Patricia Briggs - River Marked

“There is some truth in what you say, Coyote.” Wolf was petting his suit jacket with the same sort of possessiveness he’d shown toward Adam.

“I don’t like it here,” said the man in the darker leathers; he sounded unhappy and uneasy.

“Bobcat.” Coyote liked this one. I could tell by the tone of his voice. “There are good hunting grounds here; you just have to find them—as was always true. The sun is still warm, and flowers still smell sweet.”

“You should take him to Disneyland,” suggested Gordon. “Or I could. I like Disneyland.”

The purely human contingent had been very quiet up to this point. But now Calvin spoke. “If you give it a chance, I think you would find it isn’t horrible here.”

The man with the belt with the brass bells put an arm around Bobcat. “The problem is this, Bobcat. Things change whether you want them to, or not—unless you are dead.” His voice was hoarse, like a three-pack-a-day-for-twenty-years smoker. “Don’t hold so hard to the past that you die with it.”

He looked at Coyote. “There is no sense in this, though. We have all agreed to do as you asked, or we would not be here. Where and when?”

“As Raven says,” agreed Coyote formally. Then he described how to find our campsite in a way that ravens, bobcats, wolves, snakes, and bears could find it. When he was finished, he said, “As for when, the sooner the better, I think. Tomorrow?”

“After dark,” said Jim. “Calvin says the FBI are looking for whoever is responsible for the killing field that this river has become. You don’t want them showing up at the wrong time.” He looked at Raven, and said, “Warriors with bang sticks who are river marked is a bad idea.”

Raven smiled at him. “I do know who the FBI are,” he told Jim. “Coyote is not the only one who still wanders.”

While they were talking, the others had left. Some of them seemed to walk away, but I saw Wolf disappear, probably because he did it while still staring at Adam. Who belonged to me.

“Thank you, Raven,” said Coyote, after a quick glance to see that the other animal spirits, including Gordon, were gone.

“We may all die forever tomorrow, old friend,” said Raven. “But it will be interesting, anyway.”

ADAM AND I LEFT TO CHANGE AND GET DRESSED, too—but I was the only one doing any changing. Adam’s panicked gaze met mine as I was putting on my jeans.

“Hold on,” I told him. “There’s help about.”

I pulled on my clothes, stuck my shoes on my feet, and grabbed Adam’s clothes as fast as I could. Then I bounded back up the hill, hoping like heck that Coyote hadn’t already vanished like the rest of them.

Why I was so sure that Coyote knew anything about werewolves was a mystery to me, but it seemed right. He’d known Adam would have trouble shifting when the earth magic was singing.

The candles were all out. Jim and Calvin were gone; Fred and Hank had left before we’d headed out to change. Stonehenge looked deserted.

“Coyote?” I called.

“Mercy?”

I’d been almost certain he was gone, but he and Raven had apparently been sitting on the altar playing a card game in the dark. Hard to believe I’d missed them, but Coyote was that sort, so I didn’t worry about it. I had other things on my mind.

“Adam can’t change back. Would the earth magic have done something that keeps him from shifting?”

“He can’t change back to human?” Coyote folded up his hand of cards and set them on the bronze plaque, giving us his full attention. “That’s awkward, this being your honeymoon.”

“He can’t change,” I said, ignoring the last sentence. “Is it the earth magic? Will the effects go away after we leave here?”

Coyote considered it. “The earth magic shouldn’t do anything unless directed by a shaman, and I think Jim likes you.”

Raven gave his head a birdlike twitch. “It wasn’t Jim, and it wasn’t the earth magic.” His voice left no room for doubt. “Your werewolf bit our Wolf, remember?”

Raven grinned at me, a big warm expression that was infinitely reassuring though I could think of no reason I should trust him. “Wolf takes things like that personally. But he’s not one to cling to his angers, either.” His face became a little pensive. “Not like Owl.”

Coyote snorted. “He still bearing a grudge for that? That happened a long, long time ago.”

“How was I to know that it was his favorite thing?” Raven’s eyes twinkled with starlight. “It was shiny.” He glanced at me. “But it was heavy, so I dropped it in the ocean. It was an accident.”

“You think that this is something Wolf did?” I had a good grip on the ruff around Adam’s neck. It was a habit I’d developed over the past few months because I found it reassuring.

Adam didn’t look worried or nervous, but he wouldn’t, not in front of people who were essentially strangers. I was doing the worried and nervous for both of us.

A werewolf can stay wolf for a while. A couple of days, no trouble. A few weeks . . . well, not so good, but most of them will be okay afterward. Months were possible—one or two. After that, he would be all wolf with no human. Bran’s son Samuel had experienced that, and his wolf had behaved in a mostly civilized fashion for a couple of weeks without losing it, astonishing everyone. It was unlikely that Adam, who had not seen his first century, could do the same.

“How long?” I asked.

Coyote sighed. “Mercedes, it takes power to pull forward Adam’s wolf so strongly that his human half cannot change. We . . . None of us has a lot of that kind of power over here anymore, which is probably why Wolf did it: to show that he is not to be trifled with.” Coyote looked at Adam. “He could have killed you had he desired. It would have been easier. After tomorrow’s battle, I should be very surprised if Wolf’s punishment does not fade away. It would be easy to be angry with him—but he and the others have agreed to sacrifice themselves. It is, I think, unlikely that he will return to this place soon after that.”

“If ever,” agreed Raven quietly. He had picked up all the cards and laid out a solitaire pattern. Spider, I thought, or some variant. “So give him his dignity and don’t worry.”

“Thank you,” I told them both. I started to go, then I remembered something. “Hey, Coyote?”

He had just scooped up the cards again and was in the middle of shuffling. “Yes.”

“Your sisters told me to tell you that they thought your plan was a good one.”

“Did they tell you what it was?” He resumed shuffling, but there was a rapidity to his movement that told me he was feeling something strongly.

“Yes.” I took a deep breath. “Weak link here, I think. But I’ll do my best.”

He smiled. “Yes, I expect you will.”

WHEN SOMETHING WOKE ME UP FROM A SOUND SLEEP in the middle of the night, I assumed it was Coyote again. This time I woke Adam up, too.

“Someone wants me outside,” I told him, tapping my head. “I think Coyote might want to talk again.”

When I got out of bed, I tripped over the walking stick. I picked it up gently, instead of swearing at it, and leaned it against the wall. Swearing at ancient artifacts seemed a little unwise. Not something I’d do unless I’d carefully considered all the possible effects.

Adam and I made our way out to the swimming hole, where the call was coming from. But it wasn’t Coyote.

Out in the darkness I could see her—or at least her wake. The roiling water burbled and swirled as she swam in lazy circles.

Mercedes Thompson. Her voice was in my head.

I sat down on the ground with a thump, in the faint hope that it would somehow make it harder for her to get me into the water. Coyote had been too precipitous in declaring me immune to her charms. Perhaps she couldn’t make me drown my own children—and Jesse, thank goodness, was a hundred miles away. But she could call me out to her, and she could speak to me.