Silver Borne

I could call her on the way to the garage. First I needed to find Jesse, in the hope that she had something of Gabriel’s I could use.

Conveniently, Jesse walked into her room just when I was about to leave and hunt her down. “I’m looking for Samuel,” she said. “He went walkabout. Ben says he ought to be fed because he didn’t eat anything this morning, and for some reason Ben’s pretty frantic about it. I didn’t expect to find Samuel here—but I didn’t expect to find you here, either.”

“I was just coming to find you.”

She looked at me, then at her stereo. “You like Bullet for My Valentine?” she asked. “Just like you were sharing my Eyes Set to Kill CD with Mary Jo earlier?”

“Sarcasm isn’t lost on me,” I told her. “You could tone it down and I’d still get the point. I was having a private conversation.”

She gave me a tight smile. “Let me guess. Stuff I shouldn’t know because I’m a girl. I’m only human. I can’t be risked.”

“You know how to use a gun?” I hadn’t meant to ask that. I’d meant to just ask her for something of Gabriel’s. But I knew what it was like to sit around while people were in trouble, and you couldn’t do anything about it.

At my question, she stilled—just like her father did when something important was going on. “I have a sweet forty-cal 1911 Dad got me for my last birthday,” she said. “Tell me you found Gabriel?”

And the intensity of her voice made my decision for me. They were young—he was trying not to be serious because he was aiming for college; she was trying not to be serious because she knew he felt that way. Nothing might ever come out of it, but she cared a lot for him. That gave her a great big stake in this mess—and if she could shoot, she could protect herself.

Jesse was her father’s daughter. Smart, quick-witted, and tough. And yet I already had one of my fragile humans in danger, and I was considering another.

But I couldn’t talk to the fae or the werewolves about Gabriel, and writing, as my attempt to write down everything for Adam had demonstrated, was too time-consuming. I needed Jesse.

I pulled Jesse all the way into the room and shut the door. “Zee called and wants me to meet him at the garage in fifteen minutes. He has a fae who is terrified of werewolves who can help us. We need to find something that belongs to Gabriel that he’s pretty attached to. I don’t think she intends to hunt for him by scent, so it can be something hard like a ring instead of just things that carry smell, like a sock or shirt.”

“I get to come?”

“You get to come to this meeting,” I told her. “I need you. But you need to understand that I will not be exchanging Gabriel for you. I’m not going to get you hurt.” I gave her the best smile I could manage because the fae scare the pants off me. “I need you. But I need you to listen to me when I send you home, too.”

She watched me with her father’s eyes, and I saw the moment when she decided. “Okay. Shall we tell them we’re going out to get you stuff that you need because your house burned down yesterday?”

“Secret girl stuff,” I said. “Remember they can tell if you lie. So when this is all done, I’m going to go get a gallon of chocolate mint chip ice cream.”

“Secret girl stuff,” she said. “And if they try to send Warren with us because for some reason they think he ought to be interested in girlie things—which really makes no sense, since Kyle likes men, after all, the more manly the better—what do we do?”

“Preemptive strike,” I told her. “Let’s find Warren first and send him up to keep an eye on your father, who is sleeping.”

And then Sam crawled out from under the bed.

IT WORKED. WE MADE IT ALL THE WAY OUT TO MY CAR with only Sam beside us. All the wolves in the house were fine with Jesse and me going out together—because we had Sam.

“You have to stay here, Sam,” I said. And then stopped. Looked at him. Really looked at him.

Sam the wolf wouldn’t have turned his back while everyone was trying to fix Mary Jo—and he wouldn’t have looked like he felt guilty about it. Because Sam the wolf wasn’t a doctor—he was a wolf. This morning, Darryl had recognized pretty quickly that Samuel was in trouble. But in the garage, not one of the wolves even looked fu

“Welcome back,” I said, trying to act like it was no big thing. I didn’t know why he’d decided to take charge again—or if it was a good thing—but I figured the less drama about it, the happier Samuel would be. But . . .

“You can’t come with us,” I told him. “You heard Zee. We’re going to see a lady who—” I stopped. “How do the fae manage this lying-without-lying stuff? It really sucks. Look, Samuel, we’re going to see the lady who is scared to death of wolves. You have to stay here. You can’t come as a wolf, and you don’t have any clothes.”

He just stood there looking at me.

“Stubborn,” I said.

“We’re going to be late,” said Jesse. “And Darryl is looking out the window and frowning at us.”

I grabbed my purse out of my car and held the back door of Adam’s truck open for Samuel. “There should be jeans and sweats and stuff in a pack in the backseat if you want to dress,” I told Samuel. “And when we get to the garage, you need to stay outside and leave her to us. Hopefully, we’ll find out . . . what we need to find out . . . and I expect that we’ll be really glad we have you with us then.”

ON THE WAY TO THE GARAGE, I CALLED SYLVIA. SHE might insist on bringing the police into it—but I hoped I could talk her out of that. Her phone rang until the answering machine picked up.

“Sylvia, this is Mercy—I have news about Gabriel. You need to call me as soon—”

“I told you,” she said, coming on the line. “My family doesn’t want to talk to you. And if Gabriel chooses you over his family—”

“He’s been kidnapped,” I told her, before she could say something that would break her heart later. She wasn’t as tough as she liked to pretend—I knew, because I pretended to be tougher than I was a lot, too.

Into the silence that followed, I said, “Apparently he walked to the garage last night and tried to take one of the cars—which he has my permanent permission to do. You’d know better than I why he’d do that and where he was going. I have a friend who is in trouble and that trouble crashed down on Gabriel.”

“Your kind of trouble, right?” she asked. “Let me guess. Werewolf trouble.”

“Not werewolf trouble,” I said, abruptly irritated with her assumption that all werewolves were horrible. Me, she could be mad at, but she would have to hold her tongue around me about the wolves.

“Tell Maia that her werewolf buddy is going to put his neck in the noose trying to save her big brother, who got himself kidnapped by the bad guys.” Because I knew that Samuel—my Samuel who was at that very moment dressing in the backseat—would never stand by and watch a human get hurt. He was the only werewolf I knew who cared that much about mundane humans, just because they were mundane humans. Most werewolves, even the ones who liked being werewolves, actively resented, if not hated, normal people for being what they could no longer be.

Sylvia was silent. I supposed the information that Gabriel was in trouble was finally catching up to her.

“Gabriel is alive,” I told her. “And we’ve managed to make sure his kidnappers know that his continued health is important to their goals. Police wouldn’t help, Sylvia. They just don’t have the tools to deal with these people. All that bringing the police into it will do is make things worse and get someone killed.” Like Phin. “My werewolf friend is a little better equipped. I promise I’ll let you know when I find out something more—or if you or the police can help.” And I hung up.

“Wow,” said Jesse. “I’ve never heard anyone hand Sylvia her head like that. Even Gabriel is a little afraid of her, I think.” She settled back into her seat. “Good for you. Maybe it’ll make her think. I mean, werewolves are scary, they are dangerous—but . . .”