"We were just back from a mission," David said. "We had the time. Some things just work better in person."

"Like kidnapping?" I asked dryly.

"That was unplanned," Connor said, a touch of heat in his voice.

"Was it?" murmured David. "I've been wondering. The whole thing came off so badly-with four of Gerry's wolves dead-that I can't help but wonder if it was planned that way."

"Three of his wolves dead," I said. "Mac was ours."

David smiled, more with his eyes than his lips. "Yes, ma'am. Three of his wolves died, then, and one of Adam's."

"Why would he want to kill his own wolves?" asked Connor.

"We'd have to look at the wolves who died." David looked thoughtful. "I wonder if they were dominant wolves. I didn't know any of them well-except for Kara. She wouldn't have liked taking orders from Gerry for long. The boy, Mac, betrayed him by going to Adam for help."

"You make Gerry sound like a psychopath," said John-Julian. "He didn't strike me as crazy."

"He's a werewolf," David told him. "We're a little more conscious of the chain of command than humans. If he wants to stay in control, he'd have to get rid of the wolves who were more dominant-and, eventually, the wolves who betrayed the pack."

I looked at David. "I don't know Gerry well, but if I were to guess, I'd say you were dominant to him, too."

David grimaced. "I have my people. I don't want Gerry's, he knows that better than anyone. He's watched me for years."

"So he felt safe calling you in," I said tentatively. "Knowing you wouldn't challenge his leadership."

"Gerry told Grandpa that Adam didn't want to challenge Bran, but he might listen to an old friend," said John-Julian mildly. "He offered to fly us out here to talk, so we agreed. It didn't take long before we realized matters were a little different than presented."

"I'd made inquiries." David took over the narrative. "I called friends and found out that Bran really does intend to tell the Alphas at the December meeting that he is going to take us public. So we came here to talk to Adam. I didn't think it would do much good. Adam likes the Marrok too much to challenge him."

"But matters weren't quite as they were presented," said Connor. "Gerry never told us he was assembling an army of mercenaries and werewolves."

"An army?" I said.

"A small army. Two or three of the lone wolves like Kara, who couldn't find a pack of their own," John-Julian explained. "And a small group of mercenaries, loners he apparently offered to turn into werewolves."

"I should have put a stop to it when the damn fool armed a bunch of frightened idiots with tranquilizer guns." David shook his head. "Maybe if I'd realized Gerry'd come up with something that could hurt a werewolf… Anyway, from that moment on it was a classic SNAFU."

"Adam said they shot Mac when he opened the door," I said.

"Gerry'd gotten them so worked up about how dangerous Adam was that before they even checked to see who it was, they shot him." John-Julian's voice held only mild regret-and I had a feeling that was mostly for the stupidity of the shooting rather than Mac's death.

"Did you know Mac?" I asked, looking down at Zee's dagger because I didn't want them all to know how angry I was. But, of course, the werewolf knew.

"No, they didn't," David said. "We flew in last Monday afternoon." He gave me an assessing look. "We were there when one of Gerry's mercenaries, a human, came in thoroughly spooked."

"The man said someone killed his partner," said John-Julian looking at me, too. "A demon."

"No demons." I shrugged. "It doesn't take a demon to kill an untrained, newbie werewolf who was too stupid to live."

I swallowed my anger-it wasn't their fault they didn't know Mac. I looked at them and hesitated. Maybe they should.

My inclination was to trust them. Part of it was that their story rang true-though I didn't know them well enough to tell for sure. Part of it was remembering Adam's voice as he talked about David Christiansen.

"Let me tell you about Mac, the boy who died on my porch," I said, then told them about his Change, the Chicago Alpha who sold him to Gerry, and the drug experiments.

"All we saw were the tranq guns," said John-Julian, slowly. "But two shots killed the young wolf-and they shot Adam with five before he was doped enough they could bind him."

"Our metabolisms are put out of commission by the silver while this DMSO carries the drug more quickly into our blood system?" asked David. "Does that mean someone could just substitute something else for the Ketamine?"

"I'm not a doctor," I told him. "It sounded like something like that would work, though."

"Maybe that's what it sounded like to Gerry, too, and he was testing it out," said David. "With a real pack, it wouldn't have worked, but with this mix of lone wolf deviants and new wolves born of mercenaries who also have to work alone-there's no one who would feel it necessary to protect the prisoners."

That was nature's balance to the role of the dominant wolf. As strong as the instinct of wolves to follow those who were dominant, was the instinct of dominants to protect those weaker than themselves.

"All lone wolves aren't deviants," protested Connor.

David smiled. "Thank you. But werewolves need packs. It takes something stronger to keep them away. A few are like me, we hate what we are too much to live within a pack. Most of them, though, are outcasts, men the pack wouldn't accept."

His smile changed, grew bleak. "I have my pack, Connor. It's just not a pack of werewolves-" He looked at me. "I left the other members of our team with Gerry to keep an eye on the situation there. There are six of us. A small pack, but it works for me. Most wolves who live very long outside of a pack go a little crazy. Mercenaries are a little the same way. A mercenary who only works alone usually does so because no one else will work with him because he's stupid or crazy-and the stupid ones are mostly dead."

"Not someone I'd want to meet as a werewolf," I said, as my phone rang. "Excuse me a minute," I said, and fished around in my pockets for my cell, which had miraculously escaped damage.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Mercy!"

"Happy Thanksgiving, Mom," I said. "Can I call you back? I'm a little busy right now."

"Your sister has just told us she's engaged…" said my mother, blithely ignoring me. So I sat and listened to her chatter about my siblings and my stepfather while three mercenaries sat in my living room and watched me.

"Mom," I said, when she showed signs of slowing down. "Mom, I have company over."

"Oh, good!" she said. "I was worried about you all alone on Thanksgiving. Is it Warren and that nice young man of his? I hope he keeps this one. Do you remember the last one? Easy on the eyes, I must say, but he wasn't someone you could have a conversation with, was he?"

"No, Mom," I said. "These are new friends. But I have to go, or they're going to feel like I'm ignoring them."

I hung up the phone gently a few minutes later.

"I forgot today was Thanksgiving," David said, but I couldn't tell if it bothered him or not.

"I've been thinking about these drug experiments, sir," said Connor. "Most men who are trying to assassinate a ruler intend to set themselves up instead."

"These are werewolves," his grandfather said. "Not humans. Gerry could never be Marrok. Oh, he's a dominant-but I doubt he'd ever be strong enough to be Alpha of any pack, let alone all the packs. He knows that."

"But does he like it?" asked Connor. "Have you watched him among his wolves? Did you notice that the mercenaries he has who are still human show signs of being dominant? He tells them that he can't risk losing them right now-but I think he's being cautious. He doesn't like it when you give his wolves orders and they obey."