I stared at him a moment. Was the sea fae one of the Gray Lords?
"The raven?" he prompted gently.
So I told him, backing up a bit to tell him about the staff, then about the raven leaping through the wall with it.
"How did I miss the staff?" Uncle Mike asked himself, looking thoroughly shaken.
"It was tucked in a corner," I told him. "It came from one of the victims' houses, didn't it? The one who smoked a pipe and whose back window looked out over a forest."
Uncle Mike seemed to come back to himself and he stared at me. "You know too many of our secrets, Mercedes."
Samuel set his guitar aside and put himself between us before I had time to register the menace in Uncle Mike's voice.
"Careful," he said, his voice thick with Wales and warning. "Careful, Green Man. She's put her neck out to help you - shame upon you and your house if she comes to harm by't."
"Two," Uncle Mike said. "Two of the Gray Lords have seen your face in our business, Mercy. One might have forgotten, but two never will." He waved an impatient hand at Samuel. "Oh, stand down, wolf. I'll not harm your kit. I only spoke the truth. There are things not nearly so benign who will not be happy about her knowing what she knows - and two of them already have."
"Two?" I asked in a voice that was smaller than I'd meant it to be.
"That was no raven you met," he said grimly. "It was the great Carrion Crow herself." He gave me a long look. "I wonder why she didn't kill you."
"Maybe she thought I was a coyote," I said in a small voice.
Uncle Mike shook his head. "She might be blind, but she perceives more clearly than I, still."
There was a brief silence. I don't know what the others were thinking about, but I was contemplating just how many close calls I'd been having lately. If the vampires didn't hurry, the fae or some other monster would kill me before she got a chance. What had happened to all the years of carefully keeping to myself and staying out of trouble?
"You are sure that one of the Gray Lords didn't kill O'Donnell?" I asked.
"Yes," he said firmly, then paused. "I hope not. If so, then Zee's arrest was intended and he is doomed - and probably me as well." He ran a hand along his chin and something about the gesture made me wonder if he'd once worn a beard. "No. It was not they. They aren't above a messy kill - but they wouldn't have left the staff for the police to find. The Carrion Crow came to keep the staff out of human hands - though I'm surprised she didn't retrieve it sooner." He gave me a speculative look. "Zee and I weren't in that living room long, but we'd never have overlooked the staff. I wonder..."
"What is the staff?" I asked. "I could tell it was magic, but nothing else."
"Naught of interest to you, I trust," said Uncle Mike, coming to his feet. "Naught for you to fuss with when there's the Carrion Crow about. There's money in the briefcase..." For the first time I noticed a brown leather case tucked against the arm of his chair. "If it is not enough to cover Zee's expenses, let me know."
He tipped an imaginary hat toward Samuel, then took my hand, bowed, and kissed it. "Mercy, I'd be doing you no favors if I didn't tell you to stop. We appreciate the help you have given us so far, but your usefulness ends here. There are things going on that I'm not at liberty to tell you. If you continue, you are not going to discover anything - and if those Nameless Ones find out how much you know, it will go ill with you. And there are two too many of them about." He nodded sharply at me, then at Samuel. "I'll bid you both good mornin'."
And he was out the door.
"Keep your weather eye on him, Mercy," Samuel said, still standing with his back to me as we watched Uncle Mike's headlights turn on as he backed out of the driveway. "He's not Zee. His loyalties are to himself and his alone."
I rubbed my shoulders and stood up myself. Never have a discussion with a werewolf when he's standing and you're sitting; it puts you at a disadvantage and makes them think they can give you orders.
"I trust him about as far as I can throw him," I agreed. Uncle Mike wouldn't go out of his way to harm me, but..."You know, one of the things I learned growing up about you wolves was that sometimes the most interesting part of the conversation with someone who can't lie is the questions they don't answer."
Samuel nodded. "I noticed it, too. That staff, whatever it is, was stolen from one of the murder victims - and he didn't want to talk about it."
I yawned twice and heard my jaw pop the second time. "I'm going to bed tonight. I have to go to church in the morning." I hesitated. "What do you know about the Black Smith of Drontheim?"
He gave me a small smile. "Not as much as you do, I expect, if you've worked with him for ten years."
"Samuel Cornick," I snapped.
He laughed.
"Do you know a story about this Black Smith of Drontheim?" I was tired and the heap of my worries was a weight I was staggering under: Zee, the Gray Lords, Adam, and Samuel - and the wait for Marsilia to find out that Andre had not been killed by his helpless victims. However, I'd been searching for stories about Zee for years. Too many of the fae treated him with awed respect for him not to be in stories somewhere. I just couldn't find them.
"The Dark Smith, Mercy, the Dark Smith."