Patricia Briggs - Bone Crossed

"Mercy will grant me freedom this Harvest season," said the oakman hoarsely. In English this time.

"I will if I can," I told him. "But I don't know that it'll happen."

"The oak told me," he said, as if that should make it as real as if it had already happened. "It is not a terribly old tree, but it was very angry with the vampire, so it stretched itself. I hope it has not… doneitselfpermanentharm." His words tumbled over each other and lost consonants. He turned his head away from me and sighed wearily.

"Are oaks so trustworthy?" I asked.

"Used to be," he told me. "Once."

When he didn't say anything more, I told Corban the most important part of what I knew about the monster who held us. "You can kill a vampire with a wooden stake through the heart, or by cutting off his head, drowning him in holy water—which is impractical unless you have a swimming pool and a priest who will bless it—direct sunlight, or fire. I'm told it's better if you combine a couple of methods."

"What about garlic?"

I shook my head. "Nope. Though a vampire I know told me that given a victim who smells like garlic and one that doesn't, most of them will pick the one who doesn't. Not that we have access to garlic or wooden stakes."

"I know about the sunlight—who doesn't? But it doesn't seem to affect Blackwood."

I nodded toward the oakman. "Apparently he is able to steal some of the abilities of those he drinks from." No way was I going to talk about blood exchanges with Chad watching. "The oakmen like this gentleman here feed from sunlight—so Blackwood gained an immunity to the sun."

"And blood," said the oakman. "In the old days we were given blood sacrifices to keep the trees happy."

He sighed. "Feeding me blood is how he keeps me alive when this cold-iron cell would kill me."

Ninety-three years he'd been a prisoner of Blackwood's. The thought chilled any optimism that had survived the ride here from the Tri-Cities. The oakman wasn't mated to a werewolf, though—or bound to a vampire.

"Have you ever killed one?" the oakman asked.

I nodded. "One with help and another one who was hampered because it was daytime and he was sleeping."

I didn't think that was the answer he'd been expecting.

"I see. Do you think you can kill this one?"

I turned around pointedly, looking at the bars. "I don't seem to be doing so well at that. No stake, no swimming pool of holy water, no fire—" And now that I'd said that, I noticed that there was very little that was even flammable here. Chad's bedding, our clothes… and that was it.

"You can put me down as something else that won't be of any use," Corban said, bitterly. "I couldn't even stop myself from kidnapping you."

"That Taser was one of Blackwood's developments?"

"Not a Taser—Taser's a brand name. Blackwood sells his stun gun to… certain government agencies who want to question prisoners without showing any harm. It's a lot hotter than anything Taser makes.

Not legal for the civilian market but—" He sounded proud of it—proud and slick, as if presenting the product at a sales meeting. He stopped himself, and said simply, "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault," I told him. I looked at Chad, who still seemed thoroughly spooked. "Hey, why don't you translate for me a minute."

"Okay." Corban looked at his son, too. "Let me tell him what I'm doing." He wiggled his hands, then said, "Go."

"Blackwood's a vampire," I told Chad. "What that means is that your father can't do anything but follow Blackwood's orders—it's part of what a vampire does. I'm a little protected for the same reason I can see ghosts and talk to them. That's the only reason he hasn't done the same thing to me… yet. You'll know when your father's being controlled, though. Blackwood doesn't like your dad signing to you—he can't read sign. So if your dad's not signing to you, that's one thing to look for. And your dad fights his control, and you can see that in his shoulders—"

I broke off because Chad began gesturing wildly, his fingers exaggerating all the movements. His equivalent of yelling, I supposed.

Corban didn't translate what Chad said, but he signed very slowly so he wouldn't be misunderstood and spoke his words out loud when he answered. "Of course I'm your father. I held you in my arms the day you were born and sat vigil in the hospital when you almost died the next day. You are mine. I've earned the right to be your dad. Blackwood wants you alone and afraid. He's a bully and feeds on misery as much as blood. Don't let him win."

Chad's bottom jaw went first, but before I saw tears, his face was hidden against Corban.

It wasn't the best time for Amber to come in.

"It's hot upstairs," she announced. "I'm to sleep down here with you."

"Do you have the key?" I asked. Not that I expected Blackwood to have forgotten. Mostly I just wanted to keep her attention and let Chad, who hadn't noticed her, have his moment with his dad.

She laughed. "No, silly. Jim was not very happy with you—I'm not going to help you escape. I'll just sleep out here. It'll be quite comfortable. Just like camping out."

"Come here," I said. I didn't know that it would work. I didn't know anything.

But she came. I didn't know if she was compelled, or just following my request.

"What do you need?" She stopped within an easy arm's reach.

I put my arm through the bars and held out my hand. She looked at it a moment, but took it.

"Amber," I said solemnly, looking into her eyes. "Chad will be safe. I promise."

She nodded earnestly. "I'll take care of him."

"No." I swallowed and then put authority in my voice. "You're dead, Amber." Her expression didn't change. I narrowed my eyes at her in my best Adam imitation. "Believe me."

First her face lit up with that horrible fake smile, and she started to say something. She looked down at my hand, then over to Corban and Chad—who hadn't noticed her yet.

"You're dead," I told her, again.

She collapsed where she stood. It wasn't graceful or gentle. Her head bounced off the floor with a hollow sound.

"Can he take her again?" asked Corban urgently.

I knelt and closed her eyes. "No," I told him with more conviction than I felt. Who knew what

Blackwood could do? But her husband needed to believe it was over for her. At any rate, it wouldn't be Amber who walked around in her body. Amber was gone.

"Thank you," he told me, with tears in his eyes. He wiped his face and tapped Chad on the shoulder.

"Hey, kid," he said, and he stepped away so Chad could see Amber's body. They talked for a long time then. Corban played it tough and gave his son the gift of the belief in the superman qualities of fathers for at least one more day.

We slept, all of us, as far from Amber's body as we could get. They pushed the bed up close to my cell and the two of them slept on that and I slept on the floor next to them. Chad reached though the bars and kept a hand on my shoulder. The cell floor could have been a bed of nails, and I would still have slept.

"MERCY?"

The voice was unfamiliar—but so was the cement under my cheek. I stirred and regretted it immediately. Everything hurt.

"Mercy, it is dark, and Blackwood will be here soon."

I sat up and looked across the room at the oakman. "Good evening." I didn't use his name. Some of the fae can be funny about names, and the way Blackwood had overused it made me think that the oakman was one of those. I couldn't thank him, and I searched for a way to acknowledge his honoring my request, but I didn't find one.

"I'm going to try something," I said finally. I closed my eyes and called to Stefan. When I felt I'd done as good a job at that as I could, I opened my eyes and rubbed my aching neck.

"What are you trying to do?" Corban asked.