"No. I just stood between him and what he wanted. Such things are understood in the seethe."
"What about all the people who died?" I asked. "The family of harvest workers, the people in the hotel?" The poor woman whose only crime was working a crummy job at the wrong place and time. What about Warren, screaming in agony, and Ben who refused to be human again? "The seethe does not consider human life to be of much worth," Stefan said softly. "Marsilia is intrigued by the idea of a sorcerer who is also a vampire. She thinks that such a one might bring the end to her exile here. The Tri-Cities is not the deserted wasteland it was two hundred years ago when she was sent here for trespasses against the Old One who rules in Italy, but neither is it Milan. The Old Master would be intrigued by the power of a creature who can make a vampire as old as I bow to his will. Maybe even intrigued enough to call us home."
"She wants him to make another one," I whispered.
"Yes."
Samuel called me from his work the next morning. Ben had been confined to the cell in Adam's house. He'd attacked another male werewolf without provocation--attempted suicide, werewolf style. He was badly hurt, but expected to recover.
I thought of Ben's dull eyes, of Warren's limp and the dead woman who haunted my dreams. I thought of the "nearly forty" deaths Uncle Mike laid at Littleton's feet; many of them were killed while Andre was still in control. I remembered Stefan's admission that the vampires didn't consider human lives to be of much worth.
With the vampire's judgement given, if the wolves did anything to Andre it would be seen as an attack on the seethe and precipitate a war that would cost many more lives on all sides. So, even though Bran and Adam were livid, their hands were tied. If Samuel hadn't been the Marrok's son, he could have done something.
Stefan couldn't do anything, even if he wanted to. He had to obey Marsilia. His hands were tied, too.
But mine weren't.
It was a good thing I hadn't given Zee the vampire-hunting kit back. I was going to need it. The first thing I had to do was find Andre's home, and I had everything I needed to do that--a keen nose and time.
I ran after the ball and caught it, running slowly so the boys who were chasing me would think they might have a chance. They laughed as they ran, which wasn't very efficient of them if they intended to catch me. I sprinted between them, and across the yard, dropping the ball at their father's feet, wagging my tail. Something wild coyotes don't usually do.
"Good girl," he said and pretended to throw it.
I gave him a reproving look, which made him laugh. "Look out you hooligans," he called out to the boys. "I'm sending her your way."
I darted through the trees after the ball, then realized the children's excited cries had died completely. I spun around to see what had happened, but they were both all right. Just staring at the man who'd gotten out of the black SUV.
Adam had that effect on people.
I turned back and looked for the ball, finding it hiding under a rosebush. With it in my mouth I danced back across the yard and dropped it at Adam's feet.
"Thank you," he told me dryly. Then he turned to the man who had called him.
"I really appreciate you letting me know where she was. My daughter took her out to her boyfriend's house and forgot to keep watch."
"No problem."
They shook hands, one of those strong-but-not-painful manly handshakes. "You need to keep an eye on her, though," the man told Adam. "She looks a lot like a coyote. If she'd gone out a few miles more she might have been shot before anyone noticed the collar."
"I know," Adam gave a rueful laugh. "She's half coyote, we think, though her mother was a German Shepherd."
I jumped in the SUV when Adam opened the door. He got in, gave the little family who'd "found" me a friendly wave. Then he started the car and drove off.
"That's the third time this month I've come to pick you up," he told me. Twice in Richland and today in Benton City. I was costing him a small fortune in gas and rewards. I'd seen him slip money to both boys.
I wagged my tail at him.
"I brought clothes this time," he said. "Hop in the back and change so we can talk."
I wagged my tail at him again.
He raised an eyebrow. "Mercy, you've been avoiding talking to me for long enough. Time to quit running and talk. Please."
Reluctantly, I hopped to the backseat. He was right. If I hadn't been ready to talk, I wouldn't have been running around the Tri-Cities in a collar with his phone number on it. Of course escaping from the Animal Control Shelter might have had something to do with it as well.
He'd brought sweats that smelled like him. They were big, but I could tighten the cord on the pants so they didn't slide off. I rolled up the sleeves and then crawled back over the seat.
He waited until I was buckled in before he spoke. I expected to be grilled about my recent habit of wandering around the city in coyote guise. "I scare you," he told me, instead.