Murder of Crows

CHAPTER 16

Toward the end of Viridus, the Crows from the Talulah Falls Courtyard flew to the part of town where most of the tourists walked and ate and bought souvenirs at the kiosks. For three days, they watched humans toss sparkly toys into the trash cans—toys that were only a little broken in ways that, for Crows, did not diminish their appeal. They watched humans throw away half a hamburger still in the thin paper wrapping so it wasn’t soiled by other debris. They watched little treasures being dropped into the cans—and they watched while city workers emptied the cans and took away that food and those treasures.

And there were bits of shiny nearby, coins that had fallen from pockets and caught the sun, a glittering lure.

For three days, the Crows resisted doing more than keeping watch. But on the fourth day, a few of the adolescent Crows dared to come down from the trees to grab a shiny or snatch a morsel of food or fly off with one of the sparkly toys.

And nothing happened. The humans, who were entranced by the water thundering into the river below, barely noticed them. So on the fifth day, more of the Crows flew down from the trees to snatch a morsel of food or make off with a shiny coin or a little treasure. On the sixth day, even more Crows gathered around the cans, enjoying the hunt for discarded items that sparkled.

On the seventh day, the trash cans that had the choicest morsels of food and the best little treasures exploded, killing Crows and tourists alike.

That night, one of the Sanguinati who had been hunting for the humans responsible for murdering the Crows didn’t return to the Talulah Falls Courtyard.

And early the following morning, in Lakeside, Meg Corbyn woke up screaming.

“Meg!” Standing in their common back hallway, Simon pounded on Meg’s kitchen door, then paused to pull on the jeans he’d grabbed when he heard her scream. “Meg!” He snarled at the door when it didn’t open, when he didn’t hear anything.

Jamming his hand in the jeans’ pocket, he pulled out the keys to Meg’s apartment and turned the lock—and still couldn’t get in.

Why did she have to use that slide lock as well as the regular lock? It wasn’t like anyone used the kitchen door for visiting. Except him. And Sam when the pup was with him. The common outside door was locked, and he checked it every night before turning in, so she didn’t have to worry about an intruder coming in through the back way. He knew she didn’t have company, since she’d quietly told him she wanted to sleep alone tonight.

“And that’s the last time I listen to you about who sleeps where,” he grumbled as he pounded on the door again. “Damn it, Meg. What are you doing that you don’t want me to know about?”

The answer to that had him scratching at the door before he remembered he was in human form.

“Meg!”

Fur suddenly covered Simon’s shoulders and chest as he threw his weight against the door, breaking the wood and the slide lock. He rushed toward Meg’s bedroom, but the fresh scent of blood pulled him toward the bathroom. He shoved at the door and Meg cried out, so he squeezed through the narrow opening to avoid ramming her legs again.

She was on the floor, bleeding. The cut ran all the way across her torso just under her breasts. Too long a cut. Too deep a cut. Too much blood.

“Meg.” Barely enough room to straddle her legs when he dropped to his knees to reach her.

“Simon,” she gasped. “You have to listen.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

His friend was bleeding. It didn’t matter that she was human. His friend Meg was bleeding too much.

He lowered his head, then paused.

It would make him so angry. Like the last time when she fell in the creek and cut her chin and he had to get her to the human bodywalker.

I don’t care. She’s one of us now. Clean the wound. Get rid of the blood scent and hide the fact that she’s vulnerable.

He quickly licked the blood flowing from the cut. Licked and licked to keep it from dripping on the towel Meg had put on the floor to soak it up.

“Simon,” Meg moaned. “Simon. I see … It’s too much. I have to speak. You have to listen.”

For a moment he’d been very angry, and now he wasn’t. He heard Meg’s voice and something changed and he wasn’t angry at all.

Lick, lick.

She always tasted good. But this was wonderful.

Lick, lick.

He liked the sound of her voice. Even when she was yelling at him. Which she wasn’t doing now. She was …

The scent of arousal, as alluring as the scent of blood.

He sat back on his heels to bring his face closer to this new, delightful scent. His human body responded with pleasure, responded with a willingness that was hard to ignore.

“Simon.”

Something not pleasing in her voice now. Something … that should bother him.

“You have to remember,” she pleaded.

Remember? Yes. Lick, lick. The wonderful taste of Meg. But no biting. No tearing the flesh because … Why? It would feel so good to taste flesh. So very good. But not Meg’s flesh. He wouldn’t hurt Meg. Would never hurt Meg.

Something he was supposed to remember. Something about Meg talking when there was a cut and blood.

“Have to write it down,” he mumbled.

“Yes,” she said. “Hurry.”

He tried to get up, tried to leave the bathroom and fetch paper and pencil to write down … words! Write down words. She smelled so good. Tasted even better. Even her hair, still all weird shades of orange and red, didn’t stink anymore from whatever she had done to it.

Words. Important to write down Meg’s words.

Using the sink for support, Simon struggled to his feet. Maybe his feet. Couldn’t feel his feet. Did he still have feet?

“Write,” he growled. He should be angry. Why wasn’t he angry? Wasn’t sick, but wasn’t well either.

Fear surged through him, clearing his head for a moment.

A basket on the counter full of little brushes and pots of color. Female toys. He grabbed a pencil and wrote the words that poured out of her now.

Something wrong with him. Something very wrong. But he wrote the words until her voice stopped. Then he dropped the pencil and slid to the floor.

“Meg?” He licked at the blood still flowing from her wound and whined. “Meg?”

Her eyes were glazed. When she tried to raise her hand and touch him, she couldn’t do it.

“Your ears are furry,” she said.

They needed help. He … needed … help.

Meg bleeding. Had to do something about Meg bleeding. Im … por … tant.

Simon stretched out on top of Meg, his face pressed into her sweet belly, where he could breathe in all those delicious scents.

Familiar scents and sounds, but nothing that said Meg to him.

Meg smelled good. Tasted even better.

“I think he’s finally coming around.” That voice belonged to Blair, the Courtyard’s primary enforcer.

Why did hearing Blair’s voice make him feel afraid?

“Simon?” That was Vlad, sounding angry. Why angry? Did Vlad also lick …?

“Meg!” Simon tried to move, to sit up, but his body seemed tangled and nothing worked quite right.

Until Vlad grabbed his arms and hauled him up enough so that all he could see was the fury in the Sanguinati’s dark eyes.

“What. Did. You. Do?” Vlad snarled.

Do? He … remembered.

“Meg was bleeding,” Simon said. His voice didn’t sound right. His jaw didn’t move the right way for human speech. What …?

Tess stepped into view next to Vlad. The hair that framed her face was black, black, black, but the rest was the red of anger. And all of it coiled and moved in a way that was mesmerizing—and terrifying.

“We know about Meg,” she said. “We’re asking about you.”

To avoid her eyes and Vlad’s, he looked at his surroundings. The living room in his apartment. How did he get there? Then he looked at his naked body—and the jolt of what he saw cleared the rest of the fuzziness from his mind.

One leg was human, the other was a Wolf’s hind leg starting from midthigh all the way down to the foot. As he processed the scents in the room and realized how many Others were looking at him, his tail curled protectively over his human genitalia. Fur on most of his torso. Hands that weren’t quite hands. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what his head and face looked like.

Between was a form that wasn’t Wolf and wasn’t human. Many of the terra indigene who lived in the wild country could take the rough shape of a human but could never pass for human, could never achieve a form that wasn’t somewhat between. The Wolfman in horror stories. The Others who lived in a Courtyard made an effort not to take a between form around humans, but they all shifted pieces when they needed some aspect of their other form. Like ears that could hear better. Or claws and fangs. There was a symmetry to that kind of shifting, even when it was more instinct than deliberate choice. But this? This was a body out of control.

He looked up at Blair, who watched him with sympathy laced with anger.

Then Henry stepped up beside Blair. There wasn’t any sympathy in the Grizzly’s eyes, but there was plenty of anger.

Surrounded by Sanguinati, Wolf, Grizzly, and Tess.

Have to choose a form. He wanted to shift to full Wolf and curl up somewhere until he had time to think it through, sort it out. But he was the Courtyard’s leader, and the leader couldn’t hide.

It took effort to shift all the way to human, and that surprised him. It felt like he’d tumbled into something sticky, something that slowed his reflexes and hampered his ability to shift.

So hard not to show fear. Impossible not to feel fear.

He must have shifted sufficiently to human because Vlad released him and Tess tossed a blanket in his lap.

“Where is Meg?” Simon asked. He needed water. He wanted food. More than either of those things, he wanted answers.

“Meg is staying at my place,” Henry said. “She’s been there since this morning. Nathan, Jester, and Jake are with her now, watching movies.”

“This morning?” He couldn’t see the windows—too many bodies in his way—but the light wasn’t much different from when he’d broken Meg’s kitchen door.

“Sun’s down,” Henry said. “I found you and Meg in her bathroom this morning. Do you remember that?”

“Don’t remember you coming in, but I asked you …” Simon struggled to remember. “Meg, bleeding. Long cut. Too deep. Too much blood. Words. Had to write the words.”

“When Henry found you, he called Blair and me,” Vlad said. “We hauled you out of the bathroom so Henry could deal with Meg.” He bent over so his eyes were on a level with Simon’s. “You were awake. For hours you were awake, but you didn’t care. About anything. We could have cut off your hands and feet, and you wouldn’t have done a thing to stop us. Couldn’t have done a thing to stop us. We could have carved you into pieces or cut you until you bled out, and you would have done nothing but watch us. The drug that laced the food the humans had used as bait for the Crows got into the Courtyard, got into you. We need to know how that happened.”

He kept his eyes on Vlad’s. “It’s not Meg’s fault. I thought it would make me angry, like the last time. I thought it would make me stronger so I could help her.”

Vlad studied him. “What isn’t Meg’s fault?”

“The Sanguinati don’t drink the sweet blood of the cassandra sangue. Not because of the prophecies that swim in their blood. Erebus was wrong about that. It’s because the blood prophets are Namid’s creation, both wondrous and terrible.”

Vlad straightened up and took a step back. “What are you talking about?”

“The drug. It’s the blood of the cassandra sangue.”

“Which drug?” Henry asked. “There are two of them affecting terra indigene and humans.”

Simon swallowed. He really wanted some water. “Both of them.”

Turning into the Bird Park Plaza’s lot, Captain Burke glanced at Monty. “You hear anything more from Dr. Lorenzo about Meg Corbyn’s condition?”

“No, sir. Nothing since this morning.” Monty had already reported his conversation with Dominic Lorenzo. Meg Corbyn had an atypical cut—too long and too deep—but there was no indication it wasn’t self-inflicted. After closing up the wound, Lorenzo’s recommendation had been rest and plenty of iron-rich foods to help replenish the blood that Meg had lost. “He’s planning to look in on Ms. Corbyn tomorrow morning after his shift at the hospital.”

Burke made a sound between a grunt and a growl as he pulled into a parking space. “Then let’s take care of this problem.”

Monty got out of the black sedan, relieved that the drive to the plaza from the Chestnut Street station was a short one. Burke was a big man, and being stuck with him in a small space when his blue eyes were lit with controlled fury wasn’t pleasant.

Of course, there was good reason for Burke’s fury. As information trickled in from Talulah Falls, the Lakeside government and police force began to realize they were looking at a situation that could sweep away more than one human town if everyone wasn’t very, very careful.

The town of Talulah Falls was the powder keg. It was no longer a question of if the humans would lose another piece of Thaisia; it was a question of how much they were going to lose.

The residents and tourists trapped in the Falls could be just the beginning of what was lost.

And that was the reason Captain Douglas Burke and Lieutenant Crispin James Montgomery were standing in the plaza’s parking lot at sundown, waiting as patrol car after patrol car found a parking spot and the officers got out to meet them.

Burke must have summoned every officer under his command, Monty thought. Then he spotted Louis Gresh and wondered if the commander of the bomb squad had been summoned or if Gresh understood something about Burke’s meeting with the station’s chief that afternoon and decided to bring his squad to this gathering.

“Gentlemen …” Burke began when the men gathered around him.

Just then Michael Debany’s mobile phone rang.

“Beg your pardon, Captain,” Debany said. Instead of turning off the phone, he moved away and spoke to someone for a couple of minutes. When he returned to his original spot next to his partner, Lawrence MacDonald, he was sheet white.

“Debany?” Monty asked.

“That was Ms. Lee, who works at A Little Bite.”

Monty nodded. He didn’t need that clarification, but some of the other men might. “And?”

“She’s been attacked. University students. She made it back to her apartment, but she doesn’t feel safe there.”

“You know where she lives?” Burke asked. When Debany said he did, Burke pointed at MacDonald. “Go with him. Pick her up. Get her to the emergency room. Use Lakeside Hospital, where Dr. Lorenzo works, unless the situation is too critical for that much delay. Go.”

Debany and MacDonald ran for their vehicle.

“The rest of you.” Burke looked even fiercer than he had a moment ago. He swept a hand to indicate the whole plaza. “I want the owner or manager of every one of these stores brought to Hot Crust in five minutes. Anyone gives you any lip, arrest him and take him down to the station.”

Monty blinked. “On what charge, sir?”

“On the charge of being a pain in my ass,” Burke growled. “And right now, that is good enough for an overnight stay in our facility.”

Gods above and below, Monty thought. He means that.

No one questioned the order. The men simply headed for the stores.

“Mind if I tag along?” Gresh asked, approaching Monty and Burke.

“No, I don’t mind,” Burke replied. “Give me a minute.” He pulled out his mobile phone and took a few steps away from them.

“Attacks on humans employed by the Courtyard aren’t good,” Gresh said quietly, his eyes scanning the people who saw all the patrol cars and hesitated. Some returned to their cars and left the plaza. Most went about their business, ignoring the evidence that something was happening.

“People are scared and they’re angry. They don’t always think rationally under those conditions,” Monty countered. He didn’t disagree with Louis. Harassment and attacks weren’t good at any time. Now it was like pulling down your pants and mooning beings that already wanted you dead. Not to mention breaking the human laws dealing with assault.

“I don’t know how it was when you worked on the force in Toland, but around here, the watercooler and coffeemaker are great spots to overhear a whole lot of things. And the latest gossip is that the captain now has a connection to the police department on Great Island.” Gresh gave Monty an inquiring look.

Monty glanced at Burke, who was still on the phone. Then he nodded. The captain hadn’t said the conversation with Roger Czerneda was to be kept confidential. And most of what had been relayed could be heard on the news or seen by anyone brainless enough to drive to the island right now. “There’s fog on the river so thick you can’t see your own hand. But a channel of water stayed clear long enough for ferry and barge to cross for a hurried supply run and get back to the island side of Ferryman’s Landing. Now the island is completely closed in.” He hesitated, then added, “And it appears that there is something in that fog that is hunting anyone desperate enough or suicidal enough to try to get out of Talulah Falls by boat.”

“Sanguinati?”

“Maybe. Short of falling over them, no one is going to find any bodies until the fog lifts.” Not quite a lie, but part of the report had been confidential—the part about the Sanguinati telling Steve Ferryman and Officer Czerneda that they had yielded the river to another kind of hunter, one that didn’t live on the island but must have been drawn to Talulah Falls by the glut of prey.

What was out there that could scare vampires?

“Nothing fancy about the explosives in the trash cans,” Louis said after a moment. “Whoever set the charges didn’t have any regard for human life. The bastards just wanted to kill some Crows … and maybe start a war.” A glance at Burke, who seemed to be finishing up the call. “You think that’s where we’re headed? War?”

Maybe, Monty thought. “I hope not.”

Burke joined them just as police officers began leading the first group of store managers toward Hot Crust.

“Mark Wheatley is the patrol captain for the university station,” Burke said. “Until Debany and MacDonald arrive, he’ll have men standing watch at Ms. Lee’s apartment to prevent any further problems. Now, let’s get this done.”

He started toward the pizza place, then stopped when a young man with several insulated bags came out and hustled toward a car with a HOT CRUST DELIVERS! sign secured to the roof.

“You!” Burke snapped. “Turn around and go back inside.”

“But—”

“Son, if you get in that car, the penalty to you is a five-hundred-dollar fine and five days in jail. And your boss knows it.”

The deliveryman, who looked barely old enough to drive, stared at Burke, then hurried back to Hot Crust.

Burke followed, pulling out his badge and pushing his coat aside so that no one would miss the gun.

Personally, seeing the expression on Burke’s face, Monty didn’t think anyone was going to notice the gun, but he and Louis followed the captain inside. Plenty of customers filling the tables to grab bites to eat after work or waiting for their orders so they could take pizza home for family dinners.

“May I have your attention.” Burke’s voice boomed, cutting through the chatter. “And someone shut off that damn music!”

Silence.

He held up his badge in one hand and pointed at the customers with the other. “All of you. Out. Now. Hot Crust is closed for the next hour. They’ll box up your food so you can take it with you. You’ve got four minutes. And you.” Now he pointed to the deliveryman. “You sit over there.”

“You can’t do that.” A man wearing a manager’s name tag came out from behind the service counter. “He has deliveries to make.”

“I was told Hot Crust no longer makes deliveries. Therefore, you will not be making any deliveries. Three minutes, people. With or without the food.”

Some hurried up to the counter for take-out boxes. Most simply fled.

Burke waited until the customers were gone and all the owners or managers from the other stores in the Bird Park Plaza were crowded among the tables.

“If you don’t know why you’re here, you should,” Burke said. “I know for a fact that every business in this plaza was sent a warning about the penalties for not making deliveries—if you provide delivery service—and for refusing to sell merchandise to the terra indigene. You were told to remove the Humans Only signs from your stores and to sell and deliver merchandise in accordance with the agreements made between the city of Lakeside and the terra indigene. Many of you are now in violation of those agreements. As of this moment, you are all being held accountable. If you’re obeying orders and not willfully breaking the law, you will provide the name of the store owner, and he or she will be the individual looking at jail time and a hefty fine.”

“We have rights too,” said a man wearing a shirt with a Pet Palace logo on the pocket. “We’ve got the right to refuse service.”

“Any of you been paying attention to what’s happening in Talulah Falls?” Burke asked, giving them all his fierce-friendly smile. “I’ve been talking to police officers in the Falls all day, so I can tell you some things the news reports aren’t saying.”

Monty felt his stomach lurch. He’d heard plenty in the past few hours. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what else Burke, with all his various sources, could have discovered.

“The Talulah Falls Courtyard has been abandoned.” Burke ignored the few defiant cheers. “That means that, unlike us, there is no one the government or police can talk to, no one who will sit down with them now to try to work things out. Do you understand what that means? The town of Talulah Falls is cut off. The roads are barricaded or destroyed. Hundreds of vehicles clogged all the routes before people realized they were stranded. So nothing goes out and nothing comes in. No coal, no wood, no gasoline, no food, no medicines, no supplies of any kind. Whatever the town had before the explosion yesterday morning is all they have.”

“What about the tourists?” one of the managers asked. “Even this early in the year, there are tourists.”

“Now, that the town has in good supply. Lots of extra people using up what’s available.”

Mutters and uneasy shifting of feet.

“You think it’s a coincidence that the phone lines still work and the radio and television stations are still able to broadcast?” Burke asked. “Are you hearing the message, people? Because this is the message: You humans killed some of the terra indigene, and now you’re going to pay.”

“Killing a vampire is a favor to everyone,” another man said.

“Tell that to the families of people who will never be found,” Burke said coldly. “Tell that to the families of the four people—four humans—who were chopped up by the maniac who managed to kill one of the Sanguinati. Think about being locked in a town with someone running loose who has already chopped up a sixty-year-old woman and an eleven-year-old boy and filled canning jars with the pieces.”

A woman and two of the men rammed their way through the crowd to reach the restrooms. The rest of the people looked like they weren’t going to hold on to their stomachs much longer.

“You want more?” Burke asked. They all shook their heads, but he continued anyway. “A tornado swept through Talulah Falls University this afternoon during a Humans First and Last rally. The dormitories weren’t touched. Everything else? Piles of rubble. For all intents and purposes, the university is gone. And fires swept through the other college in the Falls. Again, the dormitories weren’t touched, but the rest of the buildings are gutted.”

Burke stared at all of them. He suddenly looked tired. “Ladies and gentlemen, all roads travel through the woods. What is happening in Talulah Falls is a harsh lesson. We need to learn from it. Bad things are happening right now in a lot of towns and villages across Thaisia, and those bad things have the terra indigene wondering if they want to tolerate our existence anymore. Our ancestors traded merchandise for land and skills for resources. That exchange is no different now than it was centuries ago. So if the merchants stop providing goods that are of interest to the Others, don’t be surprised if the resources we need to survive also dry up.”

Uneasy looks.

“Any business that still has a Humans Only sign in the window tomorrow will be fined. The owner will go to jail. If the sign is still there the following day, the next sign on the door will be Out of Business, and the owner will be put in the back of a patrol car and taken for a long ride.”

Monty glanced at Louis, who stared at Burke in shock.

“The Lakeside government won’t do that,” the Pet Palace manager said nervously.

“No, it won’t,” Burke agreed with frightening congeniality. Monty felt the floor dip and rise. People who committed heinous crimes were taken for a long ride into the wild country and left without food, water, or shoes. It was a death sentence.

Looking at Burke, Monty wondered about the man’s early years as a police officer. What had he seen that made him this committed to keeping the peace, to making his own kind of law to the point where he would take a business owner for a long ride? What was it about Burke that made his superiors yield when he wanted something that in some way affected the Others?

“We’re done here,” Burke said. “Go back to your stores.”

The first steps were hesitant, as if the owners and managers didn’t think he’d really let them go. Then the rush for the door.

“Lieutenant.” Burke opened his wallet and pulled out two fifties.

“Sir?”

“Order four sheet pizzas for the Courtyard. You and Kowalski can take them with you. I’m sure they’ll be ready in time for you to make your meeting with the Courtyard’s Business Association.”

“Of course,” Hot Crust’s manager stammered. “What would you like on them?”

Monty put in the order.

“Can we make our deliveries?” the manager asked.

“I don’t know,” Burke replied with a fierce smile. “Can you?”

“Yes. There won’t be any trouble with deliveries from now on.”

Burke wagged a finger at Monty and Louis. “Another moment of your time, gentlemen.”

They went outside. Monty drew in air that held a hint of exhaust but was a lot cleaner than the fear-laden air in the pizza place.

“We’re clear here,” Burke said with a nod to the officers still waiting for further orders.

The officers returned to their patrol cars and drove off. Monty noticed Kowalski waiting for him beside their car.

“Something else on your mind, Captain?” Louis asked.

“Four people were butchered along with a Sanguinati,” Burke said quietly.

“The older woman and the boy,” Monty said.

“And two women. Late teens or early twenties. Along with the tornado and fires, there were several very localized earthquakes—quakes just violent enough to shake the jars off pantry shelves.

Monty felt his stomach rise.

“The sick bastard who killed them had just started on the women. Have to figure he ran when his jars of specimens started breaking.”

Queer look in Burke’s eyes now.

“What about the women?” Monty asked.

“One of them was a resident of Talulah Falls and a student at the university. The other was a cassandra sangue. An investigating officer in the Falls e-mailed a photo of her. It’s in my car. If the opportunity arises, Lieutenant, find out if Ms. Corbyn knows the girl.”

Meg took a bite out of her second piece of pizza and chewed slowly, savoring the flavors and texture. She wasn’t really hungry enough for another piece, but the combination of sauce, cheese, and thick crust eased the hollowness in her belly in a way the steak and spinach salads couldn’t.

Not that she wasn’t grateful for the choice pieces of meat that had been cooked for her throughout the day or the salads that had been made. And she was grateful for the vitamins Dr. Lorenzo had given her and the careful way he’d used the butterfly bandages to close the long cut after he’d examined the wound and put on the ointment that would keep the wound from becoming infected.

When he’d commented about the cleanliness of the wound and looked at her with a question in his eyes, she claimed she didn’t know why the wound was so clean.

She had lied, and he knew it. They all knew it.

She had made a mistake out of desperation. She should have realized the addiction to the euphoria wouldn’t be shaken so easily.

No wonder so many girls died when the cutting wasn’t controlled by someone else. A blood prophet didn’t just want a cut; she needed a cut. And if you tried to ignore that essential truth about being a cassandra sangue, sooner or later something would act as the trigger that turned the need into a mindless compulsion—and that was when a girl would grab anything sharp enough to cut skin.

That was when girls made fatal mistakes.

She should have set up a schedule for cutting, should have arranged it so that someone could monitor her properly and make a record of whatever she saw. If she had done that …

None of the Others would tell her what happened to Simon. Was he all right? Something had gone wrong. She had cut across twice as much skin as she should have even for a long cut, and she had cut too deep. The prophecies raged through her like water rushing to embrace the emptiness before the fall. She had tried to hold in the prophecies, tried not to speak so that she could see the visions since there was no one to listen. But she saw glimpses of things so terrible and terrifying, she had to speak, had to experience the euphoria that would veil what was revealed.

Then Simon appeared, pushing at the bathroom door, banging it against her legs hard enough to bruise her. She hadn’t known about the bruises and wouldn’t have cared. All that mattered was having a listener.

But he had licked the cut, cleaned off some of the blood, and something happened. Simon wasn’t really Simon anymore. He wasn’t the leader; he wasn’t the Wolf with snarling intelligence. He was … taffy. All soft and gooey.

But the feel of his tongue on her skin, licking her as if she was the most wonderful thing in the world. Combined with the euphoria that flowed with her words, his tongue pleased her and pleasured her and made her want …

“Meg?” Jester urgently whispered in her ear. “Meg? Please stop thinking about whatever you’re thinking about.”

Blinking, she pulled her thoughts back to her surroundings.

The Coyote eased away from her while also leaning toward her and sniffing. When Nathan growled a warning, Jester moved as far away from her as he could without falling off the sofa.

Puzzled, Meg looked at Nathan—who blushed and whined softly before looking away. He shifted in his chair as if he couldn’t get comfortable.

Jake Crowgard, the only other individual in Henry’s living room, watched her with bright-eyed intensity.

Her panties were damp. She’d been thinking about Simon, and now her panties were damp.

And at least two of the males in the room could smell the arousal and need.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

“It’s all right.” Jester gave her shoulder a cautious pat. “It’s just … confusing.”

Her appetite gone, Meg set the rest of the pizza slice on her plate and wiped her fingers on a napkin. In Wolf form, Simon would have licked her fingers clean.

Can’t think about Simon.

Nothing else she could think about right now. He’d been fine when he entered her bathroom. Then he wasn’t fine. Wasn’t Simon. Simon would have understood the importance of remembering the prophecy. Simon would have listened, wouldn’t have gotten distracted.

She had seen words written on the bathroom mirror when Henry carried her out. Was that all she’d said? So little for so much skin used? Or had there been more that was now lost?

Tess, Henry, and Vlad had told her Simon was all right, but she didn’t believe them. They wanted Simon to be all right. That wasn’t the same thing.

“Jester?” She chose her questions carefully. The Coyote was friendly but inclined toward dosing helpfulness with mischief. “Where is Simon?”

“He’s in that meeting with Lieutenant Montgomery,” Jester replied, glancing at Nathan. “The police came to the meeting. They brought the pizza.”

“Simon hasn’t been in meetings all day.” And even if he had been, why hadn’t he stopped by to check on her or call? Sam, who was still a puppy, had called, mostly to whine a little about having to stay at the Wolfgard Complex tonight even though they all knew he enjoyed playing with the other pups and had been sleeping with the other Wolves on the weekdays.

Meg studied the Coyote. “Would you tell me? If there was something wrong, would you tell me?”

Jester sighed. “Yes, Meg. If something was wrong with Simon, I would tell you.”

Simon didn’t like feeling scared. He didn’t like feeling sick or shaky. And he wanted this craving that made him feel distracted and hollow to go away.

Because he knew what would fill up the hollowness.

And he wished Lieutenant Crispin James Montgomery hadn’t been so helpful over the past few months, hadn’t shown concern for things that mattered to the terra indigene. Hadn’t become something more than a not-edible human.

If Montgomery had kept his distance, Simon wouldn’t feel some obligation to share information.

But they were gathered in the Business Association’s meeting room on the second floor of Howling Good Reads because there were decisions to be made—and not all of those decisions were about the Others. Even so, he didn’t think Montgomery found it comfortable to be the only human in a room with him, Vlad, Henry, Blair, Elliot, and Tess.

Henry, Blair, and Vlad had locked down the Courtyard after they realized something unexplained had happened to him. Henry had summoned Dr. Lorenzo and escorted the doctor to the Green Complex to tend to Meg. Vlad had called Heather and Lorne to tell them the stores would be closed, but they both chose to come to work. Elizabeth Bennefeld wasn’t scheduled to work in the Market Square office that day, but she called to see if anyone needed her skills as a massage therapist. Merri Lee …

“I appreciate you letting Ms. Lee stay in the efficiency apartment for the time being,” Montgomery said.

Always quiet, always courteous. No challenges or dominance games.

“We set aside one of those apartments for our female employees,” Simon said. “No reason for her not to use it.”

Of course, the Others had given their employees access to the apartments as a temporary place to stay during bad weather. But Tess and Vlad had seen the young woman when Officer Debany brought her from the emergency room, and they agreed that until the unrest was dealt with one way or another, Merri Lee was too vulnerable staying in her apartment near the university. And, according to Debany, the two women Merri Lee shared the apartment with were relieved to see her go because they didn’t want to be targeted for living with a Wolf lover.

“This is what Captain Burke and I know about Talulah Falls,” Montgomery said.

Simon listened, a little surprised that the situation had escalated so fast. Then again, when Meg had been injured and the Lakeside Courtyard had been under attack, the Elementals and their steeds had retaliated with a storm that could have destroyed the city if humans like Montgomery, Kowalski, and Lorenzo hadn’t made an effort to help.

He was surprised, but the rest of the Others nodded, indicating they were already aware of the situation in the Falls, as well as the way Great Island was cut off for the time being but prepared to wait out the fog on the river. No troubles there between humans and terra indigene.

Maybe that was one reason why the tension in Talulah Falls had reached the breaking point so quickly. The Others in the Falls Courtyard had voiced some resentment lately about the way the human community on Great Island cooperated with the terra indigene. And the Lakeside Courtyard’s more recent success at receiving cooperation from at least some of the humans they dealt with just added to the resentment.

If humans weren’t going to live up to their part of the agreements that allowed their cities to exist in the first place, the terra indigene saw no reason for those cities to continue existing.

He agreed with the leaders of the Talulah Falls Courtyard that this assumption humans made that they were entitled to whatever they wanted had to be crushed quickly and completely, but Simon sincerely hoped the humans in Lakeside would continue to help him avoid making that same decision.

“Mr. Ferryman asked me to convey his thanks for the warning this morning,” Montgomery said, giving Simon a look that was clearly asking What is wrong with you? “But he also wasn’t sure how much had been told to him in confidence and indicated that I should talk to you about it in case you thought any of it might be relevant to Lakeside.”

Simon unfolded the piece of paper and placed it on the low round table in the center of the ring of chairs. “You know about Meg being hurt this morning?” He waited for Montgomery’s nod. “I think some of the prophecy was lost. Maybe some of the visions weren’t written down in the right way. I was …” He shook his head. “This is what we told Ferryman.”

He watched Montgomery lean forward to read the list of what little he had written on the bathroom mirror.

Fin

Smiling shark

Falling water

Hide the children

Smoke and broken jars

Scars

Shaking basement

Falling jars

Shark

Hide the children

“I guess this explains the earthquakes,” Montgomery said softly. Then he frowned. “But … shark? Are there sharks in the Talulah River?”

“No,” Simon replied. “The Sharkgard don’t tend any of the freshwater lakes or rivers.”

“Maybe the words are a symbol to mean something else?”

Henry nodded. “At least where the shark is concerned. But falling water indicates Talulah Falls. That’s clear enough.”

Montgomery studied the words. “Hide the children. She said those words and ‘shark’ twice.”

“Maybe it means a predator that would threaten the children on Great Island,” Tess said. “But it could be referring to the Falls or to Lakeside. We think Meg was referring to herself with the scar reference.”

“No, I don’t think she was.” Montgomery removed a color photo from an envelope and set it gently on the table. “I think Ms. Corbyn may have been referring to this girl.”

Simon didn’t see anything remarkable about the girl, except … Were those evenly spaced scars on the left side of her face?

“The Falls police found the remains of four humans in the same basement where they found the Sanguinati who was killed,” Montgomery said. “One of the girls was a cassandra sangue.”

Simon felt his canines lengthen. “You’re not showing this to Meg.”

“If she knows this girl …” Montgomery began.

“Not today,” Henry said firmly when Simon and Blair snarled at the lieutenant. “Meg needs to stay quiet today. And there is something more Simon needs to tell you. We don’t know if the knowledge will help anyone in Talulah Falls at this point, but the trouble is too close to Lakeside now, so we agreed that the police need to know about this.”

Simon stared at the photo. A blood prophet like Meg, dead.

He was leader. He might be sick and scared today, but he was leader of the Lakeside Courtyard, and no matter what the police or other terra indigene thought, Meg was not going to be in a picture like that.

“Mr. Wolfgard?” Montgomery said.

So careful, like the man had been careful after the storm. Suspecting the truth about Simon’s excessive aggression when Meg had been hurt but smart enough not to ask outright about the cause.

“When I found Meg in the bathroom, bleeding so much, I … licked up some of the blood to clean the wound.” Simon swallowed, craving water. Craving something much richer than water. “I thought it would make me angry so I could help her, protect her.” He looked into Montgomery’s eyes. “Like it did before.”

Montgomery nodded his understanding. “But it didn’t make you angry?”

“No. Well, it did for a moment, but then it made me feel good—so good I couldn’t focus on helping Meg or … She wanted me to write down the words, and I tried. But all I wanted was to lie there and feel good.” He remembered the erection, his human form’s desire for sex and something more than sex. But he couldn’t remember doing anything but feeling good.

“Are you all right now?”

Something in Montgomery’s voice. Simon forced himself to concentrate.

“No. I’m … not right yet.”

“You’re describing an experience that matches a drug called feel-good, so it’s not surprising you reacted that way. It’s as addictive as an opiate.” Montgomery paused and looked at the Others. “It’s addictive, and there has been at least one reported death from an overdose. The person just stopped making an effort to survive.”

An uneasy silence. Then Henry said, “Simon has been in a passive haze for most of the day, unable to fend for himself or defend himself.”

“I see.” Montgomery took a careful breath before asking, “Are you certain you didn’t ingest anything else. Are you sure?”

“I’m sure the drug you’ve been calling gone over wolf comes from the blood of the cassandra sangue,” Simon said. “And I’m sure this feel-good also comes from the prophet’s blood.”

Addictive? Would this hollowness and craving go away? Or would he turn on Meg and bite her for another taste? And how could two things so different in effect come from the same source? Because his reaction to Meg’s blood had changed almost between one lick and the next. How? Why?

Montgomery sat back. “I’d like to discuss this information with Dr. Lorenzo in strictest confidence.”

“If anyone finds out …” Simon warned.

“I understand the danger, Mr. Wolfgard. I do. I also know Dr. Lorenzo is scheduled to check on Ms. Corbyn tomorrow morning. I’d like to meet with all of you then.”

“Not Meg.” Simon felt everyone stare at him. He picked up the paper that held the words of the prophecy, and he picked up the photo of the other blood prophet.

Was this Jean, the friend Meg often mentioned? The friend who had defied the people controlling the girls by insisting she had a name and not just a designation?

“We will listen to what you and Dr. Lorenzo have to say about these drugs, and then I’ll talk to Meg.”

“Very well.” Montgomery stood. “Unless there is something else, I need to get back to the station.”

“There’s nothing,” Simon said.

He waited until Montgomery went downstairs, then sprang to his feet. Or tried to. Still shaky, still …

He whined when he saw the fur on his hands, how the fingers were changing shape despite his effort to stop them from shifting.

“It’s all right. You stayed human until he left the room,” Vlad said, his voice rich with sympathy. “Simon, you need rest.”

He didn’t need rest. He needed Meg.

“I’m going home.” He handed the photo and paper to Vlad. “Hold on to these. Lock them up. I don’t want them at the Green Complex.”

“I’ll drive you home,” Blair said.

He didn’t argue. Clearly he needed to shift to Wolf, and he couldn’t count on keeping enough of a human shape for the drive home.

Vlad excused himself and went across the hall to HGR’s office. Elliot said he needed to check in at the consulate. No doubt the mayor had left several more messages, determined to keep the lines of communication open and avoid having his city share the fate of Talulah Falls.

Simon followed Blair to the door. Hearing a startled grunt, he looked back—and wondered what Tess wanted with Henry.

Tess’s true face showed through just enough that she no longer could pass for human. And her hair—black with a few streaks of red when a moment ago it had been red-streaked green—coiled and writhed in a way that made Henry think it was reaching for him, waiting for the opportunity to wrap around his throat and squeeze.

“I mean you no harm, Beargard.” Even her voice was rougher, more savage. “But I’m not the only one having trouble with control today.”

Henry nodded. “Simon.”

“You.” She pointed at his hand.

He felt a jolt of surprise. Grizzly claws at the ends of stubby human fingers. When had he shifted?

“Meg brought some trouble with her, but she has also brought good,” he said. “She has been good for us.”

“I agree. We protected her from the humans who would harm her. Now we need to do the same for the human pack.”

He didn’t know of any other Courtyard in the whole of Thaisia who had a human pack. They were considered part of the Courtyard now and entitled to the same protection as the terra indigene living there.

But Merri Lee wasn’t Meg. Meg had run away from captors and didn’t have any ties to the human world beyond what she was building now. Merri Lee had friends and family. Didn’t she?

He suddenly realized how little he knew about the humans who worked for them.

“What are you suggesting?” he asked.

“We go to the place where she lived,” Tess replied. “Pack up her things. I don’t think Merri Lee has many possessions, so she values what she has.”

Something the girl had in common with the terra indigene. Something everyone in the human pack had in common? He would think about that on another day. “What about her schooling?”

“One thing at a time.” Tess’s hair stopped writhing.

“Blair can drive one of our vans. I will drive the other.”

“One of the police officers should go with us to avoid misunderstandings.”

Henry nodded. “I will talk to Officer Debany and Merri Lee while you call Blair and arrange for the vans.”

When Tess stood, he raised a hand to stop her but didn’t touch her.

“You know what I am,” she said, turning her face away from him.

“I grew up in the West, near the border of the High North. I never connected you with the stories I heard until I saw the way that Asia Crane died. Then I guessed.”

“And said nothing.”

“You eliminated an enemy. What was there to say?” He hesitated. “But with talk of a predator on the river that even the Sanguinati were avoiding, I did wonder if there was another Harvester hunting around Talulah Falls.”

“Possible. There’s going to be a glut of prey there over the next few days. A lot of predators who live near Lakes Etu and Tahki are going to be drawn to the Falls.”

He suspected as much. At another time in his life, he would have been one of them.

He stood, towering over Tess as he towered over everyone in this Courtyard.

“Is that all we’re doing, Tess? Fetching Merri Lee’s possessions?”

Her hair began writhing again. “That’s all you’re doing.”

She walked out of the room, keeping her head down to prevent anyone from seeing her face, looking into her eyes.

Harvesters could take a little life energy or they could take it all. They were Namid’s most ferocious predator, Namid’s most effective weapon when the world needed a species decimated.

Ferocious and effective, yes. And, thankfully, a rare form of terra indigene. But perhaps the Harvesters weren’t Namid’s most dangerous weapon after all.

Shaking off such thoughts, Henry walked over to the efficiency apartments above the seamstress/tailor’s shop to talk to Merri Lee and make some arrangements with Michael Debany.

Simon knocked on Meg’s kitchen door. He knew she was home. He’d listened to Jake’s chatter and Jester’s yipping laugh to trace their progress from Henry’s apartment on the other side of the Green Complex to Meg’s front door.

She was home, but would she let him in?

The door opened. Meg studied him.

“I’m sorry I broke your door.” He wasn’t sorry, but it was the correct human thing to say.

She stepped back. “Come in.”

Trying not to appear too eager or reveal how relieved he felt to hear those words, he stepped into her kitchen.

“Would you like some pizza?” she asked. “I’m not sure how many people Lieutenant Montgomery thought were participating in movie night, but there are plenty of leftovers.”

“No. Thank you.” Just the scent of her was making him shaky with a need he didn’t know how to fulfill without doing something unforgivable.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong with you? Because there was something wrong with you this morning, Simon, and …” She began to knead her left arm. Probably trying to relieve a pins-and-needles feeling. “And you’re still not right.”

“I don’t want to talk about that tonight. Please?”

“Then what did you want?”

The words tumbled out, making him sound like a scared, whiny puppy, which was humiliating. “Can I stay with you tonight? Sam’s staying with Elliot, and I … It feels too lonely being by myself tonight.”

She looked wary. “You want to sleep with me?”

“Yes.”

Her hand moved in a vague gesture. “Like that?”

“No. As Wolf. I won’t shift to human. I promise.” He wasn’t sure he could keep that promise, but he knew if he didn’t it would be the last time she let him get close enough to cuddle.

He wasn’t sure what she saw in his face, in his eyes. It wasn’t the strong, dominant Wolf in charge of the Courtyard. He didn’t feel strong or dominant.

“All right.” She shook a finger at him. “But if you’re wearing fur, don’t growl about me hogging the covers.”

He lowered his eyes. “Okay.”

“Simon. I was teasing.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that, so he closed the kitchen door as much as it could close and followed her into the bedroom. While Meg was in the bathroom, he stripped out of the jeans, sweater, and thick socks he’d been wearing. He shifted, relieved to feel his body flow into its familiar shape. And then he stretched and rolled and did everything he could think of to confirm that all of him had shifted.

Finally satisfied—and out of time because the toilet flushed and Meg was running water in the sink and would be back soon—Simon leaped on the bed and made sure he wasn’t taking more than his half. He never meant to take more than his share. He was just bigger than her.

Meg got into bed and pulled up the covers, her arms outside the blankets.

“I’m supposed to sleep on my back because the cut is long,” she said. “How am I supposed to remember to sleep on my back once I’m sleeping? And I’m not supposed to get the cut wet for a day or two, so that means a sponge bath at best and not washing my hair. And I feel really crabby about those things, and I don’t know why.”

He didn’t know why either, but he whined in sympathy.

Sighing, Meg reached out and burrowed her fingers into his fur. “We sure didn’t do things right today, did we?”

He couldn’t disagree with that. Since there was nothing he could do about the mistakes he made this morning, he wasn’t going to think about how the missing pieces of Meg’s prophecy might have changed the fate of Talulah Falls.

He breathed in her scent—and felt the craving recede. Warmth and comfort and friendship. If he could just stop making mistakes where Meg was concerned, he would be able to keep those things.

He felt her body relax into sleep, her fingers still buried in his fur. Stretching his neck, he gave her cheek one gentle lick.

The taste of her soothed him, like it had when she had been in the hospital and he had been so angry.

He gave her cheek one more lick, then closed his eyes and fell asleep.