Etched in Bone

CHAPTER 16

Watersday, Messis 18

Returning from Ferryman’s Landing, Kowalski pulled his car into the Courtyard’s customer parking lot and looked at Monty. “Did we just bend some rules or buy from the black market?”

“Neither,” Monty replied. “Ferryman’s Landing isn’t under human control. Butchers and grocers may be limited when it comes to selling foods that are grown outside our area, but there are no purchase limits for anything grown or produced on Great Island or the land used by the Intuits who grow crops around the mainland part of the village.”

Kowalski looked at the stuffed carry sacks in the backseat. “Even so.”

Monty nodded. “Even so.”

They’d gone to Ferryman’s Landing to purchase dinner rolls from Eamer’s Bakery since Nadine was busy making muffins and desserts as her contribution to the residents’ potluck, as well as making the pastries, muffins, and other food for A Little Bite to sell since Meat-n-Greens was closed to everyone else in order to host their private party. Ruthie had asked them to check at the open market for potatoes because the female pack didn’t have quite enough to make the mashed potatoes for the potluck and the potato salad Nadine wanted to make for the coffee shop.

After buying the rolls, they wandered around the open market, looking for the other items on the girls’ list. Somehow, in the course of explaining that they were buying ingredients needed for the turkey and potluck dinner that some Lakeside Wolves and humans were putting together, Monty noticed that the quarter pound of butter he’d asked for turned into a full pound so that there would be enough for the corn on the cob that would be served, a dozen eggs became two dozen, a pound of sugar ended up weighing more than a pound, and a five-pound bag of flour from a shipment fresh from the Midwest was added to their purchases when they weren’t looking. Vendors began calling out suggestions of dishes that would go well with turkey, even on a hot summer day.

Despite numerous assurances to everyone in the market that the Lakeside Courtyard did have fruit trees and the terra indigene and their human tenants had plenty of fresh fruit, Kowalski ended up lugging a large basket of assorted fruit to the car.

“Why do you think the vendors gave us so much extra food?” Kowalski asked.

“What we do in the Courtyard sets a precedent for Ferryman’s Landing as well as human-Other interaction in Talulah Falls,” Monty replied. “All those vendors at the market were Intuits. Maybe they had a feeling that what they were contributing to this meal would make a difference for everyone in the long run.”

“That’s a lot riding on one meal.”

Monty looked at his partner, who was sitting in a rapidly heating car, staring straight ahead. Yes, there was a lot riding on this meal. “My brother and his family weren’t invited,” he said quietly. “Jimmy isn’t an official resident.”

“Is he pissed about that?”

“He is, but my mother and Eve were firm in their decision about whom to invite. Mama will make up a plate for Jimmy’s family.” Not that he’ll appreciate it, Monty added silently.

Jimmy had had all kinds of things to say when he’d learned about the potluck—and learned he wasn’t invited. Tess and Vlad had declined the invitation, saying they would take care of their respective businesses. Captain Burke had also declined. So had Greg O’Sullivan, who was on his way back to Hubbney for a couple of days to speak to Governor Hannigan privately about the task force doctors who were missing. But Simon, Nathan, and Henry would be there, and, gods, so would Blair, who’d surprised everyone by accepting Eve’s invitation. Putting Jimmy, with his posturing and attitude, in the same room with the four of them was a recipe for slaughter.

And putting Jimmy in a room where he had time to study Meg Corbyn and realize what she was would hurt everyone eventually.

Monty got out of the car. “Come on. Let’s get this food inside and let the girls figure out what needs to go where.”

“Michael’s on patrol,” Kowalski said. “Since he’s not here for the prep work, he said he’d help with the dishes.”

“Did he see that turkey?”

Kowalski laughed. “Lieutenant, half of Lakeside saw that turkey.”

“We’re making a spinach salad?” Since he was in human form, Simon didn’t sniff the colander of greens Meg was washing and patting dry the way he would have in Wolf form. He took one of the leaves and sniffed it before eating it. Then he looked at Meg. “Why?”

“Because that is what I was asked to make,” she replied. “When I finish washing the spinach, I’ll clean the mushrooms. Then you’ll slice them.”

“Why?”

“Because you whine whenever I use a knife to slice or chop things.”

“I do not.” He didn’t feel easy when Meg held a knife for any reason, but he didn’t whine about it.

“Let’s call it a sound of concern,” she said. “Ruth says she’ll hard-boil some eggs to add to the salad, and Merri Lee is making a warm bacon dressing to pour over it.”

If the girls put enough bacon and grease on the leaves, the spinach might be tasty enough for a Wolf to eat.

He studied Meg, who seemed to be concentrating awfully hard just to wash a few leaves. “What’s wrong? Don’t you want to go to this potluck thing?”

“I do. Ruth, Merri, and I have talked about it, about what to expect. They’re excited. So am I. So is Sam.” She shut off the water and stood with her hands over the sink, drops of water falling from the tips of her fingers.

Simon waited.

“Skippy spends a lot of time with me and Sam. And he eats a few meals with the three of us every week.”

“He can’t join us for this meal,” he said quietly. “We’re all going to be in human form, and this is different. None of us have shared food with humans in this way before.”

“I know. But he isn’t going to understand why he’s being left out.”

She sounded sad, but she shook her head and went back to drying the spinach leaves.

They worked together to prepare the salad, saying little, not really needing words. And if Meg also noticed the odd silence that passed by the Green Complex, neither of them mentioned it.

Grr Bear sat in a chair that had been turned to look out at Crowfield Avenue, which made Monty wonder if the stuffed bear had been put in a time-out for some reason. Taking the other chair on the porch, he wasn’t surprised when Lizzy came over and leaned against him. Pulling her into his lap, he put his arms around her.

“Did Grr Bear do something I should know about?” He’d returned home to find Lizzy, Fanny, and Sarah on his porch playing jacks, watched by three Crows and a female Sanguinati he didn’t recognize. Well, the Sanguinati was watching the girls; the Crows were watching the game—or waiting for an opportunity to “borrow” some of the shiny jacks.

Lizzy shook her head and said very quietly, “But he wanted me to ask you if Frances can come live with us.”

“You call her Frances instead of Fanny?” Only his mama called Jimmy’s daughter by her proper name.

“She doesn’t like being called that word, Daddy. Especially . . .” Lizzy looked at Grr Bear as if for courage.

Monty felt a chill, despite the summer heat. “What is it, Lizzy girl?”

“Clarence is mean. He shakes his bum and slaps it and says things like ‘Fanny kisses fanny’ and makes a smacking sound like big kisses. When they lived in Toland, he told her he’d give her a quarter if she kissed his friends’ bums. And one time, a boy said he’d give Clarence a dollar if Frances kissed his boy stuff.” Lizzy wrinkled her nose to show her opinion of doing such a thing. “Frances doesn’t want to be bad, Daddy. She told me and Grr Bear that she doesn’t want to help Clarence when he does bad things. But if she doesn’t, he pinches her really hard until she cries, and then Uncle Jimmy calls her a crybaby and says mean things.”

Monty felt sick, dizzy, shaken. Clarence was a boy who might be growing up too fast and in the wrong way, but he was still a child. Was he really trying to pimp his younger sister? Had he learned that behavior from his father? Had Jimmy, who always preferred to use someone else in order to make money, tried to pressure Sissy into providing sexual favors to his friends or to acquaintances who had something he wanted?

Maybe Jimmy had tried, the same way Clarence was now trying to pressure Fanny, but he hadn’t succeeded. Mama and Daddy would have known if something was that wrong. Maybe they hadn’t realized how much hurt Jimmy was inflicting with his talk when they weren’t around to stop him, but if it had become physical in any way, they wouldn’t have cared that he was their flesh-and-blood son and Sissy was their adopted daughter. They would have called the police and reported Jimmy. They would have done right by Sissy.

“Daddy?”

Monty studied his daughter, wanted to ask if Clarence had tried to show her . . . Well, she’d seen Sam Wolfgard’s boy stuff, but Sam had shifted from Wolf to naked boy after rescuing most of Boo Bear, Lizzy’s previous bestest stuffed friend. And Sam had been in a room full of adults, many of whom saw no difference between seeing a human penis and seeing a male Wolf lift a leg to water a tree.

“Lizzy, has Clarence tried to hurt you?” Her hesitation made his chest tighten until it was hard to breathe.

“He called me names one day—used the bad words—because I said I wouldn’t play with him, just the two of us, and I felt really sad. But Sarah and I promised Grr Bear that we wouldn’t play outside alone and we would go to Sarah’s house if Clarence came outside. And we promised to include Frances whenever she was allowed to play with us.”

“Those are good promises.” Monty studied the stuffed bear sitting in the other chair. Not a time-out. Grr Bear was keeping watch for a young two-legged predator.

The Others might not understand the harm that could be done with words, but they would recognize—and respond to—any physical threat directed toward anyone who was considered part of the Courtyard.

“Daddy? Can Frances stay with us?”

“It’s complicated, Lizzy,” he said. For humans anyway. “But Fan—Frances can play here with you as much as she wants. And I’ll speak with Miss Eve about letting her play at the Denbys’ house too.”

“But not Clarence.” Not a question. It sounded more like a plea.

“No, not Clarence.” He set her down. “Can you and Grr Bear stay here for a little bit? Out here on the porch?” He’d ask Kowalski to keep an eye on things for a few minutes.

“Alone?” She looked at him with those big brown eyes. “Couldn’t Miss Leetha stay with us?”

“Leetha? Who is that?” He had a feeling he already knew.

“She used to live in Toland. Now she lives upstairs.”

Monty studied Lizzy as if he’d never seen her before. A few months ago, she’d lived in an apartment building where the adults would have panicked at the sight of one of the terra indigene. Now, having Sanguinati for upstairs neighbors wasn’t worth a second thought—was, in fact, an odd kind of comfort.

“I’ll ask. I won’t be long, and I’ll lock the door. Don’t you or Grr Bear answer it. Promise?”

“We promise.”

He went inside and called Pete Denby. “Pete? It’s Monty. I need to talk for a few minutes.”

“Sure. You want to pop over?”

“No. I’d like to meet at your office. This talk is more . . . official.”

Silence. Then, “I’ll see you there in a few minutes.”

“Someone is coming over to watch Lizzy.” Meaning, Robert and Sarah were welcome to come over if Pete needed someone to watch them.

“That’s covered.”

Wondering which of the Others was currently at the Denbys’, Monty hung up, left his apartment, and locked his door. He went up the stairs quietly, not wanting to see Jimmy right now. He knocked on the upstairs apartment door just as quietly.

The female who opened the door was the same Sanguinati who had been on his porch a little while ago. If she had been human, he would have put her in her early forties. He had no idea how old she really was, but something about the look in those dark eyes told him she had seen, and done, a lot in her life.

Unlike Nyx Sanguinati, this vampire didn’t wear old-fashioned clothes or move as a blend of smoke and human form, making it obvious what she was. In fact, this female would be noticed for her mature beauty and grace, and no man who admired her as she walked by would see a predator dressed in black trousers and a T-shirt, both made from some silky, rich-looking material.

“Miss Leetha?” Hard not to add an l to the end of her name.

“Lieutenant?”

“Would you mind staying with Lizzy for a few minutes? I need to take care of some business.”

“I can keep watch.”

“Thank you.” He turned to go.

“Lieutenant? If your business gets too complicated, we can simplify it for you.”

He didn’t look back, didn’t dare make even a noncommittal sound that she might interpret as tacit permission to kill his brother.

He arrived at the Liaison’s Office just as Pete reached the upstairs landing and had his key in the outer door.

“How official are we?” Pete asked when they were inside his office. He opened the small fridge and held up two bottles of beer.

“Not official enough that I would refuse one of those,” Monty replied.

Pete opened the bottles, handed one to Monty, then sat in one of the chairs in his waiting area.

Monty settled in the other chair, took a long pull of his beer, then told Pete everything Lizzy had told him.

“So far it’s just verbal abuse,” Monty began, then remembered the pinching. Hard to say where that would fall on a scale between sibling squabbles and abuse. “Mostly.”

“Just verbal abuse?” Pete made air quotes as he repeated the words. “You know better than that.”

He rubbed his forehead with the cold bottle. “Yes, I know better. Words can do as much damage as fists.” He drank more of the beer. “The motto in my parents’ house was ‘no unkind words, no unkind deeds.’ And if you were unkind, even unintentionally, you were expected to at least try to make things right.”

“Your brother doesn’t seem to have embraced your family’s motto.”

“No. But he learned how to avoid being caught too often for misbehavior, and when he was caught, he always tried to shift the blame to someone else—or persuade the other person to deny there was any wrongdoing.” Monty put the bottle on a coaster Pete provided. “He certainly trained Sissy to be collusive in what he took from her when we were children—and nothing I said to either of them seemed to make a difference.”

Monty hesitated, then wondered why, since he had asked for this meeting. Pete had already formed opinions about members of his family. He doubted anything he said now would alter those opinions—or shock an attorney. “The man Sissy was involved with, the girls’ father. He was a nice guy, steady. And he really loved her. I only met him a few times, but I liked him. He was happy when she became pregnant with Carrie, and he and Sissy talked about getting married. Then something happened, and he wasn’t talking about marriage anymore. But they stayed together, and despite him backing away a bit, things seemed to settle down.”

“You didn’t marry Lizzy’s mother,” Pete said gently.

“I wanted to get married. Elayne didn’t. Or, more to the point, her mother didn’t want her to marry a social and financial inferior.”

“What happened with Sierra?”

“We never knew. He walked out on her and the girls about a year after Bonnie was born. The one time I confronted him after he left, he said he didn’t mind working long hours to support his own children, but he’d be damned if he’d break his back for a moocher. I didn’t understand at the time. Now, having seen Jimmy and Sissy together here, I think about how her partner paid some of the bills directly, or bought clothes and toys for the girls, or brought over a bag of groceries when he came to visit his children. But he wouldn’t give Sissy any money.”

“Jimmy was taking a share of the house money, and Sierra’s partner figured out why they were having trouble paying bills.” Pete sighed. “She probably promised to stop giving her brother money, and things would settle down for a while.”

Monty nodded. “Then Jimmy would show up again and wear her down. And when she broke one promise too many, her partner left.”

“Do you know where to find him?”

He shook his head. “Mama might know. Doesn’t matter now. Sissy is out of Jimmy’s reach. But Frances . . .”

“You can’t take a child away from her parents because you were told about something that happened in another city,” Pete said. “There is no proof that Clarence coerced Frances to do anything, and it would be his word against hers.”

“Human courts couldn’t, and wouldn’t, take Frances away from her parents on hearsay, but human law doesn’t apply in the Courtyard,” Monty said. “I wouldn’t need to convince a judge that Frances was endangered.”

Pete leaned forward. “There was enough of an age gap between you and Sierra to provide some distance, but brothers and sisters close to the same age don’t always get along. If you have any doubts about that, I’ll let you spend an afternoon with Sarah and Robert when they’re being the bane of each other’s existence. Monty, if this is a tempest in a teapot, if Frances has embellished a sibling quarrel and added a dramatic flourish for sympathy, and you convince Simon Wolfgard to act on it, there is no going back. You have more experience with the Others than I do, but having observed how the adults let the kids scrap to settle things among themselves and only step in when it looks like one of them will get hurt, they’ll take your word that the threat is serious enough to remove the child. But what happens if Simon or Vlad or Henry decides Frances should be relocated? You won’t be able to withdraw your request, won’t be able to soft-pedal what you told them in order to keep her in Lakeside.”

“I know.” It could be nothing more than Frances being unhappy and lonely. She’d been uprooted from her home in Toland and had limited contact here with the children she could play with. Even now, the apartment was a temporary home, one her family could lose at any time. This could be nothing more than a somewhat introverted child wanting to feel settled. Or she could be in real danger of being pimped by her own brother.

Monty picked up the beer and drained the bottle.

“What are you going to do?” Pete asked. “What would you do if we were talking about Lizzy?”

“Talk to Eve and Ruth so they’re aware of a potential danger. Talk to Karl and Michael in an unofficial capacity.” Monty released his breath slowly. “And talk to Simon and Vlad about when human behavior requires intervention regardless of the age of the humans.”

“Before or after the potluck dinner?”

“After. No point getting everyone stirred up just before they’re supposed to sit down together for a meal.” But he’d ask Leetha Sanguinati to let him know if Jimmy, or Clarence, had any visitors.

Skippy arrived at the Market Square before Simon, Meg, and Sam. So had Nathan and Blair, but they were outside Meat-n-Greens, blocking the door to keep the juvenile Wolf from dashing inside and making a grab for some of the food.

“Pup, did you tell him about this meal?” Simon asked Sam.

“No. Maybe. A little. But that was before Meg told me everyone had to look human.”

Spotting them, Skippy headed straight for Meg, who was carrying the large bowl of spinach salad.

Blair growled a warning and Simon stepped in front of Meg, giving Skippy two reasons to veer away instead of leaping on, and possibly scratching, Meg to find out what was in the bowl. Nathan joined them, surrounding her until she reached Meat-n-Greens and went inside.

“We’ll stay out here until everyone else is inside,” Blair said.

“The female pack and the rest of the food are here,” Nathan said. “The males are just arriving. Is that normal? I thought males helped with food.”

“I did,” Simon replied.

Blair gave him a look. “You brought leaves and fungus.”

Simon bared his teeth. Then he sighed because it was true. “Come on, Sam.”

But Sam was staring at Skippy, whose amber eyes held a puzzled earnestness.

“You can’t come in,” Sam said with quiet authority. “You have to be able to shift to human form to eat here today.”

The adult Wolves didn’t move, didn’t intrude. The moment stretched. Then Skippy slunk away, crying in a way that made Simon’s heart ache.

“We’ll make sure he gets some of the food,” Simon whispered to Sam as he opened the door. He and the leader of the puppy pack went inside.

The tables had been moved together to form one long table down the center of the room. Other tables had been grouped to hold bowls and platters of a variety of foods.

“There is so much,” Meg said, taking slow steps toward the food tables.

Were there more choices than usual, or was seeing it displayed in a different way confusing her?

“We may have gone a bit overboard with the number of dishes we prepared,” Merri Lee said, putting a dish of green beans on the table. “But we wanted enough variety for everyone, and everything here can be eaten as leftovers. Meg, give me the spinach salad and I’ll add the warm bacon dressing and the hard-boiled eggs. Oh, and we have steamed corn on the cob, so make sure you take a piece to try it. Lieutenant Montgomery and Pete have gone to fetch the children. Eve is mashing the potatoes, Miss Twyla is about done with the corn, and Michael and Karl are carving the turkey.”

Simon would have liked to see this carving, but he didn’t ask. He didn’t care about getting in the males’ way, but this seemed like a good time to steer clear of Miss Twyla and Eve.

Montgomery, Pete, and the three human pups arrived, followed by Nathan, Blair, and Henry. Nadine and Chris Fallacaro came out of the kitchen area carrying baskets of muffins and rolls, and a plate with some kind of dense bread.

Nadine pointed to the foods. “Peach muffins, dinner rolls, and zucchini bread. I’m making use of what’s in season.”

Fruit in the muffins sounded good, but vegetables in bread?

Simon looked at Blair and Nathan. They looked at him.

Blair said.

Simon said as Michael Debany carried out a large platter piled with meat, including the turkey’s legs, which were the only intact—and recognizable—parts of the bird.

Kowalski came out of the kitchen area carrying two sacks filled with containers of food. “Miss Twyla is sending over some food to Cyrus and his family to keep the peace. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Montgomery came over to them. “Do you want help, Karl?”

“Better if I do it alone, sir.”

Montgomery nodded.

“I’ll walk out with you and make sure Skippy doesn’t ambush you,” Nathan said.

Eve Denby set a big bowl of cooked bread cubes next to the turkey and clapped her hands. “All right, everyone. Grab a plate and help yourself. Anyone shorter than Meg will be helped by an adult.”

Meg and Merri Lee looked at Eve and said, “Hey!”

The rest of the humans laughed. Simon had no idea why.

Merri Lee rolled her eyes. “If that’s the standard you’re using, Meg and everyone exactly her height get to be first in line.”

That brought more laughter. He still didn’t know why this was amusing, but Meg and Merri Lee, with Sam between them, were first to choose food, so he didn’t snarl at anyone. Nathan returned, gave him a nod to indicate that Kowalski—and the food—had escaped Skippy’s notice, and joined the line.

Green bean casserole, broccoli and cheese casserole, potato salad, macaroni salad, and spinach salad; muffins, rolls, and zucchini bread; mashed potatoes, stuffing, turkey, and gravy; corn on the cob and melted butter. He gave up trying to identify the rest of the food the female pack had made for this meal.

Meg didn’t take more than a spoonful of anything, but neither did the rest of the females. They still had full plates of food. The pups weren’t given as many different foods, but the quantity was still sufficient, even for Sam. As they took their seats at the table, Kowalski returned, and something about the pity in the man’s dark eyes made fur spring up on Simon’s shoulders and back.

“You need to come outside,” Kowalski said quietly when he reached Simon.

Montgomery set his plate on the table. “Is there a problem?”

Kowalski nodded, but he kept his eyes on Simon. “You need to come outside.”

Blair set aside his food. So did Nathan and Henry.

Simon said.

He heard the whimpering before he reached the door. Wolf but not Wolf. When he stepped outside, he understood the pity in Kowalski’s eyes, knew why Montgomery sucked in a breath.

Not human. Not Wolf. Not even that terrible but harmonious blend most of them took when they were stressed or needed aspects of both forms. This was the worst kind of between.

He didn’t want to be left out.

Before he could decide what to do with Skippy, Miss Twyla stepped outside and looked at the whimpering juvenile.

“I’m not having a naked boy sitting at the table, so you’d best get him some clothes,” she said.

“Miss Twyla . . . ,” Simon began at the same time Montgomery said, “Mama.”

She ignored them and pointed at Kowalski. “You run over to the store and get this boy a T-shirt and a pair of those elastic-waist exercise pants you all wear when you’re lifting weights and doing whatever else you do to make those muscles. Should be easy enough to take out a few stitches in the back seam to make room for his tail. Don’t bother with shoes right now.”

Shoes? They didn’t have anything that could accommodate Skippy’s feet. One looked mostly human but furred. The other was a Wolf’s paw with human toes.

“Shirt and pants will be enough,” Miss Twyla continued. “Run along, now. The food is getting cold.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Kowalski ran to the clothing store in the Market Square.

“Crispin, you go on in and make sure everyone gets started.”

Montgomery’s hesitation lasted only a moment. “Yes, Mama.”

“Miss Twyla . . . ,”Simon tried again.

“No.”

The word was said quietly and courteously—and made it clear that there would be no arguing and no discussing.

Miss Twyla gave Simon a long look. “You think I don’t understand what happened here, and why? Trying takes courage. How many of you got it right the first time?”

Most of the terra indigene who tried the form never managed to shift all the way, so they couldn’t pass for human. But they also didn’t try to sit at a table with humans and eat.

“Anyone who has a problem with this is welcome to fix a plate and eat elsewhere,” Miss Twyla said. “And that includes you.”

Stung, he snarled at her—and felt vaguely ashamed for doing it when she folded her skinny arms and just looked at him.

Kowalski returned. “I guessed at sizes. Figured the T-shirt would be okay if it was a little big. It’s hot and the rest of the kids are wearing shorts, so I brought these.”

He’d seen Kowalski and Debany wear shorts like those when they worked out at Run & Thump, the Courtyard’s fitness place.

“Those will work fine,” Miss Twyla said. “Now I need—”

Eve and Nadine poked their heads out the door.

“Twyla, what’s going . . . ?” Eve began.

Simon saw the shock and horror on the two females’ faces. Then those feelings disappeared, in the way a Wolf would disappear behind the mask of looking human. The feelings weren’t gone, just hidden.

Had they hidden feelings that way the first time they’d seen Meg’s scars?

“Need a seam ripper or a small pair of scissors,” Miss Twyla said.

“I have scissors in the mini sewing kit I keep in my purse,” Eve said. “I’ll get them.”

“You boys help him stand up and get dressed.”

He wasn’t sure who the boys were until Kowalski moved to stand on one side of Skippy and gave Simon an expectant look. After they hauled Skippy upright, the juvenile needed a minute to find his balance—not an easy thing when standing on two differently shaped feet. Nadine helped them get the T-shirt on while Miss Twyla held the shorts to Skippy’s waist and decided where to rip the seam to provide an opening for the tail.

When Eve returned with her sewing kit, she not only opened the seam but also added a couple of stitches to keep the seam from opening further.

Then they took Skippy inside.

Blair, Nathan, and Henry had guessed what had happened. The humans . . .

Henry said.

“Skippy, you sit next to me,” Miss Twyla said. “Ruth, you fix a plate for him. Start simple.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Ruth hurried to the tables with the food and began filling another plate while Merri Lee poured milk into a plastic cup.

Simon and Kowalski settled Skippy in the chair. The juvenile panted, stressed from the physical change and a body that must have felt like disjointed pieces.

Robert stared, a forkful of mashed potatoes suspended over his plate. “Is that Skippy?”

“So what?” Sam challenged.

“How did he do that?” Robert looked at Sam. “Can you do that?”

“We’ll discuss this later,” Pete interrupted. “Eat your dinner.”

Ruth brought a plate that held mashed potatoes, stuffing, turkey, and a spoonful of the broccoli and cheese casserole. “Wasn’t sure if he could handle corn on the cob.”

Miss Twyla nodded. “This will do for now.”

Skippy lunged for the food on the plate and got a smack on the nose.

“You wait until I cut it up for you.” Miss Twyla cut up the turkey, then put the plate in front of Skippy. She picked up a fork and tapped her finger on the end of the tines. “This is pointy and will hurt if you poke your tongue or the inside of your mouth. I expect you’ll stab yourself a time or two—all children do—but you try to be careful.” She put the fork in his hand and guided it until he’d speared a piece of turkey, then released him. “There you go.”

“How come you cut up Skippy’s food?” Sam asked.

Funny thing for the pup to ask since he’d pushed his plate over to Meg to have her cut up the turkey for him.

“I did that for all my children and grandchildren when they were little,” Miss Twyla replied.

“Grandma Twyla used to cut up my food, but she doesn’t have to anymore,” Lizzy piped up.

Henry said, sounding amused.

Sam cocked his head and studied Miss Twyla. “If you’re cutting up his food, does that mean you’re Skippy’s grandma?”

Montgomery choked but didn’t look surprised when Miss Twyla said, “Does he have a grandma? No? Then I guess I am.”

No one spoke for several minutes. The Wolves and Henry kept an eye on Skippy to make sure he didn’t try for the food on anyone else’s plate. The humans kept their attention focused mostly on their own plates.

“So,” Miss Twyla finally said, “what have you children been up to lately?”

Silence. Then Montgomery looked at Simon before turning to his mother. “Which children are you referring to, Mama?”

She looked at everyone around the table, including Blair and Henry. “All of you.”

“We caught a turkey the other day,” Blair said.

“And it’s a fine bird. Isn’t it, Eve?”

Eve Denby swallowed. “A very fine bird. And big enough to share.”

Merri Lee mentioned the new Crowgard cozy she was reading. Kowalski asked if Alan Wolfgard had a new book coming out. Michael Debany wondered if the Wolves had ever played a pickup game of basketball.

Bit by bit they all relaxed, talking about books and games that involved balls of one sort or another, talking about the foods that were a new experience for Meg as well as the terra indigene.

“Corn on the cob is wonderful,” Meg said. “We’ll have to get Jenni, Starr, and Jake to try it this way.”

Merri Lee laughed. “Yeah. I don’t think melted butter on raw corn would have the same taste appeal.”

They talked and laughed and asked Henry about his sculptures. Nathan growled a protest when Meg said she would dock him cookies the next time he was late for work, and that made the female pack laugh, especially when Meg confessed to looking under the Wolf bed to see if Nathan was hiding from her.

Through it all, Skippy sat among them, welcome and accepted.

Padding to the kitchen as quietly as possible, Jimmy scratched his bare belly, then reached under his boxers to scratch his ass. He opened the refrigerator and swore silently when jars stored in the door’s shelves rattled. When he’d left the bedroom, Sandee had been doing her pig snuffle—a disgusting sound, unlike an honest snore—so she wasn’t likely to hear him, but the damn kids had been trying to sneak food all evening and might wake up and want to join him. Hadn’t he let them have their portion of the food that had been sent over with that damned cop? That should have been enough.

He should have been invited to that big blowout dinner they had at Meat-n-Greens. He was living in one of these apartments, wasn’t he? Mama could have insisted that he, at least, be included. But it was that bitch, Eve, who’d had the stones to ask the freaks to bring her a big-ass turkey, so she was the one who had handed out the invites.

Something he wasn’t going to forget. Just like he wasn’t going to forget that she was supposed to take care of things around the buildings and usually worked alone. Backed-up toilet? She’d have to deal with it, and he wouldn’t need more than a couple of minutes alone with her to teach her why she should be nicer to him—and to persuade her to keep her fucking mouth shut.

Jimmy pulled out the plate of turkey, the three remaining rolls, and the jar of mayonnaise. He would have preferred heating up stuffing and mashed potatoes along with the turkey, but the ding of the wave-cooker might wake the brats, so he settled for sandwiches.

He cut the rolls, slathered them with mayonnaise, then stuffed as much turkey as he could into each one. Sitting at the small table, he bit into one sandwich, tasting resentment along with the meat.

His stash of money was getting low, and Sandee wasn’t bringing in enough to buy food every day, let alone anything else. Wasn’t their turf, and the Stag and Hare, the only tavern within easy reach without spending money on taxis or bus fare, had cops and vampires hanging around who would recognize her—and the cops at least would know why she kept leaving with different men. Even if CJ could be persuaded not to arrest her for prostitution, that bastard Burke wouldn’t hesitate. He didn’t seem the type who would look the other way for freebies.

There were bars closer to the bus station that had the sort of customers he was used to rubbing elbows with. Like everything else these days, drugs trickled into the city in small quantities, and the price of a little mellow weed was almost triple what he’d paid in Toland. A middleman could sample the product and still make a hefty profit. But he was a newcomer, and the middlemen already in Lakeside had staked out their territories and weren’t interested in making room for a competitor.

Which meant he had to be able to sell something else, something those other men didn’t have.

Jimmy stared at the turkey sandwich for a long moment before taking another big bite.

Even in the grimiest bars, the talk was the same: you usually could buy some kind of food at the stores where your ration books were registered, but butcher shops still ran out of meat before the next shipment arrived from the slaughterhouses. You couldn’t always buy a loaf of bread, and even when you could, how much you could buy was strictly enforced. Canned goods? Foods in jars? The canning factories and food-processing companies were operating again, if not in the same capacity because some of those places had a shortage of workers. Grocery stores stocked those foods whenever possible, but just as often there were empty shelves in those stores too. Women who had a fruit tree on their property and knew how to preserve fruits and make jams and jellies were selling whatever extra their family wouldn’t need during the coming year, but it was more like a neighborhood market day, and unfamiliar faces were watched by everyone—and police officers on horseback or on foot tended to patrol those streets during the market hours to discourage misbehavior or outright attempts to steal food.

The patsies made do with what was available, but the real men wanted something better. How were they supposed to do business eating nothing but fucking greens and a few measly ounces of meat each day?

The freaking Others ate rats and mice and all kinds of shit not fit for humans, and their butcher shop always had plenty of pork and beef. The good dogs even went out and brought back a fucking turkey for that bitch Eve just because she wanted one. If the meat in the butcher shop disappeared one night, they could just hunt up some more. At least then they would be good for something.

He couldn’t take the meat himself. He’d overheard one of the freaks telling the brats that everyone had a different smell, and the Others could tell where each human had been in the Courtyard. So he couldn’t be obviously connected to the disappearance of the meat.

But he’d met some men who could do the job and would be smart enough to give him his share of the haul.

His commission. Yeah. Businessmen received a commission for their part of a job.

Smiling, Jimmy ate the last sandwich and put the remaining turkey and mayonnaise in the refrigerator. Enough left for one person. Sandee would gobble up the turkey for breakfast before the brats could shovel it into their greedy faces. They could eat that broccoli shit or go hungry.

He needed to shake himself free of Sandee and the brats and get out of Lakeside. Nothing for him here. Unlike Toland, it was too small a city for him and his preferred kind of business to escape notice. He had to figure that CJ or, more likely, that bastard Burke had already told the police in other precincts who he was. With things the way they were right now, he didn’t think anyone could be persuaded to look the other way—especially if a theft involved food or some other essential goods.

So he needed a big score, something that would give him the means to get out of Lakeside and set up elsewhere. Had to think about where that would be.

He’d find his ticket out of here. Yes, he would. But he would have to wait until Moonsday. Then he’d approach a few men and make a business deal.