by Anne Bishop
“It doesn’t concern you,” Simon said. “Just do your work until I get back, and you’ll be fine.” He opened a bottom cupboard, hauled out a bag of dry dog food, and scooped some into a bowl. “This is Sam’s food. I give him a scoop in the morning and another around dinnertime. And he gets fresh water at the same time.”
Staggered by the responsibility he’d just dumped on her, Meg said, “But I don’t know anything about taking care of a puppy!”
“Just give him food and water twice a day.” Simon repeated as he shoved a set of keys into her hand. “Keys for this apartment. If you have any questions, ask Vlad or Henry.”
Meg hurried after him as he strode to the front door and picked up the carryall beside it. “Mr. Wolfgard!”
He turned and looked at her. The prickling under her skin turned into a harsh buzz that filled her legs as well as her arms.
Something bad has happened. Something very bad.
“What about taking Sam outside?” she asked, forcing her voice and body to imitate calm, a skill she had learned out of necessity. No matter what the Walking Names had said about professional manners and being clinical while handling female bodies, when girls struggled against being strapped down for a cut, it provoked some of them into doing . . . things . . . after the cut and prophecy in order to relieve their own response to the girls’ distress. And as long as no usable skin was damaged, the Controller chose not to see what his people were doing. After all, some experiences provided richer details to the visions—especially the darker visions.
To her surprise—and relief—Simon responded to her calm manner by calming down.
He shook his head. “If Sam got away from you, he could get hurt before you could catch up to him. He’ll have to do his business in the cage. I’ll clean it up when I get back.”
The whole apartment would stink of poop if the cage wasn’t cleaned for a few days.
A horn beeped.
Simon reached for the carryall.
“Mr. Wolfgard.” When he looked at her again, she lifted her chin. “You have something that belongs to me.”
He didn’t do anything except straighten up and face her, but she felt the underlying menace. Anyone seeing him now would know he wasn’t human. Because of that, she felt certain this was one time she couldn’t afford to back down. If she did, something in him would force her to remain submissive.
“You don’t need it,” he said.
“That’s not for you to decide. But you’re right—I don’t need it. A kitchen knife will do just as well, but mistakes happen more often when the blade doesn’t have a familiar weight and the sharpest edge.”
It wasn’t a bluff. Most girls who used some other kind of sharp edge when they couldn’t get their hands on the proper razor ended up ruined in one way or another if they didn’t end up dead.
He stared at her, red flickers in his eyes. Then he bared his teeth, and she watched in disbelief as his canines lengthened and then returned to almost human size.
The Wolf was definitely too close to the surface this morning.
Saying nothing, he reached into the pocket of his jeans, pulled out the silver razor, and handed it to her.
Someone outside laid on the horn.
Simon grabbed his carryall and went out the front door, not bothering to close it behind him.
Meg rushed out after him and watched him get into a small passenger van. She couldn’t see who was driving, but it looked like there were a couple more people in the back seats.
When the van drove off, she remembered she was outside and it was cold. But when she turned to go back inside, a fierce need to cut washed over her. Remembering the euphoria produced a flutter through her pelvis, that delicious pull of arousal.
One cut for a good cause. Something bad had happened. Something that was taking Simon away from the Courtyard. One cut might tell him so much.
Meg went inside, closed the door, and then leaned against it as she opened the razor.
One cut to help Simon and get rid of that awful buzzing under her skin. But with no idea of why he left, what should she focus on? Prophesies became too general if the cassandra sangue wasn’t focused on someone or something specific. Even a photograph wasn’t usually enough because the prophecy could be about the person who took the photo, not the subject in the photo. That was why the Controller’s clients had to be in the same room as the prophet in order for her visions to be about the right person.
As she raised her left arm and studied the skin on her forearm and hand, she heard a whimper. She walked into the living room and studied the pup in the cage. He was huddled in the back corner, looking scared.
A prophet needed someone to listen to the prophecy, needed to speak the words in order to feel euphoria from a cut. Swallowing the words and enduring the pain was how she had remembered the visions that had shown her how to escape.
Was she brave enough to suffer like that again?
Simon was gone, but there was still someone who could listen. Except the pup wouldn’t be able to tell her what was said, and she wouldn’t remember enough for the cut to be useful for anything but some physical relief.
Caw caw caw
Meg jolted at the sound of the Crows leaving. Gods above and below, she was going to be late for work!
Flustered, she closed the razor and tucked it into her pocket. She fetched the bowl of puppy food that Simon had left in the kitchen and put it in the cage. Then she locked the front door and bolted up the stairs to the back hallway and her own kitchen, locking doors as she went. The beef slices and jar of sweet pickles were shoved into the refrigerator. She’d return during her lunch break to check on Sam and put everything away properly.
A last look around to make sure everything was turned on or off as it should be. Then she grabbed her coat and the bag of apples for the ponies, stuffed her feet into her boots, and locked her door. Rushing down the stairs, she ran to the garage that held her BOW.
It wasn’t until she was driving toward the Liaison’s Office that she realized Simon hadn’t told her what to do if the Wolf pup shifted into a boy.
* * *
Simon waited until they reached the Utilities Complex before he turned his head and looked at Nathan Wolfgard and Marie Hawkgard, who were sitting in the back of the van. “You going somewhere?”
“They’re going with you,” Blair growled, slowing at the Utilities gate.
The Wolf manning the gate pulled it open just enough to allow the van to exit. He nodded at Simon, who nodded in return.
Blair pulled out into traffic, still growling. “The train isn’t going to wait for you, and we don’t have time to spare with all these monkeys on the road. Why are they on the road?”
“They’re going to work,” Simon replied. Glancing at Nathan and Marie, he added, “I don’t need company.”
“They aren’t company,” Blair snapped. “They’re guards. You’re the leader of the Lakeside Courtyard. You don’t travel alone. Especially not now. Humans see a Wolf on his own in a train compartment, they might get stupid and kill you. You remember what happened the last time a terra indigene was mobbed on a train?”
It was like a line had been drawn between the east and west of Thaisia. For three months any train traveling across the continent was hit by a tornado at the line that served as the designation for where the Hawk had been killed by humans.
Three months of bodies and freight torn up and thrown along the tracks. Then the Elementals, having made their point, went back to their usual way of interacting with the world.
“I remember,” Simon said.
Blair nodded. “That’s why enforcers from the Wolfgard and Hawkgard are going with you. That’s also why I called the train station to tell them you would be on the westbound train this morning, and why I asked Henry to call that policeman so that some of his people would be at the station.”
“This is supposed to be a quiet gathering of leaders to talk about what happened in Jerzy yesterday.”
&
nbsp; “Once you get off the train at the Midwest station, you’ll disappear into terra indigene land. Until then . . .” Blair glanced at him. “Simon, there’s nothing obvious, but you can’t pass for human today. The police and the train workers need to keep their kind under control because humans can’t afford to cause another problem.”
The humans in this part of Thaisia might not have heard the news yet, but once they did, they would be full of shock and anger and panic. Not a good time for terra indigene to be among them for anything but a massive hunt. But the Others were also full of anger. A wrong move by humans right now, and a lot of their hamlets, towns, or even cities could disappear.
“What about Sam?” Blair asked.
“Meg will take care of him.”
“Meg?” Blair took his eyes off the road to stare at Simon a moment too long and almost rammed the car slowing down in front of him. “Why?”
“Because she’s the first thing in two years that made him curious enough to forget he’s afraid of being outside.”
A soft whine from Nathan.
“What did Elliot say?” Blair asked.
“I didn’t tell him.”
Blair looked thoughtful. Then he nodded. “When he finds out, I’ll deal with it.”
“I want the Crows watching the office,” Simon said. “Tell Vlad and Henry to keep an eye on Meg. She hasn’t had much contact with other terra indigene, and her not prey scent might cause confusion.” In someone besides me, he added silently. Although knowing her scent was caused by her being cassandra sangue had eased that confusion inside him. She was still a puzzle, but that just made her something interesting to explore.
“Jester has had the most contact with her,” Blair said. “He finds her entertaining, but he’s also wary of her.”
Blair nodded.
They drove the rest of the way to the train station in silence. Simon’s thoughts were full of Sam and Meg. He regretted not being there to watch them, but maybe that was better. They would have to figure out how to deal with each other on their own.
When they pulled into the train-station parking lot, Simon noticed the police car as he got out of the van, letting Nathan retrieve his carryall from the back. Lieutenant Montgomery stepped out of the car.
“Have to go, or we’ll miss the train,” Nathan said.
Simon nodded to Montgomery, then strode into the station, followed by Nathan and Marie.
When he boarded the train, he and his guards had the back half of a passenger car all to themselves. A sweating conductor blocked the aisle after they took their seats, directing the humans who hadn’t found a seat elsewhere to the front half of the car.
Nervous glances. A buzz of whispers once the train started moving. And a railroad security guard taking the place of the conductor to ensure there wouldn’t be any trouble.
Nathan was a couple of seats in front of Simon. Marie was a couple of seats behind him on the opposite side of the aisle. They, along with the human guard, would keep watch; he didn’t need to.
Nothing he could do for the moment. The new drug or disease that was touching humans and Others alike had become more than a worry. What had happened in Jerzy could start a war. Terra indigene leaders needed to meet, needed to talk, needed to decide what should be done. Humans had weapons that could challenge claws and fangs. They had guns and bombs that could kill the shape-shifters and even the Sanguinati when they were in human form—if they died before they could shift to smoke. But nothing could stop the Elementals, which was something humans tended to forget until it was too late. And that was one of the reasons the terra indigene rationed the metals and fuels and other materials humans needed to create their weapons. The outcome of a war wouldn’t change, so why should shifters have to die before the monkeys were extinguished? Besides, killing the humans all at once was a waste of meat.
Simon closed his eyes. Nothing he could do for the moment. Blair would look after the Courtyard—and keep an eye on Sam and Meg. As for the humans, he would have to trust Lieutenant Montgomery to keep the peace until he got back.
* * *
“Oh, that’s not good,” Meg muttered when she spotted the black sedan idling along the side of the Liaison’s Office, unable to move forward because of all the delivery trucks that were in the way.
Parking her BOW willy-nilly and hoping no one needed to get another vehicle out of the garages, she bolted into the office. She had to get some of those deliveries taken care of before Elliot Wolfgard coughed up a hairball.
Did Wolves have hairballs? How could she find out such things?
Shaking her head, she removed her boots, hurried into the sorting room . . . and stopped. The Private door was wide-open, so she could see part of the front counter. The Hawk she had met the other day was standing behind the counter, his arms folded, his stance aggressive. He glared at someone she couldn’t see and said, “Just write the words the Meg will want and leave the boxes.”
One of the Crows, standing on the counter, cawed at the visitor, then walked over to the container filled with pens, lifted one out and, holding it in his beak, walked back. He tapped one end of the pen on the counter, then held it up as if offering it to someone—who obviously didn’t take it because the pen was tapped on the counter again.
Hurrying to the doorway, Meg poked her head into the front room and got a look at the deliveryman.
“Hi, Dan. Sorry I’m late. Slept through the alarm. Just give me a second to get my coat off and I’ll be with you.”
She hadn’t realized how nervous he’d been about being alone with the Others until she saw the relief on his face. She hadn’t thought the Hawks and Crows were that dangerous, but maybe he knew more about them than she did.
“Oh, that’s all right, Ms. Meg. Happens to all of us.”
The Crow tapped the pen on the counter and held it up again.
Meg beamed a smile at the Hawk in human form and the Crow. “And you two opened up the office? That’s great. Thank you. Be right with you, Dan.”
“I know what you need.”
And he didn’t wait for her.
As she ducked back into the sorting room, she saw him gingerly take the pen from the Crow. By the time she hung up her coat and pulled on her shoes, Dan was outside, talking to a couple more deliverymen, and Harry was pulling open the door, juggling his delivery on one arm.
“Good morning, Harry,” Meg said. Had she remembered to brush her hair? Simon’s grab and hustle this morning had wiped her routine right out of her mind. She touched one side of her head.
“Morning, Miz Meg.” Harry looked at her hand and smiled. “I see you’ve got a couple of helpers today. You take your time getting settled. We’ll do fine.”
The Crow grabbed the pen lying on the counter and held it up.
Taking Harry at his word, Meg retreated to the washroom and looked in the mirror. Her hair wasn’t sticking up every which way, but it had been flattened by her hat. She ran a comb through it, decided that was as good as things would get, and went back to the counter.
The last deliveryman was writing down his information under the Crow’s watchful eye. He looked at Meg and smiled. “Figures the day you’re late to arrive is the day we’ve all got the Courtyard down as our first stop.”
“Well, you all took care of it, and I thank you for that,” Meg replied as she watched the black sedan pull out on Main Street.
“The Beargard said to help the Meg today,” the Hawk said.
“Oh.” The Crow was entertaining himself by pulling pens out of the container and arranging them on the counter, but what was she supposed to do with the Hawk? And how long did they expect to “help” today?
Since he was in human form, there was one thing the Hawk could do.
“I didn’t have time for breakfast this mor
ning,” Meg said. “Would you go over to A Little Bite and ask Tess for some coffee? Tell her it’s for me, and she’ll know how to fix it. And ask her if Howling Good Reads has any copies of the Lakeside newspaper.”
The Hawk stared at her. “The Lorne makes the newspaper. He’s over there.” He pointed in the direction of the Three Ps.
“Not the Courtyard’s newsletter. I’d like a copy of the newspaper the humans read.”
“Why would you want that?”
The Crow looked up from his pen arrangement to stare at her too.
Clearly being too interested in human activity was suspicious behavior here, even if the person was human. But something bad had happened, something that had caused Simon to leave in a hurry. Maybe she could find out what it was without cutting.
“As Liaison, I should be aware of what is happening in the human part of the city,” Meg said, choosing her words with care. “And I can check store ads and make a list of things that might interest the terra indigene.”
After a moment, the Hawk nodded and left. Meg smiled at the Crow and brought the handcart of packages into the sorting room.
Some were small enough to go with the mail. Others she would pack in the BOW for deliveries, along with her personal delivery.
The Hawk returned with a large coffee, a newspaper, and a small bag. He set them all on one end of the sorting table.
“HGR gets newspapers,” he said. “Tess will tell Vlad that you are to get one now. There is food. There is no mouse in it, but the Merri Lee said you would like this meat better.”
Thank the gods for Merri Lee. “Thank you.” When he stared at her, she added, “I don’t need any more help right now.”
He turned and went into the back room. Meg was reaching for the coffee when he walked back out, naked. He went right by her, vaulted over the counter, then held out an arm for the Crow, who hesitated but hopped on his arm. The two of them left the office. The Crow joined its friends on the wall that separated the delivery area from Henry’s yard. The Hawk stood in full view of anyone driving by long enough to make Meg wonder how to explain the cause of all the car accidents when the police came calling. Then he shifted and flew off.
