"Thanks, Mercy." He wrapped an arm around my shoulder. "But I think I need to talk the rest out with Warren-after his business is finished."
Chapter 9
Samuel and Warren were seated on opposite sides of the living room when I walked in, and the air smelled thick with anger. I couldn't tell, just by looking at them, whether they were angry with each other or something else. But then, werewolves are always ready to be angry about something. I'd forgotten what it was like.
Of course, I wasn't the only one with a nose. Warren, sitting closest to the door, took a deep breath.
"She's been with Kyle," he said, his voice flat. "She smells like the cologne I gave him. You told him." He swore at me, but there was more pain than anger in it. I felt a sharp twinge of guilt.
" You weren't going to tell him," I said. I was not apologizing. "And he deserved to know that all the crap he has to put up with is not all your doing."
Warren shook his head and gave me a despairing glance. "Do you have a death wish? Adam could have you and Kyle executed for it. I've seen it done."
"Just me, not Kyle," I said.
"Yes, damn it, Kyle, too."
"Only if your lover decides to take it to the news or police." Samuel's voice was mild, but Warren glared at him anyway.
"You risked too much, Mercy," said Warren, turning back to me. "How do you think I'd feel if I lost both of you?" All the anger left him suddenly, leaving only misery behind. "Maybe you were right. It was still my job. My risk. If he was going to know, it should have been me telling him."
"No. You are pack and sworn to obedience." Adam swayed at the top of the stairs, leaning a little on his cane. He was wearing a white shirt and jeans that fit. "If you'd told him, I'd have had to enforce the law or risk a rebellion in the pack."
He sat down on the top stair more abruptly than he meant to, I think, and grinned at me. "Samuel and I both can witness that Warren didn't tell Kyle anything, you did. Despite Warren's objections, I might add. And, as you keep insisting, you are not pack." He looked over at Warren. "I'd have given you permission a long time ago, but I have to obey orders, too."
I stared at him a moment. "You knew I was going to tell Kyle."
He smiled. "Let's just say that I thought I was going to have to come down and order you not to tell him so you would storm out the door before Kyle drove off."
"You manipulative bastard," I said, with a tinge of awe. That was it, three tires were going to come off that old Rabbit.
"Thank you." He gave me a modest smile.
And when we got Jesse back, she could help me with the graffiti.
"How did he take it?" asked Warren. He'd gotten off the couch and stood staring out his window. His hands hung loose and relaxed by his side, giving nothing of his feelings away.
"He's not gone running to the police," I told Adam and Samuel. I searched for something more hopeful to tell Warren, but I didn't want to raise his expectations in case I was wrong about Kyle.
"He said he'd talk it over with you," I told him at last. "After this business is finished."
He raised his hands to his face abruptly, in a gesture very like the one Kyle had used. "At least it's not over, yet."
He wasn't talking to any of us, but I couldn't stand the bleakness of his voice. I touched his shoulder, and said, "Don't screw it up anymore and I think he'll be okay with it."
Samuel and I headed out to meet with Zee and his informant, and I was still trying to figure out if I should have been mad at Adam for manipulating me like that. Except that he actually hadn't done any manipulation, had he? All he'd done was claim credit for my actions afterward.
The light turned red, and I had to stop behind a minivan a little closer than I usually did. Samuel's hand braced itself on my dash and he sucked in his breath. I made a face at the kid in the backseat of the van who had twisted around in his seat belt to look at us. He pulled his lower eyelids down and stuck out his tongue.
"It's not that I object to being in a car wreck," Samuel said. "I just prefer to have them on purpose."
"What?" I glanced over at him, then looked in front of us. The back of the other van made an all-encompassing wall about two feet from our windshield. Sudden comprehension made me grin. "Vanagons have no nose," I said gently. "Our bumper is about a foot from your toes. You could walk between our cars."
"I could reach out and touch that boy," he said. The boy had made another face, and Samuel made one back, sticking his thumbs in his ears and spreading his fingers out like moose antlers. "You know, one of Adam's jobs was to make sure you didn't run around telling the world about werewolves."
The light turned green, and the kid waved sadly as his van accelerated onto the interstate ramp. We were accelerating, too, but the ramp curled around in an uphill slant so it would take us a while to get to interstate speed.
I snorted. "Kyle's not the world." I glanced at him. "Besides, you knew what I was going to do as well as Adam did. If you'd really objected, you could have stopped me before I left."
"Maybe I think Kyle is trustworthy."
I snorted. "Maybe the moon is made of green cheese. You don't care. You think the werewolves need to come out in public like the fae." Samuel had never been afraid of change.
"We aren't going to be able to hide much longer," Samuel said, confirming my guess. "When I went back to school, I realized just how far forensic medicine has come. Ten years ago, when it was just the military and the FBI labs we had to worry about, having a few wolves in the right places was sufficient. But there aren't enough wolves to infiltrate every small-town police laboratory. Since the fae came out, the scientists are paying closer attention to abnormalities they used to attribute to lab equipment failure or specimen contamination. If Da doesn't pick his time soon, it'll pick him."