I was going to fight vampires, and my name wasn't Buffy--I was so screwed.
Reluctantly, I pulled out my necklace and showed it to them. Samuel frowned. The little figure was stylized; I suppose he couldn't tell what it was at first. A dog?" asked Zee, staring at my necklace. A lamb," I said defensively, tucking it safely back under my shirt. "Because one of Christ's names is "The Lamb of God."" Samuel's shoulders shook slightly. "I can see it now, Mercy holding a roomful of vampire at bay with her glowing sheep." I gave his shoulder a hard push, aware of the heat climbing to my cheeks, but it didn't help. He sang in a soft taunting voice, "Mercy had a little lamb.
“Hey, Adam,” I said. “I thought you'd want to know that Warren and Darryl made it out of the vampire den alive.” I sucked in my breath. “You didn't actually agree to their meeting on Marsilia's grounds?” He laughed. “No, it just sounded better than saying they made it out of Denny's alive. It might not be romantic, but it's open all night and set in the middle of a brightly lit parking lot with no dark places for skulking parties to ambush from.”
He was obviously dead. But since he was a vampire that wasn't as hopless a thing as it might have been.
Mercy," he said,"in a fair fight between near equals, I'll back you every time. It's the demons, vampires, and river devils I worry about, and I'm working on that.
Vampire politics make the very complicated dance of manners that is werewolf protocol look like the Hokey Pokey.
I'm a coyote shapeshifter playing in a world of werewolves and vampires---outmatched is n understatement.
Humans, werewolves, or, apparently, vampire, it doesn't matter; get more than three of them together and the jockeying for power begins.
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