Sherwood. “And she took two werewolves. One she turned into a zombie. The other she used to power her magic. That one killed her.”
He breathed in and out slowly.
“The Hardesty family rushed to Lieza’s house, but all they found was her body. Other witches had been there to loot. One of the treasures they had taken was the werewolf.”
“Me,” he said.
“Yes,” I told him. “The Hardestys have made a centuries-long family quest of hunting down all of Lieza’s treasures—her zombies, her implements, and you. Some they pay for, some they steal, and some they have gone to war for. And over the years, you, who killed Lieza, have become the most sought-after prize. They almost had you in Seattle, but the werewolves took out that group of witches and you disappeared into the keeping of the Marrok, where they couldn’t get to you. But then you came here. They know your name—your current name. They know what you look like. And they know you are pack. The traitor in Bran’s pack told them.”
“I’m the reason they came,” he said.
“No. They had their eyes on Elizaveta—she was the most powerful witch they knew of who wasn’t a member of their clan—and they wanted her. Dead or with them.”
“Join or die,” said Sherwood. I couldn’t tell if he’d been quoting Benjamin Franklin or not. Likely not. Joining a coven of witches and joining the American Revolution were, I hoped, two different things.
I nodded at him. “It didn’t work out for them in the end, but that was their plan. Along with keeping the government from making a pact with the fae. They were—are still—all about stopping anything that might later be an obstacle to their power.”
“How do you know all of this?” he said.
I sighed. “The witches. Wulfe.”
He turned to look at me. “That’s all the truth, but it isn’t all of the truth.”
“Coyote dreams,” I told him.
“Your father, Coyote?”
I’d quit fighting with everyone about that. In my heart, my father was a rodeo rider named Joe Old Coyote, who had died before I was born. I would never, as my brother Gary did, call him Dad, or any other fatherly appellation. But I’d quit arguing with people about it. Mostly.
“That’s the one,” I said. “I dreamed one night, and I spent—” Eternity. Years. I swallowed and reminded myself that they were all dead. No kittens would be tortured here again. “I spent a few weeks in the head of your kitten. I am, Coyote tells me, the reason that your kitten survived when everything else died. We overheard things. I learned a lot about them. And when I finally woke up, Coyote made sure I didn’t remember it until he wanted me to.” I gave him a small smile. “When my brother called.”
“I see,” he said, when other people would have tried to take my story apart. Saved the kitten? I thought you said it was a dream?
What he asked when he spoke again was “Why did Coyote care about a bunch of witches? Was he taking care of you?”
I laughed, I couldn’t help it. “Heaven save me from that. No. I think . . .” I remembered what Coyote had told me. “I think it was the dragon.”
“Ah,” Sherwood said. “Okay. Is that all?”
“That’s all that I know,” I told him.
His body relaxed, as if he’d been braced all along for a hit that hadn’t happened. He let the pack magic keeping our conversation private slide away before asking, “Should I leave?”
“Why would you do that?” I asked. “I mean, do you want to? Where do you want to go?”
He gave me a look. “There are witches after me.”
“And?”
He waved a hand all around us.
“Oh, don’t take credit for this,” I told him. “This is Elizaveta mostly. And me. If you ever see me start to give a speech again, just step on my toes. Please.”
“But they are after me,” he said.
“Don’t feel too special,” I told him. “They—several ‘theys’—are after Adam, too.” I looked over to where Adam stood near the big fire where the senator was warming his hands. They, whatever “theys” they were, would not touch him. “And I turned the whole pack into a big fat target when I opened my mouth and made us responsible for the Tri-Cities.”
“I,” said Sherwood dryly, “am more special than you.”
“I am more special than everyone,” said Wulfe.
I jerked my head around, but he was still lying as if he were dead.