by Anne Bishop
“The Wolfgard said I’m to take care of it. You’re supposed to get food and open the office before the deliveries start arriving. The fools won’t get out of their trucks if they see a Wolf instead of you, and I’m waiting for parts.” He ran a possessive hand over the BOW’s hood. “Wouldn’t have been up this close to the monkeys if I wasn’t waiting for parts that are supposed to come today.”
“Then I’d better get my lunch and open up the office,” Meg said brightly as she edged away from him. This one seemed wilder than Simon in a way she couldn’t explain, and she wasn’t sure “think before you bite” was a concept he understood. “Thank you for taking care of the BOW.”
“Just because he slams your tail in the door, the rest of us have to be polite,” he grumbled. Then he sniffed the air, sniffed again as his head turned in her direction. “What did you roll in to make your fur smell that stinky?”
Irritation wiped out caution. Were they all obsessed with smell? “I didn’t roll in anything. And my hair stinks less than it did.”
“So does a skunk.”
Since that seemed to be his final opinion, she marched over to the back door of A Little Bite.
Tess took one look at her face and grinned. “I see you’ve met Blair.”
“Maybe,” Meg muttered. “Does he like any humans?”
“Sure,” Tess replied cheerfully. “Although he’s pretty opinionated about the lack of lean meat on most of them.”
“I don’t think I want lunch.”
“Yes, you do. Vegetable soup and a turkey sandwich. I’ll pack it up for you.”
Meg followed Tess back to the counter. “So, who is he?”
“Third Wolf, after Simon and Elliot. Those two deal with humans and the world outside the Courtyard. Blair takes care of the inside of the Courtyard. He keeps track of the game on our land, leads the hunt when the butcher puts in a request for venison, and is the primary enforcer. He’s also the one here at Lakeside who is most intrigued by mechanical things and energy sources, so he oversees the terra indigene who care for the windmills and solar panels we use to power most of the buildings outside the business district.” Tess smiled as she handed Meg the carry sack. “Keeps him busy and limits his contact with humans—which is the way he and Simon like it.”
“He’s waiting for a package. If it arrives, whom should I call?” Meg asked. Tess looked at her until she sighed. “I should call Simon.”
The BOW’s garage door was closed by the time she reached the back door of the office, and she didn’t spot a Wolf lurking nearby. But when she unlocked the front door, she did see three trucks idling while the drivers waited for her—and she saw the black sedan stuck behind them, unable to enter until at least one truck departed.
It looked like the kind of car she imagined a consul would drive—or would he have a driver?—so she signed for packages as quickly as possible, making hasty notes so that she wouldn’t be the one causing a delay. It seemed the delivery people shared that feeling. Within a couple of minutes, they were gone and the sedan pulled up in front of the consulate door.
The man who got out had a slim build and receding hair. He stared in her direction, then went inside.
“If that’s Elliot Wolfgard, I guess I won’t be getting any gold stars from him,” she muttered.
She could live without gold stars. Today she would be happy if she got through the rest of the day without being eaten.
She put the turkey sandwich and soup in the fridge, too unsettled to consider food. After a peaceful hour of sorting mail and packages, she called Howling Good Reads and left the message that there were a couple of items for B. Wolfgard, as well as other packages simply addressed to the Utility Complex, and was informed that Blair would pick up all of them after the office closed.
Maybe there was an advantage to having stinky hair if it encouraged the Wolves to keep their distance.
Cheered by that thought, she warmed up the turkey sandwich and enjoyed a late lunch.
* * *
Looking out the back window of HGR’s office, Simon watched Blair come out of the Liaison’s Office with a package and load it into the BOW assigned to the Utility Complex. The Wolf had waited only long enough to be sure Meg had left for the day before going in to retrieve the bits and pieces for whatever he was currently tinkering with.
She had headed for the Market Square, which meant she would be coming back this way when she went to her apartment. Better for both of them if they didn’t see each other. Better for him, anyway. Henry would smack him if an encounter with him upset Meg today—and getting smacked by a Grizzly wasn’t fun, even for a Wolf.
He put on his coat and stopped at the counter long enough to tell Heather, one of his human employees, that she was supposed to inform Vlad if Asia Crane entered the store. Then he went out the back door and walked over to the Liaison’s Office.
“You got your parts?” Simon asked when Blair came out with another package that he tucked in the BOW.
Blair nodded as he closed the vehicle’s back door. Then he locked the door of the Liaison’s Office. “You need a ride?”
He didn’t need a ride, but maybe he could coax Sam to spend a little more time outside if he got home while it was still light. And if Blair was unhappy with Meg for some reason, it was better to know before blood was spilled. “Thanks.”
Neither spoke until they were headed for the Green Complex. Then Blair said casually, “The Liaison. Think we could wash her in the same solution we use for youngsters who get skunked?”
Simon barked out a laugh. Then he considered the appeal of doing just that—and the consequences—and reluctantly shook his head.
Blair sighed. “Didn’t think so.” A pause. “Elliot might want to have words with you. The delivery trucks backed up for a couple of minutes while the drivers waited for her to return, and his shiny black car couldn’t get around them.”
“He doesn’t care about the shiny black car.”
“No, but he does care about maintaining status in a way the monkeys understand, and I don’t think having to wait for your human to open the door for afternoon deliveries is going to encourage him to tolerate her.”
“She’s doing her job.”
“And causing trouble.”
Simon growled—and noticed the way the other Wolf’s lips twitched in amusement.
Blair didn’t say another thing until he pulled up at the Green Complex. Then he looked straight ahead. “It’s still deer season, so there will be some bow hunters in the park for a couple more weeks.”
“So?” Simon opened the passenger’s door and got out.
“If she doesn’t wear a hat, the Liaison won’t need the orange vest hunters use to keep from shooting each other.”
Simon closed the BOW’s door a little harder than necessary, but he still heard Blair laughing as the Wolf drove away.
Fishing out his keys, Simon walked to his apartment. The Green Complex apartments were a mix of sizes that shared common walls and accommodated the different species of terra indigene who chose to live there. Some were more like two-story town houses, while smaller apartments were contained on a single floor. Like the other residential complexes, the Green was U-shaped, with the connecting section containing the mail room, laundry area, and a social room on the second floor where movies were played on the big-screen television and a couple of tables provided an area to play board games the Others had converted from the human versions of those games.
The moment his key slid into the front door lock, he heard the squeaky-door sound that was Sam’s howl.
His big living room had a carpet and a sofa, a couple of lamps, a television and movie disc player, a low table with storage baskets, and the cage where Sam lived.
Sam was all wagging tail and happy-puppy greeting—until Simon opened the cage door. Then the youngster huddled in the back of the cage, whimpering.
Simon held out his hand. “Come on, Sam. It’s still light outside. We’ll be safe. Come outside for a pee and a poop.�
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When the pup continued to shake and whimper, Simon reached in and hauled him out, ignoring Sam’s attempts to bite him and escape. They did this several times a day—had been doing it since Daphne was killed and Simon became Sam’s guardian. Sam was terrified of outside because outside was where his mother had died right in front of him.
Sam had stopped growing that night, hadn’t continued his development the way pups should. They had no way of knowing what had happened to his human form because he hadn’t shifted in two years.
Simon couldn’t imagine being stuck in one skin his whole life, unable to shift. And he didn’t want to imagine what it felt like to be so afraid that he could no longer make that choice.
He took the struggling pup outside and firmly closed the apartment door.
“A pee and a poop,” he said, walking over to a potted tree that was part of a central garden area. He put Sam down and placed himself between the pup and the apartment. They weren’t going in until Sam obeyed, but it broke his heart a little more every time they did this, and the fangs of his hatred for the men responsible grew a little longer.
Someday, he promised himself as Sam took care of business.
Sam was trembling and on the verge of panic from being outside for so long when the shiny black sedan pulled up in front of the complex. The back door opened and Elliot Wolfgard stepped out. Like Daphne and Sam, Elliot had gray eyes instead of amber, but it was a cold gray that suited the stern expression that was usually worn on the human face.
Now the stern expression shifted into a warm smile as Elliot came forward with open arms. “Hello, Sam.” He crouched in the snow to rub the pup’s ears and ruffle his fur. “How’s our boy?” He looked up at Simon when he asked the question.
Simon shrugged to say same as always.
Elliot’s smile dimmed as he rose. “You should tell the Liaison to wear a watch if she can’t get back to work on time without one.”
“Actually, she was making deliveries in the Courtyard, not dawdling for her own amusement,” Simon replied with just enough tooth to remind Elliot who was dominant.
“I stand corrected,” Elliot said after a moment. “I should have known that she was attending to her duties. The Crows are such gossips and find her entertaining, if the number of them gathering to watch the office is any indication. I prefer not to deal with them, but my staff would have heard if we had cause to complain about her.”
“She doesn’t like mice for snacks. That makes her peculiar—at least according to the Owls.”
“All right, Simon, you made your point,” Elliot said. “If we finally have a Liaison who will do the work we pay for, I’ll try to show more tolerance.”
“Appreciate it.”
“Has Blair met her yet?”
Simon nodded. “And didn’t bite her.”
“That’s something. I’ll be out tonight for a dinner—a guest of the mayor. I’ll have my mobile phone if you need me.”
“Enjoy your evening.”
“That will depend on the menu. If it’s beef, it will be a tolerable meal. If it’s chicken . . .” Elliot shuddered. “What is the point of chicken?”
“Eggs?”
Elliot waved a hand dismissively. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
As soon as Elliot drove away, Sam began pawing at Simon’s leg, trying to jump into his arms.
“You need to work your legs,” Simon told the pup, making him walk back to the apartment. But he picked up Sam before opening the door, grabbed a towel from the basket in the entryway, and dried off feet and fur.
As soon as he was free, Sam raced to the safety of his cage.
Determined not to let his disappointment show, Simon went into the kitchen, hung up the towel on a peg near the back door, and made dinner for himself and Sam. Then he turned on one of the movies Sam used to love watching, settled in the living room with food and a book, and gave his nephew as much comfort and company as the pup would accept.
* * *
Meg opened the journal she had found at the General Store. She labeled the first page Books, skipped a page, then labeled the next one Music. She skipped another page, put the date at the top of the page, and stopped.
What was she supposed to write? Dear Diary, I didn’t get eaten today. That was true, but it didn’t really say much. Or maybe it said everything that needed to be said.
She still wasn’t sure if humans didn’t stay long in jobs at the Courtyard because they quit or because they didn’t survive dealing with the Others. Except for Lorne, who ran the Three Ps, and Elizabeth Bennefeld, the therapist who was available at the Good Hands Massage Parlor a couple afternoons each week, Merri Lee was the longest-employed human in the Courtyard, and she had been working at A Little Bite for just over a year. Sure, employees were considered not edible, but that didn’t mean anything if the person did something the Others considered a betrayal.
What would the Others consider a betrayal? Certainly a physical act against them would count, but what about a lie that didn’t have anything to do with them? Would that be seen as betrayal?
In the end, afraid that privacy was still an illusion, she avoided mentioning names or what parts of the Courtyard she had visited while making deliveries, but she did mention attending the Quiet Mind exercise class, which was held on the second floor of Run & Thump, and visiting the Courtyard library.
She had found three of the books Winter had requested and two for herself before running into Merri Lee, who had talked her into trying the Quiet Mind class, then went with her to a couple of stores to select an exercise mat and workout clothes.
She was making friends, developing a routine that could become a satisfying life for however long it lasted. If she just remembered to stop at the grocery store to pick up food for the evening meals, she would be all set. As it was, she scrounged what was left of the food Tess had brought, too tired to go back out once she staggered up to her apartment.
Now, muscles loosened from a hot shower and adequately fed, she tucked herself into bed with one of the books, content to read while cars rolled by and people’s voices carried in the still air as they headed home.
She heard Wolves howling, but she wasn’t sure how close they were to this part of the Courtyard. How far did the sound travel? The library had computers that could access information through the telephone lines. Maybe she could find information about the animal wolf that would help her understand the terra indigene Wolf.
She tensed when she heard a heavy footfall near her door, but she let out a sigh of relief when that was followed by the rattle of keys in the door across from hers. She had passed Henry in the Market Square that afternoon, and he had mentioned that he would be staying in one of the other efficiency apartments tonight because he wanted to remain close to his studio.
Picking up her journal, she made a note to herself to look up sculpture and totems when she had a chance to use the computer at the library.
Henry’s door opened and closed. Cars crunched by. Meg got up to make a cup of chamomile tea, then went back to bed and kept reading, slightly scandalized by the story—and more scandalized by the fact that no one had stopped her from taking out the book.
Then there were no sounds of cars, no people heading home.
Meg looked at the clock and reluctantly closed the book. She got up long enough to put her mug in the sink and go to the bathroom. Tomorrow was a rest day, and the Liaison’s Office and most of the Courtyard stores were closed. Hopefully that didn’t include the grocery store. Apples for the ponies on Moonsday? She would need to cut them just before the ponies arrived. Otherwise the chunks would turn brown from the air. She knew that from training images. The girls had spent an entire week one year looking at captioned pictures of different kinds of fruit, from fresh to rotted. In a prophecy, seeing fruit that had been rotting for a specific number of days could indicate the time a person had been missing . . . or dead.
Meg let out a gusty sigh. Maybe her kind always saw the world as imag
es that could be recalled to create a whole picture for someone else. Or maybe it was the way she had been trained to think and learn. Jean hadn’t used the standard images all the time, but she had been unusual, difficult. Different.
You’ll have a chance to escape this life, Meg. You’ll have a chance to be someone for yourself. When the chance comes, take it and run—and don’t come back. Don’t ever let them bring you back here.
What about you?
The Walking Names made sure I can’t run, but I’ll be free someday. I saw that too.
The prickling under Meg’s skin started in her feet and ran up both legs. She stifled a cry, not wanting Henry to hear her and come pounding on the door, demanding an explanation.
She walked toward the bathroom, hoping to find something in the medicine chest that would ease the feeling.
She knew what would make the prickling go away, but it was too soon to cut again. Besides, she also knew how much it hurt to hold in a prophecy, and speaking without a listener would relieve the pressure but it wouldn’t do her any good otherwise.
As she tried to talk herself out of making another cut, the prickling faded on its own.
Meg splashed some water on her face, then returned to the living area of her apartment, determined to focus on the present and not the past because, most likely, her present could be measured in days or weeks.
The Moonsday treat. How many apples for how many ponies? She’d better bring extra in case more ponies showed up. How many lived in the Courtyard anyway? She’d have to ask Jester, since he was the one who looked after them.
Her mind on ponies and apples and what she might do on her day off, Meg pulled aside the drape and looked down at the street—and forgot all about sleeping.
The man was there again. She couldn’t make out his features, but he was wearing the same dark coat and watch cap as the man she’d seen the other night. She was sure of it.
As she watched, he crossed Crowfield Avenue, heading straight for the glass door that provided street access to the apartments. But that door was locked. She was still safe because that door was locked.
