by Anne Bishop
Frustrated, Meg blew out a breath.
“Do you have PMS cravings? Maybe that’s why you’re fixated on food. I tend to want chocolate, pizza, and salty snacks. Of course, then I drink a lot of water—and retain a lot of water—and get bloated, which makes me crabby.” Merri Lee gave her an expectant look.
She considered that and shook her head. “I guess it’s nothing important, but I’ll tell Simon about it anyway. It might make sense to him.”
• • •
She told Simon about it when they got home from work, and she could see that it made sense to him. What worried her was the look in his amber eyes—and the fact that he wouldn’t tell her what it meant. And for the first time, he snarled at her when she pushed for an explanation. Told her it wasn’t any of her business.
That worried her too.
What worried her the most was waking up sometime in the night and realizing Simon was gone.
• • •
Everything went like clockwork. The four men parked in the lot adjacent to the Stag and Hare, then crossed Main Street to the delivery entrance of the Courtyard. From there, they went up the access way and into the Market Square, keeping close to the shops instead of dashing across the big open area in the middle.
They slipped inside the butcher shop, found the walk-in refrigerator, and stared for a moment, transfixed by the quantity of meat—trays of prime cuts of beef, as well as roasts and steaks. Other trays held chops, hams, sausages, bacon, and slabs of ribs.
They’d each brought a big rectangular backpack lined with straw around thick plastic. The late-night heat wasn’t much better than the daytime temperature; it wouldn’t do to have the meat start going bad before they had a chance to get it into their own freezers or sell most of the best cuts for profit.
Jimmy Montgomery was a blustering, arrogant prick who thought he was hot shit just because he’d lived in Toland, as if picking a lock there required more skill than it did here in Lakeside. He’d walked into the bar, bought himself a drink, and sat down at their table, as if he’d been invited. Started talking about needing a crew for an easy job—one he guaranteed would put food on the table. Illegal? Of course not. Human law didn’t apply in the Courtyard, so how could anything done there be illegal?
No guards, no sentries around the business district after the shops closed. Yeah, being out at night might be tricky, but if you picked the right time, even the cops wouldn’t be doing much patrolling, preferring to stick close to their stations unless they were called out.
He’d scoped out the shops, knew exactly where the butcher shop was located, had told them about the lock and lack of a bell on the door. Had confirmed the delivery of meat from one of the earth native farms. Even his reason for not going in with them made sense. Of course, his “commission” would reflect the chances he wasn’t taking tonight. Not that they’d encountered any problems.
They filled their packs with the best cuts of meat, leaving the sausages and bacon, along with the roasts and hams they couldn’t fit in their packs. They hadn’t found the special meat Jimmy had said would be there, but that didn’t matter. They had everything they’d come for and more.
Yes, everything had gone just like clockwork. Right up until the moment when they left the butcher shop and found the vampires and Wolves waiting for them.
• • •
Heart pounding, Monty scrambled out of bed, yanked open the drawer in the bedside table, and removed his recently acquired backup weapon, holster and all. Then he quietly moved to the screen door that opened onto the porch and stopped to listen.
He’d heard something that his training had responded to before he was fully awake. A brief scream, high-pitched and terrified. Now . . . nothing.
He unlocked the screen door and stepped onto the porch.
So quiet. Most people were following the police recommendation about being home before midnight, so there were no cars on the roads at this time of night—except official vehicles. But it wasn’t a siren he’d heard.
In that quiet, Monty heard another door open. Bracing his free hand on the railing, he leaned forward and looked up at the second-story porch of the house next door.
Kowalski, dressed in nothing but pajama bottoms. Something about the way he stood told Monty his partner had also grabbed a weapon in response to . . . what?
Another door opening, farther down. He couldn’t see, but Monty knew it was Debany. So. They’d all heard something.
Monty whistled, a soft sound, but it was enough to have Kowalski turn in his direction. Then the younger man disappeared. A minute later, he reappeared, ghosting across the front yards until he reached Monty’s porch.
“Yeah,” Kowalski said quietly into the mobile phone. “Yeah. I’ll let you know.”
“You heard it?” Monty kept his voice low to avoid waking Lizzy, whose open bedroom window was at the other end of the porch.
Kowalski nodded. “So did Michael.” He looked around. “No lights coming on in any of the houses down the street, and nothing stirring across the street. Whatever it was didn’t alarm the Courtyard’s sentries.”
Going to the end of the porch, Monty saw two Owls perched on rooftops that gave them a good view of the Courtyard’s businesses.
“Could have been a rabbit,” Kowalski said. “They do scream when they’re killed.”
Rabbits weren’t the only things that screamed.
“Michael and I could go over and take a look around.”
“No. None of us should go poking around the Courtyard at this time of night.” Monty’s heart still pounded. It was tempting to go across the hall and bang on the door until Jimmy answered, surly at being woken so abruptly.
If Jimmy answered.
“No,” he said again. “We weren’t called to assist. Just keep your eyes open tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir. Good night.”
Kowalski didn’t go inside his own home. He went over to the apartment building on the other side of the double to talk to Debany. A couple of minutes later, he went home.
Doors closed. Everything was so quiet.
Monty went inside and tucked his backup piece in the drawer, where it would remain, close at hand, until he got up and locked it in the gun safe with his service weapon. He stretched out on his bed, but he didn’t sleep. Didn’t mean to anyway. But at some point he slipped into an uneasy doze, dreading what he’d have to face in the morning.
CHAPTER 19
Windsday, Messis 22
Meg walked down the stairs from her apartment and turned toward the side of the Green Complex that held the mail, laundry, and social rooms, as well as the archway that led to the garages. Then she turned in the opposite direction and took the few steps to the front door of Simon’s apartment.
He hadn’t come back last night. Well, he had. He’d left a note on her kitchen table, saying he had to go in to work early, so she should drive herself to the Liaison’s Office. But she woke up alone this morning. If he’d returned last night to get some sleep, he hadn’t returned to her.
Had she done something to upset him? Could she ask? Would he tell her? Was this what it felt like to break up with someone you . . . what? Cared for? Loved? How could she tell what she felt for Simon? She’d never had these feelings before. Right now, she felt lost and lonely and scared.
The way things were between her and Simon wasn’t the same as the way things were between Merri and Michael, for example. Their relationship wasn’t anything like the ones she’d read about in what Simon and Vlad called the kissy books. It wasn’t uncomplicated, but it wasn’t fraught with misunderstandings—which, according to Merri and Ruth, were a lot more fun to read about than to experience. Not all relationships worked. And sometimes people were confused and unsure of what they felt and what they wanted to have from, and give to, someone else.
Maybe this was normal. Maybe Simon just
needed a night to go out and do Wolfy things with other Wolves. Which wasn’t something she could do.
“You’re looking at something, but I’m pretty sure it isn’t me.”
Meg let out a breathy sound that might have been a yip, could have been a scream, but wasn’t much of anything since there was barely any sound.
“Don’t sneak up on me!” she scolded Jester.
The Coyote stared at her. “There wasn’t any sneaking. I walked up to you. I thought you saw me. It’s not my fault you were looking at something that wasn’t here.” He studied Simon’s closed front door, then considered her. “What were you looking at?”
She felt her face heat with embarrassment. “Nothing.”
“Huh. Must be a human thing. When we’re that focused, we’re looking at something.”
“I have to get to work, but I’m going to A Little Bite to get breakfast first.” Maybe Tess would know why Simon had to go in to work so early.
“I’ve already had breakfast, but I’d like a mug of long-grass tea.”
Something about the look in Jester’s eyes, something about the way he licked his lips when he said he’d already had breakfast, made Meg uneasy. “Did you eat a bunny?” Or a rat? She knew that, for most of the Courtyard’s residents, bunnies and rats were interchangeable meat, and what was consumed depended on what you could catch. But she was human, and while she’d eaten the meat of one critter, she had no desire to taste the meat of the other.
“No, not a bunny.”
That look in the Coyote’s eyes—a sharp reminder that he was as much a predator as the rest of the terra indigene who lived in the Courtyard.
“Are you driving to work?” he asked, sounding—and looking—more like the Jester she knew.
Since he had a hand under her elbow and was herding her toward the archway and the garages, he didn’t seem to need an answer from her. In fact, neither of them said anything until they drove past the Market Square and she saw Closed signs tacked to sawhorses that blocked all the archways that provided access to the businesses.
“Did something happen last night?” She spotted Nathan, Blair, and Vlad—and Simon—walking out of the butcher shop.
“Oh, somebody made a bit of a mess,” Jester replied. “I guess the Business Association decided to close the whole market for a couple of hours to do a thorough cleaning.”
“What kind of mess?”
“I can’t say—and since I don’t want to get into trouble over this, please don’t ask me again.”
Jester didn’t want to get into trouble? Who could intimidate the Coyote who looked after the Elementals’ steeds?
She could think of a few individuals besides the Elementals themselves. Simon, for one. But there were also Henry, Vlad, and Tess. Even Mr. Erebus. Because Jester was a friend, she didn’t ask again.
When they reached the garages behind the Liaison’s Office, Jester hopped out of the BOW and opened the garage door for her. Then he hurried into A Little Bite, not waiting for her.
Appetite gone—not that she’d wanted any food since she’d seen Simon’s note on the kitchen table—Meg got her purse and carry sack out of the BOW and headed for the back door of the Liaison’s Office. She’d just opened the door when Kowalski walked up the access way, dressed for work.
“Hey, Meg.” Kowalski smiled, but he seemed distracted by the sawhorse and sign that blocked the third archway leading into the Market Square. Then he looked at the second story of her building. “Do you know if Agent O’Sullivan is here? Or if he has company?”
“I think he’s still in Hubb NE,” Meg replied. Then she blinked. “Company? Like, romantic company?” Greg O’Sullivan seemed too intense to have a girlfriend, and if he did have one, she probably lived in Hubbney. Besides, O’Sullivan knew the rules about bringing anyone into the Courtyard without telling Simon or Vlad. She couldn’t imagine him doing something that might get his friend killed.
“Being an ITF agent doesn’t eliminate canoodling.”
“Canoodling?” What an odd-sounding word.
He grinned. “Something you and Simon might like to try sometime.”
She couldn’t say one way or the other until she figured out what the word meant.
The humor faded from Kowalski’s face. “I asked because I noticed a van in the Stag and Hare’s lot. Could be someone parking there to make an early delivery to one of the other buildings on that side of the street. But if it belonged to someone’s friend who had stayed overnight without permission . . .”
“You would encourage them to cease canoodling and go out for breakfast before anyone else noticed?”
“Something like that.”
His answer provided no clue, so she mentally flipped through the training images of games, since that’s what the word brought to mind. Maybe it was something like bingo? But she couldn’t picture anyone risking Simon’s wrath—or Blair’s teeth—to stay up all night playing bingo.
Kowalski tipped his head toward the Market Square. “Know anything about that?”
“Jester said someone made a mess.”
He tensed for a moment before trying to give the impression of being curious but not overly concerned. “A mess? Stores were vandalized?”
“Don’t know. When I drove by, it looked like they were working on the open area, not the shops. You’d have to ask Simon or Vlad. I didn’t know about it until I drove by a few minutes ago.” Meg studied him. “Karl? Is something wrong?” Suddenly the banter about canoodling seemed off, made her uneasy—just like the look in Jester’s eyes had made her uneasy.
“Probably not. But as Captain Burke likes to say, we try to keep things smooth.” He smiled. “It’s my turn to get the coffee, so I’d better get going.”
She had a feeling Kowalski stopped smiling the moment he headed for A Little Bite’s back door and she could no longer see his face. She had a feeling Kowalski, like Jester, knew more than he was saying.
And she had a very bad feeling that she should know what had happened in the Market Square last night.
• • •
Simon walked out of the butcher shop and saw Meg drive past in the BOW. For a moment, he felt happy, excited to see her. Then he felt uncomfortable. Queasy. Guilty.
“Boone is washing the display case, making it human clean,” Henry said, coming to stand beside him. “When he’s done, he’ll put out the remaining meat.”
“No. That meat will go to Meat-n-Greens for the meals served there.”
“Then Boone won’t have anything to sell until the next shipment of meat comes in from the farms,” Henry said. He waited a beat. “Nothing wrong with the meat that was taken. It wasn’t out of the refrigerator long enough to start spoiling.”
“The meat is fine for us, but not for the humans.”
“Meat is outside longer than that when humans buy it from a butcher shop and carry it home.”
Simon hesitated. Henry was right. The meat hadn’t spoiled in the short time it had been out of the butcher shop, and there was no reason to tell the humans it had been outside. Then he pictured himself bringing home one of those roasts for Meg to cook and eat, and he shook his head, frustrated that he couldn’t explain his feelings, even to himself. The pork and beef might not be spoiled in a way that made it inedible for humans, but the theft had spoiled it nonetheless. “It won’t be cow or pig, but Boone will have something to sell to anyone who wants to purchase meat.”
Everyone in the Green Complex, and every freezer in the other complexes, had some packages of frozen bison meat from the yearling they had killed a few weeks ago. The terra indigene wouldn’t understand why the cow and pig meat that had been taken out of the butcher shop couldn’t be rinsed off and put back in the butcher shop for Boone to sell, but most would come to the conclusion that this meat, for some reason, would upset Meg and the female pack, and they would give Boone a p
ackage of bison meat to sell at the butcher shop in exchange for fresh cow or pig.
But Meg didn’t like bison meat. Maybe, when he wasn’t so full, he could catch a bunny just for her. Or he could call Steve Ferryman and see about purchasing a little beef, or even a chicken, from one of the shops in Ferryman’s Landing.
Thinking of Meg and the reason he was so full made him snarl. “They were invaders. Thieves. Bad humans. It wasn’t like we ate one of her friends.”
“They were invaders and thieves,” Henry agreed. “And that made them enemies. And meat.”
Simon felt the weight of Henry’s stare. The Courtyard’s spirit guide would either speak or whack him with a Grizzly paw.
“You’re not human, Simon,” Henry said in a quiet rumble. “You will never be human. And those who are human will always be meat.”
“Not all of them. Not anymore.” Then again, the way he, with the agreement of Vlad, Henry, and Tess, had chosen to punish the remaining thief was going to cause all kinds of upset among the humans.
He felt something shift inside him, a flutter of change there and gone.
He wasn’t human. Would never be human. But was he still, truly, a terra indigene Wolf?
• • •
Once Lizzy entered the Denby home to have breakfast with Sarah and Robert, Monty and Pete Denby joined Kowalski and Debany where the double’s walkway and the public sidewalk met.
“Something happened last night, and I don’t think it’s over,” Kowalski said, holding out the drinks holder so that everyone could take a coffee. “Meg doesn’t know, but Tess does. Her hair is red and green, and it’s coiling in that way that makes it look alive. The way she looked at me . . .” He shuddered. “Like she’s waiting for something.”
“What should we do?” Pete asked.
Monty considered the question and considered his men. Kowalski was in uniform, ready to go to work. Debany was in a T-shirt and denim cutoffs, since his official shift started later in the morning.
“Karl, I want you to stick close to the Courtyard for a while and keep an eye on things.” Monty looked at his own apartment building, then waited for the nod that indicated Kowalski knew exactly who needed watching. “Michael, you go on duty at your usual time, but keep your mobile phone handy until then in case Karl needs backup for any reason.” He looked at Pete. “The rest of you should go about your business like usual.”
