by Anne Bishop
“But you can get inside the Courtyard and walk around without raising any alarms.”
“True, but humans are watched all the time.”
The man downed his drink and ordered another round. “Not all the time. A distraction can have them focused on one part of the Courtyard, leaving another part . . . exposed.” He turned his glass. Turned it and turned it. “They’ve got something that belongs to me. I haven’t been able to reach it, but I know where it is. I need access to the Market Square for a few minutes. Just long enough to grab what’s mine and get out again. And if I can’t take it with me, I’m going to make sure it’s of no use to anyone.”
The man pulled some money out of his pocket and fanned the bills on the bar. Ten fifty-dollar bills.
“Just a distraction that would draw attention away from the Market Square,” the man said. “Enough commotion and noise to let me get in and out. What do you think?”
Five hundred dollars to make some noise and cause some trouble for the freaks?
The man left one fifty on the bar and pocketed the rest. “Just for listening.”
“If you need to move in a hurry, how am I going to get the rest?”
There was more than a hint of mean in the man’s smile now—and in his blue eyes. “I’ll make sure the money gets to you.”
Jimmy licked his lips. Five hundred dollars would set him up for a little while, especially if Sandee didn’t know he had the money. “When?”
“Tomorrow.” The man held out a hand. “Do we have a deal?”
Jimmy didn’t hesitate. He clasped the man’s hand. “I’m Jimmy.”
The man squeezed Jimmy’s hand just a little too hard. “I’m Jack.”
To: Vladimir Sanguinati and Simon Wolfgard
Bennett’s new residents arrived. The humans who will be working on the farms and ranches are staying in town for a couple of days to receive instructions from Tobias Walker, the foreman of Prairie Gold’s ranch, and Stewart Dixon, a human rancher who was helpful to Joe Wolfgard and is making an effort to work with us in exchange for being able to visit Bennett to buy supplies and allow his people to attend social events like going to the movies or attending a concert or play. I’m not sure if there will be professional concerts or plays for a while, but the movie theater informed me that they have received several movies, so there will be some entertainment for the humans—and for us. I’ll keep you informed.
—Tolya
Messis 14
Dear Jenni,
Arrived in Bennett. I’m staying at the hotel while I choose the furniture for my bedroom. I met Barb, my housemate, and Virgil, my new boss. I start work tomorrow.
—Jana
CHAPTER 13
Sunsday, Messis 14
As the Owlgard headed home and the rest of the gards still slept, their footsteps filled the Market Square with an odd, and frustrated, silence.
They couldn’t find the scent of tasty Wolf cookies anywhere except the working den of the howling not-Wolf. There were interesting scents in the Harvester’s working den, especially during the day when so many terra indigene and humans hurried and scurried in and out of the cluster of buildings. And then the scents, so fresh and strong, disappeared—the food consumed.
They were strong, and their claws could open doors so easily, but the Wolfgard and the Sanguinati were already unhappy about their insistence on keeping the insignificant human predator close by. If they broke into the working dens of the Harvester and the not-Wolf to look for the tasty or some other treat, the smaller shifters would be angry. So would the Harvester. And the not-Wolf? If she became frightened, she might abandon the working den—and enough smaller shifters, if willing to sacrifice many, could seriously wound an Elder. And the Harvester working with them would do the rest.
They continued to prowl around the cluster of buildings, finally ending up at the back door of the not-Wolf’s working den. How did the not-Wolf know when to supply the tasty for the Wolves? How did the not-Wolf know what to bring to the smaller shifters when she got into her box and did the baby-bunny scoot around the Courtyard?
They went to the building across the access way from the not-Wolf’s working den. The male yanked on the door, snapping the locks. While he went inside and selected paper and a writing stick, the female went hunting for something they could leave in exchange.
Exchange, after all, was different from taking. Taking was bad, but exchange was something humans did.
• • •
As he drove them to work, Simon kept glancing at Meg. She’d been broody last night, despite watching the Wolf Team movies with him and Sam, and it seemed that mood hadn’t changed.
“Is your lip bothering you?” It looked sore, and he wanted to take care of her by licking it—something he knew he shouldn’t do.
“It hurts, but not too bad.” She huffed. “You have to talk to Skippy. He can’t keep pushing at people’s feet to get them to corral his dish when he eats ice cream.”
“He wasn’t pushing at people; he was arranging your feet to hold his dish.”
“Well, I’m a people!”
“But you’re the one who taught him to do that.”
She sputtered. “I didn’t think he would remember. He forgets everything else.”
“Not everything. Skippy remembers what’s important to Skippy.” He looked at her and laughed. “You’re wearing your grumpy-pony face.”
“Ha-ha. You are so funny.”
He felt good. The cut on Sam’s face would heal just fine. There was a question about whether Meg’s lip would have a scar, but since it wasn’t a likely place for her to deliberately make a cut, he didn’t think it was a concern—unless it interfered with her ability to eat. In the wild country, an injury that prevented a Wolf from consuming food or water usually meant death.
But Meg had eaten scrambled eggs for dinner and had her ice cream in a bowl yesterday so that she wouldn’t have to bite into the cone. She might not be able to eat everything she wanted, but she wouldn’t grow weak while the wound healed. Simon pulled up behind the Liaison’s Office, then watched while Meg unlocked the back door and went inside. He parked the BOW in the garage and connected it to the power hookup to charge. As he headed for Howling Good Reads, he passed Chris Fallacaro, who had a bag of tools slung over one shoulder.
“Have to replace the lock on the Three Ps’ front door,” Chris said. “Lorne already talked to Mr. Sanguinati about it.”
The human smelled . . . odd. Not quite frightened but more than nervous.
Uneasy now, Simon hurried to the bookstore. But he glanced back at the Liaison’s Office and wondered if he should tell Meg to lock the back door.
Vlad stood behind the checkout counter, setting up the cash drawer in the register. “There was sort of a break-in at the Three Ps last night or early this morning.”
Simon scratched behind one ear. “Why? There’s nothing but paper and office supplies in there. And how do you have ‘sort of a break-in’?”
“Well, it’s ‘sort of’ because someone entered by destroying the locks on the door and th
en took some paper and maybe a marker or pen. Lorne isn’t sure how much is missing. He doesn’t think it’s much, and it was only the untidiness in a couple of places in the shop that helped him guess what was taken.”
“If it was taken, it’s theft,” Simon growled.
“Not when a woodchuck is left on the counter as a kind of payment.”
Simon looked at Vlad. Vlad looked at Simon.
“Oh,” Simon said. “Why would they want pens and paper?”
“When you find out, let me know.”
• • •
Meg opened the back door and scanned the surrounding area. Returning to the sorting room, she studied the scrap of paper that had been slipped under the door sometime before she’d arrived that morning.
want cukkies
“You may want cookies, but what you need are more spelling lessons,” she muttered. And there was something about the thick pencil strokes that made her think it was a demand, not a request.
Well, she knew what to do with a demand.
“Arroo?” Nathan queried from the front room.
“Nothing,” she replied as she crumpled the paper. Had Ruth met the teacher or teachers who taught in the Courtyard school? Maybe Henry knew who they were. She’d thought the terra indigene youngsters were learning some basic human lessons like reading and writing and arithmetic. Sam could spell better than this, and what puppy paying any kind of attention would misspell “cookies”?
She almost tossed the message into the recycling basket. Then she smoothed out the paper and looked at the message again. It was the first time anyone had left a request for cookies. Usually when a delivery arrived from Eamer’s Bakery, the Wolves were happy with whatever they received.
Still, giving in to demands would be a mistake. Yes, it would.
Meg picked up the phone and dialed the number for Eamer’s Bakery in Ferryman’s Landing. Just because she wouldn’t respond to a demand, that didn’t mean she couldn’t be ready to fulfill a request.
• • •
Jimmy sat out on the apartment’s porch, ignoring Sandee’s bitching and whining about the brats being stuck in the apartment without anything to do since the rest of the kids were in school and Clarence and Fanny couldn’t even hang out in the Market Square.
Maybe Sissy had the right idea—light out without saying a word. With five hundred dollars in his pocket, he could catch a train back to Toland or go to Shikago. Maybe even go to a human-controlled city in the Southeast Region. Shake off the bitch and the brats and start fresh.
But first he had to take care of his part of the plan.
Jack, who had been watching the Courtyard for a while now, told him that late morning was the time when everyone was beavering away at their jobs and that’s when there would be the fewest freaks in the Market Square. He just needed to push CJ into returning to the apartment building at the right time.
Jimmy looked at his wristwatch—and waited.
• • •
Something thumped the back door of the Liaison’s Office hard enough to startle a growl out of Nathan, who was in the front room, and had Pete Denby, in his office upstairs, hurrying toward the back of the building to check things out.
Meg opened the back door, then stepped on the scrap of paper that almost fluttered away. She picked it up.
want cukkies!
“Oh, you do, do you?”
Sure that whoever had left the paper was watching nearby, Meg stepped outside and shook her finger. “When someone makes a request for a treat, that person should say please. That’s the polite thing to do.”
She waited, sure that the puppies or juveniles who had left the paper would come slinking out of their hiding places with their heads down and their tails tucked. But there was nothing but an odd silence that made her feel strange.
Feeling uncertain but refusing to act like a scared bunny, she shook her finger again and shouted, “You are being bad puppies!”
“Meg?”
She looked up at Pete, who stood on the upstairs landing. “Just setting boundaries,” she said, going back inside.
Nathan was in the back room waiting for her. As soon as she crossed the threshold, he sniffed her. When he sniffed the paper in her hand, he pushed her farther into the room, then hit the door with both front paws, slamming it shut.
“Nathan . . .”
He herded her into the sorting room and whacked that door shut before he shifted to human form.
The stunned look on his face stopped her from commenting about his being naked.
“Have you lost your mind?” He almost howled the words.
“Puppies need to learn manners,” she replied, annoyed by his tone. “Just because they want cookies doesn’t mean I’m going to run out and fetch a treat for them.”
“Puppies.” Nathan stared at her. “You think puppies left that note?”
“Well, who else . . . ?” She thought about the storm that had swept through Lakeside last month and how something had explored the Liaison’s Office, poking around in all the cupboards while a thick fog had blanketed the city. And she suddenly remembered what other form of terra indigene liked fresh-baked Wolf cookies. “Oh.”
Another thump shook the building.
“Stay here,” Nathan said. He slipped into the back room.
It felt like she’d waited a week, but she was pretty sure it was only a minute before he returned and handed her another scrap of paper.
want cukkies pleeze
Meg sucked in air, only then realizing she’d been holding her breath while she waited for Nathan.
“Meg,” Nathan whined, following her to the back room.
She opened the door and poked her head out. “The cookies will be here in a little while.” She paused, then added, “Arroo!”
Closing the door, she sank to the floor. Nathan, back in Wolf form, licked her face before slumping next to her. She burrowed her fingers into his fur and felt the tremors going through him.
“Guess I shouldn’t have scolded them, huh?” she said.
Nathan looked at her. “Roo.”
Meg pushed up from the floor when she heard someone calling her from the front room. “That’s the mailman. I’d better get to work.”
• • •
Vlad stared at Simon. “Meg told the Elders they were . . .”
“Bad puppies,” Simon finished. “Yeah.”
A minute passed before Vlad said, “Why?”
“They didn’t say ‘please’ when they asked for cookies.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
Simon scratched behind an ear that was now Wolf-shaped and furry. “That’s okay. Meg said plenty for all of us.”
• • •
“CJ? It’s Jimmy. I need you back here. I got some things to say.”
“I’m working, Jimmy.”
“Yeah, that’s right. You’re always too busy for family.”
“Jimmy . . .”
“No, you just ride around and look important, and I’ll say what I have to say to Mama.”
A pause. “I’ll be there in half an hour.”
Jimmy hung up and smiled. He could always count on CJ. He just had to push the right button.
• • •
Meg shuddered. The pins-and-needles feeling filled one side of her neck. She dipped her hand into the pocket of her capris and pressed her fingers against the silver folding razor.
No. Not a neck cut. Too dangerous. Too many things could go wrong.
Leaving the razor in her pocket, she removed the box of prophecy cards from the drawer, opened the box, and rested her hands on the cards. She didn’t have a question, not even a vague subject. But her fingertips buzzed as she searched through the cards, selecting the three that created the strongest feeling.
She set them on the ta
ble in the order she’d picked them, then looked at the clock. She had a little time before the ponies arrived to deliver the mail around the Courtyard.
She turned the cards over. Then she called Howling Good Reads.
“Vlad? It’s Meg. I need to see Merri Lee for a few minutes. I’m fine. Just . . . puzzled.”
“What’s up?” Merri Lee said a minute later.
Meg pointed at the cards. The explosion card. A person pointing in one direction, but she’d placed the card upside down. And the last card, the result, was the hooded figure holding a scythe.
“That’s what I wanted you to see.” Meg indicated the second card. “Upside down. That’s never happened before.”
“Never? But the cards are all jumbled up in the box. Maybe you’ve turned them right side up without thinking about it, and this time you were distracted?”
She shook her head. “The decks have different backs, and I recognize the nature deck from the cityscape deck, so I keep my eyes closed when I’m selecting the cards. I’ve never revealed an upside-down card until now.”
“Then it means something.” Merri Lee frowned. “The figure would have been pointing toward death, but turned that way, it’s pointing to the explosion.”
“Neither is a good thing.”
“No, but . . .”
“Meg.” Henry’s face suddenly appeared at the sorting room’s window. “There is trouble. You girls stay inside.”
He turned toward his studio, so Meg and Merri Lee rushed to the front counter, where they could look out the office’s big windows. Being a Grizzly, Henry didn’t vault over the brick wall with a Wolf’s grace, but the wall wasn’t much of a barrier. He went up and over, then headed for Main Street, turning right when he reached the sidewalk.
Merri pulled her mobile phone out of her pocket. “Eve is across the street. She’ll be able to see what’s going on.”
Growling, Nathan took up a position in front of the glass door.
Meg retreated to the sorting room, followed by Merri.
“Eve says there’s an altercation between Lieutenant Montgomery and his brother. Some shoving and lots of shouting,” Merri Lee reported. “Karl’s there, but he’s dealing with Sandee. Eve’s not sure where Michael is. He could be at the station. Simon, Vlad, and Henry are heading across the street.”
