by Anne Bishop
Meg nodded.
“Oh, honey, if that’s the case, I’m not sure that man can pay anyone enough to do that much tedious work.”
“It’s not tedious, and it’s not that much work—or it won’t be after I take care of the backlog.” The prickling in her arm got worse, and she began to feel uneasy. She shouldn’t have that sensation so soon after a cut. Was it a sign that there was something wrong with her? The Walking Names always told the girls they couldn’t survive long outside the compound because they would be overwhelmed by the world. Jean said that was a lie, but it had been a long time since Jean had lived on the outside, so maybe she didn’t remember things correctly anymore.
“Well, why don’t you bring some of that mail out here so we can get acquainted? I could even give you a hand,” Asia said.
Meg shook her head and shuffled her feet back another half step toward the Private door. “It’s nice of you to offer, but the mail has to stay in the sorting room, and no one else is allowed in there without Mr. Wolfgard’s permission.”
“Well, Simon isn’t going to mind me helping out.” Asia braced her hands on the counter. A little jump and turn had her sitting on top and swinging her legs over.
That was when the Private door opened all the way and Simon lunged out of the sorting room, knocking Meg aside. As he made a grab for Asia, she squealed, swung her legs back over the counter, and scrambled out of reach.
“Simon does mind,” he snarled. “And the next time you swing a leg over a counter and try to put it where it doesn’t belong, you’re going back over the counter minus a leg!”
Asia bolted out the door and ran until she reached the sidewalk. Then she turned and stared at them before hurrying down the street.
Meg pressed herself against the wall, wanting to get farther away but not daring to move. “M-Mr. Wolfgard, I told her she wasn’t allowed, but it sounded like—”
“I heard what it sounded like,” he snarled. “I don’t pay you to yak with other monkeys when there’s work to be done. And if you want this job, there’s still plenty of work in there.”
“I—I know.”
“Why are you stuttering? Are you cold?”
Not daring to speak, she shook her head.
His next snarl sounded as full of frustration as anger. After one more menacing glance outside, he walked back into the sorting room.
Moments later, Meg heard the back door slam.
Shaking and still too scared to move, she began to cry.
* * *
Simon stormed through the back door of Howling Good Reads, stripped off his clothes, and shifted to Wolf, unable to stand being in that human shape a moment longer. Then he howled, letting all his fury ride in the sound.
He didn’t know why he was so angry. He just knew that something about the tone of Meg’s voice when she was trying to defend her territory—and being so damned inadequate about it!—had tripped something inside his brain.
John was the first to reach the stockroom, but one look at Simon had him backing away. Tess came next, her hair streaked green and red.
“Simon?” Tess said. “What’s wrong?”
Before he could answer, the back door opened again, almost smacking his hindquarters. He whirled and snapped at Jenni, who had shifted from Crow and now was a naked, shivering human.
She ignored the cold and she ignored him, which was beyond insulting since he was the leader of this Courtyard. Instead, she focused on Tess.
“Simon was being mean. He made the Meg cry. I’m going over to the store to see if I can find a sparkly that will make her smile again. The Meg smiles a lot—when the Wolf isn’t snarling at her.”
Jenni stepped back outside, shifted into a Crow, and flew off to Sparkles and Junk.
Swinging around him and following Jenni out of the door, Tess said over her shoulder, “I’ll talk to Meg and see if I can repair the damage.”
He wasn’t sure she intended for him to hear the muttered, “Idiot.”
He looked at John, who was now crouched to bring his head lower than Simon’s.
John brought his clothes up, set them on the nearest chair, and hurried back downstairs.
Simon prowled the office, then howled again.
He hadn’t snarled at Meg. Not exactly. But he doubted there was a female in the Courtyard who was going to see it his way today.
Shifting back to human, he got dressed. Then he went to the window facing Crowfield Avenue and stared out. The streets were in decent shape. Not down to pavement yet, but passable.
Turning away from the window, he looked at the stacks of paperwork waiting for him because he had encouraged more contact with humans as a way of keeping better track of them.
“It was easier when all we wanted to do was eat them and take their stuff,” he grumbled.
And it had been easier when he hadn’t cared if he made any of them cry.
* * *
Asia shook so hard she couldn’t get the keys in the ignition to start her car.
Bigwig had told her dealing with the Others was a risky assignment, which was why he and the other backers had been willing to let her take her time infiltrating the Courtyard. In the months she’d been living in Lakeside and hanging around HGR, she hadn’t seen more than posturing and snarls from the Wolves and not even that much menace from the rest of the Others. Now she realized Bigwig had paid her so much up front because he had known that risky could mean deadly.
Pulling the flask out of the glove box, she took a long swallow of whiskey to steady her nerves. Then she took another to dim the image of her legs being torn off by a Wolf.
“Freaking Wolf,” she said after the third swallow. “Damn freaking Wolf should have been in his own store instead of sniffing around a no-looks female.” And he hadn’t just hired a female with no looks and no sense of fashion to represent the Courtyard; he had hired a feeb!
She had expected a man, had dressed to introduce herself to a man, had figured the reason Wolfgard hadn’t chosen her was because Liaisons were usually men and a man had applied for the job. Instead, Wolfgard had hired a feeble-minded, weird-haired girl who thought sorting mail was interesting.
Asia took another sip, then put the flask back in the glove box.
If Meg wasn’t a feeb, what kind of person would want the Liaison’s job for its own sake? Someone who had a reason to hide—that’s who. From what? From whom? The driver of that white van was keeping tabs on something or someone in the Courtyard, and Meg Corbyn was the only new employee.
She had a name and description to give Bigwig when she reported in tonight. That might help him figure out who would be interested in someone like Meg. Until he got back to her with whatever information he could gather at his end, she was going to be Meg Corbyn’s new best friend and use that friendship to learn whatever she could about the Courtyard. And that meant dealing with Simon Wolfgard.
Suicide by Wolf. She’d heard the phrase plenty of times. Now she understood what it meant. But if she didn’t push Simon now, she’d never get another shot at Meg.
She debated for a moment, then decided whiskey breath would suit this little drama. After all, no human in the bookstore would expect someone to start a confrontation with a Wolf unless that person was a little drunk. And she thought Asia Crane, SI, would be the kind of investigator who would have a checkered past and the need to have a daytime drink once in a while.
She needed to write these ideas down for the day when she met with Bigwig to discuss her TV show.
She got out of her car and strode to Howling Good Reads. As soon as she walked into the store, she balled her hands into fists and shouted, “Simon Wolfgard! You get your butt
over here! I have words to say to you!”
Several people dropped books. Then an awful silence filled the bookstore when Simon appeared. Asia hoped the lenses of his glasses were picking up some kind of light that made his eyes look glowing—and red.
Before he got too close, she launched her verbal attack. “Simon Wolfgard, you are meaner than a rabid skunk!”
“You were where you didn’t belong!” he roared.
“Well, pardon me for trying to be friendly! I just dropped by to introduce myself and give your new employee a bit of a welcome. I didn’t realize she was forbidden to have a simple conversation with another human. It’s plain as plain that poor girl has some challenges.” Asia tapped her temple. It didn’t matter if Simon understood the gesture; all the humans in the store would recognize it and assume he had hired a feeb. “And then when someone takes an interest in her, all you do is make threats. It wouldn’t surprise me one bit if she slips away some night and doesn’t come back because of the way you treated her. Do you know what you are, Simon?”
“No,” he growled. “What am I?”
“You’re nothing but a bully with fangs! A human would have to be desperate to work for someone like you!”
“You were willing to work for me—and do more.”
Her face heated, but she lifted her chin. “That was before I realized you Others mimic humans to get what you want, but you don’t know anything about what’s inside a human.”
Simon bared his teeth. “We know what’s inside a human. Tasty bits. Especially the heart and liver.”
Her knees weakened and her heart pounded. Her voice quavered, but she shifted to quiet and dignified when she said, “I have nothing more to say to you.”
She walked out of the store. When she reached the parking lot, she bolted to her car, braced a hand on the hood, and threw up.
Fear and whiskey aren’t a good mix, she thought as she drove to her apartment. She would take a hot shower, put on some comfy clothes, and indulge herself by watching her favorite movies for the rest of the day.
In a couple of days, she’d go back to Howling Good Reads and see if she had a shot at spending time with the new Liaison.
At least she accomplished one thing. If Meg Corbyn disappeared one night, for whatever reason, everyone would figure she was running away from Simon Wolfgard and no one would make much effort to find her.
* * *
Meg sniffled and sorted mail. She didn’t have enough money left to run again, so she had to hang on to this job long enough to get paid.
She glanced up when the door to the back room opened but didn’t say anything until Tess stood on the other side of the table.
“Mr. Wolfgard left his coffee.” She glanced at Tess, then focused on the mail. She remembered seeing green in Tess’s hair yesterday, but not the red. Was changing hair color some kind of hobby? And if it was, why was Simon snapping about her hair?
Tess pursed her lips as she studied the insulated, covered mug. “Actually, he brought that for you.”
Startled, Meg looked up.
Tess nodded. Then she said gently, “What happened, Meg? You’ve been crying, Simon’s riled up, and the Crows just told me that Asia bolted out of here like the whole pack was on her heels.”
“I was starting to sort the mail when she came in and introduced herself. She said Mr. Wolfgard had promised she could have this job, but he hired me instead. So she was curious about what I did besides sign for packages.”
“Did you tell her?”
“I said I sorted the mail for the Courtyard.”
“Did you tell her anything about who is in the Courtyard? Mention any names?”
Meg shook her head. “I guess it’s natural for people to be curious about this place, but offering to help me sort the mail seemed too forward. But some people are like that,” she added defensively. “Outgoing and chatty. Harry from Everywhere Delivery is chatty too, but Jester didn’t say talking to Harry was wrong, and I did tell Asia I needed to get back to work. She shouldn’t have sat on the counter or swung her legs over, but people do that when they want to chat. They sit on a piece of furniture and swing their legs.”
Now that she wasn’t as scared, Meg started to get mad. “Then Mr. Wolfgard showed up and threatened to bite Asia’s leg. So she ran off, and she’ll probably never come back.”
“Do you want her to come back?” Tess asked.
“I have questions,” Meg countered. “Things I can’t ask him.”
Tess raised her eyebrows. “He’s a Mr. Wolfgard and a him?” She sighed. “What kind of questions?”
“I didn’t see a place in the Market Square to wash clothes. Am I supposed to wash them in the bathroom sink or . . .” Going to a laundry beyond the Courtyard wasn’t something she wanted to consider.
Looking thoughtful in a scary kind of way, Tess picked up the insulated mug and handed it to Meg. “It won’t be hot, but it should still be warm. By the way, that mug isn’t something you should put in the wave-cooker.”
“Okay.” Meg took the mug, removed the lid, and obediently took a sip of coffee.
“As for doing laundry, we send out some things to a laundry service—like bedspreads, curtains, and . . . other things we don’t want to handle. There is also a coin-operated washing machine and dryer in the social center that employees are allowed to use. And each residential complex has a laundry room.”
“Are there instructions for using the coin-operated machines?”
Training image. A commercial laundry, its walls spattered with blood, and two people dead on the floor.
Meg shivered.
“Tell you what,” Tess said. “I’ll come by around four thirty. That’s long enough past the office’s usual closing for any delivery trucks that are still slowed down by the snow. We’ll go to the clothing store and pick up whatever you need to get you through a few more days. Then I’ll take you over to the laundry room at the Green Complex. Did anyone give you your Market Square card?”
“Jester dropped it off with my pass, but he didn’t explain what it did.”
“Typical,” Tess muttered. “Do just enough to stir things up. It goes like this. Everyone who works at any of our stores is paid in human currency and also receives credit that can be used at any store in the Courtyard. So while your pay may not seem like much in terms of the money you get, you’re also getting double that amount credited on your card each week. At the end of each month, you can stop in at our bank and receive a slip telling you what you have left on the card.”
Since she didn’t have to pay for her apartment, the wages were more generous than she’d thought.
“I don’t pretend to understand humans,” Tess said. “Giving both sides a chance to understand each other is the reason the Business Association decided to open up some of the stores to human customers. So I’ll talk to Simon about letting Asia Crane drop by to chat—as long as you and she understand that Simon will kill her if he catches her scent where it doesn’t belong. But if you have questions about being in the Courtyard, you can ask me. All right?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
Tess smiled and glanced at the clock on the wall. “Then I’ll let you get back to work. The ponies will be coming soon. Don’t forget to come by on your lunch break. A Little Bite is providing the midday meal.”
“I’ll remember.”
She waited until Tess left, then put the Back in Five Minutes sign on the counter, locked the Private door, and went into the bathroom to wash her face. Nothing she could do about the puffy eyes, but dust could cause puffy eyes too, couldn’t it? And that corner that held the older mailbags and packages was dusty.
She unlocked the Private door and tucked the sign under the counter just in time for another delivery truck to drive up.
It looked like she’d get to try out th
e dust excuse and see if anyone actually believed it.
* * *
“SIMON!”
Hearing Tess’s voice, Simon vaulted over the checkout counter, an instinctive response to some knowledge embedded into the essence of his kind. When she strode from the back of the store, he knew why he wanted to give himself room to fight.
Her hair was completely red and coiling as she walked toward him.
Not black. Not the death color. But close enough.
Tess looked around. Her voice thundered through HGR. “Howling Good Reads is closed for the day. Anyone who is still in the store sixty seconds from now will never be seen again.”
Others and humans ran for the nearest door, whether it was HGR’s street door or the archway to A Little Bite.
“Tess?” Julia Hawkgard called from the archway. “Are we closing too?”
“Customers go. You and Merri Lee stay to close up.”
When Simon turned toward the street door to lock it and flip the sign to CLOSED, Tess snarled, “Not you, Wolfgard.”
He walked up to her. “I’m the leader of this Courtyard. You live here because of my invitation. Remember that.”
Threads of black appeared in her red hair.
“If I have to make friends with a monkey in order to clean up your mess, you’re going to make some concessions,” she said.
“You don’t have to make friends with anyone.” He wasn’t sure she was capable of making friends. And despite the efforts he and Henry had made over the years, they still didn’t know what kind of terra indigene Tess was. But they knew she could kill. They did know that.
“Well, I have. For the sake of the Courtyard, I have made friends with our Human Liaison. Now it’s your turn.”
“What do you expect me to do? Asia Crane would have pushed where she didn’t belong, and she’ll keep pushing.”
