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."
"You mean sorcerers attract violence?" I asked. I should have called Bran for information about the sorcerer earlier.
"Does sugar water attract hornets? Violence, blood and evil of all kinds. Do you think I had Adam send his wolves out to help the vampires with this hunt because I like vampires?" Actually, I had thought Warren and Ben volunteered. "If there's a sorcerer about, all the wolves will have to hold tight to their control. So don't go around pushing buttons, honey. Especially with the younger wolves. You'll get hurt-or killed."
He'd been warning me about "pushing buttons" for as long as I could remember. I don't know why. I'm not stupid. I'm always careful when I torment werewolves... then I remembered Samuel's eyes last night.
"I won't," I promised, meaning it.
But then he said, "Good girl," and hung up.
As if he'd never doubted I'd do as he told me. Bran seldom had to worry about people not following his orders-except for me. I guess he'd forgotten about that.
It was a good thing there weren't any werewolves around to annoy. I'd like to think I was grown-up enough not to pick a fight just because Bran told me not to, but, still... I wouldn't have poked at Samuel, not in his current state, but it was probably a good thing Ben wasn't around.
Although it was not yet eight in the morning, there was a car waiting for me in the parking lot, a sky blue Miata convertible. Even after our talk last night, Adam had sent Honey out to babysit me again.
Sometimes you wonder what gets into parents when they name their children. I knew a girl named Helga who grew up to be five feet tall and weighed 95 pounds. Sometimes, though, sometimes, parents get it right.
Honey had waves of shimmering golden brown hair that fell over her shoulders to her hips. Her face was all soft curves and pouty lips, the kind of face you'd expect to see in a professional cheerleading outfit, though I've never seen Honey wear anything that wasn't classy.
"I've been waiting here for an hour and a half," she said, sounding miffed as she got out of her car. Today she was wearing creamy linen shorts that would show every smudge of dirt-if she irritated me too much today, I could always get her with my grease gun.
"It's Saturday," I told her amiably, cheered by my thoughts. "I work whatever hours I want to on Saturday. However, I believe in being fair. Since you had to wait for me, why don't you count that as a good effort and go on home?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Because Adam sent me here to watch you and make sure the boogeyman doesn't come and eat you. And as much as I'd like to see that happen, I don't disobey the Alpha."