How a bounty hunter got a warrant for him, when, to my knowledge, Adam was in good standing as a law-abiding citizen, I didn’t know. I was vague on bounty- hunter lore, but I was pretty sure that they mostly hunt down people who are wanted for bail-skipping, and then the bail bondsmen pay them a percentage of the bail money they would have otherwise lost.

The Kennewick Police Department wasn’t very far away. Even so, the first vehicle in my parking lot was Adam’s. He parked his truck in front of the van, blocking it where it was.

“You’re mistaken,” I told Kelly Heart, Bounty Hunter, keeping my eyes on him no matter how much I wanted to look at the man who had just closed the door of his new truck. “There aren’t any werewolves around here who have a warrant out for their arrest.”

“I’m afraid you’re wrong,” Kelly told me kindly. Against my will, I was impressed by him. He was calm and cool while lying on his back like a turtle—on top of his cameraman, who was scared out of his mind and focused on the mouth of the gun I held.

Another truck door opened and closed—Adam had someone with him. The wind didn’t favor me, so I couldn’t tell who it was. And I wasn’t going to be stupid and look. Not that I really thought the bounty hunter was a threat anymore. At least, not a threat to the children behind me.

I could hear the woman in the T- shirt saying in a frantic voice, “Don’t make her shoot again, Kelly. Forty bucks. Forty bucks those cost. Each.”

“Don’t worry,” I called to her. “You can dig them out, and they’ll look just about like what they do now. You might even be able to reuse them.” Silver doesn’t deform as easily as lead, which makes it a lousy ammunition—unless you’re shooting at werewolves.

“She doesn’t seem too worried about you,” I told Kelly with mock sympathy as Adam walked toward us. “I guess silver bullets are harder to find than bounty hunters who look good in black leather.”

He smiled. “She thinks so. Look, can I get up? I promise not to try anything, but I outweigh Joe here by a hundred pounds. If I lie on him much longer, he might stop breathing.”

“Go ahead and put up the gun, Mercy,” said Adam. “Get it out of sight before the police are here. It’ll be easier that way. We might even get out of this without anyone getting arrested.”

My will broke at the sound of his voice, and my head turned with as much inevitability as a sunflower turning its face to the sun.

Adam was in a three- piece suit with a Mickey Mouse tie his daughter had bought him for Christmas—and he managed to look much, much more dangerous than the man on the ground. I’d known he would come, even after this morning’s conversation.

I’d hurt him, and still he’d come when the security cameras he had posted all over the place at my garage told him I was in trouble. I’d never doubted for a minute that he would come; Adam is staunch and true, like the tin soldier in the old children’s story. Stauncher and truer than I, who’d pushed him away to save Samuel.