The victims, even though they were mostly names, had been gradually becoming more real to me: Connora, the forest man, the selkie...It is a habit of humans to put labels on things, Zee always told me. Usually when I was trying to get him to tell me just who or what he was.
Impulsively, I typed in dark smith and Drontheim and found the story Samuel had told me about. I read it twice and sat back in my chair.
Somehow it fit. I could see Zee being perverse enough to create a sword that, once swung, would cut through whatever was in its path - including the person who was using it.
Still, there wasn't a Siebold or an Adelbert in the story. Zee's last name was Adelbertsmiter - smiter of Adelbert. I'd once heard a fae introduce him to another in a hushed voice as "the Adelbertsmiter."
On a whim I looked up Adelbert and laughed involuntarily. The first hit I had was on Saint Adelbert, a Northumbrian missionary who sought to Christianize Norway in the eighth century. All I could find out about him was that he'd died a martyr's death.
Could he be Zee's Adelbert?
The phone rang, interrupting my speculations.
Before I had a chance to say anything, a very British voice said, "Mercy, you'd better get your butt over here."
There was a noise in the background - a roar. It sounded odd and I pulled my ear away from the phone long enough to confirm that I was hearing it from Adam's house as well as through the phone.
"Is that Adam?" I asked.
Ben didn't answer me, just yelped a swearword and hung up the phone.
It was enough to have me sprinting through my house and out my door, the phone still in my hand. I dropped it on the porch.
I was vaulting over the barbed wire fence that separated my three acres from Adam's larger field before it occurred to me to wonder why Ben had called me - and not asked for, say Samuel, who had the advantage of being a werewolf, one of the few more dominant than Adam.
Chapter 6
I didn't bother going around to the front of Adam's house, just opened the kitchen door and ran in. There was no one in the room.
Adam's kitchen had been built to cordon bleu specifications - Adam's daughter, Jesse, had once told me that her father could really cook, but mostly they didn't bother.
As in the rest of his house, Adam's ex-wife had chosen the decor. It had always struck me as odd that, except for the formal living room, which was done in shades of white, the colors in the house were much more welcoming and restful than she had ever been. My own house was decorated in parents' castoffs meet rummage sale with just enough nice stuff (courtesy of Samuel) to make everything else look horrible.
Adam's house smelled of lemon cleaner, Windex, and werewolves. But I didn't need my nose or ears to know that Adam was home - and he wasn't happy. The energy of his anger had washed over me even outside the house.
I heard Jesse whisper, "No, Daddy," from the living room.
It was not reassuring that the next sound I heard was a low growl, but then Ben wouldn't have called me if things had been good. I was pretty surprised he'd called me at all; he and I weren't exactly great friends.
I followed Jesse's voice into the living room. The werewolves were scattered all over the big room, but for a moment the Alpha's magic worked on me and all I could pay much attention to was Adam, even though he was facing away from me. The view was nice enough that it took me a moment to remember that this must be a crisis situation.
The only two humans in the room huddled together under Adam's intense regard on Adam's new antique fainting couch that had replaced the broken remains of his old antique fainting couch. If I had been Adam, I wouldn't have wasted money on antiques. Fragile things just don't fare well in the house of an Alpha werewolf.
One of the humans was Adam's daughter, Jesse. The other was Gabriel, the high school boy who worked for me. He had an arm around Jesse's shoulders, and her diminutive stature made him look bigger than he actually was. Sometime since I'd last seen her, Jesse had dyed her hair a cotton candy blue, which was cheerful, if a little odd. Her usual heavy makeup had slid down her face, striping it with metallic silver eye shadow, black mascara, and tearstains.
For a moment I thought the obvious. I'd warned Gabriel to be careful with Jesse and explained the downside of dating the Alpha's daughter. He'd heard me out and solemnly promised me that he'd behave himself.
Then I realized that under the streaks of makeup were the faint marks of new bruises. And part of what I'd thought was more mascara was actually a trickle of dried blood that ran from one nostril to her upper lip. One bare shoulder had a patch of road rash that still had gravel in it. No way that Gabriel had done that - and if he had, he wouldn't be living now.
Damn, I thought, growing cold. Someone was going to die today.
Gabriel's submissive posture must have been a reaction to something Adam had done, because as I watched him, he straightened his shoulders and lifted his gaze to Jesse's father's face. Not a really smart move with an enraged Alpha, but brave.
"Did you know them, Gabriel?" I couldn't see Adam's face, but his voice told me that his eyes would be bright gold.
I took another step into the room and a wave of his power almost sent me to my knees - as it did all of Adam's wolves, who fell to the floor almost as one. The motion made me actually look at them and realize that there weren't as many as I'd originally thought. Werewolves have a tendency to fill up the spaces in a room.
There were only four. Honey, one of the few women in Adam's pack, and her mate had their heads bowed and were holding each other's hands in a white-knuckled grip.