Page 58 of Mine to Hunt

“The skinwalker attacked her in order to take her form. Physical contact is sufficient for that ability, it doesn’t require killing the original. She sustained significant injuries and was found by a colleague approximately forty minutes after the creature left her.” Mercer watched my face as the information settled. “She’s been at a medical facility in Albuquerque for the past seventy-two hours. She’s expected to make a full recovery.”

I looked at the piñon tree in the courtyard. Its shadow had moved since I’d last checked. The sun was shifting, the afternoon light warming the stucco walls to gold.

Yazzie was alive. She hadn’t been lying dead somewhere while the skinwalker walked around wearing her face like with Mark.

“I’d like to see her,” I said. “When she’s able.”

“That can be arranged.” Mercer made what I suspected was a mental note, though nothing in her posture changed. “So your three conditions are your name cleared, Mark Alvarez’s reputation corrected, and Ranger Yazzie protected.”

“Yes.”

“And in return?”

“I never speak of any of this to anyone. Not the skinwalker, not the shifters, not what happened on the mountain or in the hospital or in this building. None of it. To anyone, ever.”

Mercer studied me across the desk for a long beat. The pale eyes were still, appraising. Then something in her expression shifted. Not a smile, but a loosening at the corners of her mouth that suggested satisfaction with an outcome she’d anticipated but hadn’t been certain of.

“The timeline for the public record corrections will be approximately two weeks. Media narratives take longer to redirect, but we have resources for that. By the time you return to law school next semester, your record will be clean and the story around your neighbor’s death will have been revised to reflect an animal attack with no connection to you.”

“What kind of animal attack?”

“Mountain lion. The forensic evidence will support it.”

“It won’t. The detective said the wound patterns don’t match any?—”

“Katie.” She cut me off, gently. “The forensic evidence will support it.”

I nodded.

“Yazzie’s personnel file will reflect commendable service,” Mercer continued. “The incident at this facility will be attributed to an attack by a lone extremist with no discernable motive, andthe families of the guards who were killed will be told they died as heroes.”

I nodded.

Mercer stood and extended her hand again, and I stood and took it.

“One more thing,” I said, not releasing her grip.

She waited.

“If you ever need to reach me, for whatever reason, don’t send agents to my door.”

Something that was very close to amusement crossed her face. “Fair enough.” She released my hand. “There’s a car waiting to take you wherever you need to go.”

I walked to the door, then stopped with my hand on the frame. The document on the wall was at eye level now, and I could read it. It wasn’t a diploma or a commendation. It was a quote, typeset on plain white paper in a simple black frame.

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

I looked back at Mercer. She was watching me with those pale, composed eyes, her hands in her pockets, her expression revealing nothing and everything at once.

“Hamlet,” I said.

“Act one, scene five.”

“A little on the nose, don’t you think?”

The corner of her mouth moved, and this time it was definitely a smile.

“It was nice to meet you, Katie.”

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