Iron Kissed

I started adding up the cost of the fight. I didn't know exactly what Fideal had done to my car, but it was going to take hours to fix, even if I could scrounge all the parts off the dead Rabbit presently a

I rubbed my face, suddenly tired. I'd kept mostly to myself since I left the Marrok's pack when I was sixteen. The only problems I'd stuck my nose into had been my own. I stayed out of werewolf business and Zee kept me out of his. Somehow in the past year all that careful management had gone to hell.

I wasn't sure that there was a way back to my old peaceful existence, or if I even wanted it. But my new lifestyle was starting to get expensive.

A piece of gravel slid between the flip-flop and my sore foot and I yelped. It was getting painful, too.

Samuel was waiting for me on the porch with a mug of hot chocolate and an expert glance that checked for wounds.

"I'm fine," I told him, scooting past the open screen door and snagging the cocoa on the way. It was instant, but the marshmallows were just what I needed. "Ben's the one who got hurt, and I think I saw Darryl limping."

"Adam didn't ask me to come over, so neither of them must have been hurt very badly," he said, shutting the door. When I sat on a chair in the living room, he sat on the couch across from me. "Why don't you tell me about tonight. Like how you happened to get chased by the Fideal."

"The Fideal?"

"It used to live in a bog and eat straying children," he told me. "You're a little older than its usual fare. So what did you do to tick it off?"

"Nothing. Not a darn thing."

He made one of those sounds he used to let me know he wasn't buying my story.

I took a long drink. Maybe another viewpoint would notice something I had missed. So I told him most of it—leaving out only what had gone on between Adam and me after I'd gotten into the shower.

As I talked, I noticed that Samuel looked tired. He loved working in the emergency room, but it took a toll. Not just the odd hours, though they could be bad enough. Mostly it was the stress of keeping control when surrounded by blood and fear and death.

By the time I finished my story, he looked better. "So you went to a Bright Future meeting, hoping to find someone else who might have killed this guard, and ran into a bunch of college kids—and a fae who decided that eating you would be fun."

I nodded. "That's about it."

"Could the fae have been the killer?"

I closed my eyes and pictured Fideal's fight with the werewolves. Could he have ripped a man's head off his shoulders? "Maybe. But he didn't seem concerned about the investigation."

"You said that he was angry you were at the meeting. Could he have been worried that you were closing in on him?"

"That might have been it," I said. "I'll call Uncle Mike and see if there's any reason Fideal might have wanted the other fae dead. He certainly knew O'Do

Samuel smiled a little. "But you're not convinced the Fideal did it."

I shook my head. "He's put himself on the top of my list, but…"

"But what?"

"He was so hungry. Not for sustenance, though that was part of it, but for the hunt." Samuel the werewolf would understand what I meant. "I think that if Fideal had killed the guard, O'Do

I remembered that I had something else to talk to Uncle Mike about, too. "And that walking stick showed up in my car tonight, again."

I started to get up to get the phone, but my legs had had enough and I fell back. "Darn it."

"What's wrong?" The tired relaxation left Samuel between one heartbeat and the next—I gave him an exasperated glance.

"I told you, I'm fine. Nothing some stretches, Icy Hot, and a good night of sleep won't cure." I thought of all the little cuts and decided to do without the Icy Hot. "Can you throw me the phone?"

He plucked it off its base on the table next to the couch and tossed it to me.

"Thanks." I'd been calling him so often the past few days that I had Uncle Mike's number memorized. It took me a few minutes of wading through minions before Uncle Mike himself got on the phone.

"Could Fideal have killed O'Do

"Could have, but didn't," answered Uncle Mike. "O'Do

I swallowed. "So what was Fideal doing at the Bright Future meeting and why wasn't his scent at O'Do

"The Fideal went to a couple of meetings so he could keep an eye on them. He told us that they were more talk than action and mostly quit attending meetings. When O'Do

"And when did the coyote end up with a price on her head and why didn't you warn me?" I asked, feeling indignant.

"I told you to leave it alone," he said, his voice suddenly cold with power. "You know too much and you talk too much. You need to do as you are told."

Maybe if he'd been in the room, I'd have felt intimidated. But he wasn't, so I said, "And Zee would be convicted of murder."

There was a long pause, which I broke. "And then he'd be summarily executed as called for by the fae laws."

Samuel, whose sharp ears had no trouble hearing both sides of the phone conversation, growled. "Don't try throwing this on Mercy, Uncle Mike. You knew she wouldn't leave it alone—especially if you told her to. Contrary is her middle name and you played her into looking further than you could. What did the Gray Lords do? Did they order you and the rest of the fae to stop looking for the real killer? Excepting only Zee's capture, they really have no quarrel with the person who killed O'Do

"Zee was cooperating with the Gray Lords," said Uncle Mike. The apology that had replaced the anger told me not only was Samuel right—Uncle Mike had wanted me to continue investigating—but also Uncle Mike's ears were as sharp as the werewolf's. "I didn't think they would send anyone else to enforce the punishment and the fae here I have some control over. If I'd known they were sending Nemane, I'd have warned you. But she's issued a stay of execution."

"She's an assassin," growled Samuel.

"You wolves have your own assassin, don't they, Samuel Marrokson?" snapped Uncle Mike. "How many wolves has your brother killed to keep your people safe? Do you begrudge us the same necessity?"

"When they come after Mercy, I do. And Charles only kills the guilty, not the inconvenient."

I cleared my throat. "Let's not get diverted from the point. Could Nemane have killed O'Do

"She's better than that," Uncle Mike said. "If she'd killed O'Do

Once more I was left without a suspect.

Any of the werewolves could have done it, I thought, remembering the speed that ripped O'Do