by Anne Bishop
Typical back room of an office. A table and two chairs, the pseudokitchen with its mini fridge and counters. A washroom, and a storage area full of bins of clothes, some clean and some just this side of ripe.
Nothing in the fridge that was useful to her plans. But in the cupboard under the counter, she found what she was looking for: a partially used box of sugar lumps.
Wishing she could turn on a light, Asia put the flashlight on the floor and took the vial out of her pocket. The crystals didn’t look any different from sugar crystals, and from what she’d learned about this stuff, it didn’t taste much different either, which is why it was so effective and the penalties for using it were so high. She tapped crystals over the top layer of sugar lumps, then gently shook the box to coat more of the lumps. She continued doing that until she poured the last crystals over the sugar.
Putting the empty vial back in the coat pocket, she replaced the box of sugar, picked up her flashlight, and went into the next room.
Not much to look at. Who could stand working in such a boring room day after day? There wasn’t even a stack of mail that would give her a few names she didn’t know from the bookstore and coffee shop.
She opened a cupboard and found boxes of dog cookies. For a moment, she regretted using all those crystals on the sugar, then realized it was just as well she hadn’t been able to give in to impulse. If anything happened to a Wolf, it could be seen as an act of war. But she had never heard of Others named Ponygard, which meant the stupid ponies were just animals. They would be a distraction, a way to stir things up, nothing but collateral damage in the overall scheme.
Opening a drawer under the counter, she stared at a sheet of paper for a long moment. Then her heart bumped with excitement. She had found a map of the Courtyard. Gates, roads, buildings—everything the extraction team would need.
Payday!
Pulling Darrell’s shirt over her hand, Asia picked up the map with two fingers and put it on the big table. Then she took out her camera . . . and swore under her breath.
A flashlight and the flash on the camera weren’t going to do it. If she wanted pictures that would be useful, she was going to have to turn on the lights, just for a minute.
No curtains on the window. Nothing she could use quickly to block the light.
Stop stalling, she thought as she waved the flashlight over the walls until she found the light switch. The faster you take the pictures, the faster you can get out of here.
Flipping on the lights, she hurried back to the table and took several shots of the map as the full page, then several more in zoom mode to provide more details. She put the camera in the coat pocket and the map in the drawer, flipped off the lights—and heard an Owl hoot.
Damn, fuck, shit. Was one of them perched on the wall next to the office? Or, worse, perched on the railing of the stairs she needed to climb?
She crept to the back room, put on her boots, opened the outside door, and listened hard. No feathers rustling overhead, no more hooting.
Slipping out the door, she locked it, then turned off the flashlight. Her foot was on the first stair when she thought about the empty vial in her pocket. According to Bigwig, the police presence and the speed in which they responded to anything involving the Others were unusual. That meant an empty vial could be as good as a confession if they found it on her.
Taking the vial out of the coat pocket, she walked a few feet from the stairs and shoved the vial into a snowbank as far as she could. Then she pushed the snow around to cover the hole, brushed off the coat sleeve, and hurried up the stairs.
Stripping out of Darrell’s clothes, she took the clothes she’d worn that evening into the bathroom, along with her overnight case. She had taken a shower with Darrell as part of the foreplay, using the soap and shampoo the Others insisted their employees use. Now she gave her clothes and body a light spritz of the floral scent the Others associated with Asia Crane because she always wore that scent when she went into Howling Good Reads or A Little Bite.
And that scent wasn’t in the Liaison’s Office.
She put everything away and slipped into bed, grateful for the trapped body heat. Darrell was still in a heavy sleep and didn’t do more than grunt and turn away from her when she tried to ease her cold body closer to his warm one.
An hour passed. Then two. She thought about that vial hidden in the snow, where it would hopefully remain until spring. She thought about the camera and the incriminating photos on the camera’s storage card. She thought about how to sever her relationship with Darrell.
She thought about what Asia Crane, SI, would do.
She slipped back out of bed, got dressed, gathered her things, and left. She didn’t give her car enough time to warm up, and she didn’t brush enough snow off the back window before she drove out of the Courtyard. It was late, and there was hardly any traffic. That didn’t mean a cop wouldn’t tag her.
She drove another block before she pulled over and properly cleaned off all the windows. Then she dug her mobile phone out of her overnight case and made a call, but it wasn’t to Bigwig.
“Hello?”
“I need one of your special messengers. Someone who can print some pictures and can also take more personal instructions.”
“He can be at your residence in thirty minutes.”
“I should be back by then.”
Asia ended the call, tucked the phone back in the overnight case, and drove to her apartment. She had chosen the university district because it was close enough to the Courtyard but not one of the neighborhoods that rubbed against the land controlled by the Others. It wasn’t likely that any of them had seen her, except when she visited the stores, so they wouldn’t know where she lived.
It was now very important that they didn’t know where she lived.
When she got home, she barely had time to turn on a couple of lights before there was a soft knock at the door.
The same special messenger who had delivered her present.
“You have something for me?” he asked after he closed the door.
She shucked off her coat and took the camera out of the interior pocket. “I have pictures that can’t be seen by anyone working in a photo shop.”
He waggled the black case he was carrying. “And I have a private way of printing photos.” He walked over to her dining table and began setting up.
She watched him hook up a miniature printing center. “I’ve never seen anything like this. Must cost a bundle.”
“Costs an arm—literally—if it’s lost or damaged, but the benefactor who finances these assignments believes in giving his people the highest-quality equipment, since there are rarely second chances.”
“How can something like this be manufactured without the Others knowing about it?” Asia asked.
He gave her a feral grin. “You can hide all kinds of things from them if you know how. Now. Give me that storage card, and let’s see if what you’ve got is worth that late-night phone call.”
Stung by the implied criticism that she had annoyed an important man for a pittance of information, she popped the storage card out of the camera and handed it to the messenger. He slipped it into one of his little boxes, then clicked on the program that would open the pictures.
He studied them for a minute. Then he whistled softly. “I stand corrected. These are worth a late-night call.” He looked at her with new interest. “Where did you find this?”
“In the Liaison’s Office.”
“How fast do they respond to threats?”
“Fast. And the police respond almost as fast.”
“Damn. They usually drag their heels when a call is about a Courtyard.”
“Not here.” She hesitated. This whole assignment was a lot riskier than anything else she’d done for her backers, and doing work for this benefactor and her backers had its own kinds of risk. But, damn, it was exciting and just the kind of thing Asia Crane, SI, would do.
“I think some distractions, some false
alarms, would be smart,” she said, slipping into the role of her alter ego. “Give the police a reason to slow their response time. Create distractions that are nothing but annoyances.”
He began printing the pictures, studying the overall map of the Courtyard while the enlarged images printed. “Small distractions and annoyances close to the gates.” He moved a finger around the area that contained the shops, consulate, and Liaison’s Office. “Activity mostly during the day?”
“And early evening. They don’t keep regular hours like a human business, but most of the businesses are closed by nine p.m.”
“What about this place? The Utilities Complex.”
Asia shook her head. “Don’t know. I’d guess more activity during the day, but I’m not sure if humans are allowed in there.”
“We can find out,” he said absently while he continued to study the map. “Distractions. We can keep them stirred up so they don’t recognize the real threat when it comes.”
“But nothing until after Moonsday.”
He turned his head and studied her. “Why is that?”
“Because I already put the first distraction in motion. And I figure it will happen on Moonsday.”
He finished printing the pictures, even printed out one extra of the overall map for her to keep. After putting his equipment back in its case and sliding the pictures into a manila envelope, he gave her a thorough look—and smiled. “I was told you also needed something more personal.”
“Not that,” she said. “I don’t want anyone’s scent there except the man I was with tonight.”
“Then what are you looking for?”
“Rough me up. Not enough to need a hospital or report it to the police, but enough that other women would understand me wanting to break up with this man—and not come around where he might see me. I need a reason not to be around the Courtyard on Moonsday.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You setting him up?”
“Let’s say he’s going to act as insurance for all of us.”
The messenger gave her body a coldly professional study while he pulled on a pair of thin leather gloves. “Then let’s get started.”
CHAPTER 20
“Are you sure?” Simon asked, after closing his office door and returning to the desk.
“I’m sure,” Vlad replied. “I followed them from the Green Complex. And this morning, Blair confirmed that the BOW should have been fully charged, since he connected it to the energy source yesterday afternoon, and it isn’t.”
“Then why didn’t you take care of it last night?”
“Why didn’t you take care of it this morning after Nathan told you he’d found Darrell’s scent in the back room and sorting room?” Vlad countered.
Simon glanced at the comfy Wolf bed in the corner of his office—an item several of the Wolves now had in their work spaces—and knew he and Vlad had the same reason for not killing Darrell right away.
He didn’t care what the police or the human government or the whole damn city of Lakeside thought about him tearing out the throat of a human who broke trust with the terra indigene. But there had been the possibility that Meg had asked Darrell to deliver something to her at the Green Complex, and he’d gotten scared when he saw Vlad because he’d allowed Asia Crane to come with him. And there was the slightest possibility that Meg had asked Darrell to help her with something in the back room or in the sorting room. The Business Association wasn’t as strict about keeping known humans out of those rooms since Meg started working for them, mostly because she needed human company to be happy, and the Others wanted her to be happy so she would stay.
Couldn’t eat Darrell if the man really had been doing something for Meg.
“We can’t allow a monkey to break our rules,” Vlad said.
“No, we can’t. But Darrell works for Elliot. Since the man didn’t do more than drive to the Green Complex without permission, I’ll let Elliot decide how to deal with him.” Simon thought for a moment. “After I talk to Elliot, I’ll call Chris Fallacaro and have him change the locks at the consulate and on the Liaison’s Office.”
“What about that Asia Crane?” Vlad asked.
“She was with Darrell and she never left the vehicle. I’m not sure we can call that trespassing,” Simon said. Especially since Vlad let her leave the Courtyard last night. “She’s banned from the Courtyard, starting now. And that includes the stores, even HGR and A Little Bite.” The relief that he had a reason to keep her far away from Meg was so sharp, it almost hurt.
If Meg got mad at him for banning Asia, he would accept it. He would. For a little while, anyway.
“All right,” Vlad said. “I’ll inform Grandfather of the Wolfgard’s decision. You talk to Elliot.”
When Vlad left, Simon stretched his neck and shoulders, feeling the pop of tight muscles loosening. That done, he called Elliot, then sat down and worked out the wording for the flyers Lorne would make for him as soon as the Three Ps opened.
* * *
Vlad flowed under the door of Elliot’s office, a patch of smoke moving over the carpet, keeping close to the wall. He didn’t care that Elliot saw him enter and knew he was going to listen to the Wolf deal with the human. He just didn’t want Darrell to notice he was there.
While there was no doubt that the human would be dismissed from his job at the consulate, there was no certainty he would get out of the Courtyard, despite the short distance between the consulate’s door and the delivery area’s street entrance.
No matter how fast a human could run, the Sanguinati could move faster. And per Erebus’s orders, unless Vlad was convinced that Darrell had done nothing more than act foolishly because of a woman, the man wouldn’t get past Nyx when he bolted for the presumed safety of the human-controlled land.
“Mr. Wolfgard?” Darrell said as he fiddled with the knot in his tie. “You wanted to see me?”
“Yes,” Elliot replied, his voice smoothing into a sound that gave nothing away. “Do you know why?”
“No, sir. But . . . someone emptied my desk and put some of my personal items in a box.”
“No, we put all of your personal items in the box. The rest of the items in the desk actually belong to the consulate. Now you’ll hand over the keys you were given, as well as your pass to the Market Square.”
“But . . . why?”
“You’re being dismissed for a breach of trust.”
Rapid breathing. Pulse spiking. Face turning pale. And even with all those acknowledgments, the fool still tried to deny what the Others knew.
“I didn’t,” Darrell said.
“I hope for your sake that the breach begins and ends with you taking that female to the Green Complex. I hope you understand what will happen if you become indiscreet about what you’ve seen or heard in the consulate.”
“Sir, I think I’ve done a good job here,” Darrell began.
“You did. I was pleased with your work. But you broke the trust we had given you, and now you have to go. However, before I let you leave this room, I need one answer: What were you looking for in the Liaison’s Office?”
“I wasn’t in the office,” Darrell protested. “I was in the abovestairs room I was told I could use last night. I was with my . . . friend . . . until I woke up this morning.”
“So you were never in the office?” Elliot asked, his voice still smooth.
“Sure, I was in the office. Went to pick up the consulate mail a few times.”
“Why?”
“Why?”
“Yes,” Elliot said patiently. “Why? You’ve never done that before.”
Darrell squirmed in the chair. “I wasn’t comfortable being around the other Liaisons. But Meg is a pleasant girl, and she always has the mail bundled in an orderly manner. I just thought picking it up would be a friendly gesture.”
And a way to set up Meg as the next potential friend if Asia Crane didn’t work out? Vlad wondered.
“Whose idea was it to go to the Green Complex?” Elliot a
sked. “Your pass doesn’t extend beyond our business district without permission, and your guest didn’t have permission to go anywhere last night except the designated room for your . . . social interaction.”
“She wanted to see it, as an adventure.”
“See what? It was late. It was dark.”
“I think she wanted to see where Simon Wolfgard lives.” Darrell hung his head and talked to his tie. “She said she wasn’t interested in him anymore, but I think she is. I think she pretended . . .”
Leaving Elliot to finish the dismissal, Vlad flowed under the door, shifting to human form when he was in the hallway. When he got outside, he stopped long enough to tell Nyx that Darrell was allowed to leave the Courtyard intact. Then he walked down the access way between the buildings and stopped behind the Liaison’s Office.
The truck from Fallacaro Lock & Key was already there, and Chris Fallacaro was working on the office’s back door. Blair was watching him, which was probably why it was taking the human so long to change a lock. Having youngsters watching in order to learn was one thing. Having the Courtyard’s primary enforcer watching was something else altogether.
And there was Meg, pulling up and looking confused because the truck and Blair’s BOW effectively blocked her ability to park her own vehicle.
They hadn’t discussed what they were going to tell Meg, and he didn’t want to push Simon—especially when they weren’t on opposite sides. He would have preferred a more permanent solution to ridding themselves of Asia Crane, and he should have taken care of it last night. Since he’d made the wrong choice, he thought Simon should be the one to take the direct approach now—and provide them all with some blood and meat in the bargain.
But what would they have said to their Liaison? It’s like this, Meg. We didn’t like that Asia Crane, so we ate her.
