“Hey, baby.” She stroked her hand over Willow’s head, flattening those adorable tufted ears.
The girl butted up against her but resisted shifting.
“I know you’re scared,” she said, kneeling so she could pull Willow into her lap. “But I’m here now and I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
The girl lay motionless against her heartbeat.
Mercy’s throat threatened to close at the vulnerability of the child in her arms. “Come on, Willow. I need to know who hurt you so I can help.” Strokes through baby-soft fur, kisses on a cold little nose. “You’re safe.” She put all her dominance into her voice. It was considerable. She was one of the highest-ranking members of either DarkRiver or SnowDancer. For this lynx girl, that made her commands close to impossible to disobey. “Shift.”
And Willow did.
Mercy didn’t move a muscle as the cub disappeared into the magic of the shift, the sparkles of color bright and joyful. An instant later, a little girl scrambled off her lap, crouching down opposite her. Her eyes were huge with hurt. “They took Nash.”
“Your brother?” Nash, she knew, was a student at MIT but he had visiting privileges to DarkRiver land.
A swift nod. “They came and they hurt Mommy and Daddy and they took him.” Willow swallowed hard, and it was clear she was trying desperately not to cry. “My mommy and daddy wouldn’t wake up.”
Oh, hell.
“Willow, sweetheart.” She stroked a hand over the girl’s ash blonde hair, careful with touch now. Changelings were funny about some things. And while the cub may have had no problem with cuddling, a little girl wouldn’t allow total famil ial skin privileges to someone who was almost a stranger. “I’m going to call a friend now. He’s a wolf.”
Willow stared at her, hurt and terror momentarily trumped by astonishment. “A wolf?”
“Yeah.” She shrugged. “I know. But he doesn’t bite”—lie—“so don’t worry.”
Willow didn’t look particularly convinced, but she stayed in position as Mercy whistled. Riley appeared within a minute—with her clothes, boots, and phone. Grateful, she got dressed. When Riley shrugged off his T-shirt and offered it to Willow, the lynx hesitated.
“Don’t worry,” Mercy said, unable to stop staring at the claw marks on his back, “wolf germs wash off real easy.” Damn, she’d scratched him hard. It made her cheeks burn to realize how far gone she’d been.
Willow took the T-shirt after a few more seconds and pulled it on. It covered pretty much everything. And they might be changeling, but sometimes, with strangers, they were human, too. The girl stood up and met Riley’s gaze, showing a courage that made Mercy’s cat growl in silent approval. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He glanced at Mercy, a question in his eyes.
She gave a slight nod. “You tired, kitten?”
Willow shook her head. “I rested a lot.”
But she’d run a hell of a long distance from home. Still, the girl was a predatory changeling. Smaller than a leopard, but a predator nonetheless. They had pride in spades. And this one had earned her right to that pride. “All right. Give me a sec and we’ll be off.” She coded in Lucas’s number.
“Mercy,” he answered. “We have Willow’s parents. Alive.”
“How?”
“Tranqs. Heavy-duty.” A pause as if he was discussing something with another person. “Couple of pack medics living nearby are giving them the once-over, but they should be on the road soon. Bring the cub to Tammy’s.”
Hanging up, she smiled at Willow. “Your mom and dad are okay.”
A flash of hope followed by distrust. “They wouldn’t wake up, and they smelled really bad.”
On occasions like this, a great sense of smell could screw things up. Especially for the little ones. “Someone drugged them—it made them very sleepy.”
Willow bit her lip.
“This is a waste of time,” Riley said. “She can see for herself when we get there.”
Willow nodded like a little machine.
“Come on then,” she said, wondering if the kid realized she’d just sided with a wolf, “time to run.” She went in front, Willow in between, Riley at the back.
When the kid began to flag, Riley simply picked her up, swung her onto his back, and kept running. Willow held on tight. The leopard in Mercy growled in approval—whatever his faults (and they were many and legend), Riley knew how to take care of the innocent.
CHAPTER 5
In the PsyNet, there was a ripple of reaction to the . . . what had it been? A bombing? An accident? Whatever it was, it made news uploads across the country. People asked for more information, and those closest to the restaurant tuned in to the local stations, hoping to supply it.