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In the #1 New York Times bestselling Mercy Thompson novels, the coyote shapeshifter has found her voice in the werewolf pack. But when Mercy’s bond with the pack—and her mate—is broken, she’ll learn what it truly means to be alone...
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Attacked and abducted in her home territory, Mercy finds herself in the clutches of the most powerful vampire in the world, taken as a weapon to use against alpha werewolf Adam and the ruler of the Tri-Cities vampires. In coyote form, Mercy escapes—only to find herself without money, without clothing, and alone in the heart of Europe...
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Unable to contact Adam and the rest of the pack, Mercy has allies to find and enemies to fight, and she needs to figure out which is which. Ancient powers stir, and Mercy must be her agile best to avoid causing a war between vampires and werewolves, and between werewolves and werewolves. And in the heart of the ancient city of Prague, old ghosts rise...
- Sales Rank: #2576 in Books
- Brand: ACE
- Published on: 2017-03-07
- Released on: 2017-03-07
- Original language: English
- Number of items: 1
- Dimensions: 9.27" h x 1.20" w x 6.38" l, 1.27 pounds
- Binding: Hardcover
- 384 pages
Features
Review
PRAISE FOR SILENCE FALLEN
“Patricia Briggs never fails to deliver an exciting, magic and fable filled suspense story. Silence Fallen is one of her best.”—Erin Watt, #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Royals series
"Patricia Briggs is an incredible writer and Silence Fallen is simply fantastic. I love hanging out with the amazing characters in this series!"—Nalini Singh, New York Times bestselling author
PRAISE FOR THE MERCY THOMPSON NOVELS
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“I love these books.”—Charlaine Harris, #1 New York Times bestselling author
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“An excellent read with plenty of twists and turns…It left me wanting more.”—Kim Harrison, #1 New York Times bestselling author
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“The best new urban fantasy series I’ve read in years.”—Kelley Armstrong, #1 New York Times bestselling author
“In the increasingly crowded field of kick-ass supernatural heroines, Mercy stands out as one of the best.”—Locus
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“Action-packed and with more than a few satisfying emotional payoffs...Patricia Briggs at the top of her game.”—The Speculative Herald
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“The characters are all realistic and vibrant.”—The Independent
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“These are fantastic adventures, and Mercy reigns.”—SFRevu
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“The world building is incredibly lush and subsuming...a fantastic urban fantasy adventure.”—Fresh Fiction
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“Outstanding.”—Charles de Lint, Fantasy & Science Fiction
About the Author
Patricia Briggs is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of the Mercy Thompson urban fantasy series (Fire Touched, Night Broken) and the Alpha and Omega novels, (Dead Heat, Fair Game).
Excerpt. � Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
1
Mercy
This wasn't the first time chocolate got me in trouble.
I died first, so I made cookies.
They were popular fare on Pirate night, so I needed to make a lot. Darryl had gotten me a jumbo-sized antique mixing bowl last Christmas that probably could have held the water supply for an elephant for a day. I don't know where he found it.
If I ever filled the bowl entirely, I'd have to have one of the werewolves move it. It ate the eighteen cups of flour I dumped into it with room for more. All the while, piratical howls rose up the stairway from the bowels of the basement.
"Jesse-" Aiden began, raising his voice to carry over an enthusiastic if off-key whistling rendition of "The Sailor's Hornpipe."
"Call me Barbary Belle," my stepdaughter, Jesse, reminded him.
Aiden might have looked and sounded like he was a boy, but he hadn't been young for a very long time. We had assimilated him, rather than adopted him, as he was centuries older than Adam and me put together. He was still finding some things about modern life difficult to adjust to, like the live-action-role-playing (LARP) aspect of the computer-based pirate game they were playing.
"It only works right if you think of me as a pirate and not your sister," Jesse said patiently. Ignoring his response that she wasn't his sister, she continued, "As long as you call me Jesse-that's who you think of when you interact with me. You have to believe I'm a pirate to make it a proper game. The first step is to call me by my game name-Barbary Belle."
There was a pause as someone let out a full-throated roar that subsided into a groan of frustration.
"Eat clamshells, you sodding buffoon," Ben chortled. His game name was Sodding Bart, but I didn't have to think of him that way because I was dead, anyway.
I got out my smaller mixing bowl, the one that had been perfectly adequate until I married into a werewolf pack. I filled it with softened butter, brown sugar, and vanilla. As I mixed them together, I decided that it wasn't that I was a bad pirate, it was that I had miscalculated. By baking sugar-and-chocolate-laden food whenever I died first, I'd succeeded in turning myself into a target.
The oven beeped to tell me it was at temperature, and I found all four cookie sheets in the narrow cabinet that they belonged in-a minor miracle. I wasn't the only one who got KP duty in the house, but I seemed to be the only one who could put things in the same place (where they belonged) on a regular basis. The baking pans, in particular, got shoved all sorts of odd places. I had once found one of them in the downstairs bathroom. I didn't ask-but I washed that motherhumper with bleach before I used it to bake on again.
"Motherhumper" was a word that was catching on in the pack with horrible efficiency after "Sodding Bart" Ben had started using it in his pirate role. I wasn't quite sure whether it was a real swearword that no one had thought up yet, one of those swearwords that were real swearwords in Ben's home country of Great Britain (like "fanny," which meant something very different in the UK than it did here), or a replacement swearword like "darn" or "shoot." In any case, I'd found myself using it on occasions when "dang" wasn't quite strong enough-like finding cookware in bathrooms.
I thought I was good to go when I found the baking pans. But when I opened the cupboard where there should have been ten bags of chocolate chips, there were only six. I searched the kitchen and came up with another one (open and half-gone) in the top cupboard behind the spaghetti noodles, which made six and a half, leaner than I liked for a double-quadruple batch, but it would do.
What would not do was no eggs. And there were no eggs.
I scrounged through the fridge for the second time, checking out the back corners and behind the milk, where things liked to hide. But even though I'd gotten four dozen eggs two days ago, there was not an egg to be had.
There were perils in living in the de facto clubhouse of a werewolf pack. Thawing roasts in the fridge required the concealment skills of a WWII French Underground spy working in Nazi headquarters. I hadn't hidden the eggs because, since they were neither sweet nor bleeding, I'd thought they were safe. I'd been wrong.
The majority of the egg-and-roast-stealing werewolf pack was currently downstairs, enthralled in games of piracy on the high seas of the computer screen. There was irony in how much they loved the pirate computer game-werewolves are too dense to swim. Coyotes, even coyote shifters like me, can swim just fine-except, apparently, in The Dread Pirate's Booty scenarios, because I'd drowned four times this month.
I hadn't drowned this time, though. This time, I'd died with my stepdaughter's knife in my back. Barbary Belle was highly skilled with knives.
"I'm headed to the Stop and Rob," I called downstairs. "Does anyone need anything?"
The store wasn't really called that, of course; it had a perfectly normal name that I couldn't remember. "Stop and Rob" was more of a general term for a twenty-four-hour gas station and convenience store, a sobriquet earned in the days when the night-shift clerk had been left on his or her own with a till full of thousands of dollars. Technology-cameras, quick-drop safes that didn't open until daylight, and silent alarms-had made working the night shift safer, but they'd always be Stop and Robs to me.
"Argh," said my husband Adam's voice, traveling up the stairs. "Gold and women and grog!" He didn't play often, but when he did, he played full throttle and immersed.
"Gold and women and grog!" echoed a chorus of men's voices.
"Would you listen to them?" said Mary Jo scornfully. "Give me a man who knows what to do with what the good Lord gave him instead of these clueless scallywags who run at the first sight of a real woman."
"Argh," agreed Auriele, while Jesse giggled.
"Swab the decks, ye lubbers, lest you slide in the blood and crack your four-pounders," I called. "And whate'er ye do, don't trust Barbary Belle at your back."
There was a roar of general agreement, and Jesse giggled again.
"And, Captain Larson," I said, addressing Adam-my mate had taken the name from Jack London's The Sea-Wolf-"you can have gold, and you can have grog. You go after another woman, and you'll be pulling back a stub."
There was a little silence.
"Argh," said Adam with renewed enthusiasm. "I got me a woman. What do I need with more? The women are for my men!"
"Argh!" roared his men. "Bring us gold, grog, and women!"
"Men!" said Auriele, sweet-voiced. "Bring us a few good men."
"Stupidheads," growled Honey. "Die!"
There was a general outcry because, apparently, several someones did.
I laughed my way out the door.
After a moment's thought, I took Adam's SUV. I was going to have to figure out what to do for a daily driver. My beloved Vanagon Syncro was getting far too many miles put on her, and her transmission was rare and more precious than gold on the secondary market. I'd been driving her ever since my poor Rabbit had been totaled, and the van was starting to need more and more repairs. I'd looked at an '87 Jetta with a blown engine a few days ago. They wanted too much for it, but maybe I'd just have to pony up.
The SUV growled the couple of miles to the convenience store that was ten miles closer to home than any other store open at this hour of the night. The clerk was restocking cigarettes and didn't look up as I passed him.
I picked up two dozen overpriced eggs and three equally overpriced bags of chocolate chips and set them on the counter. The clerk turned away from the cigarettes, looked at me, and froze. He swallowed hard and looked away-scanning the bar codes on the eggs with a hand that shook so much that he might save me the effort of cracking the shells myself.
"You must be new?" I suggested, running my ATM card in the reader.
He knew who I was without knowing the important things, I thought.
I found the limelight disconcerting, but I was slowly getting used to it. My husband was Alpha of the local pack; he'd been a household name in the Tri-Cities since the werewolves first revealed their existence a few years ago. When we'd married, I'd gotten a little of his reflected glory, but after helping to fight a troll on the Cable Bridge a couple of months ago, I had become at least as well-known as Adam. People reacted differently to the reality of werewolves in the world. Sensible people stayed a certain length back. Others were stupidly friendly or not-so-stupidly afraid. The new guy obviously belonged to the latter group.
"Started last week," the clerk muttered as he bagged the chocolate chips and eggs as if they might bite him.
"I'm not a werewolf," I told him. "You don't have anything to fear from me. And my husband has put a moratorium on killing gas-station clerks this week."
The clerk blinked at me.
"None of the pack will hurt you," I clarified, reminding myself not to try to be funny around people who were too scared to know I was joking. "If you have any trouble with a werewolf or something like that, you can call us"-I found the card holder in my purse and gave him one of the pack's cards, printed on off-white card stock-"at this number. We'll take care of it if we can."
We all carried the cards now that we'd (my fault) taken on the task of policing the supernatural community of the Tri-Cities, protecting the human citizens from things that go bump in the night. We'd also been called in to find lost children, dogs, and, once, two calves and their guard llama. Zack had composed a song for that one. I hadn't even known he could play guitar.
Sometimes the job of protecting the Tri-Cities was more glamorous than others. The livestock call, in addition to being musically commemorated, had actually been something of a PR coup: photos of werewolves herding small lost calves back home had gone viral on Facebook.
The clerk took the card as if it were going to bite him. "Okay," he lied.
I couldn't do any better than that, so I left with my cookie-making ingredients. I hopped into the SUV and set the bag on the passenger seat as I backed out of the parking space. Frowning, I wondered if his strong reaction might be due to something that had happened to him-a personal incident. I looked both ways before heading out onto the road. Maybe I should go talk to him again.
I was still worrying about the clerk when there was a loud noise that stole my breath. The bag with the eggs in it flew off the seat, and something hit me with a loud bang and a foul smell-and then there was a sharp pain, followed by . . . nothing.
I think I woke up several times, for no more than a few minutes that ended abruptly when I moved. I heard people talking, mostly the voices of unfamiliar men, but I couldn�t understand what they were saying. Magic shimmered and itched. Then a warm breath of spring air drifted through the pain and took it all away. I slept, more tired than I ever remembered being.
When I finally roused, awake and aware for real, I couldn't see anything. I might not have been a werewolf, but a shapeshifting coyote could still see okay in very dim light. Either I was blind, or wherever I was had no light at all.
My head hurt, my nose hurt, and my left shoulder felt bruised. My mouth was dry and tasted bad, as if I'd gone for a week without brushing my teeth. It felt like I'd just been hit by a troll-though the left-shoulder pain was more of a seat-belt-in-a-car thing. But I couldn't remember . . . even as that thought started to trigger some panic, memories came trickling back.
I'd been taking a run to our local Stop and Rob-the same all-night gas station slash convenience store where I'd first met lone and gay werewolf Warren all those years ago. Warren had worked out rather well for the pack . . . I gathered my wandering thoughts and herded them down a track that might do some good. The difficulty I had doing that-and the nasty headache-made me think I might have a concussion.
I considered the loud bang and the eggs and realized that it hadn't been the eggs that had exploded and smelled bad, but the SUV's air bags. I was a mechanic. I knew what blown air bags smelled like. I didn't know what odd effect of shock made me think it might have been the eggs. The suddenness of the accident had combined the related events of the groceries' hitting me and the air bag's hitting me into a cause and effect that didn't exist.
As my thoughts slowly achieved clarity, I realized that the SUV had been struck from the side, struck at speed to have activated the air bags.
With that information, I reevaluated my situation without moving. My face was sore-a separate and lesser pain than the headache-and I diagnosed the situation as my having been hit with an air bag or two that hadn't quite saved me from a concussion or its near cousin. The sore left shoulder wasn't serious, nor was the general ache and horrible weariness.
Probably all of my pain was from the accident . . . car wreck, I supposed, because I was pretty sure it hadn't been an accident. The vehicle that hit me hadn't had its headlights on-I would have remembered headlights. And if it had been a real accident, I'd be in the hospital instead of wherever I was. Under the circumstances, I wasn't too badly damaged . . . but that wasn't right.
I had a sudden flash of seeing my own rib-but though I was sore, my chest rose and fell without complication. I pushed that memory back, something to be dealt with after I figured out where I was and why.
Most helpful customer reviews
34 of 35 people found the following review helpful.
Briggs keeps the characters & the stories delightfully fresh!
By Amy Cissell
First, my only real criticism (and this is for the book specifically as well as the series generally): the book basically opens with Mercy getting kidnapped. Again. There are really only so many times a woman should be kidnapped in her life. (I read a book once where the MC was kidnapped at least four times in one book. That's bordering on ridiculous.) Mercy has spent a lot of time in this series getting kidnapped and assaulted. The saving grace is that she does get to spend some time rescuing her wolves from kidnapping as well.
Sidebar: I would love to read a PNR or urban fantasy series where the main female character is never once kidnapped or sexually assaulted. (I'm totes okay with physical assault, because violence is part of the genre...sexual violence doesn't need to be.)
ANYWAY - the best part of this book? Mercy is a self-rescuing kidnap victim. (The other best part? Bran. I love me some Bran. He is terrifying and awesome, which is exactly as he should be.)
Oh wait! There's a third best part! Larry!
[Elizaveta:] "The blue room should be adequate for the goblin king.
"We don't call ourselves that," said Larry dryly. "That was just that one movie. I mean, 'Larry the Goblin King' just doesn't have the right ring to it."
Ooooh - and Stefan and Marsilia! I do enjoy the vampires (Wulf gives me the wig, though.)
One of the interesting parts of this book was that the chapters were split up between Adam and Mercy chapters, and that made the timeline...a bit wibbly-wobbly (Ms. Briggs is a Whovian; there's a Matt Smith in the book who is definitely not the Doctor). I enjoyed it immensely and thought Ms. Briggs did an exceptional job with that. It was also fun that most of the action took place in Europe - particularly Prague.
The Verdict
It's hard to keep a series and characters interesting and fresh, and Patricia Briggs has managed to continue to do so. This was more than worth the time and money spent for the latest in the series and I'm definitely looking forward to Mercy's next adventure.
11 of 12 people found the following review helpful.
Fast-paced and entertaining UF read displaying reflective depth
By monadh
Ever since I discovered it this has been one of my favorite UF series. This is already the 10th installment of Mercy Thompson, but it’s one of those series that just keeps getting better and better.
In a way Silence Fallen marks a departure from previous installments in several ways. First of all the action is transported from its usual setting of the Pacific Northwest to Europe and takes place almost exclusively in the Northerly region of Italy (from the descriptions either Tuscany or Lombardy) on the one hand and also in Prague, both places imbued with a rich and long history, which also partly feeds into the plot.
Also, practically from the start until the very end Mercy and Adam are separated, and the story is told with a changing POV, following both her and him, but not always in a chronological manner.
On a surface level it appears a pretty simple and straight-forward story: Mercy is abducted (and in the process almost killed) by a European crazy-ass Vampire (Iacopo Bonarata, also going by the more anglisized Joseph) who wants to get his hands on the most powerful person in the territory (which initially, considering Mercy’s relative fragility and physical weakness, might be viewed as a gross misrepresentation), in order to have bargaining power. Naturally Adam, with the help of friends and allies goes after her, but when he arrives in Italy, Mercy has already succeeded in escaping by herself, because her adversaries have underestimated her, as usual. Going forward Adam and Mercy’s abductor find themselves in a race of who can get to Mercy first, while having to do a political tap-dance (not exactly Adam’s forte), while Mercy gets involved in supernatural business in Prague while waiting to be retrieved by Adam and at the same time evading Joseph’s goons.
Although this story is disguised as “simple” Urban Fantasy novel, I felt that on a meta-level it incorporated philosophical ruminations on a variety of topics. I don’t want to go into a discussion of whether that is what the author intended (I don’t know), but it is the way this book spoke to me and in the following I will try to give some examples of where I found this to be the case.
Reflections on the nature of power: when Iacopo first makes his inquiries into who is the most powerful person/creature in the Tri-Cities, Washington area he is told it’s Mercy. After he captures her quite easily and realizes that she has neither physical strength nor any sort of powerful magic he comes to to conclusion that he has been had by his informant, because for him power means physical strength and/or strong magic. He does not realize that Mercy’s strength is different: it is in the people she cares about and who care about her and who therefore are willing to go to war for her, it’s in her resilience, in the fact that she always manages to survive, and in the quickness of her mind that lets her outwit and evade opponents stronger than her. So finally he has to learn the lesson that power does not necessarily equal brute strength or strong magic (although she has quite a bit of that, too).
Allegory of Good Government, Bad Government: there is a famous fresco by Lorenzetti in the town hall of Siena, depicting good government as opposed to bad government. Siena was one of the cultural and political centers of the Renaissance in Italy, vying for preeminence with Florence, the other great Renaissance city. It’s during this time that Iacopo Bonarata (whose name reminds me of that of famous Renaissance artist Michelangelo Buonarroti) grew up and naturally he would have been familiar with Machiavelli’s famous treatise on how to best govern. So he spins his intrigues and plots within plots and plays off enemies and followers alike against each other. As his style of leadership is contrasted against that of Adam (they even have a discussion about it) it does not appear in a favorable light. The question of governance is not only examined by contrasting Joseph and Adam, but is taken up at other points in the novel, for instance when Kocourek, the (former) Master Vampire of Prague protects his human servants, by putting himself between them and potential harm.
Juxtaposition of a naturalistic, Judeo-Christian worldview and an animistic belief-system associated with traditional cultures around the world. This is played out in the subplot with the Golem of Prague: only after acknowledging that the Golem, a being created out of inanimate matter (clay) is in fact animated by a spirit and thus “alive”, is Mercy able to defeat it.
Last but not least Briggs also employs a highly reflective device: metafiction or autoreferentiality, which is the literary equivalent of what in theater is called “breaking the fourth wall”, when – during a play - actors address the audience directly, thus breaking the perceived boundary between the world of the play and the world outside.
Each chapter starts with a sentence or two that seem outside the flow of the narrative and in a way address the reader more directly. In the beginning I was kind of dubious about this device as I was afraid it would disrupt the narrative having the boundary between the world of the book and the outside world blurred. I needn’t have worried as it had rather the opposite effect; I felt even more intimately drawn into the story.
So 5 stars for a fast-paced and entertaining UF read that also displays reflective depth.
60 of 69 people found the following review helpful.
A tangled web...
By Amazon Customer
I liked the concept but felt this book was an overly complicated web that got tangled and left Mercy dangling inactive for 70% of the story, then left too many strings unresolved. This is the first book in the series where I've felt less than satisfied at the end.
POV chapters going back and forth between Mercy and Adams perspective were a neat idea but going back in time with Adam for two chapters in a row while on the edge of my seat wanting to know what was next for Mercy was frustrating and I barely overcame the urge to skim or skip past this chunk of the book. Shorter current time POVs for other characters we love like Stefan or Bran would have been a nice change.
It was also unsatisfying being teased with repeated questions without resolution or only partial backstories when there were obvious opportunities to teach us more about older characters histories. To meet parts of Zacks family and STILL not get answers seemed like a real bait and switch. We also meet people who have known Honey from before her time in Adams pack, where they discuss a crazy werewolf we never heard of before instead of Honey - the character we already cherish and want to know more about.
Reread the last couple chapters trying to understand how a "new" character introduced in the book is really someone we already know well... but somehow only Mercy recognizes (easily) after Adam did not (despite deep involved conversations with this person). Despite the re-reads I just couldn't make it add up into something that made sense.
The last point of frustration in the ending was the "real" reason Mercy ended up in Prague in the first place. It was scattered and felt thin. I hope in future books we can get back to the more straightforward challenge and action, with real tangible new information fleshing out the characters we already love instead of throwing yet more new people into the pot.
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