Written in Red

  “Damn it,” Louis said softly, looking at the wall of snow against the driver’s side of the car. “You need backup?”

  Monty pushed his door open. “Don’t know. You get the car out of the way of the ambulances first.”

  “Right.”

  Monty struggled to walk up the slight incline to the emergency-care doors, keeping his head down in an effort to see—and breathe. Whiteout conditions. Killer wind chill. And there, suddenly standing between him and the doors, were two females.

  Not human, he thought as they watched him approach. Not Other in the way the shifters and vampires were Other. Elementals. He swallowed fear and refused to think about which ones he was dealing with.

  “I’m Lieutenant Montgomery. I’m a friend of Ms. Corbyn.” Maybe that was stretching the truth, but right now he’d stretch the truth until it broke if it got him inside so he could find out what happened.

  “Our Meg is inside,” the white-haired one said.

  “She’s hurt?”

  “Yes.”

  He heard the rage in her voice, her hatred for the human race.

  “I would like to help.”

  She stared at him with those inhuman eyes. Then she stepped aside. “Tell the monkeys that this storm will not end until Simon Wolfgard says our Meg will get well.”

  Monty bolted inside, intending to grab anyone who might know where Meg Corbyn could be found. Seeing a nurse, he reached for his badge. Before he could say anything, he heard a yip, a startled yell, and an enraged voice roaring, “She needs human medicine, so we brought her here. Now fix her!”

  Monty ran toward the commotion. He slammed into a fur-covered but otherwise naked Simon Wolfgard, breaking the Wolf’s clawed hold on a pale but angry doctor.

  “Mr. Wolfgard!” Monty shouted. “Simon!”

  Something wrong with the eyes, Monty thought. More than being neither human nor Wolf in form.

  Someone whimpered nearby. He glanced at another terra indigene who was crouched on the floor, cradling a blanket-wrapped Meg Corbyn.

  “Mr. Wolfgard, let me talk to the doctor. Let me help,” he said firmly when Simon snarled at him. The Wolf didn’t lunge at any of them, so Monty took the doctor by the arm and led him a few steps away.

  “I’m Lieutenant C. J. Montgomery, Lakeside Police Department.”

  “Dr. Dominick Lorenzo. Look, Lieutenant, we’ve got ambulances fighting to get here with people who need our help. We can’t be indulging them just because—”

  “Sir, I understand your feelings. But she’s human, and she’s their Liaison. They came here for help. Unless she gets the very best care you can provide, this city will never see another spring. I’m sorry to place this burden on you, but the lives of everyone in Lakeside are now in your hands.”

  Lorenzo glanced toward the entrance. “You can’t know the storm won’t end.”

  “Yes, sir, I can, because the fury driving this storm was standing outside this hospital a minute ago and told me flat-out that our lives depend on their Liaison getting well.”

  “Gods above and below,” Lorenzo muttered. Squaring his shoulders, he strode back to where Simon Wolfgard stood trembling with rage.

  “Do you know what happened to your friend?” he asked.

  “She fell through the ice when she was running from the enemy,” Simon snarled.

  “Most likely hypothermia, but we’ll make sure nothing else is going on,” Lorenzo said. “Let’s get her into the exam room at the end.”

  Snatching Meg from the other terra indigene male, Simon followed Dr. Lorenzo. Monty followed them, and the other male trailed after him.

  Monty half listened to Lorenzo’s rapid instructions to the nurses who were getting Meg out of her wet clothes. Before the doctor could close the exam-room door, Simon muscled in, leaving Monty with little choice except to go in with him and hold him away from the doctor and nurses.

  Turning his face to give Meg that much privacy, he whispered to Simon, “What’s wrong with you? Are you sick?”

  The question brought back some of the thinking intelligence in Wolfgard’s eyes. “I feel . . . angry.”

  “Did you take anything before you started feeling angry?” Any drugs? Not likely, but it was possible Simon had ingested something without realizing it.

  Simon shook his head, his eyes fixed on the people touching Meg.

  Then a nurse sucked in a breath. Turning his head, Monty looked at Meg Corbyn’s bare arms and saw the evenly spaced scars—and the crosshatch of scars on her left arm. Answering the unspoken question in Lorenzo’s eyes, he said, “Yes, she’s a cassandra sangue.”

  “Get more blankets and a heating pad,” Lorenzo said. When one of the nurses bolted, he tipped his head to indicate he wanted to talk to them out of the room.

  “How long was she in the water?” he asked Simon.

  “Not long. We heard Winter scream when Meg fell through the ice. We pulled her out.”

  “And before that? Did you remove her coat before you brought her to the hospital?”

  Simon shook his head. “No coat. No boots. She was running from the enemy.”

  “How did you get here?”

  “We came in the sleigh.”

  Lorenzo didn’t look happy. “All right. We’ll start with external treatment; see if we get enough indication that we can bring her around that way. Now. That gash in her chin. I can close it without stitches, but only if you can leave the bandages alone. If you can’t, I’ll have to use stitches to make sure the gash stays closed and heals properly. But stitches puncture the skin, and that might cause her some mental distress, even in her present condition. Also, if I use stitches, the whole chin would no longer be viable for cutting.”

  Simon’s eyes blazed red. He snarled, “Do you think we care about her because of her skin? She’s not property to us. She’s Meg.”

  Monty held on to the Wolf, pushing him back from Lorenzo. “He has to tell you that, Simon. You’re standing in for Meg’s family, and it’s his duty to tell you so that you can decide what is best for her.”

  Simon panted with the effort to control himself. “Fix her.”

  “It would be best if you stayed out of the room while I tend to her.”

  Feeling the objection in the way the Wolf’s muscles bunched, Monty said quickly, “If you give me your word that you’ll wait right here, I’ll go in and stand guard for you.”

  He thought Lorenzo might object, but the doctor just waited with him for Simon’s answer.

  A sharp nod. Wolfgard was panting and growling, so a nod was the best he could do to give permission.

  The nurse arrived with blankets and a heating pad. Lorenzo and Monty followed her into the room. When Lorenzo closed the door, they all jumped at the howl that rose from the other side of the door.

  “Can you keep him from doing that?” Lorenzo asked as he cleaned and closed the gash in Meg’s chin. “Scaring everyone in the emergency room isn’t going to help.”

  “Let him stay in here with her. I think he’ll be calmer that way.” Monty glanced at the bed, then looked away. “You’ve dealt with blood prophets before?”

  “I saw a few of them during my residency. Anytime the skin is punctured, it opens the girl to prophecy.”

  “So if Ms. Corbyn needs stitches . . . ?”

  “Only the gods know what she’s seeing right now because of the gash,” Lorenzo replied grimly. “Every stitch would only add to it.”

  Monty leaned against the wall, feeling sick. He didn’t speak again until Lorenzo finished and the supplies were properly stowed away.

  “Let him in,” Lorenzo said.

  Simon leaped into the room the moment Monty opened the door. He stared at Meg. “She’s cold. She’s shivering!”

  “That’s a good thing,”
Lorenzo replied. “We’ll use the heating pad to warm up the blankets. We’ll keep her warm, keep watch on her heart rate and breathing.”

  “Not so different from a Wolf,” Simon said quietly.

  “I’m calling in my men,” Monty said, knowing he wouldn’t have anyone but Louis for backup until the storm ended. “One of them will be on guard at all times.”

  “Is that necessary?” Lorenzo asked.

  “Yes, sir, it is.”

  Simon blinked. “Winter is outside.” He walked out of the room.

  “I have to take care of other patients,” Lorenzo said. He looked toward the two nurses.

  “I’ll keep an eye on Ms. Corbyn,” Monty said. “Your people are needed elsewhere.”

  When Lorenzo and the nurses left, Monty noticed the Other who crouched against the wall outside the room. “I’m Lieutenant Montgomery. Can you tell me what happened in the Courtyard?”

  “I know who you are,” the male replied wearily, pushing to his feet. “I’m Jester.” He walked into the exam room and closed the door. “I can tell you some of it.”

  When Jester finished, Monty stepped out of the room and called his men. He couldn’t reach Kowalski, who had been trying to ski to the Courtyard, and hoped the man had found shelter somewhere. Debany and MacDonald were a few blocks from the hospital and were bringing in some injured citizens. When he reached Burke and gave a summary of what had happened, the captain agreed with the necessity for guards while the Liaison was in the hospital and an abduction attempt was still a possibility.

  Sending Jester to fetch one of the plastic chairs from the waiting room, Monty stood by the bed. Was Meg’s breathing labored? Was she too pale?

  He leaned down and said quietly, “Ms. Corbyn? You’re safe now. We’re going to keep you safe. But you have to help us. We all need you to get well.”

  Her eyes fluttered open.

  “Meg?”

  “Cold.” Her voice was barely audible. “Cold.”

  “We’ll get you warm.”

  Her eyes closed.

  A minute later, he heard Jester set down a chair by the door—and Simon Wolfgard returned, snow melting off the fur covering the mostly human body.

  “She woke up for a moment,” Monty said.

  Simon rushed to the side of the bed. “Meg? Meg!”

  “I’ll let Dr. Lorenzo know she came around that much.” Leaving Simon and Jester to stand watch, Monty found the doctor and reported. Then he found Louis, who was trying to reach his own team. Finally, he found a vending machine, got a cup of coffee, and returned to the exam room to begin his shift of guard duty.

  * * *

  Still in human form, his clothes spattered with Hurricane’s blood, Jester curled up in a corner of the exam room, his head pressed to his knees. He whined softly for a few minutes, then drifted off to sleep.

  Simon stood by the bed, watching Meg. He felt so confused, so . . . angry. He had a reason to be angry. The enemy had invaded the Courtyard, had destroyed buildings, had killed some of the terra indigene. And they had threatened Sam and tried to take Meg. Even so, this angry didn’t feel right, and the closer he was to human, the more he felt not right.

  “Did you take anything before you started feeling angry?” Monty had asked. The possible answer to the question made him uneasy, so he wasn’t going to think about it. Not now.

  He glanced at the closed door. Meg was cold, shivering. The blankets weren’t helping. He knew what he would do for a member of his pack. He carefully got onto the narrow hospital bed, grumbling because it was barely wide enough for a single human. After fixing the covers over him and Meg, he shifted to Wolf and curled his tail over her feet.

  Much better.

  She couldn’t hear him, couldn’t answer, but he called anyway.

  He stretched his neck, sniffing at the bandages that covered the gash in her chin. He didn’t like them. They shouldn’t be there. He wanted to pull them off and lick the wound. Lick and lick until it healed.

  He drew back his head. He had promised to leave the bandages alone. He’d brought her here for human healing, so he mustn’t undo what the doctor had done.

  Not so angry now. Not feeling so alone now with his body touching hers.

  Winter outside in the sleigh, those cold, rage-filled eyes fixed on him when he came out to talk to her.

  he’d said.

  Winter nodded. Then she and Air drove off. And as he turned to go back inside, the wind died down and the snow stopped falling.

  The door opened. Simon turned his head and bared his teeth, ready to spring up and attack. But it was Dr. Lorenzo, so he stayed where he was.

  “I came in to check on Ms. Corbyn,” the doctor said. “I’ll check her pulse, then use a stethoscope to listen to her heart and lungs.” He touched her wrist and looked at his watch. Then he put the metal disk on her chest and appeared to be listening.

  Could Lorenzo hear the little rattle in her lungs that Simon could hear without the disk?

  “Pneumonia’s a concern,” Lorenzo said quietly. “But she might avoid any problems.” He glanced at the Wolf body under the covers. “The main thing now is to keep her warm.”

  When Lorenzo left, Simon stretched out his neck again, still wanting to get rid of those bandages and the medicine smell under them. With a quiet grumble, he licked her arm instead.

  Her fingers flexed, burrowed into his fur.

 

  “Don’t tell Simon about spinning the BOW,” she mumbled.

  He lifted his head.

  But she was asleep again.

  Nowhere to go. Nothing he could do while she was here. Settling his head on her shoulder, he closed his eyes and slept.

  CHAPTER 29

  Vlad studied the ash that drifted off the two bodies. The last two enemies had been in sight of the Corvine entrance, had almost escaped. Riding their machines, they might have gotten out if they’d met up with anyone but Fire.

  Suddenly aware that the swooshing sound he’d been hearing for the past minute had stopped, he looked toward the open gate. The figure hesitated, then came forward, moving slowly on skis.

  “Mr. Sanguinati? It’s Officer Kowalski. I work with Lieutenant Montgomery.”

  He recognized the voice, but he still felt suspicious. “Do humans ski during storms?”

  “No, sir, not by choice. But I heard about the explosion in the Courtyard and was coming to see if I could help when I got caught in the blizzard. My mobile phone is still working, and I got a call through to the station. The lieutenant’s teams are heading for the hospital. Protection for Ms. Corbyn while she’s there.”

  Still trying to work out if there was another message under the words, Vlad looked toward the Wolfgard part of the Courtyard as howls filled the air.

  “Problem?” Kowalski asked.

  “One of the Wolves died.”

  “In the storm?”

  “He was shot by the intruders.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  And Kowalski was genuinely sorry, Vlad realized. He looked at the two snowmobiles that Fire had left untouched. “Do you know how to work these machines?”

  “I’ve ridden on them a few times, so I know enough to drive one.”

  “Then you will show me, and we’ll use the machines to reach the hospital.”

  * * *

  Picking up the steaming mug of tea, Henry walked over to the windows of his studio. Nothing he wanted to see out there. Not tonight. Terra indigene had died today, and some humans had died in the storm that was the Elementals’ response to those deaths—and to the harm done to Meg.

  The intruders had also died, and that was good.

  Now they would see if the humans would resume th
eir wary peace with the terra indigene or if there would be war. He hoped the humans would show some sense. It had been many years since the terra indigene had crushed a human city. If it came to that here, he would regret the deaths of some of these people.

  Shaking his head, Henry sipped his tea. No point stirring up the bees if you weren’t looking for honey.

  On his way back to this part of the Courtyard, he’d found Nathan, exhausted and half frozen, still trying to chase after that Asia. But Tess had dealt with Asia Crane, so Henry shifted from spirit bear to Grizzly and broke the trail for the Wolf right up to the back door of the efficiency apartments. The girls had put Nathan’s paws in warm water to melt the ice clumped between his pads, had patted him dry with towels, and given him food and water. Now Nathan and John were curled up in the apartment, asleep, while the girls were at A Little Bite, making food and hot drinks. And Lorne, with Henry’s permission, was in the social center, letting the stranded use the toilets and rest in a warm place for a while.

  Last winter they would have stood behind their locked doors and watched the humans die. But things had changed around the Lakeside Courtyard, and those changes held promise for all of Namid’s children. So he hoped the human government would be wise enough not to choose war.

  * * *

  Meg woke slowly, feeling a rattle and burn in her chest.

  White room. The hated and feared bed. And a figure at the end of the bed.

  “No,” she moaned. Had it been a dream, a delusion?

  “Meg?” The figure leaped toward her, his weird-shaped hands coming down on either side of her head. “Stay awake, Meg. Stay awake!”

  A face out of nightmares, out of visions of dark water and terrible cold. Then the fur receded and she recognized him. “S-Simon?”