I blinked and jerked my gaze away. It was still daylight, so Ford couldn't be a vampire—but I was guessing he was the next thing to it.
He grabbed my arm and hauled me off the stool with less effort that it should have taken. I was used to big men—Samuel was over six feet tall, but this man made me feel small. He didn't know how to fight though, because I didn't have any trouble breaking his grip.
I took two steps back and Naomi put herself between us.
"Daniel is gone," I told him. "I saw his ghost myself. Warren, one of the werewolves who was with Stefan, was badly injured and left for the pack to find. I don't know how our other wolf is or Stefan either. I intend to find out."
Naomi stepped closer and patted him on the chest. "Shhh. It's all right." Her soothing tones were very close to what Adam used on his new wolves when they became overset. "You might want to go now, Mercedes," she said in the same soothing tones. "Ford is one of the bound."
And that meant more than his being able to become a vampire when he died, I saw. The brightness of his eyes wasn't some genetic fluke, but the precursor to the glowing gems I'd seen vampires display in anger or lust.
He grabbed Naomi impatiently, I think to thrust her aside so he could get to me. But she tilted her head and presented the side of her neck to him, and he hesitated, clearly caught by the sight of her pulse.
If she'd been merely afraid, I'd have stayed there and tried to help her—but her eagerness for him was uncomfortably strong. I turned and left as he bent for her neck.
I was a half mile from Stefan's house before I took my first full breath. I'd learned a lot there, more than I'd expected—and nothing that would help me find Littleton. I'd no idea where the other vampire menageries were, and even if I did, I doubted that the sorcerer would be living with his master—assuming Littleton's maker was one of Marsilia's vampires. There were any number of vampires who might have made the sorcerer to cause trouble for Marsilia. Or a vampire from another seethe might have noticed the trouble she was in, and sent the sorcerer to soften the seethe up in preparation for a hostile takeover.
All of that was Marsilia's problem and not mine. I needed to find out where the sorcerer was.
I was fully engaged in fruitless speculation and it wasn't until I was guiding the Rabbit down the twisty drop from the hills back down into the alluvial plain of east Kennewick that I realized I'd driven halfway home.
Maybe Warren knew what had sent Adam and Samuel after Littleton. I headed for Adam's house. It had only been a few hours but werewolves heal very fast once they're able to change.
The werewolf I'd had to argue with last night was back on door duty, but he dropped his eyes and opened the front door without arguing. There were a few of the pack draped over the couches in the living room, but no one I was particularly friendly with.
"Mercy?"
Jesse was in the kitchen, a cup of hot chocolate clutched in her hands.
"Has your father or Samuel called?" I asked, though the answer was obvious from her face.
She shook her head. "Darryl said you were looking for them." Her tone asked me a whole slew of questions. What kind of danger was her father in? Why was it me looking for him and not the whole pack?
"How is Warren?" I asked because I didn't have any answers I wanted to tell Adam's daughter.
"Still bad," she told me. "Darryl is worried he's not going to make it because he's not healing like he should be, and he won't eat."
"I need to see if I can talk with him."
I left Jesse to her cocoa and her worries.
The door to the basement was shut, but I opened it without knocking. Anyone likely to be in the room, with the possible exception of Kyle, would have heard me talking to Jesse. Darryl's dark eyes met mine from the rocking chair he sat in. I stood in the doorway and stared into his eyes.
"Mercy?" Kyle's voice was strained and he sounded almost as tired as I felt.
"Just a moment," I murmured without taking my eyes off of Darryl. I don't know why he felt he had to challenge me right now—but I didn't want to be taking orders from him today.
Finally Darryl looked down. It wasn't submissive as much as it was dismissive, but it was good enough for me. I turned away from him without a word and walked over to the barred wall that Kyle was still leaning against.
"What's wrong?" Kyle asked.
"Stupid werewolf games." I crouched in front of the cage door. Warren had changed back into human form. He was curled up with his back to us. Someone had thrown a blanket over him. "Darryl's just a little confused right now."
Darryl snorted.
I didn't look at him but I felt my lips curl in sympathy. "Following a coyote would stick in any wolf's craw," I said. "Sitting around when there's things that need doing is worse. If Darryl were a lesser wolf, he'd have killed me when I walked into the room."
Darryl's snort evolved into an honest laugh. "You're not in any danger from me, Mercy. Confused though I might be."
I risked a glance and relaxed because Darryl'd lost the look of lazy readiness and appeared merely exhausted.
I smiled at him. "Can Warren talk?"
Darryl shook his head. "Samuel said he thought it would be a few days. Apparently there was some damage to his throat. I don't know what effect changing had on his prognosis. He won't eat."
"He talked in his sleep," Kyle told me.
He was watching Darryl without bothering to conceal his dislike. Darryl had always had a problem with Warren, even before he'd found out Warren wasn't subservient to him. Dominant wolves were always prickly around each other, unless one of them was the Alpha. It meant that Darryl tended to be nastily autocratic when Warren was around.
"What did he say?" Darryl snapped, his chair rolling abruptly forward.
"Nothing that matters to you," Kyle replied, uncaring of the danger of irritating a werewolf.
I was more interested in the way Warren's shoulders were tightening.
"You're going to disturb him if you start fighting," I said. "Darryl, have you heard from Bran?"
He nodded, his attention still focused on Kyle. "He's coming up. He's got some business to finish so he won't be able to get here until late tonight."
"Good," I said. "I want you to go up and eat something."
He looked at me, surprised.
I smiled. "A hungry werewolf is a cranky werewolf. Go eat something before you eat somebody."
He stood up and stretched, the stiffness in his movement told me that he'd been in that chair for a very long time.
I waited until he was gone then opened the door of the cell.
"I've spent most of the last few hours with Darryl telling me that wasn't a good idea," commented Kyle.
"Probably isn't," I agreed. "But Warren listened to me this morning."
I sat on the end of the mattress and pulled the blanket down so it covered Warren's feet better. Then I crawled onto it between the wall and Warren.
His face was just a few inches from mine and I saw his battered nostrils flutter a little and breathed into them so he'd know it was me. The hours since I'd last seen him hadn't improved his appearance any, his bruises had darkened and his nose and lips were more swollen. Darryl was right: he should be healing faster than this.