Jesse had had a bit of a crush on Samuel when she was younger, and the effects lingered. But instead of pursuing the subject of Samuel or Sherwood, she asked, “So what is the new situation that might end in death and destruction?”
“Marsilia gave us a puzzle,” I told her. “We aren’t sure exactly what it means. Nothing horrible tonight.” I paused. “Probably.”
Adam leaned over and kissed Jesse on the forehead. “Bed,” he said firmly, for all the world as if she were still a child.
She smiled at us both. “I’m asleep standing,” she confessed. “Night, you two.”
I waited until she was upstairs in the bathroom brushing her teeth before taking out my phone.
“I’m calling Stefan,” I said quietly. “I got the impression that we might want to get on finding Wulfe or following Marsilia’s clues as soon as possible.”
“Good time to call,” Adam said neutrally.
It was two in the morning, but Stefan was a vampire. He wasn’t one of Marsilia’s vampires anymore—but they had ties that went back all the way to the Italian Renaissance, when they had both been human. He’d also been keeping an eye on Wulfe once the other vampire had decided to start stalking me.
Stefan would know what was going on. I was a little surprised he hadn’t contacted me about Wulfe’s disappearance before Marsilia had.
Stefan’s cell phone clicked immediately to voice mail. I didn’t leave a message.
“Maybe he’s talking to someone,” Adam said.
“I’ll try the house,” I said. I didn’t like that he hadn’t answered.
The house phone was picked up after four rings.
“Hello?”
I knew most of Stefan’s people—neither he nor I called them sheep (unless Stefan was feeling particularly bitter). To Stefan they were more than a collection of easy meals and prospective fledglings, and whatever else vampires did with their toys. To Stefan, they were family.
When Marsilia had killed some of his people, as a way of making a show for the spies of Bonarata, Stefan had never forgiven her for it. And he had loved Marsilia—not in a romantic way, I didn’t think, but love nonetheless.
The voice at the other end of the line was husky and hesitant, making it unfamiliar. It might have been Rachel, who was Stefan’s usual spokesperson with the mundane world. Rachel was the one who typically answered the phone if Stefan wasn’t there. It didn’t sound like Rachel, but it could have been. If she’d had a bad cold.
“This is Mercy,” I said, and was treated to a dial tone humming in my ear. I quit trying to pretend there wasn’t something wrong.
I looked at Adam.
“I’ll call Tad back,” Adam said. “As soon as he gets here, we’re headed over to Stefan’s.” He frowned at me. “And you take some more aspirin. No sense being exhausted and in pain.”
—
I didn’t take aspirin, of course; it was ibuprofen. Adam was of a generation that used “aspirin” to refer to any painkiller. The NSAID knocked the edge off my headache, but I suspected I’d need sleep to really deal with it. Too bad it was growing doubtful that sleep was in my near future.
Stefan’s house was in Kennewick proper, about a twenty-minute drive from our home. I called Zee—he was used to me calling in the middle of the night.
“Still working,” I said, trying not to think about skull cups. “Can you open tomorrow?”
“Yes,” he said, and hung up.
Adam called his security company and told them he’d be gone for a week, though available in an emergency. I thought about that for a minute and called Zee back.
“Can you handle the shop this week?” I asked, expecting the same yes and click of a disconnect.
“It is bad, then,” said Zee instead.
“Probably,” I told him. “Signs point to all hell is about to break loose.”
Zee snorted. “Situation normal, you mean,” he said, echoing his son’s earlier observation. “Ah, well. At least I can count upon not being bored in the near future.” He disconnected.