Marked In Flesh

CHAPTER 39

Watersday, Juin 23

With the exception of Meg Corbyn, all the humans currently residing in the Courtyard had spent the night elsewhere, even if elsewhere was just across the street. Merri Lee had stayed with Ruth and Kowalski; Nadine Fallacaro had slept on the Denbys’ couch, while Chris Fallacaro had bedded down in a borrowed sleeping bag; and he and Lizzy had stayed in the half of Captain Burke’s duplex that had been previously occupied by the Denbys.

Burke had told him he was welcome to use that half of the duplex as a temporary residence or even rent it if he wanted to stay instead of squeezing into the efficiency apartment in the Courtyard or hanging on to the one-bedroom apartment he’d rented when he’d first come to Lakeside. While the offer was generous—and Monty had no doubt Burke would respect his privacy—he couldn’t count on regular work hours, especially now, and he would end up leaving Lizzy with Eve Denby or Ruth Stuart anyway. Easier for everyone to have Lizzy staying across the street from her caretakers and playmates.

And despite yesterday’s upset, the Courtyard was still the most protected place in the city.

So many things he’d like to discuss with Burke—and nothing either of them could say with his seven-year-old daughter and Grr Bear sitting in the backseat.

“Daddy?”

Monty looked over his shoulder. “Yes, Lizzy girl?”

“We really can’t watch TV or movies today?”

“Mother Court passed sentence. No movies or TV for a whole week.”

“But Grr Bear and I didn’t do anything bad.”

“You were accomplices.” He saw Burke’s lips twitch.

Lizzy conferred with Grr Bear. Boo Bear, Lizzy’s previous stuffed toy, had been her constant companion. Grr Bear, whose wooden head and paws had been carved by Henry Beargard, seemed more like a conscience that was less inclined to go along with “cute naughtiness,” let alone outright wrongdoing.

But Grr Bear couldn’t discourage all misbehavior, especially when it was started by someone else.

Monty suspected that, from now on, Nathan Wolfgard’s teeth would prove to be a more effective deterrent in that regard.

Lizzy tried again. “Grr Bear thinks maybe not a whole week if we behave?”

“Does Mother Court show leniency?” Burke asked so quietly the question wouldn’t carry to the backseat.

“Not in my experience,” Monty muttered. Until yesterday when he saw her in angry-mom mode, he’d thought of Eve Denby as a practical, energetic, amiable woman. Last night he considered what would happen to any appeal for mercy once Eve teamed up with his mother, Twyla.

Gods. If he were still a child, he’d give Pete Denby half his allowance each month to be the attorney on retainer.

Monty turned his face away to hide his smile.

“Daddy?”

“Don’t know, Lizzy. I’ve never stood before that particular judge before.”

“Oh.”

The discussion lightened the mood in the car until Monty dropped Lizzy at the Denbys’ apartment, and he and Burke drove to the Chestnut Street station.

“Didn’t think about it last night,” Burke said. “Was there anything in the kitchen for breakfast?”

“Not really, but Eve had said Lizzy could have breakfast with Sarah and Robert.” And he would welcome a large cup of coffee—even what was served in the station’s cafeteria. “Have you heard anything through your grapevine?”

Burke didn’t speak for a long minute. “Some trouble around Market Street—again. Trouble around what is left of Lakeside University as well as the technical college. Nothing that wasn’t expected here. Governor Hannigan locking down the region as fast as he did stalled any attempts to burn Intuit villages or any other settlements within the wild country. Or course, his actions might have saved the Northeast from at least some of what’s coming, but it pretty much destroyed his chance for being reelected if the residents of Toland have anything to say about it. And when it comes to elections, they usually have quite a bit to say.”

“What about other regions?”

“News bulletins on the radio this morning talked about human triumphs over the terra indigene.”

“What does that mean?”

“I guess we’ll find out.”

Vlad stared at the images on the TV screen.

There hadn’t been enough time to warn all the Wolfgard, and not all the Wolfgard keeping watch over human places had human allies.

When had the clever monkeys stopped being clever? Did they think only humans were seeing these pictures of them dancing around piles of dead Wolves? Did they think only humans noticed the bodies of the puppies that had been killed along with the adults? Of course, humans thought nothing of killing their own young, so why should they hesitate to kill other species?

So many places. So much slaughter. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of Wolves had been killed throughout the Northwest and Midwest regions. How many Wolfgard were left in those parts of Thaisia?

Then he saw it, the picture that was different from the rest.

Joe’s face looks like that.

“Meg.” Vlad shut off the TV, rushed out of his apartment, and raced up the stairs to Meg’s place, just two doors away from his home in the Green Complex. Knocking softly, he tried her front door, hoping it was open, hoping . . .

He pushed the door open just enough to lean in. “Meg?”

“Vlad?”

He opened the door all the way and went in. “Where is Simon?”

“Peeing on trees.” She bent her head and sniffed herself. “I don’t know how many times Sam and I were washed yesterday, but I think I still smell like puke.” She held out her arm.

He considered it an act of unrivaled gallantry when he walked up to her and sniffed her arm.

“Still?” she asked.

She sounded dismayed, so he said, “Not really.” He didn’t point out that Simon might have a different opinion.

Taking both her hands, Vlad stepped closer. “Meg? Don’t watch the news today. Don’t read the newspaper. Please. As a favor to me, to Simon, to all of us, just don’t.”

“Why?”

“Because you saw Joe’s face.” And if you saw his face, you saw the rest.

“It really happened?”

“Yes.”

“Does Simon know?”

“He knows Joe is dead, but he didn’t see . . .” Couldn’t finish.

“All right. I’m going to the office. There will be mail, maybe some deliveries. But I won’t look at the Lakeside News or turn on the radio.”

“Okay.” The female pack was bound to see something. He couldn’t stop all of them from seeing what had been done, but Meg didn’t need to see it again. “I’m not sure if e-mail is getting through. The phone lines have been jammed since yesterday. But I’ll try to get through to Jackson and find out how Hope is doing.” And he’d check with Steve Ferryman and find out how the five young cassandra sangue were doing—and Jean.

Simon hadn’t intended to go to Howling Good Reads today. He hadn’t wanted to do anything human except spend time with Meg. Outside.

But he ended up at the back door of the bookstore before he realized he didn’t have his keys. Or clothes. He found the back door of A Little Bite open and crept inside, wary of running into Tess if she was in a deadly mood.

Instead of Tess, he found Nadine in the back room where Tess sometimes baked cookies.

“Couldn’t sleep, so I’ve been here a while,” Nadine said. She tapped a container that sat on the edge of her worktable. “Special delivery from Eamer’s Bakery. Wolf cookies. I guess they were up early too, working. A lot of us are going to be up early. I heard you lost a friend yesterday. I’m sorry for that.”

He whined to let her know he’d heard her. Then he went to the lattice door, let himself in to Howling Good Reads, and went up to the office. Not to deal with paperwork or read e-mail. He had added a simple wooden trunk—simple if you didn’t count the carving Henry had done on the lid—to the office furniture as a place to store a set of clean clothes and a pair of shoes. He dressed and went back downstairs. He’d check the stock, shelve a few books. Wouldn’t stay long since he hadn’t told Meg he was coming to the store and she’d be expecting him at the apartment.

As he turned toward the stock room, he heard the familiar slap of paper on pavement. Copies of the Lakeside News.

Fetching the spare keys from the office desk, he opened the front door, grabbed the newspapers, and dumped them on the checkout counter. The headline said, “Humans Triumph!” Beneath the words was a photo that filled half the front page.

Simon stared at the photo. Stared and stared. Then he whispered, “Joe.”

Pouring himself a large mug of coffee, Monty half listened to the television news report and ignored the looks from some of the other police officers packed into the station’s break room to hear the news and see the “graphic proof” of the Humans First and Last movement’s triumph.

“Humans have taken possession of thousands of acres of prime land through the HFL’s audacious strike against the terra indigene, creatures who have held a chokehold on Thaisia for decades. But not everyone is applauding the HFL’s actions toward land reclamation. One rancher near the Midwest town of Bennett had this to say.

“‘They’re damn fools, the whole lot of them. My family has been raising horses and cattle here for four generations, and we have never had trouble with the terra indigene.’

“When asked about the loss of livestock to Wolves, Stewart Dixon told the reporter, ‘It’s called rent.’

“And now here’s a recap of the photographs that were sent to news stations all around the continent.”

Monty watched the photos appear on the TV one by one. No one spoke, not even the officers who had supported the HFL. Then the last photo appeared and remained on the screen.

“Oh, gods,” Monty whispered. The mug slipped from his hand. Had Meg Corbyn seen . . . ? Of course she had.

He looked toward the door where Burke stood. Yes, his captain recognized the Wolf on top of the mound of bodies. Burke gave him a nod.

“Lieutenant?” Kowalski said, suddenly beside him. “I’ll get the car.”

Monty walked out of the break room, his mind racing. The other photos had been terrible, but it was the half-shifted, recognizable face of Joe Wolfgard that made the loss of the Wolfgard in another part of Thaisia personal.

He doubted Simon Wolfgard would want to see a human today. He doubted Simon would want to see a police officer or be asked what ramifications these actions might have for Lakeside. But today he wasn’t going to the Courtyard as a human or a police officer. Today he was going as a friend.

Burke moved aside when Montgomery and Kowalski hurried out of the break room. Then he filled the doorway, preventing anyone else from leaving.

“Gentlemen, there is a war coming. Despite what the HFL may want you to believe, it won’t be against the terra indigene. It’s going to be humans against humans. It’s going to be between those who recognize that working with the Others is the only way to survive on this continent and those who mistakenly believe that killing the shifters will win us anything. It’s going to be between the so-called Wolf lovers and the HFL supporters.”

Burke scanned the room, noting who met his eyes and who looked away. “So I’m telling you now. If any of you, after looking at those pictures, are thinking of putting on an HFL pin again, I want the paperwork for your transfer or resignation on my desk first.” He gave them all a fierce smile. “I know. I’m not the station chief. I’m just the patrol captain and I don’t have any say about the personnel under other captains’ commands. But I’m telling you here and now, if you can’t—or won’t—fight alongside the Others in order to save this city, I don’t want you in this station, because being divided within the ranks will kill us all. I can’t do anything for the rest of the continent, but I’m going to do everything I can to save Lakeside, and, if the gods are merciful, saving Lakeside might help Governor Hannigan keep at least part of the Northeast Region open to human habitation.”

He turned away, then turned back. “Don’t try to call my bluff about this. I am standing with the Lakeside Courtyard because I think it’s the only way to save the people of this city. If you can’t stand with me, you need to be gone by the end of the day.”

He walked to his office and wasn’t surprised when Louis Gresh came in right behind him.

“That was quite a speech,” Louis said.

“You think so?”

“You usually get what you want when it comes to having men transferred out of this station, but . . . a humans-against-humans war when there’s another potential enemy?”

“They didn’t think it through.” Burke settled in his chair. “You kill off one kind of predator, you leave a void. Sooner or later, something will fill that void, and in this case, I think it will be sooner rather than later. The HFL wants to talk about land reclamation? They have no idea what they started—and I have no idea who among us will still be here to see where it ends.”

Deciding on visible police presence, Monty asked Kowalski to park in the Courtyard’s customer parking lot.

“Check on the Denbys, warn them about the news reports,” Monty said.

“Sure not something the children should see.” Kowalski seemed about to say something more but changed his mind.

Monty smiled. “I’ll check on them after I talk to Simon.”

“Not sure what all they’re doing, but the girls are working with Meg at the Liaison’s Office this morning, and Theral is at the medical office.”

“Then check on them too.”

The lights weren’t on in Howling Good Reads, but the front door was open. That door wasn’t usually open anymore, so Monty went in cautiously, his hand brushing against his police issue revolver.

“Simon?”

A sound. Something moving on the other side of the main display table.

Careful, careful. He could draw his weapon against a human intruder but not against a Wolf. Not today.

Then Simon stood up, grabbing the table for balance.

“Simon.”

“You did this.” The voice sounded rough, not quite human. “You did this.”

“I saw the picture. Simon, I am so sorry about Joe.” What was he dealing with here? Shock? Rage? Overwhelming grief?

“How much human will the terra indigene keep? Well, you showed them the answer, didn’t you? You showed them this as an example of what it means to be human.”

Monty didn’t have time to brace for the attack before Simon grabbed him and slammed him against the bookshelves.

“We tried to work with . . .” Simon snarled. “We . . . tried. But you did this!”

More than grief. More than rage and shock.

“What are you afraid of?” Monty asked. “Us? Humans?”

Simon released him and stepped back, shaking his head. “Fear you? You’re going to be as good as extinct soon. Why should we fear you?”

Monty swallowed hard. “Did Meg tell you that?”

“No. Jean did.”

Gods above and below.

Vlad stepped out of the back of the store. “Simon, Meg was looking for you.” He glanced at the counter. “She’s at the Liaison’s Office now. You need to convince her to go home, let someone else take care of the mail and packages today. The humans will be talking. She doesn’t need to hear more than she already knows.”

Simon looked around, as if wondering why he was in the bookstore. “I didn’t mean to be gone long. I . . .” He headed for the back of the store, but he stopped and wouldn’t meet Monty’s eyes. “We learn from other predators. Remember that, Lieutenant.”

Then he was gone, and Monty was left alone with Vlad. “Is there anything any of us can do to help?”

Vlad walked over to the checkout counter. He took one copy of the Lakeside News off the stack, folded it, and placed it under the counter. “You could get rid of the rest of these. I’d rather not put them in our recycling bin. Too much chance of someone seeing what they shouldn’t.”

“Of course.” He’d take them to the station. He didn’t think Eve Denby would want the front-page photo in her recycling bin either. “Anything else?”

“What else do you think the police can do?”

“I wasn’t asking as a police officer.”

Silence. Then Vlad said softly, “Ask again in a couple of days.”

Monty left the bookstore, dumped the newspapers in the backseat of the patrol car, then walked across the street to the Denbys’ apartment.

Mother Court was in full swing at the breakfast table as the young wrongdoers tried to get their sentence reduced.

Wrong day to ask about watching TV, Monty thought.

“No means no,” Eve said.

“But I got hurt,” Robert protested, displaying his scabbed elbows and knees before pointing out the bruises caused by Nathan’s teeth.

“If there are any further outbursts over your sentence, you will be held in contempt of court, and ‘no dessert’ will be added to your sentence.”

The girls, Monty noticed, were keeping very quiet. And judging by the look in Lizzy’s eyes, he needed to have a talk with her about the injury she might cause if she whacked someone—like Robert—with Grr Bear since her new buddy had a wooden head and paws.

Then again, the boy was being a bit woodenheaded too.

“As your father, and your attorney, I advise you to accept the sentence you already have and not give the court any reason to add to it,” Pete said.

That ended all discussion. Monty accepted a cup of coffee and a piece of toast—and wondered how much longer those things would be an ordinary part of a meal.

After the children went to their rooms to make their beds and do a general tidying for inspection, Eve poured more coffee for the three adults.

“We heard,” Pete said quietly. “Saw just enough of the morning news to . . . Gods.”

“Anything we can do?” Eve asked.

“A question to ask in a couple of days.” Monty rose and put his cup and plate in the kitchen sink. A moment later, Eve stood beside him.

“What happens in a couple of days?”

He looked out the window at a pleasant summer day. Then he sighed. “I wish I knew.”