The ITF agent had struck Simon as intense and distant, focused on his job and more of a lone wolf. Now he saw a glimpse of the juvenile the man had been. “Older females are good for a pack.”
O’Sullivan smiled and made a noncommittal sound before heading to A Little Bite for breakfast.
Simon unlocked the back door of the Liaison’s Office, walked in, and heard something make a rhythmic slap, slap, slap on wood. “Meg?”
Nathan reported from his spot in the front room.
Meg slapped another letter on the sorting room table. Simon approached the table cautiously and set the box on a corner. “Meg?”
“I don’t want to be a bunny! Bunnies get eaten!”
“Sooner or later, everything gets eaten,” he countered.
She growled at him. She looked as ferocious as a puppy. He wanted to give her a couple of licks and find a toy. If they could play for a few minutes, she would forget about the bunny.
No, she wouldn’t. Meg wasn’t a puppy, and she didn’t forget something once she’d seen it. At least, she didn’t forget something she’d seen unless it was veiled by the euphoria that was produced by cutting.
He didn’t like that thought, so he picked up the box and put it in front of her. “When you’re done with the mail, I need a favor.”
Meg frowned at the box. “A favor?”
“Jesse Walker sent me some books that we don’t sell at Howling Good Reads.”
It was a shame Meg couldn’t prick her ears to show interest. It certainly looked like she wanted to.
“Crowgard cozies?” she asked.
“More thriller than cozy, I think.” Simon tapped the box. “Jesse Walker says Intuits like the stories, but I’d like to know if you think the stories would appeal to the terra indigene and the human pack.”
“So I’m like a book reviewer for the store?”
He nodded, watching her. It suddenly occurred to him that this was a new thing, something not part of Meg’s routine. Would it upset her? No, she looked intrigued.
Meg set the box aside. “I have to finish sorting the mail first.” She blinked at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?”
He glanced at the clock. He was late for his meeting with Captain Burke.
Giving the tip of her nose a quick lick, Simon walked out of the sorting room. He looked back when he reached the door. Meg was sorting the mail, but she kept glancing at the box.
Feeling lighter, as if they’d had a few minutes of playtime, he wondered how many pieces of mail the ponies would have to redeliver because he’d found the right distraction.
• • •
Sitting in A Little Bite with Jana Paniccia, Monty smiled at the young woman. Early that morning, Captain Burke had taken her to the firing range to review her skill with the weapons commonly used by the police. Kowalski and Debany had been tagged to test her hand-to-hand and self-defense skills. And he and Burke had reviewed her transcript. Now, while Simon Wolfgard was listening to Burke’s opinion of Ms. Paniccia’s ability to serve as a deputy, Monty was here to talk—and to listen.
“Waiting is always hard,” he said. And the hardest part for him, for Burke, even for Kowalski and Debany, was wondering if they were sending a young—and female—officer too far into the unknown, where her new boss would either accept her or eat her.
“It’s brutal.” Jana glanced toward the archway leading into Howling Good Reads.
“Going to Bennett is a big decision. It won’t be like anything you’ve known. It certainly won’t be like living in Lakeside.” While that was certainly true, Monty wondered if the town would be run like a Courtyard with a larger business district.
“I know. But it’s a place ripe with possibilities.” Jana laughed a little. “I loved stories about the frontier and the sheriff squaring off against villains who wanted to take over a town that was the only human place for hundreds of miles. My favorite stories usually had a feisty woman who was held captive and whacked one of the villains with a frying pan and escaped in time to warn the sheriff.”
“You wanted to be the feisty woman?”
“Well, no. I wanted to be the sheriff, and in my versions of the stories, the feisty woman was my sister or cousin. Sometimes the captive was a brother who had never done anything else with a frying pan in his life, and sometimes it was a brother who wanted to own a restaurant someday and really did know his way around a kitchen.”
“But you wanted to wear the badge and carry the gun?”
Jana nodded. Then she sucked in a breath as Simon Wolfgard and Captain Burke approached the table.
Simon held out two envelopes. “Your travel letter and your pass for the train fare are in the first envelope. You need to show the pass and letter when you board the train at Lakeside and again when the train stops at the station closest to the regional boundary between the Northeast and Midwest. That’s the only way you’ll be allowed to cross to another region. The second envelope has a letter to Tolya Sanguinati, which includes the résumé you gave me. It also includes the address of the house where you’ll live if Tolya feels you are suitable to be a deputy in Bennett. Barbara Ellen, Officer Debany’s sister, is willing to share the house with another female. As the houses are cleaned up and made available, Tolya wants permanent residents to move out of the hotel to make room for temporary workers and travelers. If you don’t like the house or don’t want to share, you can stay at the hotel for a while.”
“Having a housemate would be great,” Jana said, gripping both envelopes.
“The train leaves tomorrow morning. We’ll pick you up in our van so there will be room for everything you want to bring with you.”
“Thank you.” Jana sniffed. “I’ll be ready.”
Simon studied her face. “Your eyes are watering and your nose is runny. Are you sick?”
She shook her head. “Just really happy.”
He studied her face a little longer, then walked away.
Monty handed her the paper napkins that were on the table. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose.
“Congratulations, Deputy Paniccia.” Burke held out his hand.
Jana stood up and shook his hand. “Thank you, sir, but I don’t have the job yet.”
“I’m confident that you will. Let us know how you’re getting on.”
“I will.”
Burke stepped away from the table. Monty pushed his chair back, ready to return to his duties. When Jenni Crowgard rushed up to the table, both men hesitated.
“Are you going to Bennett?” Jenni asked. “Do you have a pen pal? The Ruthie explained what that is. I could be your Crowgard pen pal and send you news from Lakeside.”
Lots of emotion invested in this, Monty thought as he watched feathers appear in Jenni’s long black hair.
Jana stared at the feathers, then, with effort, focused on Jenni’s face. “Yes, I’m going to Bennett. I promised to write to Merri Lee, but I don’t have any Crowgard pen pals, so I would enjoy writing to you.”
Jenni set an index card on the table. “This is me. When you get to Bennett, you can send me your address.” She dashed out of the coffee shop.
Jana stared down the hallway that led to the back door, then looked at Monty and Burke.
“For the Crowgard, information is a form of currency,” Monty said, smiling. “I got the impression from things I’ve overheard lately that having a pen pal and receiving postcards from another region in Thaisia has become a bit of a status symbol.”
“Is having a human for a pen pal more or less of a status symbol?” Jana asked.
“More, I think.”
“Communicating with one of the Lakeside Crowgard won’t hurt your status either,” Burke said quietly. “Especially since plenty of individuals in Bennett and Prairie Gold already have ties to this Courtyard.”
>
Jana gave them a brilliant smile. “I’d better get home and make sure everything is ready for my trip tomorrow.”
“Have your mail forwarded to the Bennett post office,” Monty said.
“Will do.”
Tess joined them, giving Monty and Burke no more than a glance before focusing on Jana. “You ready to go?”
“I am.”
“Our minivan can take you home. It’s in the access way. The driver’s name is Harry.”
“Thanks.” Jana hurried out the back way.
“Well,” Tess said. “I hope we’re done with all the excitement for . . . a . . . while.” As she looked toward the archway, her hair changed to red-streaked green and began coiling. “The job fair is over.”
“Didn’t come for a job.”
The familiar male voice—a voice Monty had hoped he wouldn’t hear in person, despite what Meg had seen in the prophecy cards and what his mother had told him—was like a hammer blow to the chest.
“Came to see family.” A gesture to the woman and two children behind him. “Was told there was a place we could stay.” The smile aimed at Monty wasn’t sincere, unless you counted the hint of meanness. “Hey, CJ.”
“Lieutenant?” Burke’s voice was barely audible but a warning nonetheless. “You know him?”
“My brother. Cyrus James Montgomery. Jimmy.”
Burke took a step toward the archway. “Sir, you need to leave. Now.”
Monty glanced at Tess and felt a wave of dizziness. Something wrong with her face. Something . . .
He looked away and waited for the dizziness to pass. Hoped it would pass.
A squeal from the archway. Then Jimmy’s wife and children were pushing into the coffee shop, and Henry Beargard stood in the archway, blocking escape.
Monty looked at Jimmy, who was still trying to hold on to his cockiness.
“Whether or not he leaves isn’t your decision, Captain,” Tess said. “He’s in the Courtyard. The Wolfgard will decide what happens to him now.”
CHAPTER 7
Thaisday, Messis 9
Watched by the ponies, Meg stood at the sorting room’s side door and flipped through the envelopes going to the Sanguinati. Smiling self-consciously, she removed a letter that belonged in the Hawkgard mail, then put the rest in Thunder’s baskets.
Thunder circled to the end of the line since Meg didn’t hand out the day’s treat until she’d dealt with all the mail. Lightning stepped up to receive the letters he would deliver.
Hawkgard Complex. Wolfgard Complex. Crowgard and Owlgard. Pony Barn. Utilities Complex. Even the Green Complex, which meant someone from the Business Association had to return to the complex, empty the baskets, and put the mail in the slots in the mail room. It would have been easier to take that mail with her when she went home, but most days all the ponies living in the Courtyard showed up to receive mail, and they all expected to be able to deliver something somewhere despite there being more ponies than mail drops. That was the reason she now had a pony deliver mail to the Market Square shops, and why she had the ponies making other kinds of deliveries if she didn’t have any mail to put in the basket. The girls at the lake didn’t receive mail or catalogs, so Meg now split the books requested from the library. A pony took a couple of books in the morning and she took the rest when she made her afternoon deliveries. Ever since the Elders came through Lakeside and the Courtyard last month, dispensing their primal form of justice, it had been made clear to Meg that the girls expected to see her when she made her afternoon rounds, even if she had nothing to deliver. Same with Mr. Erebus. Whether she had anything for him or not, she stopped at his home in the Chambers, stood on one side of the gate in the black, wrought-iron fence, and chatted with the old Sanguinati for a few minutes.
With the Elementals and Mr. Erebus, her stopping wasn’t about physical deliveries. It was about letting them see she was all right—and about sharing news that wasn’t written down.
When she gave the last pony, Whirlpool, the books Summer and Earth had requested, and everyone had received their treat of carrot chunks, Meg went into the bathroom to wash her hands. Mail all sorted. No packages to shelve for the afternoon deliveries. Just that box of books from Jesse Walker. Unless a delivery arrived, she didn’t have anything she had to do until the midday break. She could select one of the books and read a chapter or two.
Why was she holding her left elbow up to the mirror?
Frowning, Meg gingerly rubbed the skin, then looked closer. No cut or injury of any kind. Not that she could see anyway. The skin didn’t hurt when she rubbed it. But the elbow hurt, faintly. And the skin prickled, faintly.
Leaving the bathroom, she went through the sorting room, glanced at the box, and almost shrugged off the odd feeling in her elbow. If she said something, she might cause who knew how much upset? But if she said nothing and the odd feeling was a forewarning of trouble . . .
She opened the drawer that contained the wooden box of prophecy cards. She put the box on the counter, opened the lid, and placed her fingertips on the cards. Probably wouldn’t get an accurate answer if she didn’t spread the cards out on the table. If she left them in the box, it would be harder to find the correct one. It was time to look at all of them and start discarding the ones with images that could be represented by a single card when the Trailblazer deck was created.
And how many times was she going to say she should do it before she actually started doing it?
Hadn’t she seen an article in a magazine recently about how to stop procrastinating? Maybe she should find that article and read it again.
For now, she would ask a question and select a card as the answer.
Why is my elbow hurting? Why is my elbow hurting? Why . . .
Her left hand tingled. The fingers buzzed. Didn’t have to search far to find the card. She held it up, turned it over.
Explosion. She’d drawn that card when she had asked about her friends in the Courtyard—and when Lieutenant Montgomery asked about his brother, Cyrus, aka Jimmy.
Meg put the cards away, then pressed her hand against the pocket of her capris, feeling the shape of the silver razor. But the buzzing, prickling, tingling feeling was gone, giving her no indication of where she should cut to find this particular prophecy.
Her elbow hurt again, but not in a way that indicated prophecy.
Disturbed, Meg stepped up to the counter in the front room. “Nathan? Could you look at something for me?”
No leisurely stretch and yawn. He was across the room and had his forelegs on the counter before she had time to blink.
She held up her elbow. “Can you see anything wrong with my elbow? It feels . . . odd . . . but I don’t see a scrape.”
He sniffed her arm from wrist to shoulder, then gave the outside of her elbow a more thorough sniff. He licked the skin. They both waited to see if he would react to a trace of blood so small it couldn’t be found any other way. He gave the skin a dismissive “you’re fine” lick and started to turn away. Then he growled, startling her. Was he reacting to something on her skin after all?
She didn’t know what to think when he rushed to the front door and shifted a front paw enough to have fingers that could turn the simple lock. Frightened by his inexplicable behavior, Meg backed away from the counter, bumping her shoulder against the doorframe.
Returning to the counter, Nathan shifted to human form. “Let me see that arm again.”
Not her friend. Not the office’s watch Wolf. This was Nathan as a Courtyard enforcer.
“Meg.”
The snarled word was a warning. If Nathan was this angry about what she’d thought was a small question, she didn’t want to consider how Blair would react.
I’m not a bunny. I’m not a bunny. I’m not . . .
She kept repeating that as she eased forward and held up her elbow.
; His hands gently closed on either side of her elbow. He bent his head and studied the skin, sniffed it, gave it another lick before releasing her.
“Nothing.” He sounded calmer but also puzzled.
The counter hid him below the waist, so she refused to consider what anyone pulling up for a delivery could see through the glass door.
Meg blinked. Thought. Nothing about her had upset him—but something had. “What happened?”
“Uninvited male visitor. Tess said to lock the door and stand guard until Simon decides what to do about that male.”
That sounded bad. The image of the bunny’s backbone popped into her head, making her queasy.
Nathan twisted around and focused on one of the front windows. Nyx looked back at them, nodded, then glided across the delivery area to the consulate.
Jake Crowgard landed on his favorite spot on the brick wall and cawed, letting everyone know that he, too, was watching.
“You’re safe, Meg,” Nathan said. “Nothing will hurt you.”
Her heart pounded so fast she felt dizzy. “Someone is here looking for me?”
“No.” He cocked his head, as if listening to something—or someone. “No, not looking for you.” He studied her elbow. “But if that keeps hurting, you let Simon know. Or Henry.”
Explosion. A physical explosion or an emotional one? Considering how many times she’d drawn that card lately, it could be either—or both.
She didn’t know why her elbow hurt, but she knew it would be pointless to make a cut now. The events she’d seen prophesied in the cards had already begun.
• • •
Something had changed in the Courtyard. Air carried the scent of anger. Earth reported that the Wolves were in motion, moving to guard the vulnerable in their pack. All because of the male who had just arrived with his mate and young. The Wolfgard and human packs hadn’t reacted like this to the swarms of humans who had come and gone—the humans who were migrating to other parts of Thaisia. Why was this one male considered a threat to so many when he could be killed so easily? What made him different from the rest of the humans?