Written in Red

CHAPTER 4

The experiment with the coffeemaker was an unqualified disaster, so Meg settled for a bowl of cereal and an apple—and promised herself a ten-minute break to run over to A Little Bite and get a large cup of coffee as soon as the shop opened.

Wearing the blue sweater and jeans again so the black outfit would still be clean, she made a second promise to stop at the clothing store in the Market Square and buy enough clothes to get her through the work days, or as many clothes as she could afford right now. How did the Others do laundry? Simon Wolfgard’s clothes hadn’t smelled, so the Others must have a way to wash clothes. She just had to find out where and how.

So many things to learn. So many things she knew only as images or snips of action. How was she going to find out what she needed to know without revealing how little she knew?

Those were thoughts for later. Now she had to finish getting ready for work.

Taking three carrots out of the refrigerator, she washed them, patted them dry, and set them on the cutting board. She pushed up the sleeves of her turtleneck and sweater, then pulled the large knife out of the cutting block.

Flesh and steel. Such an intimate dance.

Every cut brings you closer to the cut that kills you, Jean had said. If you keep using the razor once you’re free of this place, then you become your own killer.

The knife clattered on the counter. Meg stepped back, staring at the shiny blade as she rubbed her left forearm to relieve the pins-and-needles feeling under her skin. She got that feeling sometimes just before it was time for the next cut. If the cut was delayed, the sensation got so bad it felt like buzzing or, even worse, like something trying to chew its way out of her skin.

Just a small cut, she thought as she pulled the folding razor out of the pocket of her jeans. Just a small cut to see if the carrots will work, if the ponies will like me.

She tried to convince herself that nothing terrible would happen if this gesture of friendship didn’t work, and using up flesh for something insignificant was foolish. And how would the Others react to a fresh cut and the scent of blood? She hadn’t considered that when she took the job.

But she was pulling a couple of paper towels off the roll and making a pad on the counter next to the sink. She opened the razor, lined up the back edge with the first knuckle of her left index finger, then turned the razor so the honed edge rested against skin. She took a slow breath and pressed the razor against her finger, making a cut deep enough to scar.

Pain flooded her, a remembered agony from the times she’d been punished for lies or defiance. She saw the ponies and . . .

The pain was washed away by an orgasmic euphoria. This was the ecstasy the girls craved, the ecstasy that only came from the razor kissing skin. This . . .

Meg blinked. Swayed. Stared at the blood on the paper towels.

Something about the ponies.

In order to remember what you see, you have to swallow the words along with the pain, Jean had said. If you speak, what you saw will fade like a dream. You might remember wisps, but not enough to be useful to you.

She must have spoken, must have described what she had seen. But there was no one to hear the words, so the prophecy and whatever she might have learned about the ponies was lost.

She looked at the razor and considered making another cut. Then she looked at the clock. She’d lost too much time already.

Hurrying into the bathroom, Meg washed the cut, then found a partially used box of bandages and tape in the medicine chest above the sink. After tending to the cut, she hurried back to the kitchen, cleaned the razor, and slipped it in her jeans pocket. Then she grabbed the kitchen knife and cut up the carrots. If anyone noticed the bandage or smelled the blood, she could explain it. Accidents happened in kitchens all the time. A cut on her finger wouldn’t be unusual, wouldn’t give anyone a reason to wonder about her.

She put the carrot chunks in a bowl with a locking lid, tidied up the kitchen, then put on her outer gear and gathered the rest of her things. As she left the building and hurried down the back stairs, she was glad she didn’t have to walk far to get to work.

It was still lung-biting cold, but far more peaceful than the previous morning. Or it was more peaceful until she reached the bottom of the stairs and spotted Simon Wolfgard coming out of A Little Bite with one of those big covered mugs she had seen yesterday when she stopped in the Market Square grocery store to buy apples and carrots.

He jerked to a stop when he saw her. Then he sniffed the air.

Hoping her hair still smelled enough to discourage him from coming closer, she said, “Good morning, Mr. Wolfgard.”

“Ms. Corbyn.”

When he said nothing more, she hurried to the Liaison’s Office, aware of him watching her until she unlocked the back door and stepped inside. Hopefully now he would just go on about his own business and let her get on with hers.

She hung up her coat and swapped boots for shoes. After a debate with herself that consumed five minutes, she decided carrots at room temperature were probably better for pony tummies and left the container on the counter. Wishing she had something warm to drink, she checked the cupboards in the small kitchen area. The last person to work as the Liaison had been a slob, and she wasn’t putting anything she wanted to eat on those shelves until she cleaned them. Which meant actually learning how to clean.

At least she had music this morning. She had stopped at Music and Movies yesterday and taken five music discs out on loan. She would get a notebook and keep track of the music she liked and didn’t like, and the food she liked and didn’t like and . . . everything else.

She put the first disc in the player, then set about opening the office. She put a fresh sheet of paper on the clipboard to take notes about the deliveries. Retrieving the keys from the drawer in the sorting room, she breathed a sigh of relief when she fiddled the slide locks open on the go-through and managed to unlock the front door.

The birds were back—three on the wall and one on the wood sculpture. Since she wasn’t sure if they were crows or Others, she stuck her head out the door and said, “Good morning.”

A startled silence. As she pulled her head back inside, a couple of them cawed. It sounded more mellow than other caws, so she decided to take it as a return greeting.

She barely had time to take the map out of the drawer and drag one of the mailbags over to the table before the first delivery truck pulled in.

Don’t need a bell on the door when there were Crows on watch, she thought as she dated the page and made her notes about the truck.

Same wariness as yesterday when the delivery people opened the door. Same relief when they saw her and realized they didn’t have to deal with one of the Others. Same helpful information about who they were and what days they usually made deliveries.

She found it interesting that two or three trucks arrived at almost the same time, which made her wonder if the drivers had some agreement among themselves about delivering at a specific time so they wouldn’t be in the Courtyard alone—especially since most of them greeted one another by name.

When the first flurry of deliveries was done, she opened the door into the sorting room and pushed one of the handcarts inside. She didn’t like treadmills—too many memories of being exercised in the compound—but maybe she should go over to Run & Thump and see what she could do to gain some muscle. Not being able to lift packages or mailbags wasn’t going to win her any gold stars from Simon Wolfgard.

She turned on the disc player and started sorting mail, her hips following the beat of the music.

“Courtyard Business Association,” Meg muttered as she read the name on the envelope. “They have a business association? Where?” She put the envelope on the ask-Jester stack.

There were several envelopes for the Chambers that had a red FINAL NOTICE stamped on them. She had a feeling she would find earlier warnings in the mailbags at the bottom of the pile.

Was there some kind of rule that Others couldn’t sort mail, or did they expect that everything would go on as it was until they got someone to do it? Or were they really all so busy doing Other things that they didn’t have time to take care of mail and packages?

She was still pondering that when the front door opened. Meg set down the stack of envelopes and went to the counter, closing the Private door partway.

The woman approaching the counter had sleek, shoulder-length blond hair, brown eyes, and a carefully made-up face that Meg decided matched the “beautiful” training images. The woman’s parka was unzipped, revealing a curvy body in snug jeans and sweater.

Having no yardstick for the outside world, Meg couldn’t decide if a woman dressed like that in the daytime indicated a movie star or a prostitute.

“I’m looking for the new Liaison,” the woman said.

“I’m the Liaison,” Meg replied.

“Really?” Anger flashed in the woman’s eyes at the same time she gave Meg a wide smile. “Why, you’re almost a pocket pet.”

Anger and a smile were conflicting images, but a conflict she had seen often enough on the faces of the Walking Names, especially when Jean had caused trouble and stirred up some of the other girls.

Unsure of how to respond, Meg took a step back. If she needed help, there was a phone in the sorting room as well as on the counter here, and the Private door had a lock.

The woman studied her, then said, “Oh, honey, you don’t have to be scared. I’m annoyed with Simon for hiring someone else after he all but promised me this job, but I’m not upset with you.”

“Excuse me?”

The woman waved a hand. “Water under the bridge, as they say.” A friendly smile now. “I’m Asia Crane. I’m a student at Lakeside University. Howling Good Reads is sort of my home away from home, so I expect we’ll see a lot of each other.”

Not likely, since she didn’t intend to spend much time at the bookstore—at least, not when Simon Wolfgard was around to glare at her or take offense at her hair. “I’m Meg Corbyn.”

Asia clapped her hands. “Crane. Corbyn. Our names are so similar, we could be sisters!”

“Except we don’t look anything alike,” Meg pointed out. Was Asia’s behavior typical of the way people responded to meeting a stranger?

“Oh, poo. Don’t go spoiling things with details! And please don’t be insulted about the pet remark. It’s a phrase I must have picked up from the romance novels I’ve been reading for fun.”

Meg couldn’t picture Simon stocking romances. Maybe someone else had a say in ordering books for the store?

“It was nice to meet you, Asia, but I have to get back to work,” Meg said.

“Doing what?” Asia leaned on the counter and wrinkled her nose as she looked around. “It doesn’t look like there’s much to do here to keep from dying of boredom. Maybe I’m glad I didn’t get this job after all.”

“There’s more to do than watch the counter and sign for packages,” Meg said defensively.

“Like what?”

She hesitated, but answering the question didn’t seem like a terrible thing to do, especially since Simon had all but promised the job to Asia.

But if he promised the job to her, why did he hire me? “I sort the mail for the Courtyard,” she said, trying to ignore the prickling that suddenly filled her right arm.

Asia’s eyes widened. “For the whole Courtyard? Not just the stores, but the whole thing? By yourself?”

Meg nodded.

“Oh, honey, if that’s the case, I’m not sure that man can pay anyone enough to do that much tedious work.”

“It’s not tedious, and it’s not that much work—or it won’t be after I take care of the backlog.” The prickling in her arm got worse, and she began to feel uneasy. She shouldn’t have that sensation so soon after a cut. Was it a sign that there was something wrong with her? The Walking Names always told the girls they couldn’t survive long outside the compound because they would be overwhelmed by the world. Jean said that was a lie, but it had been a long time since Jean had lived on the outside, so maybe she didn’t remember things correctly anymore.

“Well, why don’t you bring some of that mail out here so we can get acquainted? I could even give you a hand,” Asia said.

Meg shook her head and shuffled her feet back another half step toward the Private door. “It’s nice of you to offer, but the mail has to stay in the sorting room, and no one else is allowed in there without Mr. Wolfgard’s permission.”

“Well, Simon isn’t going to mind me helping out.” Asia braced her hands on the counter. A little jump and turn had her sitting on top and swinging her legs over.

That was when the Private door opened all the way and Simon lunged out of the sorting room, knocking Meg aside. As he made a grab for Asia, she squealed, swung her legs back over the counter, and scrambled out of reach.

“Simon does mind,” he snarled. “And the next time you swing a leg over a counter and try to put it where it doesn’t belong, you’re going back over the counter minus a leg!”

Asia bolted out the door and ran until she reached the sidewalk. Then she turned and stared at them before hurrying down the street.

Meg pressed herself against the wall, wanting to get farther away but not daring to move. “M-Mr. Wolfgard, I told her she wasn’t allowed, but it sounded like—”

“I heard what it sounded like,” he snarled. “I don’t pay you to yak with other monkeys when there’s work to be done. And if you want this job, there’s still plenty of work in there.”

“I—I know.”

“Why are you stuttering? Are you cold?”

Not daring to speak, she shook her head.

His next snarl sounded as full of frustration as anger. After one more menacing glance outside, he walked back into the sorting room.

Moments later, Meg heard the back door slam.

Shaking and still too scared to move, she began to cry.

Simon stormed through the back door of Howling Good Reads, stripped off his clothes, and shifted to Wolf, unable to stand being in that human shape a moment longer. Then he howled, letting all his fury ride in the sound.

He didn’t know why he was so angry. He just knew that something about the tone of Meg’s voice when she was trying to defend her territory—and being so damned inadequate about it!—had tripped something inside his brain.

John was the first to reach the stockroom, but one look at Simon had him backing away. Tess came next, her hair streaked green and red.

“Simon?” Tess said. “What’s wrong?”

Before he could answer, the back door opened again, almost smacking his hindquarters. He whirled and snapped at Jenni, who had shifted from Crow and now was a naked, shivering human.

She ignored the cold and she ignored him, which was beyond insulting since he was the leader of this Courtyard. Instead, she focused on Tess.

“Simon was being mean. He made the Meg cry. I’m going over to the store to see if I can find a sparkly that will make her smile again. The Meg smiles a lot—when the Wolf isn’t snarling at her.”

Jenni stepped back outside, shifted into a Crow, and flew off to Sparkles and Junk.

Simon growled.

Swinging around him and following Jenni out of the door, Tess said over her shoulder, “I’ll talk to Meg and see if I can repair the damage.”

He wasn’t sure she intended for him to hear the muttered, “Idiot.”

He looked at John, who was now crouched to bring his head lower than Simon’s.

Simon ordered. Then he bounded up the stairs to the store’s office.

John brought his clothes up, set them on the nearest chair, and hurried back downstairs.

Simon prowled the office, then howled again.

He hadn’t snarled at Meg. Not exactly. But he doubted there was a female in the Courtyard who was going to see it his way today.

Shifting back to human, he got dressed. Then he went to the window facing Crowfield Avenue and stared out. The streets were in decent shape. Not down to pavement yet, but passable.

Turning away from the window, he looked at the stacks of paperwork waiting for him because he had encouraged more contact with humans as a way of keeping better track of them.

“It was easier when all we wanted to do was eat them and take their stuff,” he grumbled.

And it had been easier when he hadn’t cared if he made any of them cry.

Asia shook so hard she couldn’t get the keys in the ignition to start her car.

Bigwig had told her dealing with the Others was a risky assignment, which was why he and the other backers had been willing to let her take her time infiltrating the Courtyard. In the months she’d been living in Lakeside and hanging around HGR, she hadn’t seen more than posturing and snarls from the Wolves and not even that much menace from the rest of the Others. Now she realized Bigwig had paid her so much up front because he had known that risky could mean deadly.

Pulling the flask out of the glove box, she took a long swallow of whiskey to steady her nerves. Then she took another to dim the image of her legs being torn off by a Wolf.

“Freaking Wolf,” she said after the third swallow. “Damn freaking Wolf should have been in his own store instead of sniffing around a no-looks female.” And he hadn’t just hired a female with no looks and no sense of fashion to represent the Courtyard; he had hired a feeb!

She had expected a man, had dressed to introduce herself to a man, had figured the reason Wolfgard hadn’t chosen her was because Liaisons were usually men and a man had applied for the job. Instead, Wolfgard had hired a feeble-minded, weird-haired girl who thought sorting mail was interesting.

Asia took another sip, then put the flask back in the glove box.

If Meg wasn’t a feeb, what kind of person would want the Liaison’s job for its own sake? Someone who had a reason to hide—that’s who. From what? From whom? The driver of that white van was keeping tabs on something or someone in the Courtyard, and Meg Corbyn was the only new employee.

She had a name and description to give Bigwig when she reported in tonight. That might help him figure out who would be interested in someone like Meg. Until he got back to her with whatever information he could gather at his end, she was going to be Meg Corbyn’s new best friend and use that friendship to learn whatever she could about the Courtyard. And that meant dealing with Simon Wolfgard.

Suicide by Wolf. She’d heard the phrase plenty of times. Now she understood what it meant. But if she didn’t push Simon now, she’d never get another shot at Meg.

She debated for a moment, then decided whiskey breath would suit this little drama. After all, no human in the bookstore would expect someone to start a confrontation with a Wolf unless that person was a little drunk. And she thought Asia Crane, SI, would be the kind of investigator who would have a checkered past and the need to have a daytime drink once in a while.

She needed to write these ideas down for the day when she met with Bigwig to discuss her TV show.

She got out of her car and strode to Howling Good Reads. As soon as she walked into the store, she balled her hands into fists and shouted, “Simon Wolfgard! You get your butt over here! I have words to say to you!”

Several people dropped books. Then an awful silence filled the bookstore when Simon appeared. Asia hoped the lenses of his glasses were picking up some kind of light that made his eyes look glowing—and red.

Before he got too close, she launched her verbal attack. “Simon Wolfgard, you are meaner than a rabid skunk!”

“You were where you didn’t belong!” he roared.

“Well, pardon me for trying to be friendly! I just dropped by to introduce myself and give your new employee a bit of a welcome. I didn’t realize she was forbidden to have a simple conversation with another human. It’s plain as plain that poor girl has some challenges.” Asia tapped her temple. It didn’t matter if Simon understood the gesture; all the humans in the store would recognize it and assume he had hired a feeb. “And then when someone takes an interest in her, all you do is make threats. It wouldn’t surprise me one bit if she slips away some night and doesn’t come back because of the way you treated her. Do you know what you are, Simon?”

“No,” he growled. “What am I?”

“You’re nothing but a bully with fangs! A human would have to be desperate to work for someone like you!”

“You were willing to work for me—and do more.”

Her face heated, but she lifted her chin. “That was before I realized you Others mimic humans to get what you want, but you don’t know anything about what’s inside a human.”

Simon bared his teeth. “We know what’s inside a human. Tasty bits. Especially the heart and liver.”

Her knees weakened and her heart pounded. Her voice quavered, but she shifted to quiet and dignified when she said, “I have nothing more to say to you.”

She walked out of the store. When she reached the parking lot, she bolted to her car, braced a hand on the hood, and threw up.

Fear and whiskey aren’t a good mix, she thought as she drove to her apartment. She would take a hot shower, put on some comfy clothes, and indulge herself by watching her favorite movies for the rest of the day.

In a couple of days, she’d go back to Howling Good Reads and see if she had a shot at spending time with the new Liaison.

At least she accomplished one thing. If Meg Corbyn disappeared one night, for whatever reason, everyone would figure she was running away from Simon Wolfgard and no one would make much effort to find her.

Meg sniffled and sorted mail. She didn’t have enough money left to run again, so she had to hang on to this job long enough to get paid.

She glanced up when the door to the back room opened but didn’t say anything until Tess stood on the other side of the table.

“Mr. Wolfgard left his coffee.” She glanced at Tess, then focused on the mail. She remembered seeing green in Tess’s hair yesterday, but not the red. Was changing hair color some kind of hobby? And if it was, why was Simon snapping about her hair?

Tess pursed her lips as she studied the insulated, covered mug. “Actually, he brought that for you.”

Startled, Meg looked up.

Tess nodded. Then she said gently, “What happened, Meg? You’ve been crying, Simon’s riled up, and the Crows just told me that Asia bolted out of here like the whole pack was on her heels.”

“I was starting to sort the mail when she came in and introduced herself. She said Mr. Wolfgard had promised she could have this job, but he hired me instead. So she was curious about what I did besides sign for packages.”

“Did you tell her?”

“I said I sorted the mail for the Courtyard.”

“Did you tell her anything about who is in the Courtyard? Mention any names?”

Meg shook her head. “I guess it’s natural for people to be curious about this place, but offering to help me sort the mail seemed too forward. But some people are like that,” she added defensively. “Outgoing and chatty. Harry from Everywhere Delivery is chatty too, but Jester didn’t say talking to Harry was wrong, and I did tell Asia I needed to get back to work. She shouldn’t have sat on the counter or swung her legs over, but people do that when they want to chat. They sit on a piece of furniture and swing their legs.”

Now that she wasn’t as scared, Meg started to get mad. “Then Mr. Wolfgard showed up and threatened to bite Asia’s leg. So she ran off, and she’ll probably never come back.”

“Do you want her to come back?” Tess asked.

“I have questions,” Meg countered. “Things I can’t ask him.”

Tess raised her eyebrows. “He’s a Mr. Wolfgard and a him?” She sighed. “What kind of questions?”

“I didn’t see a place in the Market Square to wash clothes. Am I supposed to wash them in the bathroom sink or . . .” Going to a laundry beyond the Courtyard wasn’t something she wanted to consider.

Looking thoughtful in a scary kind of way, Tess picked up the insulated mug and handed it to Meg. “It won’t be hot, but it should still be warm. By the way, that mug isn’t something you should put in the wave-cooker.”

“Okay.” Meg took the mug, removed the lid, and obediently took a sip of coffee.

“As for doing laundry, we send out some things to a laundry service—like bedspreads, curtains, and . . . other things we don’t want to handle. There is also a coin-operated washing machine and dryer in the social center that employees are allowed to use. And each residential complex has a laundry room.”

“Are there instructions for using the coin-operated machines?”

Training image. A commercial laundry, its walls spattered with blood, and two people dead on the floor.

Meg shivered.

“Tell you what,” Tess said. “I’ll come by around four thirty. That’s long enough past the office’s usual closing for any delivery trucks that are still slowed down by the snow. We’ll go to the clothing store and pick up whatever you need to get you through a few more days. Then I’ll take you over to the laundry room at the Green Complex. Did anyone give you your Market Square card?”

“Jester dropped it off with my pass, but he didn’t explain what it did.”

“Typical,” Tess muttered. “Do just enough to stir things up. It goes like this. Everyone who works at any of our stores is paid in human currency and also receives credit that can be used at any store in the Courtyard. So while your pay may not seem like much in terms of the money you get, you’re also getting double that amount credited on your card each week. At the end of each month, you can stop in at our bank and receive a slip telling you what you have left on the card.”

Since she didn’t have to pay for her apartment, the wages were more generous than she’d thought.

“I don’t pretend to understand humans,” Tess said. “Giving both sides a chance to understand each other is the reason the Business Association decided to open up some of the stores to human customers. So I’ll talk to Simon about letting Asia Crane drop by to chat—as long as you and she understand that Simon will kill her if he catches her scent where it doesn’t belong. But if you have questions about being in the Courtyard, you can ask me. All right?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Tess smiled and glanced at the clock on the wall. “Then I’ll let you get back to work. The ponies will be coming soon. Don’t forget to come by on your lunch break. A Little Bite is providing the midday meal.”

“I’ll remember.”

She waited until Tess left, then put the Back in Five Minutes sign on the counter, locked the Private door, and went into the bathroom to wash her face. Nothing she could do about the puffy eyes, but dust could cause puffy eyes too, couldn’t it? And that corner that held the older mailbags and packages was dusty.

She unlocked the Private door and tucked the sign under the counter just in time for another delivery truck to drive up.

It looked like she’d get to try out the dust excuse and see if anyone actually believed it.

“SIMON!”

Hearing Tess’s voice, Simon vaulted over the checkout counter, an instinctive response to some knowledge embedded into the essence of his kind. When she strode from the back of the store, he knew why he wanted to give himself room to fight.

Her hair was completely red and coiling as she walked toward him.

Not black. Not the death color. But close enough.

Tess looked around. Her voice thundered through HGR. “Howling Good Reads is closed for the day. Anyone who is still in the store sixty seconds from now will never be seen again.”

Others and humans ran for the nearest door, whether it was HGR’s street door or the archway to A Little Bite.

“Tess?” Julia Hawkgard called from the archway. “Are we closing too?”

“Customers go. You and Merri Lee stay to close up.”

When Simon turned toward the street door to lock it and flip the sign to CLOSED, Tess snarled, “Not you, Wolfgard.”

He walked up to her. “I’m the leader of this Courtyard. You live here because of my invitation. Remember that.”

Threads of black appeared in her red hair.

“If I have to make friends with a monkey in order to clean up your mess, you’re going to make some concessions,” she said.

“You don’t have to make friends with anyone.” He wasn’t sure she was capable of making friends. And despite the efforts he and Henry had made over the years, they still didn’t know what kind of terra indigene Tess was. But they knew she could kill. They did know that.

“Well, I have. For the sake of the Courtyard, I have made friends with our Human Liaison. Now it’s your turn.”

“What do you expect me to do? Asia Crane would have pushed where she didn’t belong, and she’ll keep pushing.”

Tess tipped her head. “Even now?”

“Even now. And Meg isn’t strong enough to hold her ground.” But she had been strong enough to run from something—or someone—and had enough spine to ask him for a job.

“You’ve turned Asia into forbidden fruit,” Tess said.

“What?”

“You’ve read enough human stories to know the lure of forbidden fruit.”

Yes, he had. And if Meg smelled like prey the way she was supposed to, he wouldn’t have responded in a way that was closer to protecting one of his own. Oh, he still would have forced Asia to back down, but he would have done it the same way he dealt with a customer in the store who wanted access to places that were private.

So it was Meg’s fault that he hadn’t behaved correctly.

“Simon?”

He heard the warning note in Tess’s voice. “I won’t forbid Asia from visiting with Meg, as long as she stays on her side of the counter.”

“And I’ll talk to my employees about helping me befriend the Liaison,” Tess said.

“And keep a sharper eye on Asia?”

“That too.”

Her hair was still red, but the black threads were gone and the coils were relaxing.

Since it wouldn’t be viewed as a retreat now, Simon took a step back and looked around. “I don’t feel like opening up again.”

“No one will come in today anyway,” Tess said. “But tomorrow the fear will have faded just enough.” She smiled. “I heard John mention you received a shipment of terror books.”

“Horror books.” Now he smiled. “Including a couple of boxes of terra indigene authors I don’t usually put out for human customers.”

“Maybe you should make a display of them and put them on sale tomorrow. I expect we’ll be busy.”

“We could have tripled sales if we’d eaten one of the customers before they’d all gotten out.”

Tess laughed. “Maybe we can do that next time.”

Simon sighed. “I need a day out of this skin.”

“And I need a few hours of solitude. See you tomorrow, Wolfgard.”

“Tomorrow.” He tipped his head toward A Little Bite. “What about your shop?”

“Julia and Merri Lee will clean up and close up. I’ll tell them to take something over to Meg before they leave.”

Choosing to be satisfied with that, Simon pulled out his keys and secured the dead bolt on HGR’s street door. He checked the office, and stopped long enough to call Vlad and tell him the store was closed and also mention doing a display of horror books by terra indigene authors. Then he turned off lights as he went through the building, put on his winter coat when he reached the stockroom, and left, locking the back door.

He didn’t want to be in this skin. He wanted to wear the body of a Wolf. But he had to stay in human form until he got Daphne’s son, Sam, outside for a few minutes of fresh air—which was all the pup could tolerate since the night Daphne was shot. Once he got the youngster settled inside again, he could shift and run alone for a few hours.

So he set off for the Green Complex, hoping a walk on a cold day would frost some of his anger and frustration—and wishing again that he could find something that would break the fear that kept Sam locked in a single form.

Meg had her coat on and the bowl of carrot chunks on the sorting table with the mail when the ponies neighed. She opened the sorting room’s outer door and smiled at their grumpy faces.

“Good morning,” she said, hoping they couldn’t recognize forced cheer. “I brought a treat for all of us, since we’re all working hard to get the mail to everyone in the Courtyard. So let me get the baskets filled, and then I’ll show you what I brought.”

Maybe they aren’t grumpy, Meg thought as she filled the slots in Thunder’s baskets. Maybe that’s just what pony faces look like.

When Thunder moved away, she wanted to remind him she had a treat for all of them, and felt disappointed that he was leaving without giving her a chance to make friends. But he simply circled around until he was behind Fog and would be first in line again.

She brought the bowl with her when she picked up the last stack of mail for the Green Complex—Fog’s destination today.

Apparently, ponies did have more than one expression. When she offered two carrot chunks to Thunder, he took the first warily and the second eagerly. Bobbing his head, he trotted off while the others jostled one another to reach the bowl.

“Wait your turn,” Meg said. “I brought plenty for all of us.”

They settled down and waited for their treats, looking as interested in her as they were in the carrots. When Fog trotted off, Meg closed the door and felt that something had finally gone right that day. Setting the bowl on the table so that she could munch on the rest of the carrots while she worked, she went into the bathroom to wash carrot flecks and pony spit off her hands—and put a clean bandage on her finger.

As Kowalski drove down Crowfield Avenue, Monty noticed the Closed sign on Howling Good Reads’ door and said, “Pull over.” He studied the sign, then looked at the Closed sign at A Little Bite. “Is it usual for them to be closed when most other places are open?”

“No, it’s not,” Kowalski replied. “The Others can be whimsical about business hours, and sometimes the stores are closed to humans so that the terra indigene can shop without being around us. But when that happens, there is usually a Residents Only sign tacked on the door, the lights will be on, and you’ll see people in the stores.”

“So whatever caused this can’t be good.”

“No, sir, it can’t be good.”

Monty opened his door. “I see some movement in A Little Bite. Wait here.”

Getting out of the car, he went up to the door and knocked loudly enough to ensure that the two women in the shop wouldn’t ignore him.

The dark-haired one hurried to the door and pointed to the sign. He responded by holding up his ID.

She flipped the lock, pulled the door open, and said, “We’re closed.”

“Is there something I can do to help?” Monty asked, his voice quiet and courteous.

She shook her head and started to close the door when the other woman called out, “Let him in, Merri Lee. He can take some of this coffee and food. He is police. Tess said we should be polite to him.”

Merri Lee pulled the door open enough for him to slip inside, then locked it again.

“Sorry,” she said, keeping her voice low. “There was an . . . upset . . . earlier, and it’s better for humans not to be around here today.”

“What about you?” he asked.

“Julia is a Hawkgard, so I’m okay.” She raised her voice to a normal volume and addressed the woman pouring coffee into two large travel mugs. “I’m supposed to bring some of the food to Meg.”

“Already have everything set aside for her,” Julia replied. “For you too. And me. You have a carry sack?”

It took Monty a moment to realize the question was aimed at him. “No, ma’am, I don’t.”

“We usually sell them, but you are the police, so I’ll give you one,” Julia said.

The heavy fabric sack had two sleeves with stiff bottoms that were sized for the insulated travel mugs, plus a zippered compartment that could hold sandwiches or containers of food. There was even a section to hold cutlery.

He watched her fill up the sack with sandwiches and pastries. It looked like they were cleaning out anything that was intended for sale that day and wouldn’t be held over for tomorrow.

“What happened here?” he asked.

“Jenni said Simon upset the Meg and made her cry,” Julia replied. “Then that Asia came into Howling Good Reads and yelled at Simon, and then Tess and Simon yelled at each other over what happened with the Meg. That’s when they closed the stores. It’s not safe when Simon and Tess yell at each other.”

“Is Ms. Corbyn all right?”

Merri Lee nodded. “Just upset.” She watched Julia zip up the sack and added, “You should go now.”

Concern mixed with a warning. Whatever had happened today had happened before. The humans—and the Others—knew how to ride it out.

And hoped they lived through it?

Nothing he could do, so he accepted the carry sack and food with warm thanks, and slipped one of his cards to Merri Lee when she let him out of the shop.

“Lieutenant?” Kowalski asked when Monty got in the car.

“Pull into their parking lot. I’d like a few minutes to think while we have something to eat.”

Once Kowalski parked the car, Monty handed out coffee and food.

Merri Lee, being human, might not say anything about him being in the shop, but Julia Hawkgard would report his presence to somebody. So he couldn’t stop by and talk to Meg Corbyn and reassure himself that she was just upset, but there were other ways of checking on things that weren’t officially his concern.

Telling himself to be satisfied with that, he enjoyed the unexpected meal.

Someone knocked loudly on the office’s back door, then knocked again before Meg could reach it.

“Hi,” the woman said when Meg opened the door. “I’m Merri Lee. Can I come in far enough so you don’t lose all the heat?”

Still feeling raw about Simon’s reaction to Asia—and feeling a touch defiant because this woman was holding up a pass that said she was allowed to be in this part of the Courtyard—Meg stepped aside.

“I brought your midday meal,” Merri Lee said as she came in. “Things are churned up today, so . . . Wow.” Her eyes widened as she looked around. “Is the other room any cleaner?”

“A little. Not much.” Meg looked around too. “It is pretty dirty, isn’t it?” She thought it was, but she hadn’t been sure other humans would see it that way.

“Here.” Merri Lee handed her the carry sack. “Look. No one but the Liaison and the terra indigene are supposed to be in this office, but I wouldn’t want to work here until it’s clean.”

“There’s a lot of mail that needs to be sorted,” Meg said.

“And you have to do that,” Merri Lee agreed. “But A Little Bite is closed today, so I could put in my work hours by helping you clean this room at least.”

“If you’re not allowed to be here, you’ll get in trouble.” There was a natural warmth to Merri Lee’s friendliness, so Meg didn’t want her to get hurt.

“Not if I get permission from a member of the Business Association.” Merri Lee looked nervous. “Can’t ask Simon or Tess, and I’d rather not ask Vlad or Nyx.” Her face cleared. “But if Henry is working in his studio, I can ask him. Are there any cleaning supplies here?”

“Not that I found.”

“Not even for the toilet?”

Meg shook her head.

“Oh, gods. Well, I’ll pick up some supplies after I talk to Henry.” She glanced at Meg’s hands. “What did you do to your finger?”

“I was cutting up carrots for the ponies,” Meg replied. “Got a little careless. It’s not a deep slice.”

Merri Lee nodded. “I’ll get some cleaning gloves to protect your hands. The cleansers will sting if they get in that cut.” She held out another carry sack. “That’s my food. Could you stash it someplace until I get back?” Giving Meg a smile and wave, she darted out.

Meg put the carry sacks on the sorting table. It felt uncomfortable to lie to someone who was being kind. She hadn’t known a lie could have a physical weight. But she wasn’t going to tell anyone the truth about the cutting and the prophecies until she had no other choice.

Having decided that much, she unzipped the compartment that held her food. Before she could remove a sandwich, something small and brown ran across the floor and darted into the pile of packages that still needed sorting.

When Merri Lee returned a few minutes later with Henry Beargard and two females, Meg was kneeling on top of the sorting table, staring at that corner of the room.

Merri Lee stopped in the doorway and looked ready to run. Henry and the females stepped into the sorting room.

Meg pointed a shaking finger. “Something is hiding in that corner.”

Henry moved silently to that corner and sniffed. “Mouse.”

“Oh, gods,” Merri Lee said.

“They’re easier to catch if you leave food in the middle of the floor,” the brown-haired woman said.

“Why would you do that?” Meg asked.

“Fresh snack,” the black-haired woman replied brightly.

Merri Lee said, “Oh, gods” again before clamping a hand over her mouth. Meg just stared.

Henry studied Merri Lee, then Meg. “Humans don’t like mice?”

“Not in the building!” Meg said.

“And not around food,” Merri Lee added.

The three terra indigene looked baffled.

“But it’s fresh meat,” the brown-haired woman finally said.

“Humans don’t eat mice,” Merri Lee said. “Or rats. We just don’t.”

Silence.

Finally, Henry sighed—a big, gusty sound. “We will put aside other work today and make this place human-clean for the Liaison.” He pointed at Merri Lee. “You will show us how this is done.”

“I’ll go to the Market Square and pick up the supplies we’ll need to put some shine on these rooms,” Merri Lee said.

The black-haired woman cawed. “You can make things shiny?”

“In a way.”

So the Crow went with Merri Lee while Henry began excavating the mailbags and boxes piled in the corner of the sorting room.

The brown-haired woman was an Owl named Allison. She was quite pleased to catch two mice—and less pleased when Henry made her go outside to eat them.

When five people cleaned three rooms—and one of them was a man as strong as a bear—the work went quickly, even with Allison taking two more breaks to devour mouse snacks. Some of the packages in that corner had been nibbled; others were smashed. Meg noticed how many of them were addressed to people living in the Chambers, which made her wonder who the Sanguinati were that the previous Liaisons wouldn’t deliver packages to them.

On the other hand, Jester had said the previous Liaisons hadn’t been encouraged to make deliveries to anyone in the Courtyard. But something should have been done to get the packages to the people waiting for them.

She had made excuses for not eating while they were working—especially when there was still the possibility of finding another mouse. Since Merri Lee was also making excuses, despite a growling stomach, the Others accepted the strange behavior.

Finally, all the old packages were neatly stacked on one of the hand carts; the counters, tables, cupboards, and floors were washed; the wave-cooker and fridge were clean; and the bathroom didn’t make her shudder when she used the toilet. Allison went back to the Owlgard Complex to report this peculiar aversion humans had to mice. Crystal Crowgard ran off to Sparkles and Junk with rags and the spray bottle of cleaner that would make all their display counters shiny.

Henry pointed at Meg. “The rooms are clean. Now you will eat.” He pointed at Merri Lee. “You may sit with her in the back room and visit.”

Meg looked at the clock on the sorting-room wall. “It’s almost two o’clock. I need to take deliveries.”

“You will eat,” Henry said. “I will watch the counter until you are done.”

Meg went to the back room and frowned at the small round table and two chairs. “Those weren’t here this morning.”

“No, they weren’t,” Merri Lee replied, pulling food out of the fridge. “But I mentioned to Henry that it would nicer if you had a place to eat when you didn’t want to go out during your break, and he got these from somewhere.” She looked around the room and nodded. “This is much better.”

“Definitely better,” Meg agreed. “Thank you.”

They didn’t talk much. Maybe they were both too hungry to focus on anything but food. Maybe they had learned enough about each other for the moment. Whatever the reason, Merri Lee left as soon as she had enough to eat.

Meg stored the rest of the food, then went out to the front room in time to greet the two deliverymen who had taken one look at Henry and were backing away.

When the men gave her the packages and drove off, Henry nodded as if he was pleased about something.

“I don’t answer the telephone when I’m working with the wood,” he said. “But if you need me, you tell the Crows and I’ll come.”

“Thank you for all the help today,” Meg said.

He left, saying nothing more.

Meg went back to sorting mail for the remaining time in her workday, but she kept glancing at those old packages. She would do something about them tomorrow.

She was about to close up for the day when a patrol car pulled into the delivery area.

He found me, she thought, her heart jumping. The Controller has found me. That’s why the police are here.

She hadn’t seen these men before, but they seemed to know something about the Others because they both got out, removed their hats, and looked straight at the Crows before entering the office.

“Ma’am,” one of them said when they reached the counter. “I’m Officer Michael Debany. This is my partner, Lawrence MacDonald. We work with Lieutenant Montgomery and just wanted to introduce ourselves and let you know we’re available if you need any assistance.”

As they chatted and Officer Debany mentioned again that they would provide help if it was needed, Meg realized the men were fishing for information about what happened this morning to close Howling Good Reads and A Little Bite, but mostly they were trying to find out if she had been hurt but was afraid to leave.

She wouldn’t have gone with them even if she did need help, but it made her feel better that help was available for the other humans who worked for the terra indigene.

When the police officers left, she locked up the front room and continued sorting mail until Tess arrived to help her with clothes shopping and laundry. That turned out to be a more pleasant experience than she’d expected.

The only thing that marred the evening was when she looked out her apartment window before going to bed and spotted a man standing across the street, watching her.