Wild Country

CHAPTER 8

Firesday, Messis 3

Relief filled Tolya as he read Vlad Sanguinati’s e-mail. He didn’t know how many humans would be arriving or what professions they would fill, but this would prove to Jesse Walker that he had taken her concerns seriously. And it would balance the invitation he’d asked the Elementals to send to the terra indigene living in the Midwest to come to Bennett and participate in a mixed community. There were already several shifter gards here, along with the five Sanguinati who had joined him from Toland, but more terra indigene would be needed to keep the Elders from reacting harshly to an influx of humans.

He placed a call to Jesse Walker, doodling on a message pad while he listened to the phone ringing. Doodling was a new human activity, one he found surprisingly enjoyable. He filled the top part of the paper with crosshatching before a female voice said, “Walker’s General Store.”

“Good afternoon, Rachel. This is Tolya Sanguinati. May I speak to Jesse Walker?”

“Are you sure you want to?”

Not anymore. “Is there a reason why I wouldn’t want to speak with her?”

“She’s growling at paper. I don’t know why. Well, a piece of paper cut her finger and she said words I’m not supposed to learn. I offered to bite the paper because I have better teeth, but she said she didn’t need help. I was on a ladder, dusting the top shelves in the store. That’s why the phone rang and rang.”

That made sense, except he was fairly sure Jesse Walker also had a phone in the back room, where, presumably, her desk for paperwork was located. Could she be so injured she couldn’t answer the phone? Or was she ignoring the thing?

Some background noise, then Rachel said, “It’s Tolya Sanguinati. He wants to talk to you.”

“Mr. Sanguinati,” Jesse said once the phone exchanged hands.

She sounded cornered. No. Stressed? Prey was so difficult to gauge by just a voice coming over wires.

Not prey. Not edible. But the courtesy he didn’t hear in her voice suggested he should skip the back-and-forth words that usually began conversations with humans. “The Lakeside Courtyard is holding a job fair next week. Hopefully the new citizens will start arriving by the end of next week and early the following week. I don’t know how many they will find that they consider suitable, but they will try to find the humans—”

Virgil called.

“—you indicated were a priority,” he finished.

A beat of silence. “Thank you.” Jesse sighed. “Thank you.”

Her relief sounded excessive and he wanted to ask what was wrong, but Stazia Sanguinati, who was the manager of the bank, said,

“I have to go. I’ll call with more information when I have it.” He hung up and hurried out of his office.

Instead of answering the question, Virgil said,

The mayor’s office looked out over the square, but trees blocked his view of the spring. He opened the window, shifted to his smoke form, and flowed down the side of the building and across the street, moving at a speed he couldn’t match in his human form.

As soon as he was in sight of the spring—and the two females, one of them being Barbara Ellen—he stopped to assess the danger. Virgil was there in human form, Kane in Wolf form. Stazia was in human form. Isobel, who was in charge of the post office, was a column of smoke partially hidden by one of the trees.

“Do you need help?” Barbara Ellen asked the female who was drinking spring water out of cupped hands. “Have you had anything to eat?” A hesitation. “Do you understand my words?”

That was a good question. The female was terra indigene. That much Tolya sensed. But the form? Something dangerous. Something lethal, even to the rest of them. Something even Virgil had hesitated to confront, despite another Wolf and two Sanguinati supporting him.

Tolya shifted to his human form, the movement drawing the female’s attention. When she straightened and turned to face him—and streaks of black suddenly appeared in her gold, blue, and red hair—he felt the unpleasant sensation of being genuinely afraid.

Harvester. Plague Rider. A rare form of terra indigene that, for the most part, were solitary because they were so deadly. When a Harvester’s hair turned solid black, he or she could kill another creature with just a look. The Sanguinati mostly lived on blood taken fresh from their prey. A Harvester took the prey’s life energy, turning organs into black sludge.

She looked human enough to pass for human at a distance, if her hair wasn’t coiling and changing color at the moment she was seen. But her eyes were black or so dark a brown to make no difference. That and a feral quality no human could match meant that, up close, she would never pass for human.

How many humans had she killed before she had learned the form this well? She wore a mishmash of clothes that looked more like layers of rags—and she looked half starved.

He moved toward the Harvester, giving her a reason to focus on him. He knew Virgil was tensed, waiting for the moment he could dash over to Barbara Ellen and pull her out of immediate danger.

The Harvester must have sensed the tension in the Wolf, because she turned to face Virgil—and her hair changed to broad streaks of red and black with threads of gold and blue.

“Stay away from her,” the Harvester said.

Protective? Barbara Ellen was an adult female, but there was something bouncy and puppyish about her that tugged at protective instincts. He just hadn’t considered that this female would respond the same way.

“He means her no harm,” Tolya said. “He is the sheriff. That means she is under his protection. And mine.” He flicked a look past the Harvester. “Barbara Ellen, please go with Isobel.”

“No.” More of the Harvester’s hair turned black.

Tolya swallowed his frustration. If they all survived this day, he was going to say some sharp words to Barbara Ellen Debany about approaching strangers who were, quite obviously, more than a little strange.

“Mr. Sanguinati is the leader of the town, and my boss,” Barbara Ellen said. “I should do what he asks.”

Her expression said she didn’t understand why he was acting like such a . . . Well, he didn’t know what the human term would be that matched her expression, but he was sure it wouldn’t be flattering.

“If you’d like one of the canaries, I could bring one over to wherever you’re staying,” Barbara Ellen said.

The Harvester turned to face the girl. “This is food?”

Barbara Ellen’s eyes widened. “No. A canary is a yellow bird that sings. I thought you might like one for company while you’re here.”

“Company.”

The word was spoken softly, but Tolya suddenly knew what had brought this female to Bennett. How much courage had Simon Wolfgard, the leader of the Lakeside Courtyard, needed when Tess had shown up looking for company, for a place to belong? And did he, Tolya, have that much courage? There were no Plague Riders in Toland. Or there hadn’t been before the Elders and Elementals had unleashed their fury on the human-controlled cities.

“Are you looking for work?” Tolya asked.

“Yes,” she replied. “I heard . . . words. I followed the words here.”

Just how far had the Elementals flung his request for terra indigene to come to Bennett? Obviously far enough for a Harvester to have heard and responded.

“Let’s go up to my office and we’ll discuss what kind of work you would like to do,” Tolya said.

The Harvester took a step toward him, then turned back to Barbara Ellen. “I would like a yellow bird that sings. For company.”

Barbara Ellen smiled. “I’ll select one for you and bring it . . .” She hesitated.

“I will let you know where to bring the bird,” Tolya said. He extended his arm in the direction of the government building. “My office is this way.”

The Harvester followed him, the black streaks changing to mere threads in the gold he assumed was her base color. She looked over her shoulder and bared her teeth. “The Wolf will bite the Barbara Ellen human.”

Tolya looked back. Virgil had closed the distance and now stood with his back to them, blocking their view of Barbara Ellen—and her view of one of Namid’s most ferocious predators.

“No, he won’t,” Tolya said. He suspected Virgil would do a lot of snarling that would display his teeth, but he wouldn’t use them. Not on Barbara Ellen.

Still, there was no reason to take chances.