by Anne Bishop
“Thanks.” As he walked to the back of the store, he realized this meeting would also have significant ripples, and the next few minutes would determine if those ripples would be good or bad.
“Lieutenant.” Simon glanced at him, then checked a list and pulled more books off the stockroom shelves.
“Mr. Wolfgard. No watch Wolf today?”
“They come and go. That was always true, although Ferus and Nathan were the ones who spent the most time on guard at HGR. Ferus is in the Ash Grove now, and Nathan thinks our Liaison is more entertaining than the customers.”
“Ms. Corbyn has returned to work?” He’d seen the lights on in the Liaison’s Office when he and Kowalski had driven past, and that, too, had been a good sign.
Simon nodded. “She should stay in the den until next week, but she snarled at me when I suggested it.”
Monty wasn’t sure if the Wolf was offended or pleased, so he didn’t reply. But he thought, Good for you, Meg.
“Something on your mind, Lieutenant?” Simon asked.
Many things, but he’d start with the one least likely to offend. “I understand you’ve set aside one of the efficiency apartments for my officers’ use. Thank you.”
Simon looked uncomfortable. Then he shrugged. “We had the space. We set two of the apartments aside for our human employees so they don’t have to go out in a storm. And Henry still has the one he prefers when he wants to stay close to his studio. Letting your officers use the last apartment was sensible.”
And it would add another layer of defense to the Courtyard.
“I heard you removed the water tax on the Chestnut Street Police Station and the hospital that took care of Meg.”
“So?” Simon disappeared for a minute, then returned with an armload of books that he put on the cart.
“It’s appreciated.” Now they’d come to the next layer of discussion. “And to show his own appreciation, Dr. Lorenzo would like to set up a small office here and provide medical treatment for your human employees.”
No reason to mention that part of Lorenzo’s interest was the cassandra sangue living among the Others. Having the opportunity to gain some understanding of Meg Corbyn’s race was not something the good doctor would pass up.
“We don’t have room for . . .” Simon stopped.
Monty held his breath.
“Maybe,” Simon said. “But allowing this doesn’t change the fact that most of you are still just meat.”
No, it doesn’t change that, Monty thought. But most of us is a long step from all of us, and if you can learn to trust some of us, all of us have a better chance of surviving.
“I’ll discuss this with the Business Association,” Simon said. “Maybe Dr. Lorenzo can come and talk to us about an office—and check on Meg while he’s here.”
“I’ll tell him to call Howling Good Reads and set up a time with you.”
He could read body language well enough to recognize Simon was feeling closed in by all this talk about more humans in the Courtyard, even if he was the one allowing them access. So this conversation wasn’t going to last much longer.
“I have work to do,” Simon said, a growl of warning under the words.
“Then I’ll be brief,” Monty replied. “Your anger at the hospital was excessive even under the circumstances. I think you know that. Do you have any idea what caused that enhanced aggression?”
“No.”
Flat. Cold. The voice of a leader who will allow no challenge.
And a lie.
“All right,” Monty said, taking a step back. “I’m willing to help. Please remember that.”
Red flickered in the Wolf’s amber eyes.
The sound of a door closing. A moment later, Jester approached them.
Giving the Coyote a nod, Monty walked out of the stockroom. He stayed in the store a minute longer, scanning the display of mysteries and making a selection.
Humans have courage and resilience and they endure, Monty thought as he paid for the book and left Howling Good Reads. Roads would be opened, buildings repaired, and life would go on.
And the humans who had contact with the Courtyard would do their best to help everyone survive.
* * *
Simon stared at the Coyote while Montgomery’s words circled around him, closing in.
“Your anger at the hospital was excessive even under the circumstances.”
“How much did you hear?” Simon asked.
“I like it here,” Jester said. “I want to stay.”
Montgomery’s words seemed to echo in the room.
“Do you have any idea what caused that enhanced aggression?”
“How much did you hear?” Simon snarled.
“I won’t tell,” Jester said. “I’ll never tell.”
Quick-thinking Coyote who sometimes saw too much, heard too much. But unlike many of his kind, Jester wouldn’t break his word.
“You can stay.” Of course, what wasn’t said was if he couldn’t trust Jester to stay, he also couldn’t allow the Coyote to leave. But he figured Jester knew that already.
“Thanks, Simon.” Jester backed away. “I’ll go check with Meg and see if she wants the ponies to come up today.”
Then he was gone, and a moment later, Simon heard HGR’s back door closing.
“Do you have any idea what caused that enhanced aggression?”
Oh yes. He’d had plenty of time to think about it while they’d waited to take Meg home, and he had a very good idea what had caused that strange anger. Even the Sanguinati wouldn’t drink the sweet blood of the cassandra sangue, and he’d licked up plenty of it from the gash in Meg’s chin.
Winter and Air hadn’t paid attention to him on the race to the hospital, but Jester had been with him. And Blair and Vlad had been with him at the creek when they pulled Meg out of the water. Give either of them enough bits of information, and they would figure it out too.
He would keep his suspicions to himself for a few more days. Then he would talk to Henry before deciding who else needed to know what he suspected: that the blood of cassandra sangues was the source of the sickness that was touching humans and Others in the West.
But that was for another day, and Henry already carried the weight of another secret.
Simon had been at the hospital guarding Meg when Asia Crane was found. He hadn’t seen her, but Henry had. And all Henry said to him was, “I know what Tess is. We will never speak of this.”
Dangerous to be the only one who looked at a body and understood a truth about the predator who did the killing. Or maybe wise to be the only one to carry that burden. Either way, Tess was still running A Little Bite and baking chocolate chip cookies for Meg and Sam.
“Enough,” he growled. “You have a business to run.” And until he pulled these books so Heather could fill the orders, he had to stay here instead of going over to the Liaison’s Office to play with Meg for a few minutes.
Checking the list, he pulled more books off the shelves in the stockroom and thought about Meg, because thinking about Meg made him feel calmer, happier.
She had been released from the hospital on Moonsday, but he’d used Sam’s need to stay close to her as a way to keep her home for a few more days. And he’d also pointed out that most of Lakeside was still shut down, so the stores couldn’t send out any deliveries. Even then, she’d been stubborn about staying indoors.
Well, he could be stubborn too, especially when dressing Meg had turned into a game. He and Vlad and Jenni had raided the Market Square stores for clothes to keep Meg warm. They made fingerless gloves for her, and then demanded that she wear mittens over them if she so much as stuck her nose outdoors. If she actually went outside for even a minute, she had to wear an undershirt, a turtleneck, a sweater, and a down vest zipped up all the way so her chest would stay warm. Plus her winter coat and a scarf and wool cap. And two pairs of socks with her boots.
None of them had given the colors of the clothes any thought until Merri Lee came
back from visiting Meg on Windsday afternoon and grumbled about her friend being dressed like a paint-store explosion.
Shortly after that, he’d overheard Merri Lee, Heather, and Ruthie ordering clothes that, they said, would work with what Meg already had, so he figured the clothes game had run its course.
But there was still the hat game.
He scanned the shelves again when he didn’t find two of the books he wanted.
“We’re out of that one too?” he muttered as he added another caught-in-a-storm thriller to his list of reorders. Despite the lack of customers today, he’d been on the move since he unlocked the door, and he’d done nothing but pull stock to fill orders going to terra indigene settlements!
He refused to consider why the Elementals had put in a request for a handful of the caught-in-a-storm titles.
He stopped and let a shudder run through him. Even among the terra indigene, it took a little time to stop feeling afraid when the Elementals lashed out in rage.
But even Winter was calmer now that Meg was home.
Elliot’s meeting with the acting mayor had also helped calm everyone. The man had been quick to assure the Courtyard consul that all the wanted posters that had provoked such a tragic case of mistaken identity had been destroyed, and the police would do their utmost to apprehend anyone who caused Ms. Corbyn any distress in the future.
All the Others living in Courtyards throughout Thaisia would be watching to see if the human government in Lakeside would keep its word.
The man who sent the enemy into the Courtyard, the man who had given Meg a designation instead of a name, was still out there. Her skin was still worth too much profit for him to stop trying to get her back.
That Controller was still looking for her, and now the terra indigene were looking for him. The governor hadn’t known much, but he’d told the Elementals who came visiting his house in Hubbney everything he knew about Meg’s enemy. Sooner or later, the Others would find the man, and a human piece of Thaisia would be reclaimed by the wild country.
Simon looked at his hands, which had grown furry. He snarled when he couldn’t get them back to looking human, a sign that he was too agitated to wear this skin. Since he didn’t want to scare off Heather, he did the sensible thing.
He stripped off his clothes, shifted to Wolf, and went to the Liaison’s Office to have a few minutes of playtime with Meg.
* * *
Meg put in a music disc and turned on the player. She didn’t want to listen to the radio anymore. She didn’t want to hear about the people who died in the storm or the damage the city had sustained. Maybe she should feel bad about not wanting to listen to the news, but what happened wasn’t her fault. If she had let those men take her, the Elementals still would have savaged Lakeside for the death of old Hurricane, if for nothing else. She could argue that, being the reason the storm ended, she had saved more people than she had harmed by being here.
Didn’t make her feel any less sorry for the people who had been hurt. And it made her wonder whether Lieutenant Montgomery felt the same way.
She had expected to die in the Courtyard, had seen the images from the prophecies come to pass. But the outcome had been different. Not only had she survived, but she had also prevented Asia Crane and those men from taking Sam.
She would always be short, but she wasn’t helpless and she wasn’t small. Not anymore.
She glanced at the clock. Bracing for the sound, she set the mail on the sorting table a moment before Nathan howled. Apparently, he intended to do that on the hour, every hour, while the office was open.
The Meg Report. Meg is here. Meg is fine.
She hoped he would grow bored with this particular game very soon.
Hearing a sound from the back room, Meg picked up a stack of mail and barely glanced up when Simon trotted into the sorting room.
Something had changed between them while she was in the hospital. She wasn’t sure if Simon considered her a friend, a playmate, or a valued toy, but he seemed to enjoy playing games with her.
Speaking of games . . .
Standing on his hind legs, Simon rested one forepaw on the table and extended the other to touch her nose. She suspected the name of this game was Plop the Hat on Meg. If her nose wasn’t warm enough according to whatever criteria he was using at that moment, he would fetch the floppy fleece hat he had bought for her and make her put it on.
But she was no longer helpless or small. If she was going to be a squeaky toy for big, furry playmates, she was also going to have some say in the games. Starting now, with the choice of game.
She pulled back her head and glared at him. “If you try to touch my nose again today, I won’t give you any cookies.”
Simon withdrew the paw, seemed to consider that for a moment, then reached out again as if testing her.
“I mean it, Simon. No cookies for the whole day.”
Nose or cookies. Hard choice. But in the end, the cookies won.
* * *
Click here for more books by this author
ALSO BY ANNE BISHOP
THE BLACK JEWELS SERIES
Daughter of the Blood
Heir to the Shadows
Queen of the Darkness
The Invisible Ring
Dreams Made Flesh
Tangled Webs
The Shadow Queen
Shalador’s Lady
Twilight’s Dawn
THE EPHEMERA SERIES
Sebastian
Belladonna
Bridge of Dreams
THE TIR ALAINN TRILOGY
The Pillars of the World
Shadows and Light
The House of Gaian
