It was Adam, I knew, who told the others that Warren was his third. If Adam had been less dominant, less well-liked or respected, there would have been blood shed over his declaration. I knew Adam's determination was right-but I was one of the few people for whom Warren dropped his guard.

A significant minority of the wolves felt that Warren wasn't strong enough for the position he held. I knew-from Jesse rather than from any of the wolves involved-that some of the wolves wanted Warren out of the pack or, even better, dead.

Evidently this Paul was one of those, and one dominant enough to challenge Warren. Something Adam had just given him permission to do.

Paul gave a small, pleased nod and left the room with brisk steps, unaware that Warren would wipe the floor with him. If Warren survived-by Samuel's careful focus, I knew that was still in doubt.

Adam watched the man leave with a brooding gaze. He lifted it at last and saw me watching him. His eyes narrowed and he came up to me and took my arm, tugging me out of the room behind him.

He led me to Jesse's room, hesitated and dropped my arm. He knocked once, lightly, on her door and then opened it. She was sitting on the floor with her back against the bed, her nose red and tears running slowly down her face.

"He's holding his own," Adam told her.

She scrambled to her feet. "Can I go see him?"

"Be quiet," he told her.

She nodded and headed for Warren 's room. When she saw me, she hesitated, then gave me a smile like sunshine peeking out from the clouds of Warren 's condition. Then she hurried past.

"Come," Adam took my arm again-I really disliked that-and escorted me to another closed door. This one he opened without knocking.

I held hard to my irritation as I jerked free and walked all the way into the room. If I was irritated, I wouldn't be afraid. I really hated it that I was afraid of Adam now.

I folded my arms and kept my back to him, only then realizing that he'd brought me to his bedroom.

I'd have recognized it as Adam's room, even if it hadn't smelled of him. He loved textures and warm colors and the room reflected that from the dark brown Berber carpet to the Venetian plaster treatment on the buttercream walls. There was an oil painting as tall as I was and twice as wide on one wall, a mountain forest scene. The artist had resisted the impulse to add an eagle in the air or a deer in the stream.

A human might have found the painting boring.

I touched the canvas before I realized I had moved. I wasn't familiar with the name of the artist, which was scrawled almost illegibly on the lower right corner and on a small brass plaque on the center of the frame. The title of the piece was Sanctuary.

I turned away from the painting to find Adam staring at me. He had his arms crossed and there were the little white marks along his wide cheekbones that told me he was in a temper. That in itself wasn't unusual. He had a hot temper and I was pretty good at getting him worked up-though not lately. And not, I would have sworn, today.

"I had no choice," he snapped at me.

I stared at him without the foggiest notion what he was talking about.

My doubtlessly stupid look seemed to enrage him further. "This will keep Paul from ambushing him. It has to be a real challenge, in front of witnesses."

"I know," I told him. Did he think I was stupid?

Adam watched me for a few seconds then turned away and began to pace rapidly back and forth across the room. When he stopped, he faced me again and said, " Warren has more control of his wolf than any of my others, and Ben, despite his attitude is nearly as good. They were the best of my wolves to send after the sorcerer."

"Did I ever say differently?" I snapped. The painting had distracted me-but Adam reminded me that I was trying to be angry with him. Happily that wasn't difficult.

"You're angry with me," he said.

"You're yelling at me," I told him. "Of course I'm mad."

He waved his hands impatiently. "I don't mean now. I mean earlier in Warren 's room."

"I was angry with the stupid wolf who came in to challenge Warren as soon as he was lying on his back." which reminded me of how Adam had scared me when he'd used the Alpha thing to calm me down. But I wasn't up to talking about that yet. "I wasn't mad at you until you grabbed me by the arm and dragged me out of the room to yell at me."

"Damn it," he said. "Sorry." He looked at me and then looked away. Robbed of his defensive anger, he looked tired and worried.

"Warren and Ben are not your fault," I told him. "They both volunteered."

"They wouldn't have gone if I hadn't allowed it. I knew it was dangerous," he snarled, the anger back as quickly as it had gone.

"Do you think that you are the only one entitled to feel guilty about Warren — and about Ben?"

" You didn't send them out," he said. "I did."

"The only reason they knew about the sorcerer was because of me," I said. Then because I could see that he really felt guilty I told him my own worse deed. "I prayed that they would catch the sorcerer."

He looked at me incredulously, then laughed, a harsh and bitter sound. "You think that praying makes you responsible for Warren 's condition?"

He didn't believe. I don't know why it shocked me so. I knew a lot of people who didn't believe in God, any God. But all the werewolves I'd grown up with were believers. Adam looked at my face and laughed again at the expression.

"You are such an innocent," he said in a low angry purr. "I learned a long time ago that God is a myth. I prayed every hour for six months in a stinking foreign swamp before I opened my eyes-and a crazy werewolf finished teaching me that there is no God." His eyes lightened from warm brown to cool yellow as he spoke. "I don't know. Maybe there is. If so, He's a sadist who watches His children shoot at each other and blow themselves up without doing something."

He was pretty wound up because he wasn't even making sense-and Adam usually made sense even when he was shouting at the top of his lungs. He knew it too, because he turned abruptly and strode over to the big picture window that looked out over the Columbia.

The river was nearly a mile wide just here. Sometimes, when it was stormy, the water could appear nearly black, but today the sun turned it a glittery, bright blue.

"You've been avoiding me," he said, sounding calmer.

The other window looked out over my place. I was gratified to see that the partially dissected Rabbit was framed in the center of his view.

"Mercy."

I just kept looking out the window. Lying would be pointless and telling the truth would lead to the next question, which I didn't want to answer.

"Why?" He asked it anyway.

I glanced over my shoulder, but he was still looking out the other window. I turned around and hitched a hip on the window sill. He knew why. I'd seen it in his eyes when I walked away from the garage. And if he didn't know… well, I wasn't going to explain it to him.

"I don't know," I said finally.

He spun around and looked at me, as if spotting unexpected prey, his eyes still hunter's yellow. I'd been wrong. Lying was worse than pointless.

"Yes, you do," he said. "Why?"

I rubbed my face. "Look, I'm just not up to your fighting weight tonight. Can it wait until Warren is out of danger?"

He watched me out of narrowed amber eyes, but at least he didn't prod any more.

Desperate to change the subject, I said, "Did the reporter get in touch with you? The one with the daughter."

He closed his eyes and took a deep, lingering breath. When he opened his eyes again they were the color of a good chocolate bar. "Yes, and thank you for dropping that one on me without warning. He thought you had already called me: it took us both a while to realize I hadn't a clue what he was talking about."