Written in Red

CHAPTER 10

Meg sat back on her heels and stared at the Wolf pup, who stared back at her. Sam seemed shy, which made sense since she was a stranger, but he also seemed interested in getting to know her. At least, he seemed that way while she refilled his food and water bowls. But when she reached into the cage with a couple of paper towels to pick up the poop in the back corner, he snapped at her—and kept snapping every time she tried to reach in farther than the bowls, which were in the front of the cage.

“Come on, Sam. You don’t want to smell poop all day, do you?”

The pup talked back at her. Since she didn’t speak Wolf, she had no idea what he said, but she had the impression he was embarrassed, and her noticing the poop only made things worse, but she didn’t know what to do about that. The terra indigene weren’t human, didn’t think like humans even when they were in a human skin. She’d learned that much in the week she’d been working for them. But they did have feelings. She’d learned that too.

She glanced at the wall clock and sighed. If she didn’t get moving, she’d be late for work again.

She secured the cage door. “All right. You win, because I have to go to work. But this discussion isn’t over.”

He talked back, then lowered his head.

She’d bet a week’s pay—if she had a paycheck yet—that Simon didn’t take that kind of lip from a puppy. Of course, she didn’t think Simon Wolfgard took that kind of lip from anyone.

She got to her feet and studied the pup. Why was he in a cage? If she asked, would anyone tell her?

He wasn’t always in the cage. Sam had been outside the other night. Simon would rip her to pieces if she let Sam go outside and something happened to the pup. But there had to be something she could do that would keep them both safe so she could take him outside.

“I’ll see you when I get back from work.” No response to the words, but as she locked Simon’s front door, she heard Sam’s squeaky-door howl.

Telling herself she shouldn’t feel guilty about leaving Sam by himself—after all, Simon did it all the time—she hurried to the garage, unhooked the BOW from its power supply, and headed for work. She still tended to stomp on the power pedal when backing up. Remembering all those training images from movies—clips of cars speeding up a ramp backward and sailing over another vehicle—kept interfering with the reality of a flat exit. But she was feeling more confident about forward driving, especially now that the main roads in the Courtyard were down to pavement.

She turned the sign on the office door to OPEN one minute after nine o’clock. As she poked her head out the door to say good morning to the four Crows on the wall and the Hawk who had claimed the top of the wooden sculpture—and the best view inside the office—she noticed Elliot Wolfgard coming out of the consulate.

Good clothes. Power attitude. Most of the men who had come to the compound and looked at her skin with a greed that was almost sexual had good clothes and that attitude.

Giving him a brisk nod, she withdrew and went back to the sorting room, closing the Private door partway. Then she braced her hands on the table and closed her eyes.

It had been a week since her last cut. Fear of making a bad cut with an unfamiliar blade had sufficiently dulled the craving for the euphoria. Fear and remembering things Jean had told her.

“They cut us so often for the money. I remember my ma saying that the more you cut, the more you want to cut. But Namid gave us the good feelings as a reward for cutting when folks need help.” Jean paused. “Of course, when cutting is the only thing that makes you feel good, most girls won’t fight when they’re put in the chair.”

Was this what withdrawal felt like? The Walking Names always said the girls needed the cutting. Truth or lie? Did she really need a cut or did she just want the euphoria? Since she could make her own choices about her body, did it matter?

Top side of the arms would be the safest place without a watcher. Or the legs, as long as she stayed away from the inner thighs.

Slipping her hand in her jeans’ pocket, Meg caressed the razor, her thumb running over the cs759 engraved in the handle. A designation, not a name. And that did matter.

She heard the thump of boxes being set on the counter. Pulling her empty, trembling hand out of her pocket, she went out to take the first delivery.

Asia bought two takeout cups of hot chocolate at A Little Bite, then walked over to the Liaison’s Office.

She’d spent an evening at Lakeside University, hanging around the girls who liked taking a walk on the wild side. She had hoped to glean some ideas for getting that kind of interest from the Others, but after an hour, she realized there were boys out there claiming to be what they weren’t, and the girls who thought they had romped with a Wolf or a vampire had never seen a real one.

That gave her an idea for a way to get in by a side door, so to speak, but it still meant becoming pals with Meg. She was bound to learn something of interest by hanging around the Liaison’s Office, and she’d also be able to scope out any possibilities working at the consulate.

And there had been that interesting phone call from her backers, who had heard from their contact in the mayor’s office. Apparently, Meg had been a naughty girl, and White Van was looking for a thief, not a runaway spouse. So keeping tabs on Meg could be profitable all by itself.

A deliveryman held the door for her. Asia flashed him a smile, but she didn’t bother to flirt because Meg was at the counter, looking baffled, and that made her curious.

“Problem?” she asked, setting the cups of hot chocolate on the counter.

“This store sent me eight catalogs,” Meg said. “Why would a store send me eight of the same thing?”

“So you could distribute them?”

“For what?”

Just where did you come from that you don’t know about ordering from catalogs?

“Haven’t you noticed the ads in the Lakeside News? There are only so many newspapers that can be printed each day, and they’re allowed to have only so many pages. When a store is running a special or a sale, they list the page number of the catalog where you can find the description. Even when there isn’t a sale, lots of people check catalogs before going to a store and using up gasoline for the trip.”

Meg’s face went from baffled to excited. “This is good! Or it could be if the Others understand how to use catalogs. I can send one to each complex and can keep one for reference.”

“There you go.” Asia nudged the hot chocolate closer to Meg.

“What happens to the old catalogs?”

“They get collected and returned to the stores. A store’s paper allowance is based on the amount of paper it’s returning for recycling. The fewer catalogs the store returns, the fewer new catalogs it’s allowed to print. When the spring catalog comes out, it will be an even trade—you’ll get as many new catalogs as you hand in.”

“I’ll make a note of that so I can get the old ones back. Thanks, Asia.”

“Glad to help.” Asia hesitated, then decided the timing was good. “Say, Meg. Have you seen Simon around lately? Taking even a couple of classes at the university is expensive, and I’m still looking for some other work to help pay the bills. I wanted to see if he could use someone for one or two evenings a week at HGR. Preferably evenings when he’s not on duty. He makes me nervous, so I act like a dummy around him, but I am a good worker. I really am.”

Meg hesitated. “I don’t think Simon will be in the store for a few days, but you could talk to Vlad. He’s polite.”

Asia didn’t have to fake a shudder. “No, thank you. I like my neck just the way it is.” Seeing Meg’s blank look, she added, “You do know what he is, don’t you?”

“Oh. Yes. I haven’t had a lot of contact with him, but he’s been courteous. He’s certainly not as grumpy as the Wolves I’ve met.”

Good to know, Asia thought. Maybe that meant the vampires considered the Liaison off-limits for dinner. She would be willing to have sex with a terra indigene, but she wanted some assurance that she would survive the experience. Maybe her mistake had been to target Simon. Maybe Vlad would have been a better choice for a lover. Donating a little blood for some useful pillow talk would be a fair exchange.

She gave Meg the “woman down on her luck but still has some pride” look she’d practiced in the mirror last night. And she didn’t look at the hot chocolate she shouldn’t have bought if she was broke—especially when places charged extra for disposable takeout cups.

Meg fiddled with the pens on the counter. Finally she said, “I can ask Vlad if they hire extra help on occasion.”

“Appreciate it.” Asia took a deep breath and put just the right note of false cheer in her voice. “Time for me to get going.”

“Thanks for the hot chocolate.”

With a careless wave, Asia left the office and hurried back to her car. It sounded like a little thing, but Simon being away from the Courtyard so soon after that incident out west was a solid nugget of information—especially when the newspapers and television news still didn’t know what happened in Jerzy. Simon’s absence was a good indication that the Others were somehow involved, and informing her backers was money in the bank for her.

And Simon being away gave her time to find out more about Meg and the man in the white van.

Days and months and years of training images and sounds. Snips and clips and photographs of the beautiful and the terrifying. Movies and documentaries and carefully edited bits from the news. During all those lessons, the Walking Names never told the girls which images were make-believe and which ones were real. Real was a word with little meaning beyond the cells and the physical things done to girls who were no longer useful enough to be “pampered”—things that gave the rest of them “the full experience” for the visions required by particular clients.

And there were the other images, the ones that swam under the surface of memory and rose without warning or context. The ones that came from prophecies. They looked different, felt different. Sometimes felt too alive, were experienced too much. But they were veiled by the euphoria, and the Walking Names didn’t know the girls never forgot anything that was seen or heard during the visions. No, nothing was really forgotten, but those rememories, as Jean called them, couldn’t be deliberately recalled like the training images.

Meg shook her head, pushed those thoughts away, and went back to sorting mail. Thinking about the compound wouldn’t do anything but give her bad dreams tonight. She needed to remember something that would help her deal with Sam. Had she seen anything in all those binders filled with images that would be helpful now?

“Meg?”

She heard the voice a moment before Merri Lee poked her head in from the back room.

“Would you like to split a pizza with Heather and me?” Merri Lee asked. “Hot Crust is in the plaza a few blocks from here, and today is one of the days a Courtyard bus takes terra indigene for a shopping trip. Henry said he would pick up the pizza for us as long as I ordered a couple of party-size pizzas for the Green Complex.”

Meg frowned. “Doesn’t Hot Crust make deliveries?”

“They used to, but there was an . . . incident . . . and they won’t come to the Courtyard anymore.” Merri Lee brightened. “But maybe they’ll start delivering again now that you’re the Liaison.”

Meg searched her memory for images of different kinds of pizza. Images of people eating pizza. She had been given a piece once in order to know taste, texture, and smell.

“I don’t like the little salty fish,” she said. She wasn’t sure that was true, but she hadn’t liked the look of them.

“Neither do we,” Merri Lee said. “We usually get half with pepperoni and mushrooms and half with sweet peppers. Is that good for you?”

“That’s fine. But I don’t have any money.”

“This one is on us—a welcome to the Courtyard. The last Liaison made Heather and me uneasy, so we are really glad you’re here. And speaking of money.” Merri Lee handed an envelope to Meg. “Your first pay envelope. It covers the three days you worked last week.”

Meg opened the envelope and stared at the bills in various denominations.

“I know,” Merri Lee said. “Most companies write paychecks. In the Courtyard, you get cash, and it’s up to you to set enough aside to pay your income taxes, because they don’t bother with anything like that either. You can open an account at the Market Square bank so you could write checks for expenses outside the Courtyard. Or there’s a bank in the plaza that the Business Association uses when they write checks for outside vendors.”

“I don’t think this is the right amount,” Meg said, riffling through the bills. “It’s too much for the hours I worked last week.”

“That’s the other thing about working for the Others. You will never get less than what they agreed to pay you, but sometimes they give you more without explanation. We figure it’s their way of saying ‘Good job—don’t quit’ without actually having to say it. They don’t do it every week, but Lorne says if you don’t get a bumped-up pay at least once in a month, you should take it as a warning that you’re doing something the Business Association doesn’t like.” Merri Lee headed for the back door, saying over her shoulder, “They’re predicting more snow tonight. I hope it misses the city. If it piles up any more, we’ll have to climb snowbanks and go into our houses through second-story windows.”

Training image. Snow and barren, vertical rock. Men clinging to the rock, tied together with ropes.

Ropes. Safety lines. Buddies.

Meg hurried to the back room, catching Merri Lee on the doorstep. “When does the bus leave for the plaza?” she asked, feeling her skin almost buzz in response to her excitement.

“Eleven thirty. It returns from the plaza at one thirty.”

“Thanks.”

As soon as Merri Lee left, Meg went back to the sorting room and pulled out the Lakeside phone book. Ropes wouldn’t work, but . . . Yes! The plaza had a pet store. She should be able to find something there that would be comfortable for Sam and keep them together.

Her hand hovered over the telephone while she went through the list of Others she knew. Vlad and Tess would be working in their own stores. So would Jenni. And Henry would be on the bus. Julia or Allison? Maybe. Blair? Remembering what he said about deliverymen and Wolves, definitely not. Which left . . .

The phone was answered on the second ring. “Pony Barn. Jester speaking.”

“This is Meg.”

A pause. “Is there a problem, Meg?”

Did her name automatically mean trouble? “No, but I wanted to ask you for a favor.”

“Ask.”

“There’s something I want to get at the plaza, and the bus leaves at eleven thirty. I need someone to watch the office in case a delivery comes in before we close for the afternoon break.”

“I’ll come up with the ponies and stay until you get back.”

“Thanks, Jester.”

After hanging up, she stared at the phone and thought about what she was about to do. It was safe in the Courtyard. No one could touch her in the Courtyard. But in a human plaza where human law did apply?

Risky.

She turned her right hand palm up and studied the scars on the back of each finger. Didn’t usually get much from a finger cut. A few disjointed images at the most.

Get on a bus full of terra indigene with a fresh cut on her hand? Did she really want to take the chance of setting off an attack? Besides, she was pretty sure Henry knew she was a cassandra sangue, so how would she explain the cut if he noticed it?

“You don’t need to cut to go to the store,” she told herself. “Jester is the only one who knows for sure that you’re leaving the Courtyard. You’ll be fine. Just buy the things for Sam, then go back to the bus and wait for the rest of them.”

She briskly rubbed both arms and tried to ignore the pins and needles under her skin by focusing on the mail she had to get ready for the ponies.

It’s a good thing Captain Burke expects each of his lieutenants to report at least once per shift, Monty thought as he stepped into Burke’s office. Otherwise, the other men would start wondering if he was screwing up big-time.

“Something to report, Lieutenant?” Burke asked.

“Someone named Jester called to tell me Meg Corbyn was on the Courtyard’s shopping bus, along with about fifteen Others, including Henry Beargard and Vladimir Sanguinati.”

Burke stared at him, and Monty couldn’t read anything in those blue eyes that gave him a clue as to what the man was thinking.

“Give me a minute, and then I’ll buy you lunch,” Burke finally said. “We’ll take my car, so tell Officer Kowalski to meet you at the plaza. Maybe he’d like to pick up some lunch or stretch his legs.”

Leaving Burke, Monty waited at his own desk for Kowalski. No messages. No reports. And thank the gods, no DLUs to fill out. He hoped that would still be true after the terra indigenes’ shopping trip.

When Kowalski joined him, he told Karl about the call and that he and Captain Burke would be at the plaza.

“But he wants a patrol car parked nearby,” Kowalski said, nodding. “I probably won’t be the only one. The Courtyard bus brings Others to that plaza every Sunsday and Firesday at the same time. Patrol cars tend to drive through the parking lot or park for a while to pick up lunch. Helps to keep everyone honest.”

“I’ll see you there,” Monty said as Burke walked out of his office, adjusting the collar of his winter coat.

He wasn’t sure if Burke expected small talk from his officers or wanted silence in order to concentrate on driving. A thin layer of snow covered the streets, and after seeing a couple of cars fishtail while trying to stop at a light, he decided not to pull Burke’s attention from the road.

Asia followed the Courtyard bus to the plaza, parking where she could see the dark green vehicle but wouldn’t be noticed by the Others. Scanning the lot, she noticed a white van pull in from the other direction.

Not a good place for a snatch unless Meg walked so close to the van that the driver could grab her and be gone before the terra indigene realized there was trouble.

Then a patrol car pulled into the lot and parked a few spaces down from the bus, and another one pulled in from the opposite direction and also parked a few spaces away.

“Damn,” Asia whispered. Wasn’t unusual to see cop cars in the plaza on the Others’ shopping days, but they weren’t even trying to be subtle this time. Which meant they were more worried than usual and were going to shut down trouble before it started.

Were they antsy because of what happened in Jerzy, or was there a more immediate concern?

Asia figured she had an answer of sorts when Meg Corbyn stepped off the bus.

Burke parked a couple of spots from the small, dark green bus with LAKESIDE COURTYARD painted on the side.

“I wouldn’t think they would want to advertise which vehicle was theirs,” Monty said. He looked around at the rapidly filling parking lot. “Especially since they’ve parked the bus to take up four spaces.”

“It’s advertised so that the relatives of anyone who starts trouble can’t claim the meat didn’t know they were messing with the Courtyard’s vehicle. Besides, the plaza blocks off those four spaces to give the terra indigene plenty of room. Safer for everyone that way.”

Absorbing the significance of the word meat, Monty felt his stomach twitch and suddenly wasn’t sure he wanted lunch.

Burke got out of the car and moved toward the bus. Hurrying after him, Monty saw the reason. Meg looked at both of them as she stepped off the bus, her face turning pale. Moving to one side to let the rest of the terra indigene exit, she stayed close to the bus. A big man whom Monty recognized as the sculptor and assumed was Henry Beargard stepped down, looked at them, and growled—and the rest of the Others, who had been heading toward the stores, all turned back to stare at him and Burke.

Beargard took a step to the right. Vladimir Sanguinati stepped down and, somehow, slid between Meg and the bus to stand on her left.

Feeling the tension, Monty wasn’t sure what to do. They had called him, so why this hostility?

Because she’s afraid, he realized as he looked at Meg. She’s afraid, and the Others are waiting to see what we do where human law could apply.

“Ms. Corbyn,” Monty said, forcing his lips into a smile. “May I introduce my captain, Douglas Burke?”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Corbyn,” Burke said, extending his hand.

She hesitated, and Monty didn’t dare breathe until she shook Burke’s hand.

“Thank you, Captain Burke,” she said. “If you’ll excuse me?” The rest of the terra indigene except Vlad and Henry scattered to take care of their own concerns while Meg hurried to the stores on the other side of the parking lot.

“When we called Lieutenant Montgomery, we weren’t expecting to see an officer of such high rank,” Vlad said, looking at Burke.

Burke’s smile might have passed for genial if you didn’t know the man. “I’m taking the lieutenant to the Saucy Plate for lunch to introduce him to some of the best red sauce in the city.”

“An excellent choice for dining. I, too, enjoy a good red sauce,” Vlad said.

Burke’s smile froze.

“Captain?” Monty said. “We should get a seat before the lunch crowd arrives.”

With a nod at Vlad and Henry, Burke turned and led the way to the Saucy Plate. Monty said nothing until they were seated and the waitress handed out menus and took their orders for coffee.

“Captain, I don’t think he meant it to sound . . .” Monty trailed off, unwilling to lie to the man.

“To sound threatening?” Burke asked. “Oh, I’m sure he did. They floated that phone call to see what we would do, but they don’t trust us—not in general and, specifically, not where Meg Corbyn is concerned.” He smiled at the waitress when she brought the coffee and took their orders. “You’ve met Vladimir Sanguinati before. Any reason why you didn’t introduce me?”

Monty shivered and rubbed the palm of his right hand. “I didn’t want to put you in the position of having to shake his hand.”

Burke gave Monty’s hand a long look, then turned the conversation to small talk and stories about Lakeside.

When Meg reached the Pet Palace on the other side of the plaza, she glanced around. The Others who had been on the bus with her weren’t in sight, but there were birds on most of the parking-lot lights. She couldn’t tell if they were crows or Crows. Not that it mattered. If this worked, everyone in the Green Complex would know about her purchases.

Hopefully the Others would realize she was just trying to help Sam and not eat her for doing it.

“Can I help you?” the clerk asked as soon as she walked in the door.

Meg gave the man a bright smile. “I’m looking for a dog harness and a long leash.”

He led her to an aisle that had a bewildering assortment of leashes, harnesses, and collars.

“What size dog?” he asked.

She chewed on her lower lip. “Well, he’s still a puppy, but he’s a big puppy. At least, I think he would be considered a big puppy.”

“Your first dog?” The clerk sounded delighted. “What breed is it?”

“He’s a Wolf.”

She thought the movie clips of someone’s skin turning a sickly green had been make-believe. Apparently not.

“You want to put a harness on a Wolf?”

There was something in the clerk’s voice—shock? fear?—that made her wonder how much trouble she was going to be in until she could think of some other way of getting Sam safely outside. “He’s young, and I don’t want him to get hurt if I take him for a walk.”

She didn’t see anyone else in the store, but he leaned closer. “How did you get your hands on a Wolf pup?”

“I’m the Courtyard Liaison. He lives in the apartment next to mine. Are you going to help me or not?”

She wasn’t sure he would, but he finally reached for a harness. His hands shook and his voice cracked, but based on what information she could give him, he found a red harness that he thought would fit and a long red leash that would give Sam room to roam.

“Will there be anything else?” the clerk asked.

Meg thought about it. “What kind of toys would a puppy like?”

She ended up with a ball and a length of knotted rope. Then she spotted dog cookies and picked up boxes of beef flavor and chicken flavor.

The clerk looked so relieved when she handed over her big zippered shopping bag, she wondered if the store would be closed from now on when the Others usually came to the plaza.

“Do you have a catalog?” she asked.

He slipped two into the bag. “Orders are usually next-day delivery.”

She paid for her purchases and sighed with relief when she was on the sidewalk. She hadn’t done anything wrong, but she wasn’t sure how the Others felt about pet stores. She started to walk between two parked cars, then stopped, unable to take another step.

Rememory. A car door suddenly opening as a young woman walked past. Strong hands reaching, grabbing. Dark hood. Hard to breathe. Impossible to see. And those hands touching and . . .

“Are you all right?”

Meg jerked back and almost slipped, then almost slipped again trying to avoid the hand reaching for her.

Crows cawed, sounding a warning.

She focused on the man, who now stood very still. Police officer. Not one of the two who had introduced themselves, but not unfamiliar.

“Officer Kowalski, ma’am. I work with Lieutenant Montgomery.”

She let her breath out slowly. She’d seen him in the car the day the lieutenant stopped in.

“My thoughts wandered,” she said. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.” That wouldn’t explain whatever he’d seen in her face when he reached for her, but the way he looked at her told her plainly enough her explanation, while true in its way, wasn’t quite good enough to be believed.

“Let me give you a hand back to the bus. The parking lot is a little slick today.”

Feeling unsteady and understanding that making an excuse to refuse his help would cause trouble, she accepted his arm—and noticed, even across the parking lot, the way Vlad stiffened as he watched them. She also noticed the way two more police officers got out of a patrol car and began looking around.

“Was anyone abducted from this plaza recently?” Meg asked, only noticing the prickling in her legs when the sensation began to fade.

“Ma’am?” Kowalski gave her a sharp look.

Rememories and images didn’t use to flood her mind like this when she wasn’t focused on a particular question, wasn’t strapped in for a cutting and prophecy. When other people talked about recalling memories and information, was this what they experienced—this immediate association of one thing to another?

Did that mean she was starting to process the information around her like other people did, or was this the first stage of madness in a cassandra sangue? The Walking Names told the girls they would go mad if they tried to live outside the compound. Only Jean insisted that they wouldn’t, but she really was half mad.

“It’s nothing,” Meg lied. “Overactive imagination. I have to stop reading scary stories before bedtime.”

He nodded. “My fiancée says the same thing. Doesn’t stop her from reading them.”

Releasing his arm when they reached the bus—and Vlad—Meg smiled at Kowalski. “Thank you for the escort.”

“My pleasure, ma’am.” Nodding to Vlad, he returned to his patrol car.

“Problem?” Vlad asked.

She shook her head.

“You want to do any more shopping?”

She shook her head again. She wanted to get out of sight, wanted to hide. The need to do that was almost painful, and she didn’t know what was making her feel that way. But she did remember how Simon had calmed down in response to her acting calm, so it wasn’t hard to guess that predators didn’t react well around fear.

“I’d like to put this in the bus and then make some notes about what stores are here,” she said.

“I’ll take that.” Vlad’s hand closed around the top of her carry bag.

She couldn’t think of a way to refuse his help without making him curious about her purchases, so she surrendered the bag, then pulled a notebook out of her purse. As the Others trickled back to the bus with sacks bulging with merchandise, Meg made a list of the stores—and tried to ignore the feeling that more than the police and the terra indigene were watching her.

Asia slumped in her seat, peering over the dashboard as the Courtyard bus pulled out of the parking lot.

“Gods,” she muttered when White Van pulled out moments later. “Can you be more obvious?” The fool had been walking toward Meg and was barely a handful of cars away when that police officer approached her. Cops and Crows and a freaking vampire all watching the parking lot. Watching Meg. Did that idiot really think he could have gotten away if he’d even made a grab for her? At best, he’d be having a long chat with the cops. At worst, pieces of him would be all over the damn parking lot.

Satisfied there was no one left who would notice her, she started her car.

Time to call Bigwig to see if he had any other information about Meg Corbyn. Someone who was supposed to be a thief shouldn’t be getting police protection. Could be a cover story. A woman on the run being smoked out of hiding by a false accusation of theft. She’s taken into custody, and one cop believes her story and helps her escape. Then the two of them are on the run, racing against time to uncover a deadly conspiracy.

That kind of movie could be a hit. She’d have to write up the idea and talk to Bigwig about it. Instead of a movie, maybe it could be a two-part special story in the Asia Crane, SI, TV show that would introduce the cop who might be an information source and/or lover.

While she was discussing that story idea with Bigwig, maybe he would be able to find out why so many people were paying attention to the Courtyard’s Liaison.

Meg knelt in front of Sam’s cage. She had hoped that everyone else would still be working, but apparently even the businesses available to human customers sometimes closed on a whim.

Or maybe the pizzas Henry took up to the social room were the reason the residents of the Green Complex were home early.

If she waited until dark to try this, they had less chance of being seen, but it might be scarier for Sam. So they would do this now.

“Sam,” she said. “I think we should try the buddy system so we can go outside together.”

He whined and shivered.

“When humans climb mountains, they tie a rope around themselves that connects them to their buddy. That way, if one of them gets stuck in a snowdrift, the other can pull him out.”

She was mashing images together in a way that might not make a realistic whole, but she figured Sam wouldn’t know that. Besides, there weren’t any mountains in the Courtyard, but there were significant drifts that could bury either one of them.

“So I bought these.” She held up the leash. “See? It’s a safety line. I loop this around my waist, like this.” She slipped one end of the leash through the wrist loop, then stepped into the bigger loop and pulled it up to her waist. “This end clips to a harness that you wear, since that’s better than squashing you around the middle.” She clipped the leash to the harness and held it up for him to see. “Want to try the buddy system? We wouldn’t go far. Just a walk around the inside of the complex. What do you think?”

She opened the cage door. She was pretty sure Sam couldn’t get out of the apartment, but she remembered movie clips of what a house looked like after a dog, chased by a human, ran through it.

If that happened, Simon would take one look at his home when he returned and eat her.

Sam crept to the door of the cage and stretched his neck to sniff the harness. He looked at the harness, then looked at her . . . and stepped out of the cage, making anxious little sounds.

“All right,” she said brightly. “Let’s go walk in the snow!”

She shimmied out of her end of the leash and put the harness on him, double-checking to make sure nothing was too tight. Then she put on her coat and shimmied the leash back up to her waist. Sam hesitated and looked ready to bolt back into his cage, but he followed her to the front door and pressed himself against her legs, which made putting on her boots a balancing act.

Zipping Simon’s keys into her jacket pocket, she opened the front door, and she and Sam stepped outside.

Closing the door, she took a deep breath, grabbed her end of the leash before the loosened loop slipped down, and moved away from the building. After a moment, Sam followed her.

“There’s Henry and Vlad,” she said, spotting the vampire and Grizzly on the other side of the complex. “Let’s go over and say hello.” She started walking but stopped as soon as she felt a tug around her middle. She looked back at Sam, who hadn’t moved but was now studying the red leash stretched between them.

Meg smiled. “See? Safety line.”

His tail began to wag. He trotted up to her, and the two of them followed the walkway until they reached Vlad and Henry.

She couldn’t identify the expressions on their faces. Since they weren’t yelling at her—or threatening to eat her—she gave them a bright smile and said, “Sam and I are mighty adventurers, just like in the movies.”

“I can see that,” Henry replied after a moment. He looked at Sam. “You can follow a scent better than she can, so you make sure our Liaison doesn’t get lost.”

Sam replied in Wolf, and she and the pup continued their circuit around the complex.

Watching the woman and Wolf pup, Vlad felt relieved that Simon wasn’t going to be within easy reach of a telephone. When he’d promised to keep an eye on those two, he hadn’t anticipated Meg doing anything like this.

“That’s Sam,” he said, struggling to keep his voice neutral and not provoke the Grizzly.

“It is,” Henry agreed.

“That’s Sam on a leash.” Because their second form couldn’t be contained by such things, the Sanguinati didn’t have the hatred of chains and cages that filled the shifters, but even he felt anger at seeing a terra indigene being treated like a . . . a . . . dog. He could imagine what Blair or, even worse, Elliot would say if they found out.

Hearing the Crows, he amended that thought to when they found out.

“And that’s Meg with a leash around her waist,” Henry said as Sam ran around her in circles and pulled her legs out from under her, dumping them both in a snowbank. “Hard to get away from what’s on the other end, but a good way to haul someone back if there’s trouble.”

A good way to capture two instead of just one. But Vlad didn’t say that. He just watched while girl and pup got untangled and climbed out of the snow.

“Something frightened her at the plaza,” Henry said. “For a moment, the air carried the scent of the man who tried to break in to the efficiency apartments. But with all the police around, it was not a good time to hunt.”

Vlad watched as Meg and Sam started the second circuit around the complex, heading back toward him and Henry. Sam was ahead of Meg now, sniffing at everything. Then he bounced back to Meg for a moment before bounding into the lead again.

This was the Sam he remembered before Daphne was killed—an exuberant pup. How could a piece of leather that should have offended make so much difference? Why did it make so much difference?

Sam was digging at something in the snow, and Meg was watching Sam. So neither of them saw Blair standing at the entrance to the complex, his mouth hanging open as he stared at the leash and harness.

“Henry,” Vlad said.

“I see him.”

Before Meg and Sam noticed him, Blair stepped out of sight. Not gone, no, but watching as Sam took a running leap and disappeared in a drift.

He howled that squeaky-door sound that couldn’t be mistaken for any other Wolf. Meg laughed and took a step back. “Climb, Sam. Climb! We are adventure buddies scaling the mighty snow!” She pulled, and Sam climbed until he got out of the drift. He shook himself off and looked at Meg, tail wagging, tongue hanging out in a grin.

“Time for dinner?” she asked the pup.

His answer was to set off at a brisk pace, pulling her along behind him.

When Meg and Sam were inside Simon’s apartment, Vlad watched Blair reappear at the entrance, looking wary. That harness and leash would infuriate all the Wolves in the Courtyard. Without Simon’s presence, Blair, as the Courtyard’s main enforcer, would either defend Meg or let the other Wolves have her for this offense. Which would bring the Wolves into conflict with the Sanguinati, because Grandfather Erebus was entertained by the Liaison and her courtesies, and he had made it clear that Meg was under his protection until he said otherwise.

Blair looked at them, nodded, and walked away.

“What do you think?” Vlad asked.

“See what you can find in the books or the computer about adventurers and ropes. See if you can find out why Meg did this.”

“I can look. Or I can just ask her.”

“Or you can just ask her.” A thoughtful pause. “She does not think like other humans, and she does not think like us. She is something new, something little known and not understood. But she found a way to quiet Sam’s fear, and that should not be forgotten.”

No, that shouldn’t be forgotten, which was something he would point out to Blair.

Henry blew out a breath. “Come. There is pizza and a movie. What was chosen for the entertainment?”

Vlad smiled, revealing the Sanguinati fangs. “Night of the Wolf.”