The online story had even fewer details than the morning news. On a whim I looked up Littleton's name and found his website offering online tarot readings for a mere $19.95, all major credit cards accepted. No checks. Not a trusting soul, our sorcerer.
On impulse, since Elizaveta wouldn't tell me anything, I Googled for demons and sorcerers and I found myself buried under a morass of contradictory garbage.
"Any idiot can put up a website," I growled, shutting down the computer. Medea meowed in sympathy as she licked the last of the milk out of my cereal bowl and then cleaned her face with a paw.
Dirty bowl in hand, I checked in on Samuel, but his room was empty. When he hadn't gotten up at Stefan's arrival, I should have realized he was gone. He didn't have to work today.
It worried me, but I wasn't his mother. He didn't have to tell me where he was going anymore than I usually told him my plans. So I couldn't pry, no matter how worried I was. With that thought in mind I wrote him a note.
S sleeping in my closet.
I'm at work until?
Stop by if you need anything.
Me
I left it on his bed then rinsed out my bowl and left it in the dishwasher. I started for the door, but the sight of the phone on the end table by the door stopped me.
Samuel had been in a bad way last night; I knew his father would want to know about it. I stared at the phone. I wasn't a snitch. If Samuel wanted the Marrok to know about his problems, he would have stayed in Aspen Creek. Samuel had his own cell phone--he could call Bran if he needed help. Which would be when Hell froze over. Samuel had taught me a lot about independence, which was actually an unusual trait for a werewolf.
Bran might be able to help. But it wouldn't be right for me to call him behind Samuel's back. I hesitated, then remembered that Samuel had called Zee to check up on me.
I picked up the phone and made the long-distance call to Montana.
"Yes?"
Unless he wanted it to, Bran's voice didn't sound like it belonged to the most powerful werewolf in North America.
It sounded like it belonged to a nice young man. Bran was deceptive that way, all nice and polite. The act fooled a lot of wolves into stupidity. Me, I knew what the act hid.
"It's me," I said. "About Samuel."
He waited. I started to say something and then guilt stopped my tongue. I knew darned well that what Samuel told me had been in confidence.
"Mercedes." This time Bran didn't sound like a nice young man.
"He had a little trouble last night," I said finally. "Do you know what happened to him in Texas?"
"He won't talk about Texas."
I drummed my fingers against my kitchen counter and then stopped when it reminded me of the vampire's mistress.
"You need to ask him about Texas," I said. Bran didn't ask people about the past as a rule. It had something to do with being very old, but more to do with being wolf. Wolves are very centered in the here and now.
"Is he all right?"
"I don't know."
"Are there any bodies?" he said dryly.
"No. Nothing like that. I shouldn't have called."
"Samuel is my son," Bran said softly. "You did right to call. Mercy, living in a town with a sorcerer isn't going to make him the safest roommate if something is upsetting him. You might consider moving in with Adam until they find the demon-rider."
"Demon-rider?" I asked, though I was thinking about what he'd said.
"Sorcerer, as opposed to demon-ridden, as the possessed are. Though there's not much to choose between them, except that the demon- ridden are easier to spot. They're in the middle of the carnage instead of on the sidelines."