Page 116 of Winter Lost

As if called by her thoughts, someone got into the hot water beside her with a happy sigh.

She didn’t bother to open her eyes to look at Coyote.

“You took some chances there,” she said. “What if we hadn’t been able to fix her? For that matter, what if your interference had caused the end of the world instead of the saving of it?”

He waved an airy hand and made a noise. “I never intended to save the world—why would I? True that I had no intention of causing the end, either. I had intended to twit that idiot Ymir.”

She did look at him then.

He laughed. “You should see your face, old woman. That was the expression on Ymir’s face when I told him about the Great Spell.”

“Hugo told him about the Great Spell, too,” she said.

“Yup,” he agreed. “That was unexpected. Not that it mattered.” He dipped under the water. When he popped up again, he spat water out in a small fountain, grinning as she sputtered at him.

“I told Ymir the whole thing months earlier,” Coyote said. “That’s why he had time to hire thieves—and I sent Gary to make nice with John Hunter.” He smiled slyly. “Hrímnir.”

“You set up an interesting game,” agreed Grandmother Spider. She could spin webs, too. “Wasn’t your son clever enough to play it out?”

“Gary would have managed,” Coyote said. “My boy is good in a rough situation.”

“But you found out Mercy needed help,” said Asibikaashi in a soft voice. “And you changed the game for her.”

He gave her a look she couldn’t read.

14

Mercy

“What did you shoot at?” asked Adam, hands on my shoulders, body tense. He looked at me as if he expected me to sprout wounds at any time.

In fact, I didn’t hurt anywhere. My headache was gone for the first time in a very long time. I must still be a bit muzzy, though, because I thought he asked me what I shot at when—

The room smelled of cordite, but it didn’t smell of blood anymore. I leaned over the bed to where Hugo’s body should have been—shot in the forehead like the goblins—but there was no body to be seen.

I pulled free of Adam’s light hold and climbed off the bed, my legs oddly wobbly—to kneel on the ground where the body had been. A pile of clothing, unbloodied—and also smelling of nothing except laundry soap—lay where Hugo’s body had been.

When I moved the clothes, I found Hugo’s revolver. There was a clunk—and I found the lead bullet from Adam’s gun that should have been rattling around inside Hugo’s skull. If Hugo’s body had still been where it belonged.

I was dimly aware that people came to the doorway while I tried to figure out what might have happened.

Adam, after a glance at me, shooed them all away, promising them a meeting by the fireplace. A meeting where everyone would tell everything they knew about what had been going on. Zane lingered until the rest were routed.

“The storm is abating,” he said. “Can you feel it?”

“Hrímnir has the artifact,” I mumbled. “Good. That’s good.”

Gary would be okay now, because unlike his brother, Hrímnir would keep his word.

I felt Adam’s gaze on the back of my neck, felt all the questions he didn’t ask me.

Finally, he said, “If she knows anything, we’ll tell you about it in a bit.” There was a growl in his voice, but it didn’t seem to bother Zane.

“This should be interesting,” Zane said. “I’ll see you in front of the fireplace.” He knocked lightly on the doorframe and strolled away.

When the others were gone, Adam knelt beside me. “Who did you shoot, Mercy?”

“Hugo,” I said. “He killed the goblins who stole the lyre—” My whole body shuddered, and I stumbled to a halt.