Book 1 - Page 21 (1/2)

I knew where one was, though.

Chapter 5

A Vanagon resembles nothing so much as a Twinkie on wheels; a fifteen-foot-long, six-foot-wide Twinkie with as much aerodynamic styling as a barn door. In the twelve years that VW imported them into the US, they never put anything bigger in them than the four-cylinder wa.s.ser-boxer engine. My 1989 four-wheel-drive, four-thousand-pound Syncro's engine put out a whopping ninety horses.

In layman's terms, that means I was cruising up the interstate with a dead body and a wounded werewolf at sixty miles an hour. Downhill, with a good tailwind, the van could go seventy-five. Uphill I was lucky to make fifty. I could have pushed it a little faster, but only if I wanted to chance blowing my engine altogether. For some reason, the thought of being stranded by the roadside with my current cargo was enough to keep my foot off the gas pedal.

The highway stretched out before me in gentle curves that were mostly empty of traffic or scenic beauty unless you liked scrub desert better than I did. I didn't want to think of Mac, or of Jesse, scared and alone-or of Adam who might be dying because I chose to move him rather than call his pack. So I took out my cell phone.

I called my neighbors first. Dennis Cather was a retired pipefitter, and his wife Anna a retired nurse. They'd moved in two years ago and adopted me after I fixed their tractor.

”Yes.” Anna's voice was so normal after the morning I'd had, it took me a moment to answer.

”Sorry to call you so early,” I told her. ”But I've been called out of town on a family emergency. I shouldn't be gone long-just a day or two-but I didn't check to make sure Medea had food and water.”

”Don't fret, dear,” she said. ”We'll look after her. I hope that it's nothing serious.”

I couldn't help but glance back at Adam in the rearview mirror. He was still breathing. ”It's serious. One of my foster family is hurt.”

”You go take care of what you need to,” she said briskly. ”We'll see to things here.”

It wasn't until after I cut the connection that I wondered if I had involved them in something dangerous. Mac had been left on my doorstep for a reason-a warning to keep my nose out of someone's business. And I was most certainly sticking my whole head in it now.

I was doing as much as I could for Adam, and I thought of something I could do for Jesse. I called Zee.

Siebold Adelbertsmiter, Zee for short, had taught me everything I knew about cars. Most fae are very sensitive to iron, but Zee was a Metallzauber-which is a rather broad category name given to the few fae who could handle metal of all kinds. Zee preferred the modern American term ”gremlin,” which he felt better fit his talents. I wasn't calling him for his talents, but for his connections.

”Ja,” said a gruff male voice.

”Hey, Zee, it's Mercy. I have a favor to ask.”

”Ja sure, Liebling,” he said. ”What's up?”