Marked in Flesh

  If that happened, it wouldn’t be the first time humans disappeared from a part of the world, and Simon doubted it would be the last.

  And because that possibility was a rockslide waiting to come down on all of them, it became more imperative to figure out how much human the terra indigene should keep.

  “All right,” he said. “Talk to the female pack. But make sure they know this is dangerous information.”

  “I will.” Meg stopped suddenly and whispered, “Bunny.”

  Bunny? Simon’s mouth watered. Not that he had a good chance of catching one in his human form. He looked around. Smelled the bunny but couldn’t see one. Then he realized Meg was staring at a brown lump in the grass a long step away from them. Could have been a rock or a bit of tree root poking out of the ground—but those things didn’t have ears.

  He sighed, disappointed. Just a one-bite bunny.

  Meg backed away, pulling him with her.

  “Isn’t he cute?” she whispered, heading back toward the Green Complex.

  “You won’t think he’s so cute if he eats all your broccoli,” Simon said.

  “He wouldn’t do that. Would he?”

  “Broccoli is green, and he’s a bunny.”

  Meg huffed as she picked up the pace. “Well, he’s still cute.”

  And probably would be allowed to grow since he wasn’t much of a meal for anyone right now.

  Simon didn’t mention that since he suspected Meg preferred to think of the bunny as cute rather than crunchy.

  CHAPTER 2

  Sunsday, Juin 5

  Meg stared at those gathered in the sorting room at the Human Liaison’s Office—Ruth Stuart, Merri Lee, and Theral MacDonald—and they stared back at her.

  “You’ve already heard about this.” The muffins Meg had picked up at A Little Bite sat on the table, untouched.

  “Not about this,” Ruth said. “But Karl headed to Captain Burke’s house for a special, secret meeting—at least that’s the opinion I got from what he couldn’t say. And he thinks Captain Burke and Lieutenant Montgomery were told more about the sanctions than was made public. If they were told about this . . .”

  “Michael was called in for that meeting too,” Merri Lee said. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Meg, we can’t be responsible for something this . . . big. How can we make a decision about how much human the terra indigene will keep?”

  “I don’t think we’re the ones making the decision,” Meg replied. “We’re providing information, maybe prioritizing, so that if . . .” She pressed her hands against the table, trying to ignore the painful pins-and-needles feeling that had started in her arms and was now prickling her entire torso under the skin.

  The three girls snapped to attention.

  “Meg?” Merri Lee’s voice turned sharp with understanding.

  Meg tried to ignore the pain, tried not to think about how the euphoria that came from speaking prophecy after she made a cut would make her feel so good. She’d made a cut last week; she didn’t want to make another so soon. She didn’t know if it was true that a cassandra sangue had only a thousand cuts before the one that would kill her or drive her insane, but if she wanted to live another decade or more, she needed to extend the time between cuts.

  “Tell me about this morning,” Merri Lee said. “What did you do this morning? Meg!”

  Ruth and Theral hustled to the office’s back room and closed the door—but not all the way.

  “The sparrows were awake, so Simon was awake, so he woke me up because he wanted to take a walk. Poophead.”

  Merri Lee snorted a laugh. “Meg! That’s not a nice thing to say.”

  “Didn’t say it when he could hear me.” And would have to be careful not to say it around the puppies, especially Simon’s nephew Sam. Since she’d learned the bad word from the human boy Robert Denby, she was pretty sure young males of any species would find the term an appealing insult—and no doubt end up getting nipped by one of the adult Wolves, who would not find it as appealing.

  Sam no longer lived with Simon on the weekdays. While she missed the pup when he stayed at the Wolfgard Complex instead of being right next door, maybe it was a good thing that Sam spent more time playing with other Wolves than he did playing with human children.

  “We saw a little bunny,” Meg continued. “He was cute. Simon said he would eat the broccoli.”

  “Possible.” Merri Lee paused. “How do you feel?”

  Meg rubbed one arm and then the other. “Better. The prickling is almost gone.”

  Ruth and Theral returned to the sorting room.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Meg said. “Simon asked for my help.”

  “Of course we’ll help,” Merri Lee said. “It sounds like this is a double question: how much of what we call human nature do the Others want to assume for themselves, which is something none of us can answer, and how much of what humans use do the Others want to keep, or need to keep for the people who live in Thaisia?”

  “If we’re talking about products, we should start with the personal and work outward,” Ruth said. “Make lists of the things we own and the consumable things we use. And the things we’d really like to keep, like indoor plumbing and ways to heat the house in the winter.”

  “We could tear out the business section of one of the phone books,” Theral said. “The businesses wouldn’t exist if someone didn’t need the product or service.”

  “Simple Life folk don’t use a lot of things other humans use.” Meg started scratching her right arm, then forced herself to stop.

  “It might be to our advantage to find out what they do use,” Merri Lee said.

  “We can compare lists tomorrow, and whatever is on all our lists will go on a master ‘Really Want to Keep This’ list,” Ruth said.

  “How specific do we need to be?” Theral asked.

  Meg closed her eyes and pictured a piece of paper with the word “Tools.” Then she imagined a piece of paper with a list of tools: hammer, screwdriver, saw, pliers.

  She opened her eyes, fairly certain she had the correct answer. “General categories. I’m not sure how much time Simon has to provide input before a decision is made, so let’s start with general categories. Tools instead of specific tools. Books instead of specific authors.”

  “We’re all working across the street today,” Ruth said. “Mrs. Tremaine moved out last Firesday, so Eve Denby wants to give the two-family house a good cleaning upstairs and down. She said we can paint the upstairs apartment first since Karl is currently bunking with Michael and I’m sleeping on the floor of Merri Lee’s efficiency apartment here.”

  Meg almost asked why Karl and Ruth weren’t staying with their families, but she remembered in time that both families were mad at them for being Wolf lovers—a slur given to humans who wanted to work in cooperation with the terra indigene.

  “We won’t say anything to Eve,” Ruth said. “Not until we’re told that we can.”

  “Will you be all right?” Merri Lee leaned to one side to see through the Private doorway that provided access to the counter in the front room. Then she whispered, “The front door just opened, but I didn’t see—”

  A terra indigene Wolf rose on his hind legs and plopped his forelegs on the counter. “Arroo?”

  “Good morning, Nathan,” they chorused.

  The watch Wolf had arrived. Time to go to work.

  Wrapping their muffins in paper towels, the female pack went out the office’s back door, after assuring Meg that they would see her this evening at the Quiet Mind class.

  Meg stepped up to the counter. Nathan was one of the Courtyard’s enforcers and, as such, was one of the largest Wolves in the Lakeside pack. He’d also been with Simon when their group was attacked at the stall market, and some of the deeper wounds on his face were still scabbed over.

  “We just got together to chat before work,” she said.

  Nathan stared at her.

  “About things that are none of your b
usiness.”

  He stared at her.

  “Girl things.”

  He pushed away from the counter and trotted over to the Wolf bed positioned beneath one of the big front windows.

  Meg retreated to the sorting room to eat her muffin.

  Used too often, it would lose its effect, but if you told a male Wolf something was a “girl thing,” he would head in the opposite direction. As far as they were concerned, girl things were like porcupines—if you poked at them, you’d end up with a sore nose.

  Figuring she had a little time before Nathan tried again to find out what was going on, Meg took a pad of lined paper and a pen out of one of the drawers.

  How much human did the terra indigene want to keep?

  The lists would be useful. Of course they would. But she wondered if Merri Lee was right and the question really had more to do with mind and heart. If that was the case, she had to hope that making lists would help the Elders see the real answer to the question.

  • • •

  Lieutenant Crispin James Montgomery paid the cabdriver, then turned to study the duplex that belonged to Captain Douglas Burke. Nothing to distinguish it from its neighbors, which had neatly kept yards and other signs that the people living there were what his mother called house proud—a compliment when Twyla Montgomery said it.

  He hadn’t been to his captain’s home in the six months he’d lived in Lakeside. What little he knew about Burke outside of the office made him think the man didn’t do much entertaining—and any entertaining he did do was handled in a public venue. This wasn’t a social gathering either, not when they were meeting before their shift at the Chestnut Street Police Station to discuss things Burke wanted kept outside the station.

  As he reached the front door and rang the bell, a car pulled into the driveway. Officers Karl Kowalski and Michael Debany, two members of his team, got out and hurried to join him just as the door opened.

  “Lieutenant,” Kowalski said, giving Monty a nod before looking at the man filling the doorway. “Captain.”

  Douglas Burke was a big man, an imposing figure with blue eyes that usually held a fierce kind of friendliness. His clothes were always pressed, and the dark hair below his bald pate was always neatly trimmed. Never having seen him outside of the job, Monty couldn’t picture the man in anything but a suit, couldn’t see him wearing jeans and a ratty pullover to mow the lawn or dig in the flower beds. In fact, the lack of the suit coat and the rolled-up sleeves were as close to casual dress as Monty had ever seen.

  “Come in, gentlemen.” Burke stepped aside, allowing them to enter. “We’re in the dining room. Help yourself to coffee and pastries.”

  Monty glanced at the living room as he followed Burke. It looked masculine, comfortable, and minimal. He wouldn’t be surprised if the furniture, what there was of it, was high quality, maybe even antiques.

  Not a room that welcomed children.

  Not so odd a thought since Monty’s seven-year-old daughter, Lizzy, had arrived in Lakeside last month and was now living with him. All the secrets Lizzy had brought with her to Toland had been revealed, and she was safe from whoever had killed her mother. But that still put him in the position of having to figure out how to be a single parent and a police officer. For now, Eve Denby, the new property manager for the Lakeside Courtyard, was willing to look after Lizzy along with her own two children.

  Monty walked into the dining room and hesitated when he spotted Louis Gresh and Pete Denby sitting at the dining room table, filling small plates with pastries and fresh strawberries. He wasn’t surprised that they had become part of Burke’s trusted circle.

  The real surprise was the other man sitting at the table.

  A toilet flushed, water ran, and then another man joined them. Shorter, leaner, and younger than Burke, the man had a full head of slightly curly, medium brown hair—but the fierce-friendly look in the blue eyes was similar enough to say family.

  “Gentlemen, this is Shamus David Burke, a relative of mine who’s visiting from Brittania. He’s in law enforcement over there, so I thought his insights might be useful. Shady, this is Lieutenant Crispin James Montgomery and his officers, Karl Kowalski and Michael Debany. They handle most of the interaction with the Lakeside Courtyard. The man carefully inspecting that pastry is Commander Louis Gresh, who’s in charge of the bomb squad. The pastries are fresh, Commander. Nothing for you to worry about.”

  “That you don’t check food for unwelcome surprises just proves you’ve never had children,” Louis replied. He bit into the pastry and chewed with care.

  “The other man poking at his food is Pete Denby, an attorney who recently relocated from the Midwest Region.”

  “Who also has children,” Pete said, smiling.

  “And the only man unconnected to law enforcement is Dr. Dominic Lorenzo, who is currently working on the governor’s task force to assist the cassandra sangue in this part of the Northeast Region.” Burke waited until they were all seated. Then he folded his hands and rested them on the dining room table. “Lieutenant Montgomery already knows what’s at stake. Before we discuss anything, you all need to understand that you can’t share this information with anyone, for any reason. Not friends, not family, not colleagues. If you can’t agree to that, walk away now because . . .”

  “Because everyone in Lakeside will be at risk,” Lorenzo said, sounding irritable. “Same song, different day.”

  “Actually, every human on the continent of Thaisia will be at risk,” Burke said, the mild voice at odds with the bright fierceness in his eyes.

  Silence. Then, matching Burke’s mild tone, Shady said, “Are we talking about extinction, Douglas?”

  Burke nodded.

  Lorenzo swallowed hard. Pete pushed aside the plate with the pastry.

  Louis let out a shuddering breath. “Gods above and below, talk about a bomb. What are the odds that we’re going to lose control of this?”

  “About even,” Burke replied. “Maybe less.”

  Monty looked at his men. “This isn’t a surprise to you.”

  “Not really,” Kowalski said. “We’ve noticed—”

  Burke raised a hand. “Let’s be clear about who is staying before we get into this.” He looked at Lorenzo.

  Lorenzo thought for a moment, then pushed his chair back and stood. “I’m carrying enough secrets. You need to keep what you know within a tight circle, and I’m no longer sure when someone asks me questions about the Lakeside Courtyard or about blood prophets if they’re asking out of curiosity, out of professional necessity, or because they’re a member of the Humans First and Last movement trying to ferret out information that can be used against the Others. When I have to travel for the task force, I’m traveling alone. It would be too easy to be waylaid and . . . interrogated.”

  Monty wanted someone to make a joke, to say that Lorenzo was building a plot worthy of a thriller with talk of interrogations. But no one made a joke—mostly because Pete Denby had been run off the road, presumably by members of the HFL, when he’d packed up his family and bolted for Lakeside after helping Burke uncover information about a man called the Controller.

  “Understood.” Burke hesitated. “Ask Simon Wolfgard for a free pass through the wild country. I think he’ll know what that means. Roads that you’ll find on a map are roads humans can use. But there are unmarked roads that lead to places humans should not go. If you think you’re being followed, turn down one of those unmarked roads, roll down a window and start shouting, honk the horn, do anything to gain the attention of the terra indigene before other humans catch up to you. Under those circumstances, you have a better chance of surviving an encounter with the Others than with humans.”

  Lorenzo nodded. “Good luck.” He started to walk out of the room, then stopped. “If any of you should need discreet medical attention, you can count on me to not ask questions.”

  “Appreciate that,” Burke said.

  They waited until Lorenzo closed the front door. Waite
d a little longer, listening to the car start in the driveway attached to the other half of the duplex.

  “Anyone else?” Burke asked. They all shook their heads. “Then let’s start local and work up to the end of the world as we know it. Lieutenant? You have anything to report?”

  Monty poured coffee he didn’t want in order to give himself a little time. “The Courtyard took possession of the two-family house on Crowfield Avenue. The deal is done, the previous owner has been paid, and the Denbys will be moving in soon. So will Karl and Ruthie.”

  Pete nodded. “Yesterday the owner of the stone apartment buildings on either side of the double accepted the Courtyard’s offer for those dwellings. Since the Business Association is planning to pay cash for those buildings, I expect we’ll be able to expedite the paperwork and take possession by the end of the month. The apartments in those buildings have two bedrooms, Lieutenant. Something to think about with Lizzy being here for good.”

  Monty had considered whether he’d take one of the apartments if Simon Wolfgard offered it. Lots of practical reasons to accept—and reasons to keep some distance from the Others. For one thing, there wouldn’t be much division between work and home if he lived across the street from the Courtyard and had Kowalski and Denby—and probably Debany as well—for next-door neighbors.

  But they would be good neighbors, he thought. And police living so close to the Courtyard might be a deterrent to trouble. But none of us are talking about where the children will go to school next year—assuming they’ll be safe going to a city-run school, or even a private one run by humans. After all, anyone living in a building owned by the Others will be considered a Wolf lover, and prejudice is mounting against anyone who supports working with the terra indigene in any way.

  He and Lizzy needed a different place to live, and he would have to weigh the pros and cons carefully before making a decision. But that would have to wait.

  “Next?” Burke asked.