Blood Bound

"Unkind of him," Marsilia told him.

"I'd have given him back," Andre said. "But I was waiting for Stefan to ask."

See. Vampires play stupid dominance games, too.

Marsilia shook her head. "It was, perhaps, all to the good that Stefan did not take you. I might be here talking with this walker with both my best soldiers dead." She turned her attention back to me. "So here is how I propose to make your job easier, Mercedes. I will lend you my left hand to guard your back," she said, nodding at Andre, "my right being sundered. And I will give you what information I have."

"In return for what?" I asked, though my question was automatic. She thought Stefan was dead.

She closed her eyes for a moment then stared at my forehead. The vampire version of courtesy, I think. It made me feel like I had a smudge on my forehead.

She said, "In return for you finding this bedamned thing. Since it killed Stefan, I have to accept that any other vampires sent after it will likewise be destroyed. You are the best hope we have of eliminating it."

"And besides," I added dryly. "If I don't succeed, what have you lost?" She didn't reply, but she didn't need to. "So tell me, how do I kill this sorcerer?"

"Just like any other vampire," she said.

"Most of what I know is from Dracula. Assume I'm totally ignorant, please."

"Well enough," she agreed. "A wooden stake through the heart works. Immersion in holy water or direct exposure to sunlight. It is said that the great saints could kill us with their faith, but I do not think, despite your lamb," she waved her hand at my necklace, "that your faith is great enough for that. But take your little sheep with you, Mercedes, because it should work as well on demons as it does on vampires."

"What was it that walkers could do that made vampires fear them?" I asked.

She and Andre both went very still. I didn't think she would answer me. But she did. Sort of. "The first you already know," she said. "Many of our powers do not work well on you. Most of our magic is useless."

"Your truth spell worked," I pointed out.

"That chair is not vampiric magic, Mercedes, not entirely. Though all magic, I believe, finds you difficult prey. But blood magic has a power all of its own, as do very old things. That chair is a very old thing."

"I didn't mean to distract you from the subject," I said politely inviting her to get back to the point.

She gave me a faint smile. "No. I don't suppose you did. Walkers also speak to ghosts."

I blinked at her. "So what?" A lot of people, even otherwise perfectly normal humans, can speak to ghosts.

She pushed back her chair. "I think that I have answered enough of your questions." She gave Andre a look, so I knew that he wouldn't clarify anything for me. "I believe that you ought to start by finding out where Stefan went last night."

" Warren won't be talking, not for a while," I told her. His throat had been crushed. Samuel thought it could take several days to heal.

"Stefan was in the habit of talking with his people," she told me. "They are afraid. They won't talk to me or mine. But I think they will talk to you. Andre will take you to Stefan's house where you can speak with the menagerie."

Then she disappeared. I suppose she could have cloaked herself in shadows as some of the fae can, but I couldn't smell her, couldn't sense her anywhere.

"I hate it when she does that," said Andre taking a sip out of his glass. "Mostly envy, I expect. Stefan could do it, too-the only one of her get to receive that gift."

I stayed silent a while, contemplating Marsilia. She'd been making an effort to be human tonight-though she'd only been moderately successful. Tentatively, I decided that she'd been mostly honest about what she wanted from me and why. I was pretty sure that she thought I held the key to finding this sorcerer-either through my resistance to vampire magic or through my «ability» to speak to ghosts.

It wasn't like I saw ghosts all the time or anything.

I was already a freak, a shapeshifter not tied to the moon who turned into a coyote. Neither human nor werewolf or fae. I didn't like thinking I might be even odder than I'd thought.

I looked up to see Andre watching me patiently. To my werewolf accustomed eyes, he didn't look like someone who was one of Marsilia's most capable warriors. There was no width in his shoulders, no substance to his muscles. She could have been flattering him, since he was in the room, but I didn't think so.

"Did she teleport?" I asked. I'd been told that will-o-wisps were the only creature who could really teleport.

He smiled and shrugged. "I don't know how it is done. But it is one of the reasons we are certain Stefan is gone. If he were still with us, he could not be easily imprisoned."

"You don't sound upset," I said. I didn't want to think about Stefan being dead-permanently dead, I mean.

He gave me a shrug that might have meant anything. "I think Stefan is gone, Mercedes Thompson-I wear the white to honor him, as does the Mistress. But there is nothing I can do about his death except hunt his killer." He paused and set his glass down very gently. "We do not know each other well enough for me to cry on your shoulder."

The shadow of anger in his voice made me like him better.

"All right," I said. "Why don't you show me how to find Stefan's house."

We'd made it halfway to the door when the crowd quit letting us through. Andre was quicker than I was. He stopped where he was while I tried sliding around a particularly sizable woman who was standing in front of me.

"Hold up, ducks," she said in a voice that was low enough to vibrate my sinuses. "I smell a human in a fae tavern." On the tail of her words, the music stopped and the sounds of people talking and moving died down.

Once I realized she was talking about me, though she spoke to the room at large, I thought of several clever, but stupid remarks about her sense of smell-I wasn't human at all, not in the sense she meant. Stupid because only a very unwise person jumps up and down shouting on top of a beehive.

Sometimes, when one of them have committed a terrible crime, the whole wolf pack enjoins in the punishment, tearing the violating wolf to bits. But before it starts, there is a moment of oppressive stillness when the culprit is alone, surrounded by the pack. Then one wolf moves and starts the feeding frenzy. This crowd had that feel, as if they were waiting for someone to start something.

"I have Uncle Mike's permission to be here," I said softly, giving no challenge. I didn't know what kind of fae she was, what to do to avoid a fight.

She opened her mouth, obviously unappeased when someone shouted, "A forfeit."

I thought the shout might have originated at the bar, but it was immediately taken up by a throng of voices. When they quieted, the woman in front of me looked around and asked the room at large, " Wot kind of a forfeit then, ducks?"

Forfeit, I thought, some kind of gift, maybe. Or sacrifice.

Uncle Mike pushed forward, through the crowd until he stood in front of me, his face thoughtful. It was a sign of his power that they all waited for his judgement.

"Music," he said at last. "My guest will offer us a gift of music for our hospitality."

The big woman sighed as Uncle Mike stepped back and swept the fae near him away until I could clearly see the small stage where three musicians still stood. There were two guitarists and a string bass. I don't know where the sounds of drums had come from because there were none in evidence.

One of the guitarists gri

I lifted my eyebrow at Uncle Mike and began walking to the stage. Andre, I'd noticed, had drawn back in the crowd. They wouldn't bother him, not a vampire. Neither would they have bothered one of the werewolves. I, who was neither werewolf nor vampire, was fair game.