by Anne Bishop
Simon’s frown deepened a little more. “You took the BOW out the other day. How did you learn to drive?”
“It’s not that hard,” she muttered. Then she added defensively, “At least I didn’t slide like you just did.”
He straightened the BOW and continued down the road. “You weren’t taught to drive. Were you taught to do anything except speak prophecies?”
“You aren’t dependent on your keepers if you can do for yourself,” she replied quietly.
The sounds he was making were terrible and frightening. When he glanced at her, he stopped the sounds, but in the moment when his eyes met hers, she saw a queer red flicker in the amber.
“Where are we going?” she asked. It looked like they were headed for the Green Complex. A minute later, he pulled into a parking space across the road from the complex.
“This is guest parking or temporary parking,” Simon said as he got out of the BOW. When she joined him, he pointed to a lane that ran alongside the U-shaped building. “That leads to the garages and resident parking. The morning bus wouldn’t get you to work on time, so you need to use the Liaison’s BOW—once you learn to drive.”
“I can drive,” she protested. “At least, going forward.”
He stared at her. “You can’t back up?”
She didn’t answer.
“Right. We’ll drive to work together for a few days.”
“But . . .”
“You can’t stay in that efficiency apartment over the shops, Meg. You’re too vulnerable there. So if you’re going to stay and be our Liaison, you’re going to live here.”
“Here? But this is inside the Courtyard. Humans don’t live here.”
“You do.”
There was a finality to the way he said the words, the way he took her arm and led her across the road. She’d seen some of the Green Complex when Tess brought her here to wash her clothes.
Out of sight. Out of reach. Safe.
“Second floor,” he said, leading her to a stairway. The porch had latticework on both sides and along half the front. She guessed it would provide shade, shelter, and some privacy in the summertime. And some shelter from the snow now.
He pulled a set of keys out of his coat pocket, opened the door, and stepped aside.
She stepped on a welcome mat, toed off her boots, and placed them on a cracked boot mat. Then she looked around.
Big living room. Natural wood and earth tones. Some furniture that didn’t fill the space, but was as much as she had in the efficiency. She glanced back at Simon. He stayed near the door, an unreadable look on his face. Hesitantly, she explored.
Two bedrooms. One was empty; the other had a double bed that had been stripped and a dresser. The bathroom looked modestly clean, and the kitchen had a pleasant, airy feel and included a dining area. It also had a door that led to an interior landing and a back staircase that went down to an outer door—both of which were shared with the apartment next to hers.
“Acceptable?” he asked when she returned to the living room.
“Yes. Thank you.”
He turned his head toward the door, listening for a moment before nodding. “Some females will help you make your den human clean. I’ll drive you back to the office in time for the afternoon deliveries.”
When he opened the door, she heard Merri Lee and Jenni Crowgard talking as they came up the stairs.
“Mr. Wolfgard?” she said before he stepped out the door. “I noticed the kitchen door shares a landing. Who lives in the other apartment?”
He gave her a long look. “I do.”
Then he was gone, and Merri Lee, Jenni, Allison Owlgard, and a young woman who introduced herself as Heather Houghton were piling in with food and cleaning supplies. By the time they all piled out again to go back to their usual jobs, the only thing left for her to do was bring over her clothes and the bits and pieces she had acquired.
Simon was waiting at the bottom of the steps. As the women passed him, Jenni said, “The Meg didn’t want to ask you, but there’s no television or movie player here. Could she bring the one from the little apartment?”
Simon stared at them, then at Meg. “Anything else?”
“Meg likes books,” Merri Lee replied cheerfully. “If there’s a spare bookcase at the efficiency apartment, you could bring that too.”
“I didn’t say . . . I wasn’t asking . . .” Meg stammered.
He took her arm and led her to the BOW. The other women piled into the one parked beside his, Merri Lee in the driver’s seat, Heather beside her, and Jenni and Allison curled in the back. They took off while Simon watched them.
Shaking his head, he opened the passenger’s door and, once again, stuffed Meg inside. Getting in the driver’s side, he said, “Merri Lee doesn’t drive any better than you do.”
“I drive just fine,” Meg snapped.
“Considering you don’t know how.” He pulled out of the parking space and sent the BOW flying down the road at a speed she wouldn’t have considered.
Folding her arms, she stared out the side window and muttered, “Bad Wolf.”
His only response was to burst out laughing.
* * *
Monty followed the man named John up the stairs and down a hallway to the door that had OFFICE painted in black letters on frosted glass. John knocked, swung open the door, and retreated.
“Come in, Lieutenant,” Simon said, rising from the chair behind an executive’s desk made of a dark wood.
The quick glance he allowed himself before giving the Wolf his complete attention gave him the impression of a typical office—desk with phone, computer, trays for paperwork; a large calendar that also served as a blotter and a protection for the wood. There were filing cabinets along one wall, and a lack of anything personal—no photographs or even framed prints—but some men preferred an austere work environment, so that wasn’t altogether out of the ordinary. The only thing in the room that wasn’t typical of a human businessman’s office was the pile of pillows and blankets in one corner.
“I appreciate you responding so promptly,” Simon said.
“Frankly, Mr. Wolfgard, I’m surprised you asked for me at all,” Monty replied. Something about those amber eyes. They were more feral now than they had been this morning, if that was possible.
“I talked to the members of the Business Association, and we all agree that while the woman in the wanted poster bears a strong resemblance to our Liaison, they are not the same person.”
Monty opened his mouth to disagree, then realized there was no point. Wolfgard knew perfectly well Meg Corbyn was the woman on the wanted poster.
“Furthermore,” Simon continued, “it seems the police are not the only ones who have made that mistake. Late Watersday night, someone tried to break in to the efficiency apartments we keep over the seamstress/tailor’s shop. He only got as far as breaking the lock on the outside door and climbing the stairs before being scared off by Henry Beargard.”
“You’re sure it was one man?” Monty asked.
“There might have been another waiting in the vehicle, but Henry smelled only one intruder.”
While Wolfgard’s form didn’t change, he wasn’t making any pretense now at passing for human.
“You didn’t report the attempted break-in,” Monty said, shoving his hands in his overcoat pockets to hide the trembling.
“I’m reporting it now. A broken lock wasn’t sufficient reason to trouble our friends in the police, but if it was an attempt to take our Liaison against her will, then it deserves everyone’s attention. We have, of course, taken precautions. Meg Corbyn is now residing in the Green Complex, where safe access is only possible by prior arrangement. I live there. So does Vladimir Sanguinati and Henry Beargard.”
Message understood. No one who tried to reach Meg Corbyn when she was asleep or otherwise vulnerable would survive.
“I’m sure Ms. Corbyn appreciates your interest in her well-being,” Monty said.
Simon barked
out a laugh. “Not enough to notice.” Then his face took on that feral look that was terrible to see on an otherwise human face. “Human law doesn’t apply in the Courtyard, Lieutenant. No matter what anyone else thinks, Meg Corbyn is ours now—and we protect our own. You make sure you send that message back to whoever made the poster.”
“Do you know why someone is making so much effort to find her?”
“It doesn’t matter anymore.”
One other angle to try. “If the items that were stolen were returned, I don’t think Ms. Corbyn would be of interest to—”
Flickers of red in Wolfgard’s amber eyes. When he spoke, Monty didn’t think Simon was even aware of the way his voice snarled, “Meg is ours.”
Another message there—and a sudden suspicion that he might be dealing with something far more delicate and dangerous than he’d realized.
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Wolfgard.” It was hard to do, but he turned his back on the Wolf and walked out of the office, closing the door behind him.
He didn’t get all the way down the stairs when the howl came from the floor above him.
He nodded to the pale young woman behind the counter and walked out of Howling Good Reads—and noticed how many people who had been browsing in the front of the store looked up and then headed for the checkout counter.
Kowalski was waiting for him when he slid into the passenger’s side of the patrol car. On the other side of the snow-shrunk parking lot was a van with FALLACARO LOCK & KEY painted on the sides.
“Anything?” he asked as he adjusted his seat belt.
Kowalski tipped his head toward the three men crowded around a glass door. “Break-in the other night. Broken lock. Intruder didn’t get far enough to enter any of the apartments and take anything. Chris Fallacaro runs this side of the business. His father is semiretired, which I took to mean has some prejudice against the Others and doesn’t take these particular service calls.”
“Does Mr. Fallacaro do any of the residential locks in the Courtyard?”
Kowalski shook his head. “He’s teaching a couple of the Others about replacing locks, and they’ve got their own key-cutting machine set up in their Utilities Complex. I had a chance to talk to him for a minute before the Others showed up. He says they don’t quibble about a bill, pay in cash, and outside of crowding him to watch what he’s doing and sniffing him—which can be unnerving because they can tell if he’s been with his girlfriend or what his mother served for dinner the previous night—there’s nothing hard about working with them.”
“If a key ever found its way into the wrong hands, that boy wouldn’t survive a day,” Monty said.
“Oh, he knows that, Lieutenant. That’s why he’s very careful about handing over all the keys, and goes to their complex to help them make extra sets.”
“All right. Let’s go back to the station. Looks like I’m going to spoil Captain Burke’s afternoon.”
* * *
Monty watched his captain’s expression turn stonier as he gave his report.
“You really think they’ll fight about this?” Burke asked.
Monty nodded. “They’ll fight.”
Burke leaned back in his chair. “You have any thoughts about why this woman is so important to them—or what she stole?”
“Why do any of us bring a stray kitten into our home and feed it?” Monty replied. “It may have been no more complicated than that in the beginning, but now that someone has invaded their land to get to Ms. Corbyn, the Others are a lot more invested in keeping her.” He paused, not sure how much to reveal about his own suspicions. “Something Simon Wolfgard said has been bothering me. If the victim of the theft knew who had taken the items and could give us what amounts to a photo ID for the wanted poster, why couldn’t he supply a name? If this is some kind of corporate theft and Meg Corbyn was an employee, why weren’t we told her name?”
“You’re edging toward a point. What is it?”
“What if she didn’t have a name? Or what if anonymity is for her own protection?”
“Everyone has a—” Burke slowly sat forward.
“From what I understand, those compounds are as well guarded as any Courtyard, and no one, including the clients who go to those places, really knows what goes on inside.”
Burke sighed. “We are standing on thin ice, Lieutenant, and if any part of what you’ve just implied is true, there are going to be some powerful people dropping boulders off a bridge, trying to hit the ice beneath your feet—and mine. Gods above and below, if our city government is seen to be on the wrong side of this argument, and our mayor, along with our jackass governor, has already put us on the wrong side by giving the order to circulate that wanted poster . . .”
He didn’t finish the thought. He didn’t need to. Finally, he pushed himself up. “I’d better talk to the chief and see what he can do about getting those posters off the streets before someone tries to make an arrest. What are you going to do?”
“Talk to MacDonald and Debany when they come on shift and make sure they’re aware of the potential conflict brewing. And I’m going to see if I can confirm or deny my suspicions about why Ms. Corbyn is so interesting to so many people.”
Monty hung up his overcoat and made himself a cup of green tea. Then he sat at his computer and spent the next couple of hours hunting for what little the police actually knew about the race of humans known as cassandra sangue.
CHAPTER 8
Timing her approach, Asia drove her car into the Liaison’s Office delivery area and parked in a way that guaranteed her vehicle would clog up the most space. Then she plucked the takeout cup out of the cup holder and hurried into the office. Seeing Meg hesitate in the doorway of the room marked PRIVATE, she widened her smile and strode up to the counter.
“I’m working an earlier shift and only have a minute,” Asia said, sounding a little breathless. “We got off on the wrong foot the other day, and it was totally my fault. I get too enthusiastic sometimes, and I really did want to get acquainted because I don’t have many friends and I think you’re someone I could talk to, you know? Anyway, here’s a little peace offering.” She set the takeout cup on the counter in front of Meg. “I wasn’t sure how you take your coffee or even if you drink it, so I brought you a cup of hot chocolate. Can’t go wrong with chocolate, I always say.”
She shifted position, her body language signaling awkward but sincere. “Anyway, I hope I didn’t cause you any trouble.”
“You didn’t cause trouble,” Meg said. “I appreciate the hot chocolate, and I’d like to chat with you sometime, but . . .”
“But right now you’ve got work and I’ve got work.” Asia looked over her shoulder when a horn beeped and the Crows perched on the stone wall responded. She rolled her eyes as she turned back to Meg. “And I am in the way of those delivery trucks and creating a roadblock on the highway of commerce.”
Meg smiled. “More like the cart path to the petty cash box.”
Waving, Asia hurried out to her car, flashed a smile at the deliveryman that wiped the sour look off his face, and drove out of the Courtyard. As she glanced in her rearview mirror before pulling out into traffic, she noticed two Crows taking off.
Score, Asia thought. Let those black-feathered gossips tell everyone she’d stopped by the office. Meg Corbyn had no social skills and couldn’t lie worth a damn with body or words. The feeb had bought the new version of Asia Crane, and that’s all Asia had been aiming for today.
A cup of coffee here, a slice of pizza there, and she would become the friend Meg couldn’t say no to. And then she would be able to get on with her assignment and make her backers happy.
* * *
A shiver went through Monty when he walked into the station’s assembly room and saw Captain Burke passing out the wanted posters of Meg Corbyn.
“Lieutenant?” Kowalski whispered behind him. “Maybe we should take a seat.”
Burke understands the danger. Why would he . . . ?
Monty looked at the faces of the other men as they glanced at the poster and then studied their captain, and their reaction to this particular assembly began to sink in.
When everyone was seated, Burke gave them all that fierce smile.
“Most wanted,” Burke said. “Grand theft. You will notice there is no mention of what was stolen or the identity of this person, despite an indication that she is, in fact, known to the person or persons who reported the theft. I’ve been told that all cities in the eastern half of Thaisia have been asked to be on the lookout for this person, and we will do our duty to our government and our city by keeping our eyes open.
“But, gentlemen, there are a couple of things I want to emphasize. First, nothing leads me to believe this person is armed or dangerous or in any way a direct threat to us or the citizens of Lakeside. So if you believe you have sighted this woman, force is not required for initial contact. Be clear about that.
“Second, it’s been said that every person has a doppelganger—someone who looks so much like you as to be mistaken for you. That can make for interesting stories of mistaken identity—unless that doppelganger happens to live in a Courtyard.”
Sudden shifting in the chairs. Nervous twitches. Nervous coughs.
“It has come to my attention that someone living in the Lakeside Courtyard bears a strong resemblance to this woman on the poster. I trust you can all appreciate the consequences to this city if we try to apprehend the wrong person. Lieutenant Montgomery and his team are assigned to handle any incidents that deal with the Others, whether the terra indigene are in the Courtyard or out amongst us in the city. If you see someone with the Others who looks like the woman in the poster, you call Lieutenant Montgomery. If he or any of his team asks for backup or assistance, the rest of you will provide it.
