Author's Note

Patricia Briggs purists, take heed — this one spun way out of control, like one of those faery beasts from which one realises one should not have accepted a ride.

It was a simple enough idea. In Night Broken Gary Laughingdog tells Mercy he senses the manitou of the Columbia River. So what if it woke up? That might be fun, but what sort of manitou would it be? The Columbia River is very old — it cut through the Cascades as they were pushed up — and very large, and it has been horribly messed with by human beings, who have loaded it and its major tributaries (especially the Snake and Flathead) with scores of dams and dumped vast amounts of radioactive contaminants into groundwater that enters it around the Tri-Cities. Moreover, Mercy could only beat Guayota because that psychotic old manitou was way off its home ground in Tenerife, anchored by its mortal tibicenas, but this manitou would be in its own place — and hence, I figured, unkillable, unstoppable. So it had to be on Mercy's side. There are limits, even if I'm given to pushing them. But what might our favourite coyote girl manage with a very old, very powerful manitou at her back, besides necessarily becoming increasingly OOC?

That was one problem, and spiralling events provided others. I'm well aware I'm playing a little fast and loose with everything from US law and politics to the storage of nuclear waste, but I kept going (with one long hiatus and one shorter one) because I was having fun, and trying a first-person voice was interesting — even though the whole has turned out more than twice as long as a first-person novel should be. Just don't say I didn't warn you. And I'm sometimes playing fast and loose with trans-Atlantic vocabularies as well, particularly when it comes to 'trousers' — sorry, speakers of American English, but 'pants' has so many other senses in British English that it just had to be 'trousers', however culturally incorrect. By way of atonement, I've used 'gray' throughout, not 'grey', though it makes me itch, but I've stuck to '-our' because I'm damned if I'll be non-U, and I also draw the line at 'programme' — 'program' just looks too short to me. I've also tried quite hard to get the few words of Salish right, though some characters (such as the IPA marker for a glottlestop) may well not post accurately.

I started before 'Hollow', Fire Touched, and Silence Fallen were out, and have ignored them (in the case of Fire Touched with some relief, as I liked Lugh's walking stick), as I have also ignored Dead Heat (without difficulty) and Burn Bright (with some distress — I liked Sage too); I have, though, tried to be reasonably canon-compliant as far as Night Broken. I also reached the first scenes involving a POTUS long before the present incumbent was elected, and after some soul-searching decided to ignore him too, hard as that is; in this AU, my pointedly nameless POTUS may deserve some of Adam's ire, but he doesn't sell snakeoil, and I have contented myself with being rude about a different Donald for good plot reasons.

Oh, and in telephone conversations, the distant speaker is in slashes — /Blah blah./ — and the present speaker, usually but (given wolf hearing) not always Mercy, is in standard inverted commas. I had used angle brackets, which reads more easily, but for some reason FFN's software strips them out. Go figure.

B'jack, January 2019.

Monday: Manitou

Chapter One

I'VE never much liked Golfs, however popular they might be in Europe, and this one had seen better days. It had also last been worked on by an idiot who thought brute force a working substitute for competence, and I was cross enough to document the botched job that had resulted in a loose gear wrecking the transmission. The owner was a new intern at the hospital and I doubted she'd have much luck getting a refund, never mind damages, but at least she'd have the evidence and I thought Kyle would be willing to draft a letter that would at least get the idiot's attention.

I'd also sent photos of the wrecked transmission to Zee when I called him to vent and he'd come by to see the grisly details for himself. And to help me seat the new transmission — I'm strong enough, just, but it wasn't so long since I'd been able to return to work at all, and the help was welcome. It had also given me a soundtrack of increasingly guttural German curses as he took the old transmission apart while I buttoned up the Golf and washed my hands.

"I told you, Zee. Whoever did that was a butcher, not a mechanic, and a cack-handed butcher at that."

"Ja." He grunted, poking another twisted bit of what had once been a cog loose with a hard finger. "This could have been very bad, Mercy. If she'd been going any faster when it went …" He looked up, eyes glinting. "You should make sure Kyle knows the work was dangerous, not just shoddy and stupid."

"I will. I'll contact the state authorities too, not that it'll do any good."

"Because?"

"California."

Frank Zappa had been exactly right about flakes forty years ago and California still had the most of them.

"Ah." Zee shook his head darkly. "Useless behördenkramarbeiteren." He fished out another fragment and straightened, looking at me. "Still, liebchen, you are looking better than you did two weeks ago, and you have your strength back."

It was my turn to grunt. Being pretty much killed by a psychotic volcano god had meant my second serious convalescence in a year, which was two too many. And I'd been very lucky — if Coyote hadn't somehow fixed my broken neck I'd have been dead, but while I was properly grateful I also had more sympathy for Mary Jo's disgruntlement after Baba Yaga fixed her dead body sufficiently for her spirit to take up residence again. In one of the novels I'd read while convalescing someone who had a god do that for them thought the god had stuffed his spirit back in upside-down, and I knew how he felt. The burns on my foot had also been a stone bitch — volcano gods are hot — and I'd been damned if I'd spend any more time in a wheelchair but, luckily for me, the walking stick had been very helpful, and actually seemed quite cheerful at being used mundanely for a while.

"Mostly. Not much stamina, though. I need to put in gym time I don't have. A bit like the garage."

I'd managed to get the holes Guayota had left in and under the building patched and filled before it fell down, but it needed a lot more work that I couldn't afford.

"You should be more careful what you fight. And stop escalating."

"Escalating?"

"Ja." He wagged a finger at me. "It was bad enough when it was only humans, vampires, wolves, and fae. Now it's native monsters and foreign fire gods. And though you are coyote enough to have survived, Mercy, the margins are getting very thin."

"I do know." I shrugged. "But what can I do, Zee? It was Yo-Yo Edythe who set Adam and me up with the River Devil, and it was Christy who dragged Guayota here. I just play the cards I'm dealt as best I can." I scuffed grumpily at an oil stain on the concrete. "And honestly, you'd think people would learn. Two wolves, four vampires including The Monster and Gauntlet Boy, with a demon thrown in, one Fairy Queen, one ninety-foot River Devil, and a volcano god — all losers. I'd give me pause."

Zee frowned.

"And I know who I've left off but I try not to think about him."

He nodded. "Ja. It wasn't that, liebchen. And you are not wrong — both Edythe and Gwyn ap Lugh have cautioned that you are … a true daughter of Coyote and not to be meddled with lightly."

I stared. "Really? Cool."

He gave me a glare. "Not so, Mercy. It means they are thinking about you. And ap Lugh is not happy that the walking stick has returned to you again."

"His problem, Zee. He offended it. And though he apologised to me, I bet he never bothered to apologise to it."

Zee's eyebrows, always pretty bristly, were outdoing themselves.

"Gwyn ap Lugh apologised to you?"

"Yes he did." I told him the story. "Anyway, he didn't recognise its new powers and cleverness and implied it was a fake. So he doesn't deserve it. And I actually needed a walking stick while my foot healed."

He grinned, but only briefly. "Maybe not and maybe so, but he's unhappy all the same. What are its new powers?"

"I'm not sure. Coyote said he'd taught it to hide itself better and some other tricks. But what it learned from killing Blackwood or the River Devil and the otterkin I don't know. Why don't you ask it, if it's willing?"

I looked over to where I'd propped it by the office door, but it was already in Zee's hands. He gave me an unreadable look and gravely thanked the stick before tracing a finger over its silverwork and slowly down its length. Something else came back to me.

"Coyote also asked me if I knew what its original magic was, so I told him about Lugh's three walking sticks and that this one was twin lambs, not finding home or seeing truly. That's what Arianna's book said, and she ought to know. But Coyote said either there was only ever one stick or it had learned what its brethren could do."

Zee gave me another look, finger still resting on the stick.

"There were certainly three sticks, but he's right this one now has all three powers, and more. Quite a lot more. And certainly killing the River Devil quenched it as a weapon. It has learned … ambition."

He lapsed into very archaic German, almost crooning to the stick, and the only word I caught was 'Excalibur'.

"It wants to be like Excalibur?"

Zee laughed. "Not exactly. I don't believe it thinks very highly of my swords. Too few uses. But it would like that one's fame, maybe, and besides liking you, liebchen, it feels serving you is a good way to gain it."

"Huh. I wouldn't offend it for the world, but I hope not." I took a breath. "And speaking of Excalibur, Zee, I meant to tell you that I saw it, and so did the walking stick. It's beautiful."

"You saw Excalibur?"

Zee didn't often sound that surprised, and I nodded.

"And Carnwennan. The Marrok has them. Apparently the Gray Lords gave Carnwennan to Anna, Charles's wife, to kill Dana Shea after her oathbreach in Seattle, and she had Excalibur so Anna took that too. Bran was expecting someone to collect them but no-one has. Adam and I were up in Aspen Creek with Joel because Bran wanted to look at the pack bonds I forged, and I asked him if I could see them. And when he showed them, the stick turned up."

He was nodding slowly. "Ja. I heard about Seattle. They did not expect Anna to succeed, only to serve as a warning to Dana. There was some amusement at their discomfiture." He frowned, thinking. "That explains what I feel from the stick, but I am very surprised they have not reclaimed them both. It is true Anna would have a claim on Carnwennan, and those blades belong together, but still." He shrugged. "The Marrok has as much right to them as any now living."

My eyes widened. "Bran really was Sir Marrok, then?"

"No. Bisclaveret. Malory stole the story and made up the name. But the tale is not the one the Frenchwoman told. And no, I am not telling it to you. Ask him yourself, if you must."

I grinned. "I did, but he's not saying either. Anyway, I just wanted to tell you I'd seen it. Is Carnwennan one of yours too?"

"Ja. And she has done good service, that one. I don't like witches, and I didn't like Dana."

"Me either, from what Anna and Charles said."

He looked an invitation and I was repeating some of Anna's deadpan snarking about Dana and Ladies of the Lake who thought far too much of themselves when a huge, rushing tingle of magic washed over us that had Zee snapping upright, glamour vanishing as a sword appeared in his hand and the walking stick jumped into mine. But the magic passed as abruptly as it had come, a wave passing on, and when I looked at him again Zee's glamour was back in place and the sword nowhere to be seen.

"What was that?"

"Not fae."

"Nor pack. Nor vampire. Witchcraft?"

He shook his head. "Nothing I know."

"Did it do anything?"

"Not here. It was overflow, I think."

"That was a lot of overflow, then. Huh."

I fetched my phone from the office and hit the speed dial. Adam had set 'Bad Moon Rising' as my ringtone, mostly to annoy me enough to forget about my poor foot, and he answered on the second bar.

/Mercy?/

"Adam, did you feel that just now?"

/Feel what?/

"Then you didn't. I'm at the garage with Zee and a couple of minutes ago there was a rush of magic, like a wave. Made us both jump. Nothing's wrong here, but something probably is somewhere."

/Somewhere local?/

"I'd think so, given the strength. Zee thinks it was overflow of some kind, so whatever happened was very strong. But it wasn't pack magic, or fae, and we don't think it was vampires or witches either."

/Doesn't leave much. I'll give Elizaveta a call./

"That would be good." I pondered a little. "It might have been something native. It felt … I don't know, elemental maybe? Zee's nodding."

/Hostile?/

"Not to us, but to someone or something."

/Alright. I'll make some enquiries./ I heard Adam's fingers drumming on his desk. /I'm busy until three but I can come pick you up after that. No-one else is free today. Can Zee stay until then?/

"Ja, Adam, I can stay."

Zee's hearing is as good as any werewolf's, and I sighed softly.

"Ja, Herr Hauptman, at once, Herr Hauptman." Zee grinned. "Any more orders?"

/No./ I could tell Adam was smiling. /Just be careful, if you can. We've had enough trouble for one year. I'll see you after three./

"Alright. You be careful too."

/Always./

As I put the phone away Zee gave me a thoughtful look.

"So little protest, liebchen? Maybe you are learning."

I bared my teeth at him but he was right. My most recent brush with death hadn't been much fun for me, but it had been very hard on Adam. Leaving me behind while he and the other pack members Arianna had fire-proofed went to fight Guayota had been basic sense, and so had leaving Darryl and Auriele to cope with the rest of the pack if Adam had died. And when everything went south and Guayota turned up at Honey's it had been basic sense for me to get Stefan to take Jesse, Lucia, and Christy to safety, because they were only human, and defenceless against him. But that meant it was very un-fire-proofed Darryl, Auriele, and me who'd had to fight him until help arrived, and as man and Alpha Adam was not at all happy about that, especially as he and everyone else had thought for a while that I wasn't going to make it. So his protectiveness was in overdrive, and on top of that Christy was still staying with Darryl and Auriele, and trying to rip at him whenever she could. And at Jesse, which I wasn't going to tolerate for much longer. Nor did it help that I'd managed to disable Guayota's magic by bringing Joel as one of his tibicenas into the pack, and though Joel was now managing to stay human for four or five hours at a stretch, his presence in the pack was doing something none of us understood to the pack bonds — and that left everyone a bit edgy, with Adam as Alpha again bearing the brunt of it.

Hence our recent trip to Aspen Creek with Joel and Lucia, because Bran had wanted to see us away from the rest of the pack. It was fortunate that both Bran and Charles were more intrigued than appalled by what I'd managed to do, but there were levels and implications to it that mattered. The church said a married couple were one flesh, but no other Alpha's wife, even if a werewolf herself, had ever used their own flesh to bring a new wolf into the pack, never mind a man who turned into both a presa canario and a tibicena the size of a polar bear. Bran had asked me a lot of questions about what exactly I'd done, rolling his eyes at Coyote's involvement. He'd also had Joel's account in one of his brief spells in human form, but all he could say was that he'd been despairingly fighting the bonds Guayota had put on him as best he could, even while his tibicena form worried at the burned flesh on my arm, when he'd understood that I was offering him a hope of escape, a chance to reclaim himself and rejoin Lucia, and he'd assented. Fiercely. It had hurt, but he'd simply known that the other tibicena had to die, so he'd seen to it. Then he'd gone back to his presa canario form and settled at Lucia's feet. Bran had stared at them both for a while with a look that told me he wasn't only seeing them with his eyes, and then sighed gently.

"The pack bond with Joel is no different from any other pack bond, save that it runs through Mercy to Adam rather than the other way around. Joel wanted it badly, he was Mercy's friend anyway, and he remains deeply grateful to her. But his mate bond to Lucia is also very strong, so I can't see that there's anything Adam and Mercy can't handle. But" — he held up a finger — "there is a complication in that Joel is indifferent to and outside the pack hierarchy, as an omega would be. I don't know enough about presa canarios to judge how that form plays in, but tibicenas clearly don't have dominance issues, and as a man he is far more invested in his mate bond with Lucia than in anything resembling a pack. This is probably a good thing as in tibicena form he could take any single wolf, but it will take the pack a while to get their heads around it. And there is a second, more interesting complication in that when Mercy claimed Joel in tibicena form she apparently claimed a fair chunk of Guayota's magic too. I wouldn't have thought it possible, but magic has always worked oddly around her, and that manitou magic is running through the ordinary pack bonds. And so is Mercy's in a way it wasn't before."

He tapped a foot lightly a few times and looked at both me and Adam, face unreadable.

"It might be just a matter of time, and your mate bond settling in, but I think the new magic's doing something too. I find it interesting that Joel can shift forms as fast as Mercy, and I'd like to know if you find your changes becoming easier, Adam. It may be that hostile magic will also have a harder time affecting you than it did. And Joel, when you're able to stay human for longer, you might want to do some experimenting. I suspect you'll be remarkably fire-proof even in human form." Bran's gaze lost focus for a second, and returned. "Your Mary Jo might get some benefit too — I don't know if it's Joel pushing it because he knows she's a fire fighter, or if the magic has made its own decision, but it's stronger in the bond that leads to her. And I think it was that, not Coyote, that helped with your burns, Mercy. They were made by tibicena fire magic and partly unmade by it. And though your scent hasn't changed, your magic has, which is also part of what has Adam on edge. With everything else."

Then he'd given me a real smile that reached his eyes.

"Mercy. Never a dull moment. And this time something of real interest and value. Who knew there could be an interspecies pack? The publicity has been very positive for wolves, you're all safe and well, a bad enemy was vanquished, and the Columbia Basin pack is the stronger for a very potent and loyal new recruit. No harm, no foul."

The Marrok's word was law, but that didn't mean the wolves had to like it, and quite a few of them didn't. Paul in particular — he already hated it that a gay wolf and a coyote were pack, and he was beside himself at a foreign dog being added, magical or no. His tough luck. But enough of the others were half-listening to him that the jangle in the pack was another drain on Adam, which didn't help his stupid guilt about me or his nagging, instinctive disquiet at the change in my magic, whatever it was and even though he couldn't sense it directly. So I was cutting him all the slack I could, even when it grated, and even when Zee teased me about it.

"He doesn't need more problems just now, Zee. The pack's unsettled because of Joel, and we're all still hurting from Peter's death anyway." I took a breath. "And given what all's out there, I don't really mind being protected that much."

There were even times it made me feel quite warm and fuzzy.