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remember …” He shook his head and turned his attention to his hands which he held loosely looped around one knee. “I can taste her still.”
    Those words hung uncomfortably in the air for a moment before he continued.
    â€œI was lost in the blood”—he said that phrase as if the words belonged together and might mean something more complex than their literal meaning—“when I came to myself, the other vampire was gone. The woman lay as I remember leaving her, and you were unconscious.”
    He swallowed and then stared at the lightening window, his voice dropped an octave, like the wolves’ voices can sometimes. “I couldn’t remember what had happened to you.”
    He reached out and touched my foot, which was the body part nearest him. When he spoke again, his voice was almost normal. “A memory lapse is not inconsistent with bloodlust.” His hand moved until it closed carefully around my toes; his skin was cool against mine. “But bloodlust usually only dulls unimportant things. You are important to me, Mercedes. It occurred to me that you were not important to Cory Littleton. And that thought gave me hope while I drove us here.”
    I was important to Stefan? All I was to him was his mechanic. He’d done a favor for me, and last night I’d returned it in spades. We might possibly be friends—except that I didn’t think vampires had friends. I thought about it a moment and realized that Stefan was important to me. If something had happened to him tonight, something permanent, it would have hurt me. Maybe he felt the same way.
    â€œYou think he tampered with your memory?” Samuel asked while I was still thinking. He’d scooted closer and slid an arm around my shoulders. It felt good. Too good. I slid forward on the couch, away from Samuel—and Stefan let his hand fall away from my foot as I moved.
    Stefan nodded. “Either my memory or Mercy’s is obviously wrong. I don’t think he could affect Mercy’s, even being a sorcerer. That kind of thing just doesn’t work on walkers like her, not unless he made a real effort.”
    Samuel made a hmm sound. “I don’t see why he’d want to make Mercy think you were innocent of murder—especially if he thought she was just a coyote.” He looked at Stefan who shrugged.
    â€œWalkers were only a threat for a couple of decades, and that centuries ago. Littleton is very new; I would be surprised if he’s even heard of anything like Mercy. The demon might know, one never is quite sure what demons know. But the best evidence that Littleton thinks Mercy was nothing more than a coyote is that she is still alive.”
    Goody for me.
    â€œAll right.” Samuel rubbed his face. “I’d better call Adam. He needs to get his clean-up crew to the hotel before someone sees the mess and starts shouting werewolf.” He raised an eyebrow at Stefan. “Although I suppose we could just tell the police it was a vampire.”
    It had been less than six months since the werewolves had followed the fae in coming out into the public view. They hadn’t told the human population everything, and only those werewolves who chose to do so came out in the open—most of those were in the military, people already separated from the general population. So far we were all holding our breath waiting to see what would come of it, but, so far, there had been none of the rioting that had marked the fae’s exposure a few decades earlier.
    Part of the quiet reaction was the Marrok’s careful planning. Americans feel safe in our modern world. Bran did his best to protect that illusion, presenting his public wolves as victims who took their affliction and bravely used it to protect others. Werewolves, he wanted the public to believe, at least for a while yet, were just people who turned furry under the full moon. The wolves who had come out first were