Vision in Silver

by Anne Bishop

  “Uh-uuuh.”

  Meg huffed out a breath. “Fine. You can feel it.”

  “It’s soft and thick,” Sam said, running his hand over her hair. “Feels like Wolf.”

  The soft, and deliberate, scuff of a shoe on the ground just behind her.

  Meg snapped upright and whirled around.

  “Simon.” She tried—and failed—to recall a training image that matched the look on his face. Baffled annoyance with a touch of hurt feelings?

  “Wait for us inside, pup,” he said. “And don’t shift in front of the little human.”

  Big gusty sigh. Then, having made his point about being put upon by entertaining a human, Sam opened the door and slipped inside A Little Bite.

  “I should . . .” Meg pointed at the door.

  “You growl at me because I want to feel your hair, but you don’t even grumble at him?”

  Definitely some hurt feelings.

  “He’s a puppy!” she protested.

  “So?”

  “Well . . . but . . .”

  “I don’t growl at you when you want to pet my fur,” Simon said.

  “But . . . that’s different!”

  “How?”

  Meg opened her mouth to explain exactly how it was different—and couldn’t think of anything to say. It was different, wasn’t it? He never objected when she ran her fingers through his fur. He was a Wolf. And fluffy. Less fluffy now that he’d shed his winter coat, but still!

  Had she been intruding on what a magazine article called personal space without realizing it? He’d never objected, but he’d never actually given her permission to pet him.

  She looked at him patiently waiting for an explanation and realized he didn’t see a difference between his tactile curiosity and hers. And right now she couldn’t figure out the difference either.

  “Fine,” she muttered.

  Not like Sam’s touch. Simon’s larger hand slowly moved over her head, those strong fingers finding the spot behind her ear where the muscles were tight. Pressing. Circling. Coaxing the muscles to yield and relax.

  She swayed. Didn’t even realize he’d moved until her forehead rested against his chest.

  “Oh,” she breathed. “No wonder you just lie there when we’re watching a movie.”

  His breath ruffled her hair when he said laughingly, “Well, yeah.”

  Too soon Simon lowered his hand and stepped back. “Sam’s getting impatient—and curious now that he’s gotten a look at the Lizzy. You should go in. The Lizzy wouldn’t tell Nathan what happened to her mother, but she might tell you.”

  Meg nodded and walked into A Little Bite.

  Not just Lizzy, the Lizzy.

  Ruth was the one who had realized the terra indigene had a verbal hierarchy they used when talking about humans, a way of indicating the degree of interaction with an individual. Ruth had been the Ruthie when she’d been a customer at Howling Good Reads, but since she’d started working in the Courtyard, she was just Ruthie. Meg was Meg, the Meg, or our Meg depending on who was talking to her or about her.

  And humans the Others didn’t like had “that” added to their names.

  Simon came in behind her and gave her a gentle nudge, which made her realize she’d stopped moving while she pondered name distinctions.

  As she walked up the hallway that led from the back door to the front of the shop, she pictured the customer area of A Little Bite with its tables and the counter where Tess worked. She pictured Sam sitting at one of the tables. She hadn’t seen Lizzy yet, so she recalled a training image of a young girl. Now she had some idea of what to expect.

  Then she heard a young female voice say, “Bad dog!” She heard the whap of two things connecting, followed by a yelp. And then Skippy bolted down the hallway and almost knocked her over in his haste to escape.

  “You should deal with that,” Simon said, giving her another nudge. He turned and went out the back door with Skippy.

  Deal with what? How many things had she dealt with because Simon assumed that she could? And how many things had she dealt with because she didn’t want Simon to know that she couldn’t?

  Something to think about another day.

  Shaking her head, Meg walked into the coffee shop’s front room.

  “I’m making grilled cheese sandwiches,” Tess said. “You’re the referee. You can tell Miss Lizzy over there that Boo Bear does not get his own sandwich. He’ll have to settle for a bite of hers.”

  Since Tess’s hair was green and curling, Meg didn’t argue and she didn’t ask. But she wondered why no one had mentioned that a member of the Beargard was visiting the Courtyard.

  Sam, who had been standing near the counter, grabbed Meg’s hand and whispered loudly, “She whacked Skippy. With a bear.”

  The pup sounded impressed. Meg felt confused.

  Unable to recall any training image that would match what Sam had said, she whispered, “Come on, let’s introduce ourselves.” Holding his hand, she walked up to the table where the girl watched them. “I’m Meg. This is Sam. Can we sit with you?”

  The girl nodded. “I’m Lizzy. This is Boo Bear.”

  Looking at Boo Bear, Meg understood why he wasn’t going to get his own sandwich. She just hoped Lizzy understood the difference between Boo Bear and a real bear.

  Tess came over and set two plates on the table. Both held a grilled cheese sandwich cut in half and a sprig of red grapes. “I’m bringing yours,” she told Meg. Then she looked at Lizzy and Sam. “Sit down. Eat. Try not to cause a riot.”

  Was that supposed to be amusing? Meg wondered.

  Sam sat on the edge of a chair, one foot on the floor in case he needed to make a quick escape. He picked up one half of his sandwich and took a bite, all the while watching the girl and bear.

  Meg took a seat and thanked Tess when the third plate of food and three glasses of water were placed on the table. For a minute, she savored the experience of eating—the taste and texture of toasted bread and melted cheese, the crisp sweetness of the grapes.

  After she’d eaten half the sandwich, she focused on the girl. What to say? What to do? What if something bad had happened?

  Of course something bad happened, Meg thought. Lizzy is here, alone. Sort of. The police should be the ones who ask about that. But I need to say something.

  Then she knew exactly what to say because she’d had a similar experience a few months ago.

  “How did you like riding the train?” Meg asked. She addressed the question to Lizzy, but it felt like she was talking to the team of Lizzy and Boo Bear.

  Lizzy took a bite of her sandwich before pressing the toast and grilled cheese against the spot where Boo Bear’s mouth would be. When she raised the sandwich to take another bite, Meg tried to ignore the toast crumbs and dollop of cheese clinging to the fur.

  “It was okay,” Lizzy said. “Boo Bear was scared for a while because there was a bad man on the train. But the Wolf police chased him away.”

  Meg blinked. “The what?”

  While sandwiches were devoured, the story of Nathan scaring off the bad man segued to Sam talking about the Wolf Team movie he’d watched recently. At first Meg wondered if the story would be too scary for a human Lizzy’s age. After all, watching those movies scared her. However, after a few minutes of listening to the two children arguing about who was stronger—the Wolf Team or a group of girls who sounded more like tiny Elementals than young humans with special powers—Meg wasn’t sure if the term “bloodthirsty” should be applied to the youngster who preferred eating his meat raw.

  * * *

  He had his mobile phone, house keys, wallet, and police ID. Since he couldn’t figure out what he’d left at the Courtyard that needed to be retrieved so urgently, Monty focused on his partner.

  “What are you and Ruth going to do?” Monty asked, r
eferring to the forced move from the new apartment.

  “Store some of our stuff with my folks and some in Ruthie’s parents’ house. And hope we can find another place quickly,” Kowalski replied. “Narrow-minded, shortsighted . . .” He stopped.

  Monty waited a beat. “Are you talking about your soon-to-be-ex-landlord or your parents?”

  Kowalski didn’t reply until they stopped at a traffic light. “My folks will help because we’re family and that’s what families do. But they aren’t happy about why I’m being shown the door. When my brother said he wouldn’t want to live in the same building with Wolf lovers, my parents didn’t say a thing. That amounts to tacit agreement. And with all the news about troubled girls committing suicide, and with the terra indigene being blamed for so many of those halfway houses closing because the administrators were afraid to keep them open, well, that’s another reason not to side with monsters, no matter what they look like. And then having the surviving girls taken to undisclosed locations . . . There can only be one reason for that, right?”

  “Most people aren’t going to want to admit that the monsters in this case not only look human but are human.” Monty hesitated but decided he needed to ask, needed to know. “Karl, do you want a transfer?”

  Kowalski made the left turn on to Main Street, then turned again to pull into the Courtyard’s delivery area.

  “No, sir, I don’t,” he said. “And Ruthie doesn’t want to walk away from her job in the Courtyard. We both believe that if push comes to shove, the kind of interaction we have with the Others now could help Lakeside remain a human-controlled city instead of turning into a cage like Talulah Falls. So we’ll stick.”

  “And hope that your parents will come around to your way of thinking?”

  “That’s not likely. But they haven’t said—yet—that they won’t be at Ruthie’s and my wedding next month.”

  Monty heard the bitter resignation in his partner’s voice and regretted the rift growing in families. What would happen in the city if the allure of the Humans First and Last movement caused a rift between police officers? Would stations polarize to the point where you couldn’t count on your own for assistance?

  “Come on,” Monty said as he opened his door. “Let’s find out what ruffled Wolfgard’s fur.”

  They used the back door at Howling Good Reads. Nothing unusual in the stock room, except a noticeable lack of stock. But there was a crowd at the archway leading into A Little Bite.

  Simon, Nathan, and Blair turned to look at him. Simon handed a pencil and pad of paper to Nathan, then moved away from the door, tipping his head to indicate Monty should follow.

  “Something of interest?” Monty asked.

  “The Lizzy,” Simon replied.

  He must have heard wrong. “Lizzy and her mother are here? My Lizzy?”

  “No, the Lizzy and Boo Bear are here.”

  He felt the blood drain out of his head. “What about her mother? Where is Elayne?”

  “That’s a good question, Lieutenant.” Simon studied him. “Is it usual for a pup that young to travel alone? We wouldn’t do it, but . . .”

  “Of course it isn’t usual,” Monty snapped. He heard a soft growl and wasn’t sure if the warning came from Nathan or Blair. “No,” he said, struggling to bring his voice back to calm courtesy while his heart pounded. Lizzy here alone? How? Why? “She’s only seven years old. A girl that age wouldn’t be, shouldn’t be, traveling alone. Did she say anything about her mother?”

  Simon looked grim. “No. But there’s some blood on Boo Bear, and it doesn’t smell like the Lizzy.”

  Gods above and below. “Where . . . ?”

  “She’s in A Little Bite having a snack with Sam and Meg.”

  “She’s not hurt?”

  “No.” Something in Wolfgard’s eyes. “No” wasn’t a lie, but it didn’t fill in the whole truth.

  “Can I ask?” Kowalski stepped up to join them. “How did Lizzy end up here in the Courtyard?”

  “Nathan was on the same train. When he realized there weren’t any adults with her, he . . . guarded . . . her and brought her here.”

  His little girl had needed a guard. Would he have received a different kind of phone call if a Wolf hadn’t been on the train? How life circled around. He’d been transferred to Lakeside because he had killed a man in order to protect a girl who was a Wolf. And now a Wolf had come to the aid of his own little girl.

  He would make a special visit to the Universal Temple and light an extra candle for Mikhos, the guardian spirit who watched over policemen, firefighters, and medical personnel. And, it seemed, watched over their families too.

  “I want to see her,” Monty said.

  “Go ahead.”

  Bland words that made him stop and consider. He wanted to see Lizzy and needed the reassurance that she was all right, but he wondered why three grown Wolves were crowding around an archway instead of going into the coffee shop and taking a seat at another table.

  “Are you standing at the archway to avoid scaring Lizzy?” Monty asked.

  Nathan and Blair snorted a laugh.

  Simon stared at Monty. “We’re standing there because, for a small human, the Lizzy is territorial. She’s already whacked Skippy for coming over to take a sniff, and we can hear everything just fine from the archway.” He paused. “Besides, Boo Bear really stinks.”

  Kowalski coughed.

  The Wolves made room for Monty to stand in the archway and observe his daughter. She seemed fine, chatting away with Sam and Meg, pausing every so often to relay a comment from that silly bear.

  Gods, Elayne had been furious with him when he came back from an outing with Lizzy and had that bear instead of the doll Elayne had said would be a suitable toy. But Lizzy hadn’t wanted a doll. She’d focused on that furry brown bear, pulling it off a shelf she could barely reach and holding on so fiercely he’d had the choice of taking the bear or leaving the child.

  The dolls were dutifully played with when Elayne insisted Lizzy play with something that looked human, but it was Boo Bear, her bestest friend, who went everywhere with the girl.

  Apparently that was still true, despite Elayne’s infatuation with Nicholas Scratch and his damn HFL movement.

  Meg looked toward the archway. “Lizzy,” she said as she pointed.

  Lizzy turned and saw him. “Daddy!” She scrambled out of her chair and ran to him, dumping Boo Bear on the floor.

  Monty dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around her.

  “Lizzy.” He kissed her cheek, her forehead. “Lizzy girl. You okay, baby?”

  “We’re okay. We were on the train, and there was a bad man, and the Wolf police scared him away!”

  Monty looked up at Nathan. “Thank you.”

  The Wolf shrugged. “Should have . . .” He glanced at the girl and stopped.

  “Nathan’s teeth got really big,” Lizzy said. “I saw them!”

  One of the Wolves behind him sighed.

  “Lizzy, where’s your mother?” Monty asked.

  Her eyes held a blend of guilt and fear, an expression he knew well. She looked that way anytime something happened because she’d been doing something she’d been told not to do. Lizzy understood that actions had consequences. She just didn’t want to believe that applied to her. Of course, his transfer, and the disruption in all their lives, was a powerful example of actions and consequences. “Lizzy?”

  “Mommy got hurt. She said I needed to be a big girl and go on the train by myself. Me and Boo Bear.”

  Hurt could mean a lot of things to a child. “Where did she get hurt?”

  Lizzy placed a hand over her belly.

  “No!” Meg shouted.

  Monty looked up. Lizzy turned and yelled, “Bad dog!” and ran toward the table just as Skippy grabbed one of Boo Bear’s stubby front legs and tried to
run off with the prize.

  “I’ll get him!” Sam said. He pushed down his shorts, yanked the T-shirt over his head, shifted into Wolf form, and rushed at Skippy, chasing the juvenile Wolf in and around the tables, both of them banging into chairs.

  Lizzy ran back to the table, grabbed the last bite of her sandwich, and threw it at Skippy, distracting him just long enough for Sam to get his teeth into one of Boo Bear’s back legs.

  The fierce game of tug only lasted a few seconds before seams split and Skippy darted under a table with a fuzzy front leg. Sam dropped the torn back leg, grabbed the rest of the bear, and brought it back to the table. He dropped it at Lizzy’s feet before shifting to the form of a naked, grinning boy who was so obviously pleased with himself.

  No one spoke. Getting to his feet, Monty felt laughter bubble up at the absurdity along with a father’s panic. Lizzy wasn’t wailing about Boo Bear being in pieces—yet—but that was probably because she was getting her first good look at a naked boy. Sam didn’t look that much older than Lizzy, and he wasn’t doing anything, but still. Naked boy.

  Simon pushed into A Little Bite, followed by Nathan.

  “Sam, put your clothes on,” Simon said mildly. “Meg? You okay? Meg!”

  “Can I help?” Kowalski asked, easing around Monty.

  “Keep an eye on things,” Tess said. She strode to the table where Meg stood frozen and took the girl’s hand. “Meg and I need some air and time to settle. We’ll be at the Liaison’s Office.” She led Meg out of the coffee shop.

  Watching the two females leave sobered Monty. Meg Corbyn was the key to so many things, and, so far, she was the only cassandra sangue who had managed to live outside a compound without having breakdowns. If she was starting to break now, how much would break with her?

  Simon scooped up Boo Bear’s hind leg, then approached the table where Skippy lay mouthing the front leg and growling.

  The Wolfgard snarled. Skippy dropped the mangled front leg and scooted farther under the table.

  Nathan went around the counter. He came back out and held up one of the Wolf cookies. “Skippy. Cookie.”

  Skippy leaped up and thumped his head on the underside of the table hard enough to be momentarily stunned. Nathan hauled the juvenile Wolf away from the table and half carried him out the back door.