder about my surroundings. I dove off the bed and made it to the bathroom just in time to throw up in the toilet.
Fairy brew tastes a lot worse the second time around.
Gentle hands pulled my hair out of the way—though it was too late for that—and wiped my face with a damp washcloth. Someone had put a pair of underwear and one of Adam's T-shirts on me.
"At least you made it to the loo this time," Ben said prosaically. And then, just so I could be absolutely sure it was really him and not some kinder, nicer clone, he said, without affection, "Good thing, too. We are almost out of sheets."
"Happy to oblige," I managed before heaving up some more—so hard it came burning out my nose as well as my mouth. By the time I finished, I'd have been crying on the floor if the idea of doing that in front of Ben hadn't been so repugnant.
He waited until it became apparent that getting to the bathroom was as good as I was going to manage before he sighed and heaved me up with more effort than I knew he felt. He was a werewolf; he could probably pick up a piano. My weight wasn't enough to make him sweat.
He tucked me back in the sheets with surprising efficiency. "The fae told us you'd sleep a lot for a while. The vomiting surprised her, though. Probably something to do with your resistance to magic and how much of the stuff you had. Best thing for you is sleep." He paused. "Unless you're hungry."
I turned my head out from the pillow far enough that he could see my face.
He smirked. "Yeah, well, I'm not excited about cleaning up another mess either."
It was still dark out the next time I woke up so it wasn't too much later. I lay unmoving as long as I could. I knew Ben was still in the room and I didn't want to attract his attention. I didn't want anyone to look at me.
Without nausea to distract me, the events of the evening, those that I remembered clearly anyway, rolled through my head like an Ed Wood movie: so horrible that you can't force yourself to stop watching. Worse, I could smell it on me. The fairy liquor, blood…and Tim. The worst was knowing what I had done…and what I hadn't.