"So," Naomi continued, "there's dissension in the ranks. Stefan believed that Marsilia is losing her grip on the seethe. No one is in outright rebellion, but the Mistress is not in absolute control either."
"What does the addition of the sorcerer do to her position?" I asked, and she smiled at me like a student who'd come to the right conclusion.
"A vampire is in town causing trouble," she said. "It's a matter for Marsilia to handle-but this one has proven stronger than Stefan. Vampires... the older they get the more afraid they are of death. Stefan told me that he thought the reason she sent only him out after the sorcerer wasn't to punish him-but because she could send no one else because they wouldn't go. Of the five most powerful vampires, only Stefan and Andre are truly hers."
So she really had been desperate when she came to me.
"Why doesn't Marsilia go after him herself. She's the Mistress and the most powerful of them all."
Naomi pursed her lips. "Would your Alpha go after such a dangerous creature when he had warriors to fight in his stead?"
"He already has," I told her. "An Alpha who counts on others to fight his battles doesn't stay Alpha long."
"He's not dead." I turned at the sound of a masculine voice behind me.
The man who filled the doorway looked to be somewhere in his fifties, with an underlying strength buried beneath his somewhat thickened midsection. I glanced at his hands and was unsurprised to see them roughened from a lifetime of hard work. Like me, this was a man who'd made his living with his hands.
"Who's not dead, Ford?" Naomi asked, but he ignored her entirely.
His bright eyes on mine, he took another step into the room. I couldn't look away from his gaze. "He's not dead," he said intensely. "If he were dead, the threshold would be gone. I was here when Andre couldn't get through. Only Stefan made this a home. I'd know if he were dead."
"Stop it, Ford," Naomi said sharply and the scent of her fear distracted me from Ford's brilliant, liquid-crystal gaze.
I blinked and jerked my gaze away. It was still daylight, so Ford couldn't be a vampire-but I was guessing he was the next thing to it.
He grabbed my arm and hauled me off the stool with less effort that it should have taken. I was used to big men-Samuel was over six feet tall, but this man made me feel small. He didn't know how to fight though, because I didn't have any trouble breaking his grip.
I took two steps back and Naomi put herself between us.
"Daniel is gone," I told him. "I saw his ghost myself. Warren, one of the werewolves who was with Stefan, was badly injured and left for the pack to find. I don't know how our other wolf is or Stefan either. I intend to find out."
Naomi stepped closer and patted him on the chest. " Shhh. It's all right." Her soothing tones were very close to what Adam used on his new wolves when they became overset. "You might want to go now, Mercedes," she said in the same soothing tones. "Ford is one of the bound."
And that meant more than his being able to become a vampire when he died, I saw. The brightness of his eyes wasn't some genetic fluke, but the precursor to the glowing gems I'd seen vampires display in anger or lust.
He grabbed Naomi impatiently, I think to thrust her aside so he could get to me. But she tilted her head and presented the side of her neck to him, and he hesitated, clearly caught by the sight of her pulse.
If she'd been merely afraid, I'd have stayed there and tried to help her-but her eagerness for him was uncomfortably strong. I turned and left as he bent for her neck.
I was a half mile from Stefan's house before I took my first full breath. I'd learned a lot there, more than I'd expected-and nothing that would help me find Littleton. I'd no idea where the other vampire menageries were, and even if I did, I doubted that the sorcerer would be living with his master-assuming Littleton 's maker was one of Marsilia's vampires. There were any number of vampires who might have made the sorcerer to cause trouble for Marsilia. Or a vampire from another seethe might have noticed the trouble she was in, and sent the sorcerer to soften the seethe up in preparation for a hostile takeover.
All of that was Marsilia's problem and not mine. I needed to find out where the sorcerer was.
I was fully engaged in fruitless speculation and it wasn't until I was guiding the Rabbit down the twisty drop from the hills back down into the alluvial plain of east Kennewick that I realized I'd driven halfway home.
Maybe Warren knew what had sent Adam and Samuel after Littleton. I headed for Adam's house. It had only been a few hours but werewolves heal very fast once they're able to change.
The werewolf I'd had to argue with last night was back on door duty, but he dropped his eyes and opened the front door without arguing. There were a few of the pack draped over the couches in the living room, but no one I was particularly friendly with.
"Mercy?"
Jesse was in the kitchen, a cup of hot chocolate clutched in her hands.
"Has your father or Samuel called?" I asked, though the answer was obvious from her face.
She shook her head. "Darryl said you were looking for them." Her tone asked me a whole slew of questions. What kind of danger was her father in? Why was it me looking for him and not the whole pack?
"How is Warren?" I asked because I didn't have any answers I wanted to tell Adam's daughter.
"Still bad," she told me. "Darryl is worried he's not going to make it because he's not healing like he should be, and he won't eat."
"I need to see if I can talk with him."
I left Jesse to her cocoa and her worries.