If the attack was meant to happen at Ferryman’s Landing, it would have to hit the mainland half of the village. The Sanguinati were keeping watch on the north and east shorelines near the Simple Life farms. The Beargard were watching the western shoreline, while Ming Beargard guarded the docks. The Hawks and Eagles were in the air, watching the river and the roads leading into Ferryman’s Landing. The Crows had spread out through the mainland half of the village to watch cars and people, ready to sound an alarm if they spotted a stranger. The Foxgard and Coyotegard had spread out to maintain a perimeter watch around the island half of the village. Even the Owlgard was out there keeping watch.
They were all as prepared as they could be.
Steve raised a hand in greeting as Jerry Sledgeman pulled into a nearby parking space. Before Jerry got out of his van, Roger Czerneda turned on to Main Street and parked on the opposite side.
“Gods above and below, what’s going on?” Jerry said, gesturing toward the yellow buses on the barge.
“You see anything unusual in Lakeside?” Steve asked. With Talulah Falls still cut off, there weren’t many ways to reach their village except a few dirt roads through farmland, and those weren’t marked in a way a stranger could identify. If someone followed the road that ran along the shore of Lake Etu, that person would reach the city of Lakeside first. Why not stop there? A stranger could disappear more easily in a city.
Then again, the Lakeside police were aware of the potential for trouble, and a city police force had all the tools for checking license plates and drivers’ licenses that a little village like Ferryman’s Landing didn’t have. They probably even had a few of the deluxe patrol cars with cameras that could take a picture of a vehicle for identification. Balance that against one official police officer, newly hired, and a handful of part-time peacekeepers, and Ferryman’s Landing would look like an easier target.
“Simon Wolfgard asked me the same question about Great Island,” Jerry replied, looking around. “Of course, I didn’t know about this when he asked.”
“We’re moving the children to the island. Too many of us had a bad feeling just after you left.”
He hadn’t had time to do anything except answer questions, take phone calls, and help Will load extra supplies on the ferry. As soon as the last bus was on the barge, he’d call Wolfgard. From what he could tell, none of the Intuits had a feeling about any place beyond Great Island and their own village, but without the warning from Meg Corbyn’s prophecy, they wouldn’t have known why they were all feeling uneasy or what to do to protect their own. Seemed only fair to give the Others in Lakeside a heads-up.
“Why come to Ferryman’s Landing at all?” Jerry asked. “What’s here that isn’t easily found anywhere else in the Northeast?”
Steve thought about the question and said grimly, “We are.”
• • •
Meg didn’t know what to think when Blair Wolfgard, in human form, walked into the Liaison’s Office just after she returned from her midday break. He had a young Wolf with him, one of the youngsters who had responded to Nathan’s howl that morning.
The moment the youngster saw her, he lunged for the counter, miscalculated the leap, and got only his front half on the countertop, his back legs scratching at the wood base in an effort to haul himself up and over.
Blair grabbed him by the scruff and pulled him off the counter. “You already had a cookie. She’s not giving you another one.” Then to Meg, “This is Skippy. He arrived a couple of days ago from the Wolfgard in the Addirondak Mountains and will be living with the Wolfgard here now.”
As soon as Blair released him, Skippy immediately went to investigate the item that would be of most interest to a Wolf—the cushiony dog bed Meg had ordered from the Pet Palace when Nathan became the watch Wolf for the office. Skippy threw himself on the bed, rubbing and rolling. Claiming.
“You pee on that, I’ll bite your tail off,” Blair growled. “Or Nathan will.”
Skippy, on his back with his paws in the air, just looked at the Courtyard’s enforcer and wagged his intact tail.
The young Wolf had to be a juvenile, but he seemed less mature than Sam, who was still a puppy.
She didn’t have any images of Wolves she could use for comparison, but there was something going on that she didn’t understand.
She leaned toward Blair. “He knows about not shifting where he can be seen by humans? I don’t want to explain to the police why a naked teenager was wandering around the delivery area.” So far she’d avoided any calls about Nathan being outside without clothes or fur, but she didn’t think she would be that lucky with Skippy.
Something in Blair’s eyes. Pity? Acceptance?
“He’s a skippy,” Blair said. “They don’t shift from the form they have at birth.”
“So his name is Skippy . . .”
“Because he is a skippy. Their brains don’t work quite right and skip over bits of what they need to learn. If they survive to adulthood, they settle down and do just fine. But most of them can’t survive in the wild country long enough for their brains to catch up. A Courtyard is safer, and if a hunt is spoiled here because of a skippy, the pups in the pack won’t starve.”
And the pack’s leaders wouldn’t have to choose between driving away one youngster in order to save the rest.
“I didn’t have any packages for you,” Meg said.
“Wasn’t expecting any right now.” Blair didn’t like being around humans, but he did like tinkering with things—especially the machines that could transform sunlight and wind into electrical power. She suspected his tolerance for her was in direct proportion to her diligence in delivering the parts he had ordered for his current project.
“So you came up to the office to introduce me to Skippy?”
As the Courtyard’s enforcer, Blair exuded a more feral quality than Simon, and she wasn’t quite sure he believed the “Meg isn’t bitable” rule.
“Skippy is going to be the watch Wolf for a couple of afternoons,” Blair said. “He’s here to learn.”
Ha! She suspected Skippy needed a minder, and she’d been elected because the Wolves in the Courtyard were busy.
“Isn’t Nathan going to be here anymore?” she asked. The deliverymen had become accustomed to Nathan, and he recognized them. That meant he reacted only to someone he didn’t know, like he had with Jerry Sledgeman.
“He’ll still be here most of the time,” Blair replied. “But I need Nathan this afternoon.”
Wolves weren’t usually possessive about objects, but Meg didn’t think an enforcer like Nathan was going to be happy about sharing the bed with a goofball like Skippy.
Keeping her voice low, she asked, “Should I see if the Market Square general store still has one of those beds so Skippy and Nathan don’t have to share?”
She watched the annoyed expression on Blair’s face change into embarrassed resignation when Skippy, still on his back with his paws in the air, began a yodeling arooeeooeeoo!
“Yeah,” Blair said. “You should do that.”
• • •
By the time Steve Ferryman walked out of Bursting Burgers, he wondered if he and the other adults who’d had a bad feeling that morning had made a mistake. There were still Crows winging through the village, and Hawks and Eagles still soared overhead. Roger Czerneda had been patrolling on the mainland side of the village for hours while Flash Foxgard and Ming Beargard kept watch around the docks. Now Roger parked the patrol car and joined Steve.
“Late lunch?” Steve asked.
Roger nodded as he read the sign. “Bursting Burgers?”
“You haven’t tried them yet?”
“I’ve been getting acquainted with the shops on the island side of the village.”
“These are the best hamburgers in the Lake Etu area,” Steve replied. “Can’t get them on the island side because
Burt has a phobia about water. And boats.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. They do a great roast beef sandwich too.”
“In that case, I guess I’ll give it—”
Caw, caw, caw, caw.
“—a try,” Roger finished.
The two men watched the car drive up Main Street and park a few spaces down from where they stood. Steve noted the Midwest license plate on the car and the way the Crows took position in the nearby trees.
The man who got out saw them and hesitated. He started walking toward them just as Steve’s mobile phone rang.
Mom always has excellent timing. “Could use some help here,” he said quickly, turning away so it would look like a personal call and not in some way connected to the stranger.
“Steve, I just had the strangest feeling.” A pause. “What kind of help?”
“Do you have pencil and paper handy?”
“Yes.”
Of course she did. “Write this down.” Keeping his voice low, Steve gave her the license plate number and the make and model of the car. “Hang on to that. I’ll call back.” He ended the call just as the man reached him and Roger.
Short. Dapper. Pale hair cut so short it almost wasn’t there. Little glasses. A sweet smile.
Steve hated him on sight, but he put on his “tell no secrets” expression and waited. He had a feeling the man really didn’t want to talk to him, and especially didn’t want to attract the notice of a cop. All the more reason to make sure this stranger did talk to them.
“You’re a long ways from home,” Steve said, making a passing gesture at the car.
The man looked back at the vehicle, then focused on Steve. “Ah. Yes, I am. A business trip to several cities in the Northeast Region. I was going to visit Talulah Falls—I’ve heard so much about the waterfalls there. But apparently there’s been some trouble, and no one but residents are allowed entrance?”
Light voice. Easy to dismiss and yet oddly mesmerizing. A voice that whispered trust me underneath the spoken words.
“Television news stations in the Midwest didn’t report on it?” Steve asked.
“I haven’t paid much attention. Sometimes such things distract one from what is important. I was hoping to speak to someone in authority. Could either of you gentlemen point me in the right direction?”
“No need to point.” The space between Steve’s shoulder blades twitched and twinged. “I am the mayor of this fine village, and my friend here is with the police.” He waited a beat. “And who might you be?”
“Phineas Jones.”
Wishing he were wearing gloves and wouldn’t have to touch that skin, Steve looked at the extended hand a moment too long before completing the handshake.
“What business are you in, Mr. Jones?” Roger asked.
“I’m more a representative of a philanthropic endeavor than a business,” Jones replied.
“There aren’t enough people in the Midwest interested in this philanthropic endeavor, so you have to drive all the way up here? That’s a lot of miles to travel and gas coupons to use for a might-be-maybe venture.” Roger scratched his head, then resettled his hat. “Of course, you might have a couple of interested parties lined up already that would make the expense worthwhile.”
A heavy silence. Jones’s sweet smile didn’t change, but it somehow seemed colder.
Right on target, Roger, Steve thought.
“I’m a specialist in a very particular field,” Jones finally said. “And while I had intended to visit the Falls and see this natural wonder for myself, I’m here in Ferryman’s Landing because . . . Well, to put it delicately, I had heard that a girl took her own life last year because of an addiction to cutting her skin. Some parents insist that girls will outgrow this behavior and don’t take steps to get their child the professional help she needs. Studies have shown that if one girl is discovered displaying this behavior, there are several more in the community who are still successfully hiding their addiction. Parents may see symptoms without fully understanding what they’re seeing. Until it’s too late.”
Steve didn’t think Phineas Jones missed much, but he hoped the man couldn’t detect his uneasiness.
“I think the incident was reported incorrectly,” Steve said.
Cold, sweet smile. “Oh? How so? A girl jumped into the river and drowned last year. What can be incorrect about that?”
“Nothing, as far as it goes. Except she didn’t jump into the river. She fell into the river. Fast current here. Lots of rapids farther up. Most people who live around the water know how to swim, but the river takes one or two a year. And at least one boat each year rides the falls down to the rocks. You may have heard on the news that some fools tried to go out during foggy weather a few days ago. There are rescue boats and volunteers still down there fishing out pieces of boats and bodies. It’s a tragedy when it happens, but it does happen.”
“Perhaps I should talk to the administrators of your schools. Sometimes school personnel—”
“Mr. Jones,” Steve said pleasantly. “I think you should get back in your car and drive away. It doesn’t matter what anyone else tells you. I’m telling you this is as close as you get to any child in Ferryman’s Landing.”
“The philanthropists I represent only want to help these girls,” Jones said. “Why are you so defensive? What are you afraid of?”
Trust me. How many parents had regretted trusting that voice?
“I’m afraid of the Beargard who rule the land around here as far as Lakeside,” Steve said, his own voice turning hard. “I’m afraid of them taking offense at a stranger poking his nose where it doesn’t belong and tossing a human into the river for sport. You should have paid more attention to what was happening in Talulah Falls, Mr. Jones. This is the wrong time for you to be doing business anywhere around the Great Lakes. You need any help finding your way out of the village?”
Another heavy silence. “No,” Jones said. “No, I think I have all the information I need. Good day, gentlemen.”
They watched him walk back to his car. They watched him drive away. And Steve watched the Crows fly off to start the relay of Crowgard, Hawkgard, and Eaglegard that would track Jones’s car for as long as they could.
Finally Steve said, “Officer Czerneda?”
“Mr. Ferryman?”
“Did Phineas Jones look like a smiling shark to you?”
“Yes, he did. He certainly did.”
Steve nodded grimly. “I’d better give Simon Wolfgard another call.”
• • •
Hearing the knock, Meg opened the back door of the Liaison’s Office and stared at Merri Lee.
As part of her training, she had seen videos of women being assaulted, had studied images of battered bodies and faces. She’d even seen one of the girls in the compound punched and slapped and kicked—a girl whose skin couldn’t earn enough to justify keeping her. The Controller had recorded that session and had shown it often enough that the real experience of seeing a girl beaten to death lost much of its impact.
Much, but not all.
Those images took on an additional meaning when superimposed over the face of a friend.
“Do you feel well enough to be out?” Meg asked, stepping aside.
“Dr. Lorenzo said to take it easy for the first couple of days and then use common sense,” Merri Lee replied as she entered the back room. “It’s been a week since . . . the assault. I lazed around, reading books and watching movies for the first few days. Even indulged in a couple of massages. Now I’m feeling restless and want to do something useful.” She hesitated. “With A Little Bite still closed to everyone but Courtyard residents, Tess doesn’t need me right now. I offered to help Heather fill out book orders, but she’s freaked about what happened to me, and I don’t think she’ll be comfortable being around me until the bruises
completely heal.”
Meg understood why Heather would be upset. Merri Lee’s face was still healing, so the black eye and bruises must have been very bad. Heather’s life was in the human part of the city, and Merri Lee’s injuries were a harsh reminder of what could happen to someone labeled a Wolf lover.
Unlike Heather, Meg didn’t have any reason to avoid Merri Lee because she didn’t have to go beyond the Courtyard and its protection.
“Do you think Tess would let us wash these containers at A Little Bite?” Meg asked, pointing to six small containers. “I’m supposed to make up sample packages of Wolf cookies, but there’s just the bathroom sink here.”
“I could take them over and wash them for you,” Merri Lee said.
“Thanks.”
A yodeling arooeeooeeoo came from the front room.
“What is that?” Merri Lee asked, looking startled.
“That,” Meg sighed, “is Skippy.”
As soon as her friend left, Meg opened the large plastic containers. Blair didn’t say she couldn’t give the youngster a cookie. She reached for a cow, then thought for a moment before taking one of the people-shaped cookies.
She walked through the office until she reached the counter in the front room. Keeping the cookie out of sight, she patted the top of the counter. “Skippy. Front paws here.”
He rushed over and plopped his paws on the counter, aquiver with juvenile enthusiasm.
She held up a finger to get his attention. “Gently,” she ordered. Then she held up the cookie.
He wasn’t grown enough to leap on the counter or over it, and he couldn’t get his brains off the cookie long enough to think about backing up to get a running start. After three failed attempts to grab the cookie, the command Meg kept giving him finally got through. The fourth time she held up the cookie, he managed to take it from her with great care.
Of course, he also managed to step on his own foot in his haste to get back to the Wolf bed and devour his treat.