by Anne Bishop
“We’ll figure something out,” Jesse said quietly. “You should shift back to Wolf now. You’ll be warmer wearing fur.”
The girl nodded. After shifting, she joined the other Wolves, who were huddled in one area. All the terra indigene young had chosen a particular spot, each gard keeping to itself. In the center were the Intuits, setting out blankets, pulling out cups for drinking and packages of food.
Ellen Garcia came up to Jesse, who leaned against a rock and divided her attention between the game trail and the camp.
“I’ve got about thirty pounds of raw meat packed on one of those burros,” Ellen said.
“Told you not to bring anything we needed to cook.” Thirty pounds? No wonder they’d had to leave a few things behind, even with women wearing packs of things babies and small children would need.
“Didn’t bring it for us.”
Jesse looked at the other woman. Tobias was the foreman of the Prairie Gold ranch, but Ellen and Tom looked after the buildings and vehicles, and Ellen cooked for the men. She also had some training as an accountant, so she kept the books for the ranch as well as the dairy and produce farms. While Jesse liked Shelley Bookman and considered her a friend, she recognized Ellen as a kindred spirit—a woman who got on with what needed to be done.
She huffed out a breath as she glanced at the terra indigene young. Meat eaters, every one of them. “Didn’t think of that.”
“No reason why you would. We have a couple of cattle dogs, so packing some raw meat in the provisions is second nature for me. I’ll take care of that part of the camp.”
“Thanks.”
They enjoyed a comfortable minute of silence, just listening to the other women settling the children. Then Ellen said, “You trying as hard as I am to not think about what’s happening on the ranch and in town?”
Jesse nodded. “I keep thinking we’d see the smoke if the worst happened, but I’m not sure that’s true.”
“Guess we’ll find out in the morning.”
“Guess we will.”
“Well. I’d best get to chopping up some of that meat before all the youngsters realize they’re hungry.”
Jesse worked up a smile. “Feeding that crew should be interesting.”
While Ellen went to work preparing meat for the furred and feathered, Jesse continued to keep watch. Had Rachel seen clearly what human eyes and brain refused to understand? What might have happened if a Wolf hadn’t spoken up for them?
What would happen to any of them if there was no one like Joe Wolfgard left to speak for them when the Elders came down from the hills?
Jesse rubbed the ache in her left wrist.
They were coming. She knew that as surely as she knew her own name.
• • •
Ignoring the dead bison, they gathered around the Wolves who had been heaped into a mound. They sniffed, circled, considered.
The anger grew slowly, filled muscle and bone and blood. And in a few of them, it . . . changed. They rose on their hind legs and shifted the shapes of legs and hips in order to stand upright. Front paws changed to hands, but the fingers still retained the claws of a predator. The body reshaped to a powerful torso and shoulders, a strong neck, and a head that retained the teeth and jaws that could bite through bone.
They would tower over their prey, but this shape would be able to enter dwellings, dig out what tried to hide.
One of them turned and took a few hesitant steps on its newly shaped legs. It grasped the horns of a bison with its new hands and, with all the strength of its true form, gave a savage twist and tore off the bison’s head. Dropping the head, it raked its claws over the belly and watched the entrails slide out.
Those who had taken this necessary but unwelcome shape shifted back to their true form.
Then they all headed for the human town called Bennett, and their footsteps filled the land with a terrible silence.
CHAPTER 36
Firesday, Juin 22
Jackson in Wolf form and five Intuits on horseback watched the pickup trucks burn. They had stopped—or exploded—yards away from the simple barricade that the terra indigene and Intuits had set up across the road that led to the Sweetwater settlement and village.
The fire sweeping over the land had begun at the two pickups, which must have carried many containers of gasoline as well as the men who had intended to burn down the Intuit village. Now it rushed toward Endurance, the human-controlled town in the distance.
“Gods above and below,” one man said quietly. “If the wind turns again . . .”
The fire should have raged toward Sweetwater. Instead it had turned with a deliberation that couldn’t be explained as anything but conscious choice and headed for the few human ranches that had been established on the land around Endurance, setting the pastures ablaze before turning toward the houses and stores.
“Supply trucks will charge more if they have to come all the way to Sweetwater,” another man said.
“Assuming there’s still a right-of-way and any trucks can reach us,” the third man said.
Jackson noticed how careful they all were not to look at him as they spoke.
They were right. Supply trucks didn’t want to waste the gasoline to drive to Sweetwater when they could leave most merchandise at a rented storage area in the human town. They were also correct that the right-of-way through the wild country would no longer exist, and there was no certainty that anything would be able to reach them, whether the town burned or not.
Trading post, Jackson thought as his eyes followed the dirt road that ribboned through the burning land. We could build a trading post near the place where our road connects to the paved road that leads to the human town. There is already a gas station and little store at that spot. Even a depot where things could be dropped off for the Intuits and Others would be enough. Earth native trucks would still be allowed to use the roads, even if the Elders completely turned against humans. We could still bring in what we need—if those things still exist.
“Nothing we can do about that fire except let it burn,” the first man said.
A clump of wetness fell on Jackson’s nose. He licked it, then looked up, surprised by the sudden cold.
Snow? Snow? Now? He’d already shed his winter coat. Why was there snow now?
“Shit,” one man muttered. “Didn’t come prepared for this.”
Jackson licked another snowflake off his nose.
One flake. Two. Ten. A thousand.
“We need to get back to the village while we can still find the road,” the second man said. “Jackson?”
One moment he watched the snow follow the path of the fire and lay a blanket over the land. The next moment, he could barely see the men and horses he’d accompanied.
The Hope pup was dressed for summer, and she’d been running toward the stream. If the Wolves got wet, they got wet. Their fur—even a summer coat—would protect them well enough from cold. But Hope . . .
Jackson headed back to Sweetwater, reminding himself to stay on the road since the Intuits would follow him and would end up lost and sick if he had to curl up and wait out the storm.
Then he trotted into bright sunlight and stopped so fast one of the horses almost stepped on him.
“By the gods,” one of the men breathed.
Sunlight. Warmth.
Jackson moved out of the way and shook out his fur before looking back at the wall of snow that was quickly turning into a few fluffy, lazy snowflakes. Then even those stopped falling.
“Maybe we should . . .”
Seeing the men look back, Jackson shifted to human form and wished he had some clothes, not for modesty but for warmth. “Do you have any reason to believe the humans in those trucks are still alive?”
They hesitated, not quite looking at him after the first glance. Then they shook their heads.
“Then stay on this side of the barricade. Stay on the land the Intuits are permitted to use. At least for now.”
“Going to have to deal with those trucks sometime. The remains will have to be returned to their families.”
Jackson caught a scent in the air that made him shiver. He looked at the men who weren’t quite looking at him. How to tell them what his instincts howled? “The wild country begins at the barricade now. It . . . surrounds . . . us. It surrounds that human town.”
“It always did.”
“Not like this.” He watched them pale.
Silence. Then, “No way out?”
“Not for a few days.” Didn’t want to be in this skin, didn’t want to look human.
Jackson shifted back to Wolf. Nothing more he could tell the Intuits anyway. Not yet.
He ran home to find Grace and the Hope pup near the stream with the rest of the pack. The sweet blood seemed dazed until he licked her cheek. Then she threw her arms around him and started crying.
When the Hope pup finally stopped crying, she washed her face in the stream while Jackson rolled in the grass to clean his fur. Then he and Grace led their prophet pup back to the Wolfgard cabin. He went in first and removed the terrible drawings, hiding them in the kitchen area until he could decide what to do with them.
Grace came in next. Together they opened the windows in the bedroom and bathroom and washed the pee smell off the floor as best they could.
Leaving the Hope pup dozing on the porch with the rest of the pack guarding her, Jackson and Grace trotted to the communications cabin at the edge of the settlement. The Hawk who had been answering the phone looked at them with sad eyes as he handed a message to Jackson after the two Wolves shifted to human form.
“Who is it from?” Grace asked.
“Vlad Sanguinati,” Jackson replied. “Simon and the Lakeside pack are all right.”
“Vlad asked about you,” the Hawk said. “I told him the Sweetwater pack was all right too. I’ve been calling the number like you asked me to, but there’s no answer.”
“I already know part of the answer. The Hope pup drew a picture of it.” But he’d been hoping Joe had received the warning in time.
Grace sucked in a breath.
“Phone is working, then not working,” the Hawk said.
“It might be like that for a while.” Nothing he could do right now. Nothing any of them could do right now except wait. “We’ll be at the Wolfgard cabin if any more messages come in.”
Grace waited until they were trotting back to the cabin.
They were safe. For tonight, all the terra indigene in the settlement were safe.
CHAPTER 37
Firesday, Juin 22
Simon felt the exact moment when Meg relaxed.
It’s over, he thought. At least for us.
He’d lost track of time, had no sense of how long they’d been hiding in that dip of land. Since he didn’t have to worry about Meg now, he considered the other problem.
He considered the next, and more immediate, problem.
Simon sighed, then moved his head, resting it against Meg’s back. It was the only part of her that smelled more like Meg and less like vomit.
• • •
Monty gave Kowalski full marks for his driving skills, but he still wished cars had brake pedals on the passenger side. As it was, Kowalski whiskered by the patrol car assigned to block the intersection of Parkside and Crowfield avenues.
They would have been heading for the Courtyard earlier if Captain Burke hadn’t called everyone in for emergency assignments. No one, including Burke, was sure of what was going on. But after Burke received a call from Pete Denby, he had placed an urgent call to Agent Greg O’Sullivan, who, in turn, must have called Governor Hannigan. Despite the slim amount of information available, the governor had issued emergency orders that amounted to an ultimatum for the entire Northeast Region: block access to every Courtyard; block every street that led to a settlement controlled by the terra indigene; arrest anyone who tried to get around the barriers. Trains were detained at whatever station they were in. No travel of any kind between towns until further notice. The severest measures allowed by law would be taken against anyone who attacked, or attempted to attack, any of the terra indigene or any human who worked with the terra indigene.
Hannigan’s orders were a declaration of war on the Humans First and Last movement, and he expected the police departments in every city to uphold that declaration. And any officer who couldn’t, or wouldn’t, obey those orders was expected to resign immediately.
Plenty of speculation but no explanations. And no one on Monty’s team had told anyone outside the “police pack” about the frightened phone calls that had come in from Merri Lee and Ruth. There had been some kind of dustup between Robert Denby and Nathan at about the same time that something had happened to Meg, and now the Wolves were gone. All of them. Didn’t close up the stores, didn’t even close doors. They just ran off.
The girls couldn’t find Tess, couldn’t find Vlad or Henry, couldn’t find a single Crow to tell them what was going on, but they believed there was a serious problem.
Pete Denby said much the same thing to Burke. Something very bad was happening, and not just around Lakeside. The children were in the Market Square medical office. The terra indigene were . . . gone.
Armed with that information, Burke had informed O’Sullivan and then circumvented the Lakeside police’s chain of command by calling patrol captains Zajac and Wheatley for help. Before Police Commissioner Kurt Wallace, who was a member of the HFL, even knew there was a potentially lethal problem, the police were locking down the city—and bracing for whatever was coming.
“Gods, this feels creepy,” Kowalski muttered as he pulled into the Courtyard’s Main Street entrance and then eased the patrol car down the access way.
“Like a ghost town you read about in stories.” Once the car was parked in a space usually reserved for the earth native delivery trucks, Monty hurried toward the medical office. “Did Ruth and Merri Lee say where they would be?”
“With the kids and Theral and Pete Denby. Safety in numbers.”
He hoped that was true.
• • •
Vlad hung up the phone with exaggerated gentleness just as Eve Denby strode up to Howling Good Reads’ checkout counter. He’d managed to avoid dealing with the female pack since the Wolves went into hiding. Now . . .
“Did my son cause whatever this is?” Eve asked.
Vlad shook his head.
“Then I’ll hand out a suitable punishment.”
He said nothing. Tolya’s voice on the phone. So flat, so . . . empty.
“I’ll clean up Meg’s office. Being a mother, I’ve dealt with my share of puke.”
He said nothing.
“Hey.” Eve reached out. Almost touched his hand. “Is Meg really hurt?”
He looked at her. Honest concern. Would that make any difference now? “Joe Wolfgard is dead.”
“Oh.” Immediate sympathy. “Some kind of accident?”
“No. We call
ed to warn him, and he tried to stop the pack from running into the trap, but . . .” Vlad sighed. “Except for the nanny who went with the pups, all the adult Wolves in the Prairie Gold pack are dead. Slaughtered. By humans.”
Eve looked out the store’s windows. She’d been working across the street. She would have heard the sirens, seen the police cars. Probably had a call from Pete since she knew about Nathan dealing with Robert.
Eve rammed her fingers through her short hair. “Does Simon . . . Does anyone else here know?”
“Not yet.” He felt so strange. The Wolfgard and the Sanguinati were different forms of terra indigene, but he felt so strange. One death was sorrow, but a whole pack . . . Maybe it was because Tolya had sounded so empty when he called.
Or maybe it was because Vlad thought he would sound the same way if it had been Simon.
“Can I do anything for you?”
He focused on Eve. “No. Thank you.”
She nodded. “I’ll get Ruth and Merri Lee. We’ll give Meg’s office a good clean and airing. Put the Closed sign on the door.”
“Yes. All right.” Had to tell Grandfather Erebus.
Eve hesitated. “I heard on the radio . . . I don’t know if it makes a difference, but it sounds like Governor Hannigan is doing what he can to support the terra indigene.” She walked out of the store.
I don’t know if it will make a difference either, Vlad thought.
He checked the front door and made sure it was locked, then went through the archway to A Little Bite and turned the lock on that door. Maybe the coffee shop should stay open to give the police drinks and food, but he saw no sign of Tess—and no sign of Nadine Fallacaro, for that matter. Well, if Nadine showed up and wanted to serve food, she could.
Returning to HGR, Vlad went upstairs to check the e-mails, but after reading a couple, he shut off the computer.
