by Anne Bishop
* * *
* * *
Jesse woke slowly, feeling ripe and deliciously languid. Used in the best sort of way.
Maybe she would stay in bed all morning. She could order a meal and have it delivered to the room and spend a few hours nibbling and reading. She always had a book tucked in her overnight case, even if she didn’t expect to have time to read more than a chapter. This morning she could indulge herself and . . .
“Arroo!”
“Cory!” Jesse jackknifed to a sitting position and looked at the empty crate. Virgil had taken the puppy yesterday, and except for checking now and then to make sure Cory was all right, she’d left the pup in the sheriff’s office and stayed focused on whatever she could do to suppress the panic that had built in people who didn’t know what was going on but knew they had nowhere to run if the terra indigene turned against them. Then the news, brief as it was, that Meg Corbyn had been found alive.
Despite the majority of residents not knowing why the crisis was over, only that it was over, fear and stress had morphed into manic relief that left people—and she was among them—entertaining foolish ideas. And doing things that, perhaps, hadn’t been wise. Except, gods, it had been a long time since a man had pleasured her the way she’d been pleasured last night. And if this languidness was caused by the amount of blood Tolya had taken, it was a small price to pay for feeling so incredible.
As she swung her legs over the side of the bed, Jesse noticed the note anchored under the book she’d set on the bedside table.
Jesse,
Your puppy is at the sheriff’s office playing with Rusty. She is fine. You should eat a hearty breakfast this morning. Meat is recommended.
Tolya
P.S. You might want to wear a scarf if you are going to see your son later today.
“Scarf?” Jesse muttered. “In this heat?”
She scrambled out of bed and stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror. The bruises on her inner left thigh and the inside of her right elbow were dark but easily covered. The bruises on her neck . . . She hadn’t had hickeys like that since her schooldays, when the mark was confirmation of being desirable. At least, that was the myth that swirled around in the sticky mess of adolescent hormones. Being desirable enough to be marked, claimed. And becoming more desirable because of that marking, that claiming. Other young men noticed girls who wore that particular badge—or hid it beneath a scarf.
Other men.
As she showered and dressed, Jesse considered how much Tolya might understand about human sex. Not the physical act. He knew plenty about that. Gods, did he ever know about that. But the emotions? Was the bruise just a result of his feeding or had he deliberately made it to serve as bait for the man who had hurt her feelings last night? Would such a man, seeing that bruise, approach her today and renew his offer of a pity fuck? And if he did, who would be watching?
Not Tolya. He was too intelligent for that, too subtle. But there were so many eyes always watching the humans. Crows, Hawks, Ravens. Was the puff of air just air, or the Elemental Air coming to stand beside you? Didn’t matter who watched or who listened. She wasn’t sure if the idiot man from last night was someone waiting for an interview that would decide if he would become a resident of Bennett or if he was passing through. She just hoped she didn’t see him again and he was on the first train out of town.
She dressed in a blue T-shirt and jeans, willing to let people see the bruises rather than suffer from heatstroke by being overdressed. But she left her hair loose around her neck—and she did tie a bandanna around her throat. Since Tobias was on the ranch, she didn’t care about shocking any of the men and, if she was honest, was a little bit curious about how someone like Virgil Wolfgard would respond to seeing that kind of bruise. But the girls—Barb Debany and Lila Gold and even Jana Paniccia? No, she didn’t want to shock them by advertising that she’d had hot, steamy sex last night.
Looking out the window, she spotted Tolya talking to a female. Not a woman in the strictest sense, and not a shifter who couldn’t quite get the human form right. Nothing wrong with that one’s form, except you would never mistake it for a human.
“Elemental,” Jesse whispered.
The female looked up, as if she could hear even a whisper once sound met air.
Jesse grabbed her room key and hurried down to the street.
The female was gone by the time she got outside, but Tolya was there, waiting for her.
“You look pale, Jesse. You haven’t eaten yet.” Despite being said courteously, the words sounded like a scold—but a scold that held affection.
How much should she read into him calling her Jesse instead of Jesse Walker? She had a feeling that last night had changed something between them, that courteous formality had yielded to something warmer.
“No, not yet. But I will. Hearty breakfast, with meat.” She studied him. “Any news about Meg Corbyn?”
“Let’s go to the sheriff’s office. Virgil, Kane, and Jana should hear this too.”
They walked across the square in companionable silence.
Virgil stared at her neck for a long moment, then grunted, his sole opinion. Kane didn’t seem to notice, but he was still in Wolf form so that might account for the lack of interest. Jana glanced at her, then Tolya—and then she blushed.
Jesse figured it wasn’t the hickey that caused the blush; it was seeing it on Tobias’s mother that threw Jana off stride.
“No need to tell him,” Jesse said with a smile.
“I’m so with you on that,” Jana replied.
“Human females,” Virgil growled. “Even when you speak ordinary words, you speak a different language.” Then his eyes met Tolya’s, and a kind of electric tension filled the office.
“Air heard from her kin in the east. Meg Corbyn is alive, but there is . . . concern . . . about her mind,” Tolya said.
Jana sucked in a breath. Jesse felt her heart pound.
“The cuts that Cyrus human made were not done properly,” he continued. “As a result, Meg Corbyn is seeing too much.”
“Will she recover?” Jesse asked.
“I don’t know,” Tolya replied. “That is all the information about her that traveled last night. But Simon, Vlad, and the rest of the Courtyard will help her.”
“What else?” Virgil asked.
Tolya looked at the Wolf. “We have all received instructions from Namid’s teeth and claws. We are to inform the Elders if a Cyrus human comes to Bennett—or Prairie Gold.”
Virgil nodded. Jana looked uneasy.
Jesse felt chilled. “What’s a Cyrus human?”
“Someone like Cyrus James Montgomery, the man who abducted Meg Corbyn,” Jana replied, eyeing Virgil and Tolya.
She knew the name. After all, she was the one who relayed the message from the communications cabin. No, she’d been asking for a definition.
Meeting Jesse’s eyes, Jana nodded to acknowledge that she would do whatever she could to get the term defined.
“Jesse, I will escort you back to the hotel, and you will eat,” Tolya said.
Since she was hungry and feeling a little weak, Jesse didn’t argue. Besides, she had a feeling that Jana would have an easier time getting some agreement on the term if other humans weren’t around when she talked to Virgil.
“How much blood did you consume?” she asked quietly as she and Tolya retraced their steps across the square.
“Enough that you should be sensible and eat—but not so much that what was taken would put you in any danger.”
“It never occurred to me that I might be in danger. Not with you.”
He stopped walking and stared at her, and that made her smile. No, she wasn’t forgetting that he was a predator who could easily snap her neck, or tear out her throat—or drain her of blood. But she trusted him.
“This is
n’t like the stories,” she said. “We’re not in love or fated to be together forever.”
“That is true.” He sounded wary.
“But I did enjoy being with you last night and would be happy to spend time that way again. Humans sometimes refer to such arrangements as ‘friends with benefits.’”
“I have heard this phrase.” He hesitated. “That kind of arrangement would be . . . sufficient . . . for you?”
She thought about the man in the Bird Cage Saloon—and she thought about the pleasure she’d felt with Tolya.
“I’m old enough not to let hormones overwhelm sense. And I’m clear-sighted enough to understand what this is—and what it isn’t. So, yes, Tolya. This arrangement would be sufficient. If that changes, I will tell you.”
“Very well, Jesse.” He looked baffled but he smiled. “Go eat.”
Relieved that she wasn’t the one who had to define actions that amounted to a specific kind of crime, she walked into the hotel and ate a very hearty breakfast.
* * *
* * *
Darn it, Jana thought when Virgil turned on her, effectively pinning her against her own desk. I have to remember how easily he can do that, even in human form.
“Would you recognize a Cyrus human if one came to Bennett?” Virgil asked.
“It’s not that simple.”
“How is it not simple?” He leaned closer and bared his teeth, revealing the too-long-to-be-human fangs. “He stole the sweet blood from the Lakeside Courtyard and hurt her. He stole her from the Wolves.”
And that, more than all the rest, was what Virgil considered unforgivable.
She had to create a tightrope of words and get to the other side of this chasm that had opened beneath her. If she didn’t get his agreement on the specifics of what made someone a Cyrus human, how many men would die just for being an asshat after one drink too many?
“I would be reluctant to accuse anyone of being such a person without some proof . . .”
“You would wait until he harms someone?” Virgil’s eyes flickered with the red of anger. “Our Maddie is still a pup. She would not survive what was done to Meg Corbyn. But you would wait until she is bleeding?”
“That’s not what I said.” She put enough snap into her voice to have his eyes narrowing. “You can’t accuse someone of a crime before the crime is committed.”
He snorted.
“Can we agree that a Cyrus human is a man, or a woman, who abducts another individual, who takes someone against his or her will?”
He stared at her and said nothing.
“That’s what Cyrus Montgomery did—he stole Meg Corbyn. Abducted her. That is the specific crime he committed that put her in danger. That is what makes—made—him a Cyrus human.”
He still said nothing.
“Some behaviors are indicators that a person might behave badly, might be a danger to one of our citizens.”
“You would recognize these indicators and howl a warning?”
“A warning that someone should be watched? Yes.” She didn’t want the Others to condemn some fool as a Cyrus human when he was actually guilty of some other kind of assault. Not that an attack of any kind was acceptable, but getting killed would be an extreme punishment when a person should spend time in jail for a crime. And the idea that the Elders might get involved scared her enough that she wanted to be very careful about making accusations.
“Watched if you’re not sure,” Virgil agreed. “But if someone is identified as a Cyrus human, then we will act.”
Jana nodded. What else could she do? She had seen the picture of Meg Corbyn in the trunk of that car. And imagining little Maddie in the same situation . . . No.
Bark, bark. Yap, yap. The Me Time cell had been converted into a puppy pen, with Rusty and Cory having some social time.
“I hope they didn’t find a stinkbug,” Virgil said, sounding mildly concerned.
“Well, yeah.”
“I will take the puppies for a walk. You should ride the horse that is not meat.”
“His name is Mel.” Since Virgil was already heading for the cells, she looked at Kane. “My horse’s name is Mel. He knows that.”
Kane just looked back at her.
“You’re no help.” She settled her gunbelt around her hips and checked her saddlebags to see if she needed to replace any supplies. “Howl if you need me. Or you can call. I have my mobile phone.” Like either Wolf would use a phone when their howls carried from one end of the town to the other.
As she rode out to patrol the residential streets, one thought circled in her head.
Cyrus human. Cyrus human. What would the Others do to a Cyrus human?
May the gods help her, she hoped she never found out.
* * *
* * *
“It’s a gods-damned mess,” Parlan told Judd McCall when the man finally answered his phone. “Apparently, the station masters got the all clear, but with every train in the region piled up in whatever station they could reach, it could be a day—or longer—before trains on the secondary and tertiary lines are able to go on to their destinations.” He heard a faint something that sounded like a reply. “Say that again. The signal faded out.” Damn mobile phones. They worked well except when they didn’t.
“Be glad your engineer got you into a holding,” Judd repeated. “I’m in a small town. Not even enough people here to call it a town. They pretty much cleaned out the general store yesterday as soon as someone heard that the trains were being held and the supply run would be delayed. The only place I could buy food or water was the diner, and they were already crossing things off the menu by yesterday evening.”
“And nothing happened.”
“Not around here. But the cops who were traveling the roads and checking these pimples on a map were edgy, like they knew something, were looking for someone.”
“Us?”
“No.”
“Have you heard from my brother?”
“He’s fine. So is his nephew.”
Which meant the cops hadn’t found Dalton yet despite the Wanted posters. And the roundabout phrasing either meant Judd thought he might be overheard or he had a feeling he needed to be cautious about making a direct connection between Parlan and Dalton by saying “your son.”
“What about the boys?” Parlan asked, meaning Sweeney Cooke and Charlie Webb.
“Haven’t heard from them. But I think one of them has anemia. Don’t know which one.”
So one of them had been shot when they pulled that half-assed job at that ranch. “Anemia” meant the blood loss was significant.
Parlan didn’t ask how Judd had found out that much. Judd had a way of finding out about such things.
“You still planning on talking to officials about that business proposal?”
“As soon as we can get to Bennett and my business associates can set up a meeting.” He hesitated. “Have you seen a newspaper lately?” The train picked up newspapers from every town that still had one, and what he’d read in the latest one seemed to confirm his decision to have the family run the respectable con for a while. “There was an article about outlaws becoming extinct in the new frontier.”
“Didn’t see it, but I heard of three robberies that should have been in and out and easy,” Judd replied. “And they were easy. No resistance, no lawmen. The men robbed the bank and got out of town. But the towns aren’t human controlled anymore, and that means humans weren’t stealing just from humans anymore. According to the reports, the men barely made it past the town line before they were killed. I recognized the names of the recently deceased. I have a feeling those reports are going to convince quite a few of the boys that it’s time to retire and find a more settled way to make a living.”
Like we’re planning to do, Parlan thought. Problem is, there’s no point trying to settle
into a town that’s dying, so more and more of those men will be coming to the towns that are stable—or being revived. Like Bennett. We need to get there first, need to become a strong presence in the town.
“I’ll get a stake in the town as soon as I can,” he said.
“Unless I find something interesting, I shouldn’t be more than a day or two behind you,” Judd said.
Finished with the call, Parlan poured himself a large whiskey.
One way or another, Sweeney Cooke and Charlie Webb would cease to be a threat to the clan. One way or another, the person who identified Dalton and put his name on a Wanted poster would be found and also cease to be a threat.
One way or another, he’d deal the winning hand that would get the clan established in Bennett.
CHAPTER 27
Watersday, Messis 25
With the last animal fed and the last cage cleaned, Barb realized she had a free afternoon. She could go to the bookstore and browse—and visit with Joshua. But she didn’t feel as comfortable being around him since the dog fight. She’d seen a side of him that scared her. Worse, he seemed to know that he scared her and was okay with that.
Since the dog fight, it had slowly occurred to her that whoever had named him had understood he would never conduct himself like someone who had grown up among humans. Whoever had named him had known that “painter” was another name for “panther.”
Wondering if writing to her brother and asking for advice was really just asking for trouble, Barb headed for the saloon. She wanted a cold soda and some time to sit at a table and chat with one of the girls.
One look at Lila Gold told her this wasn’t a day for chatting.
“What’s wrong?” Barb asked. “Where is everyone?”
“Yuri and Freddie are working the later shift. Madam Scythe is doing paperwork in her office, and Don is in the back, doing inventory and fetching supplies. Candice is upstairs, changing into her work clothes, and Garnet and Pearl are coming in later.”
