by Anne Bishop
Monty walked into the pretty café, with its handful of tables and the big glass display cases that were usually full of mouthwatering treats.
Not much in the display cases today.
Nadine walked out of the back room where she did the cooking and baking. “Lieutenant.”
“Ms. Fallacaro, I am so sorry this happened.”
“Could have been worse. Those little bastards could have—would have—done more if Chris hadn’t run downstairs with a baseball bat and started swinging.”
Chris’s father was Nadine’s cousin and the owner of Fallacaro Lock & Key—and a member of the Humans First and Last movement. Chris’s refusal to join the HFL was the reason he was currently staying with Nadine. Monty wondered whether Fallacaro knew or cared that the HFL had targeted members of his family.
“He thinks one of them might have a broken arm,” Nadine continued.
“He’s lucky they didn’t jump him,” Kowalski said.
Nadine gave Kowalski a bitter smile. “They belong to the right kind of human. They didn’t expect the likes of us to object to anything they chose to do, so they weren’t prepared for someone to fight back.”
Not this time, Monty thought. But if there’s a next time? “I’ll explain the situation to Tess. I think she, and Mr. Wolfgard, will understand why you can’t provide—”
“You’ll do no such thing.” Nadine sniffed. “If I give in, then the next demand will be to join the HFL. You think I didn’t notice how many stores are sporting that decal this morning? No, Lieutenant. I’m not closing my café, I’m not letting fools with an agenda tell me who can buy my baked goods and other foods, and by all the gods, I am not putting an HFL decal in my window.” She sniffed again and squared her shoulders. “Besides, anyone who wants to defy the HFL in this neighborhood needs to buy food somewhere.”
Monty extracted one of his business cards, turned it over, and wrote his mobile phone number on the back. “If you or Chris have any more trouble, you call me.” He held out the card. “You call me.”
“You going to the Courtyard?” Nadine asked.
“I am.”
“Could you take a delivery?”
“I can.” Monty turned to Kowalski. “Officer, why don’t you drive the car around to the delivery door.”
“Yes, sir.” Kowalski walked out.
“Discretion, Lieutenant?”
“Practicality.”
Nadine rubbed her hands over her arms, as if trying to warm herself. “You tell Tess that I’ll have the extras she asked for next week.”
“I’ll tell her.” A ringing sound startled him.
“Have to take those cookies out of the oven. Come around to the door over there.”
She opened the Employees Only door for him, and he followed her as she hurried to the back of her shop to pull out the cookies.
Looking at the food she’d already made that morning, Monty figured she’d been up since the wee hours, cleaning up the glass and sealing up the broken window. And then cooking, baking, doing whatever she could with her hands, to ease the hurt in her heart.
“I wasn’t the only one who was targeted last night,” Nadine said as she boxed up the food. “Why do those people think anything will be better if we start fighting among ourselves?”
“I don’t know,” Monty said gently. Then he looked around. “Where is Chris?”
“He’s been trying to find some glass to replace the window. If we can’t get new glass, he’s going to the hardware store to figure out a way to seal up that opening a little better than just using plywood.”
After receiving Nadine’s assurances that she and Chris had things under control, Monty and Kowalski loaded the food in the back of the patrol car and drove away.
“We’re not a delivery service, and we shouldn’t be doing this,” Monty said since Karl wasn’t saying anything quite loudly.
“I don’t think she’s expecting many customers today,” Kowalski said. “She unloaded a lot of what she’d made.”
“I know.”
Kowalski glanced at him. “What’s on your mind, Lieutenant?”
Monty sighed. “If things are starting to unravel like this in Lakeside, how bad is it in other parts of Thaisia?”
• • •
The computer finished downloading the first picture from Jackson. Simon put two sheets of the special glossy paper into the office printer and printed two copies. Then he went on to the next e-mail from Jackson and gave the commands to download the second picture.
He took a copy of the first picture out of the printer as Vlad, Blair, Henry, and Tess walked into the office. He held up the picture for all of them to see as the printer spit out the second copy.
“A mound of bison,” Henry said grimly.
“Hope is good,” Vlad said. “I’ve never seen a real bison, but part of me believes that if I touched the paper, I could feel the shaggy fur, the horns.”
“Smell the blood,” Simon said. “Well, Jackson certainly smells blood on the original drawing.”
Tess stared at the picture. “Bloody footprints—Wolf prints—all over the bodies piled up. Why?”
“We wouldn’t hunt that way,” Simon said. “We don’t hunt that way.”
Vlad shook his head. “We’re missing something—or misunderstanding something. Are you going to show this to Meg?”
A terrible picture. Wanton killing. Not for food or defense.
“Is that a huge paw print?” Vlad pointed at the bottom of the picture, at a shape that looked like it had been created in blood and absorbed until it was a faint impression in the grass near the bison mound.
“Could be a print in the foreground,” Tess said.
Simon looked at Henry. “The Hope pup couldn’t have seen any of them.”
“Who?” Blair asked. “Are you saying there are giant Wolves in the Midwest or Northwest?” He looked at Simon, then at Henry. “Not Wolves.”
“No,” Henry said. “Not Wolves. The primal terra indigene in their true form. The Elders are very large—even when they take a form close enough to what shifters like us have taken.”
“Even then, none of us are actually seen when we’re in our true form.” Simon looked at Henry, who was large in human form and massive as a Grizzly. But when Henry walked in his true form as spirit bear, he was even bigger.
Compared to the Elders, even Henry as spirit bear was small.
“Could they do that?” Tess asked, pointing at Hope’s drawing.
Simon hesitated, then nodded. “Some of them are big enough, and strong enough, to drag a full-grown bison and haul it onto a pile of carcasses. But they don’t hunt that way.” But like the rest of the terra indigene, the Elders studied other predators—and learned from them.
“Simon, you have to show this to Meg,” Vlad said.
The computer pinged, the signal that the second picture from Jackson had finished downloading. Simon put two more pieces of glossy paper into the printer and hit the Print key. “I’ll talk to Meg, but not just . . .” He looked at the printer. Stared at the picture printing on the paper.
“Simon?” When he said nothing, Vlad pulled the sheet from the printer the moment the first copy was done. “What is this?”
An old woman wearing a straw hat, her bare arms browned by the sun so the thin scars showed white. She sat behind a little table, pointing to the cards that were spread out over the top. Her other hand held two cards. One was the image of a young Wolf—Simon recognized it as a picture of himself when he was a juvenile. The other card was a picture of Meg. But not Meg as he knew her. Younger. Lost. Eyes that held little hope. And yet just a touch of defiance in those eyes.
“Simon?” The sharpness in Vlad’s voice made Simon focus on the other terra indigene in the room.
“Part of a memory,” he replied. “And part something else.” The old woman hadn’t known about Meg specifically, so why would the Hope pup draw the picture like that? “Which females are working in the Courtyard today?”
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“Merri Lee and Ruthie are downstairs, pulling stock to send to Jesse Walker in Prairie Gold,” Vlad said.
Simon reached for the picture Vlad held. “I want to show them this picture. I’d like you to e-mail it to Jesse Walker and Steve Ferryman. Maybe the Intuits will have a feeling for what it means.”
“Just this picture or both of them?”
“Would the Intuits on Great Island care about bison?” Henry asked.
Vlad shrugged.
“Send both,” Simon said. Taking the picture of the old woman, he went downstairs and found both girls in the stock room, busily depleting the stock he wanted in the store for next week’s visitors. “Look at this.”
They stopped and stared at the picture.
“I’m not sure what we’re supposed to see,” Ruthie finally said.
He wasn’t sure either. That’s why he showed them the picture.
“What kind of cards is she pointing to?” Merri Lee asked.
Simon growled softly. Couldn’t help it. “I don’t know. She told fortunes. With the cards.” Except she hadn’t used the cards the day he stopped by her table. That day, the old woman had opened a silver razor and cut her skin.
They cocked their heads, such a Wolflike gesture it startled him.
“Tarot?” Merri Lee said, looking at Ruthie.
“Maybe,” Ruthie replied. “But the woman is like Meg, a cassandra sangue. Would one of them use tarot cards? And how can you tell from the picture that she used the cards to tell fortunes?”
“I saw her once when I was a juvenile.” Simon studied the females. He wasn’t going to back away. Or run. But predators had that same focused look in their eyes just before they sprang at their prey.
They have little teeth and little claws that aren’t very sharp. And I can run faster.
“You met her,” Merri Lee said slowly. “So this is a . . .”
“Vision drawing,” he finished. “That’s what we’re calling the pictures the Hope pup makes.”
“A message.” Ruthie pointed to the bottom right-hand corner. “For Meg.”
That look again. “I’m going to show her,” he said, sounding, and feeling, defensive.
“There are some stores around Lakeside University that might sell tarot cards,” Merri Lee said.
“Better if you stay away from the university stores,” Ruthie said. “Karl and I can go after he gets off work.”
Simon nodded agreement. Not that they were considering his opinion at this point. But Merri Lee had been attacked by four students at the university because she worked in the Courtyard, and other students might recognize her if she went into a shop in that area of the city. The possibility of her being hurt by other humans was the reason she was staying in one of the efficiency apartments and hadn’t returned to school. For her to go back would be like a bunny wandering into a field full of wild, hungry dogs.
“All right. I’ll check the phone book and see if I can make a list of potential places,” Merri Lee said.
They started pulling stock again, then stopped.
“Is there anything else, Mr. Wolfgard?”
“No.” Since they were between him and the back door, Simon headed for the front of Howling Good Reads, then went through the archway that connected the bookstore with A Little Bite. Going out the coffee shop’s back door, he headed for the Liaison’s Office.
He wished he didn’t have to stay in human form to talk to Meg about the picture. He wished he could shift to Wolf and give her hand a couple of licks. He always felt better after giving her hand a lick. Couldn’t do that when he looked human. Could he? He hadn’t observed Kowalski or Debany licking their mates’ hands.
Just one more thing he didn’t know about humans.
Then he walked into the sorting room and found Meg standing at the table with postcards spread over the top—and wondered if, in her own way, she already had the answer.
“Meg?” Simon waited until she looked up. “I have something to show you.”
CHAPTER 9
Windsday, Juin 6
Jesse Walker watched Shelley Bookman enter the general store in a way that made Jesse think of stories where the heroine snuck around searching for clues—and usually ended up in a lot of trouble. “Shouldn’t you be at the library?”
“One of my helpers is watching the desk,” Shelley replied, hurrying over to where Jesse was stamping prices on canned goods. “This came for you. You did tell me to monitor your e-mail, and this is from him, with a request that we pass along a copy to Joe Wolfgard.”
“What is it?” Jesse took the envelope from Shelley and noted the tremble in the other woman’s hands. She opened the envelope and pulled out two pieces of paper.
The first picture made her stomach roll, but she studied the dead bison and the bloody paw prints that dotted the carcasses like children’s handprints painted on a large sheet of paper.
“I’ll want to show this to Tobias.” Jesse put that picture back in the envelope. “He was out there this morning with Joe Wolfgard. He can say if this picture is about us.”
The picture of the scarred old woman disturbed her in a different way—and gave her the feeling that she’d seen this before.
The bell above the door jingled. Before Jesse could put away the second picture, Abigail Burch rushed over to them.
Abigail and Kelley Burch were newcomers to Prairie Gold, having arrived last summer. Kelley was a goldsmith who’d quickly realized most of the people in their small town couldn’t afford the kind of jewelry he could make, so he made pieces out of silver and semiprecious stones and eked out a living.
Abigail was a few years younger than Kelley and had blue eyes and strawberry blond hair and a preference for long dresses of a style that Jesse’s grandmother had worn in her younger years. No one would ask, but everyone wondered if Abigail was a bit simple or just a bit peculiar, because she was the only one among them who wasn’t an Intuit. Either way, Kelley, who was an Intuit, loved her, and that was sufficient for the rest of them.
“Jesse?” Abigail always sounded a little unsure and a little breathless. “You’ve talked to the Wolf who’s in charge of the . . .” She waved a hand in the general direction of the hills and the terra indigene settlement. “Could you ask him about the tallow?”
“Tallow?” Jesse looked at Shelley.
Abigail nodded. “I use tallow to make my candles and soaps. I make really nice candles and soaps.”
“You do,” Shelley agreed. “I’ve bought some of them.”
“Tallow, Abigail?” Jesse prompted, hoping for more explanation.
“Kelley heard about the dead bison, and he’s gone over to Floyd Tanner’s to help out however he can. I usually have to buy some of the fat when sheep or cattle are butchered for meat, but I got to thinking about the bison. They would have fat too, wouldn’t they? And I guess some of them are just going to go to waste? So I was wondering if I could harvest some of the fat? If bison have fat?”
Jesse’s left wrist started to ache. She had feelings about everyone in Prairie Gold, and most of the time it was just an easy sense about the person. But when her wrist ached, it was a warning, and she didn’t ignore such warnings. “I’ll ask Mr. Wolfgard. But don’t you go out to that field and try harvesting fat by yourself. There are plenty of predators of all shapes and sizes that are going to be out there feasting. Since Kelley is helping Floyd, he could ask about getting a bit for you to try out.”
Abigail beamed a smile at both of them. Then she looked at the picture in Jesse’s hand. “What’s that?”
“Just a picture someone sent to me.”
“Is the woman reading tarot cards? I read tarot cards. My grandmother read tarot cards. She gave her cards to me when she got feeble. And I bought a set for myself when I was . . . traveling.” Abigail studied the picture. “Why does that woman have so many scars?”
“I think she’s a cassandra sangue.”
“Like those girls who . . .” Abigail blinked. “Why wo
uld she need tarot cards?”
“Not tarot,” Jesse said softly. “Something close. Something I almost remember. Could I see your sets of cards?”
“Sure. I’ll bring them right over.” Abigail dashed out of the store, almost running into Tobias as he tried to enter.
“Need cold drinks. Whatever you’ve got,” he said.
“Why don’t I fill up a wire crate while you talk to Tobias,” Shelley said.
“Talk to me about what?” Tobias wiped his face on his sleeve.
“About this.” Jesse pulled the picture of the bison out of the envelope and watched her son pale. “Did it look like this?”
Tobias shook his head. “Mom, you can’t show that picture around.”
“I was asked to give it to Joe Wolfgard. You and Shelley are the only ones in town who have seen it. The only ones who will see it.” She wanted to rub the ache in her wrist, but he knew her tell just like she knew why he sometimes pressed a hand against his right ribs when he was sensing something strong. “What spooks you about this?”
“Can’t say.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
Tobias gave her a hard look. “Won’t. Truman and I saw something this morning, something humans don’t usually see and live to tell about it.”
Jesse looked at the one paw print that was different from the smaller Wolf prints painted on the bison. “All right, Tobias. I still have to give the picture to Joe Wolfgard.” She hesitated. “Abigail Burch wondered if she could have some bison fat for making her candles and soap.”
“Mom . . .” Tobias didn’t continue, and Jesse heard the tick-tick-tick of her old clock. “I’ll ask, but you make sure Abigail—and Kelley—knows she can’t be wandering out there by herself.”
Shelley put the wire crate on the counter, filled with bottles of juice and soda. “I figured Floyd has water.”
“He does. Thanks Shelley.” Tobias lifted the crate, gave Jesse a look that was both hard and pleading, then walked out of the store.
