by Anne Bishop
Maybe Jimmy had tried, the same way Clarence was now trying to pressure Fanny, but he hadn’t succeeded. Mama and Daddy would have known if something was that wrong. Maybe they hadn’t realized how much hurt Jimmy was inflicting with his talk when they weren’t around to stop him, but if it had become physical in any way, they wouldn’t have cared that he was their flesh-and-blood son and Sissy was their adopted daughter. They would have called the police and reported Jimmy. They would have done right by Sissy.
“Daddy?”
Monty studied his daughter, wanted to ask if Clarence had tried to show her . . . Well, she’d seen Sam Wolfgard’s boy stuff, but Sam had shifted from Wolf to naked boy after rescuing most of Boo Bear, Lizzy’s previous bestest stuffed friend. And Sam had been in a room full of adults, many of whom saw no difference between seeing a human penis and seeing a male Wolf lift a leg to water a tree.
“Lizzy, has Clarence tried to hurt you?” Her hesitation made his chest tighten until it was hard to breathe.
“He called me names one day—used the bad words—because I said I wouldn’t play with him, just the two of us, and I felt really sad. But Sarah and I promised Grr Bear that we wouldn’t play outside alone and we would go to Sarah’s house if Clarence came outside. And we promised to include Frances whenever she was allowed to play with us.”
“Those are good promises.” Monty studied the stuffed bear sitting in the other chair. Not a time-out. Grr Bear was keeping watch for a young two-legged predator.
The Others might not understand the harm that could be done with words, but they would recognize—and respond to—any physical threat directed toward anyone who was considered part of the Courtyard.
“Daddy? Can Frances stay with us?”
“It’s complicated, Lizzy,” he said. For humans anyway. “But Fan—Frances can play here with you as much as she wants. And I’ll speak with Miss Eve about letting her play at the Denbys’ house too.”
“But not Clarence.” Not a question. It sounded more like a plea.
“No, not Clarence.” He set her down. “Can you and Grr Bear stay here for a little bit? Out here on the porch?” He’d ask Kowalski to keep an eye on things for a few minutes.
“Alone?” She looked at him with those big brown eyes. “Couldn’t Miss Leetha stay with us?”
“Leetha? Who is that?” He had a feeling he already knew.
“She used to live in Toland. Now she lives upstairs.”
Monty studied Lizzy as if he’d never seen her before. A few months ago, she’d lived in an apartment building where the adults would have panicked at the sight of one of the terra indigene. Now, having Sanguinati for upstairs neighbors wasn’t worth a second thought—was, in fact, an odd kind of comfort.
“I’ll ask. I won’t be long, and I’ll lock the door. Don’t you or Grr Bear answer it. Promise?”
“We promise.”
He went inside and called Pete Denby. “Pete? It’s Monty. I need to talk for a few minutes.”
“Sure. You want to pop over?”
“No. I’d like to meet at your office. This talk is more . . . official.”
Silence. Then, “I’ll see you there in a few minutes.”
“Someone is coming over to watch Lizzy.” Meaning, Robert and Sarah were welcome to come over if Pete needed someone to watch them.
“That’s covered.”
Wondering which of the Others was currently at the Denbys’, Monty hung up, left his apartment, and locked his door. He went up the stairs quietly, not wanting to see Jimmy right now. He knocked on the upstairs apartment door just as quietly.
The female who opened the door was the same Sanguinati who had been on his porch a little while ago. If she had been human, he would have put her in her early forties. He had no idea how old she really was, but something about the look in those dark eyes told him she had seen, and done, a lot in her life.
Unlike Nyx Sanguinati, this vampire didn’t wear old-fashioned clothes or move as a blend of smoke and human form, making it obvious what she was. In fact, this female would be noticed for her mature beauty and grace, and no man who admired her as she walked by would see a predator dressed in black trousers and a T-shirt, both made from some silky, rich-looking material.
“Miss Leetha?” Hard not to add an l to the end of her name.
“Lieutenant?”
“Would you mind staying with Lizzy for a few minutes? I need to take care of some business.”
“I can keep watch.”
“Thank you.” He turned to go.
“Lieutenant? If your business gets too complicated, we can simplify it for you.”
He didn’t look back, didn’t dare make even a noncommittal sound that she might interpret as tacit permission to kill his brother.
He arrived at the Liaison’s Office just as Pete reached the upstairs landing and had his key in the outer door.
“How official are we?” Pete asked when they were inside his office. He opened the small fridge and held up two bottles of beer.
“Not official enough that I would refuse one of those,” Monty replied.
Pete opened the bottles, handed one to Monty, then sat in one of the chairs in his waiting area.
Monty settled in the other chair, took a long pull of his beer, then told Pete everything Lizzy had told him.
“So far it’s just verbal abuse,” Monty began, then remembered the pinching. Hard to say where that would fall on a scale between sibling squabbles and abuse. “Mostly.”
“Just verbal abuse?” Pete made air quotes as he repeated the words. “You know better than that.”
He rubbed his forehead with the cold bottle. “Yes, I know better. Words can do as much damage as fists.” He drank more of the beer. “The motto in my parents’ house was ‘no unkind words, no unkind deeds.’ And if you were unkind, even unintentionally, you were expected to at least try to make things right.”
“Your brother doesn’t seem to have embraced your family’s motto.”
“No. But he learned how to avoid being caught too often for misbehavior, and when he was caught, he always tried to shift the blame to someone else—or persuade the other person to deny there was any wrongdoing.” Monty put the bottle on a coaster Pete provided. “He certainly trained Sissy to be collusive in what he took from her when we were children—and nothing I said to either of them seemed to make a difference.”
Monty hesitated, then wondered why, since he had asked for this meeting. Pete had already formed opinions about members of his family. He doubted anything he said now would alter those opinions—or shock an attorney. “The man Sissy was involved with, the girls’ father. He was a nice guy, steady. And he really loved her. I only met him a few times, but I liked him. He was happy when she became pregnant with Carrie, and he and Sissy talked about getting married. Then something happened, and he wasn’t talking about marriage anymore. But they stayed together, and despite him backing away a bit, things seemed to settle down.”
“You didn’t marry Lizzy’s mother,” Pete said gently.
“I wanted to get married. Elayne didn’t. Or, more to the point, her mother didn’t want her to marry a social and financial inferior.”
“What happened with Sierra?”
“We never knew. He walked out on her and the girls about a year after Bonnie was born. The one time I confronted him after he left, he said he didn’t mind working long hours to support his own children, but he’d be damned if he’d break his back for a moocher. I didn’t understand at the time. Now, having seen Jimmy and Sissy together here, I think about how her partner paid some of the bills directly, or bought clothes and toys for the girls, or brought over a bag of groceries when he came to visit his children. But he wouldn’t give Sissy any money.”
“Jimmy was taking a share of the house money, and Sierra’s partner figured out why they were havi
ng trouble paying bills.” Pete sighed. “She probably promised to stop giving her brother money, and things would settle down for a while.”
Monty nodded. “Then Jimmy would show up again and wear her down. And when she broke one promise too many, her partner left.”
“Do you know where to find him?”
He shook his head. “Mama might know. Doesn’t matter now. Sissy is out of Jimmy’s reach. But Frances . . .”
“You can’t take a child away from her parents because you were told about something that happened in another city,” Pete said. “There is no proof that Clarence coerced Frances to do anything, and it would be his word against hers.”
“Human courts couldn’t, and wouldn’t, take Frances away from her parents on hearsay, but human law doesn’t apply in the Courtyard,” Monty said. “I wouldn’t need to convince a judge that Frances was endangered.”
Pete leaned forward. “There was enough of an age gap between you and Sierra to provide some distance, but brothers and sisters close to the same age don’t always get along. If you have any doubts about that, I’ll let you spend an afternoon with Sarah and Robert when they’re being the bane of each other’s existence. Monty, if this is a tempest in a teapot, if Frances has embellished a sibling quarrel and added a dramatic flourish for sympathy, and you convince Simon Wolfgard to act on it, there is no going back. You have more experience with the Others than I do, but having observed how the adults let the kids scrap to settle things among themselves and only step in when it looks like one of them will get hurt, they’ll take your word that the threat is serious enough to remove the child. But what happens if Simon or Vlad or Henry decides Frances should be relocated? You won’t be able to withdraw your request, won’t be able to soft-pedal what you told them in order to keep her in Lakeside.”
“I know.” It could be nothing more than Frances being unhappy and lonely. She’d been uprooted from her home in Toland and had limited contact here with the children she could play with. Even now, the apartment was a temporary home, one her family could lose at any time. This could be nothing more than a somewhat introverted child wanting to feel settled. Or she could be in real danger of being pimped by her own brother.
Monty picked up the beer and drained the bottle.
“What are you going to do?” Pete asked. “What would you do if we were talking about Lizzy?”
“Talk to Eve and Ruth so they’re aware of a potential danger. Talk to Karl and Michael in an unofficial capacity.” Monty released his breath slowly. “And talk to Simon and Vlad about when human behavior requires intervention regardless of the age of the humans.”
“Before or after the potluck dinner?”
“After. No point getting everyone stirred up just before they’re supposed to sit down together for a meal.” But he’d ask Leetha Sanguinati to let him know if Jimmy, or Clarence, had any visitors.
• • •
Skippy arrived at the Market Square before Simon, Meg, and Sam. So had Nathan and Blair, but they were outside Meat-n-Greens, blocking the door to keep the juvenile Wolf from dashing inside and making a grab for some of the food.
“Pup, did you tell him about this meal?” Simon asked Sam.
“No. Maybe. A little. But that was before Meg told me everyone had to look human.”
Spotting them, Skippy headed straight for Meg, who was carrying the large bowl of spinach salad.
Blair growled a warning and Simon stepped in front of Meg, giving Skippy two reasons to veer away instead of leaping on, and possibly scratching, Meg to find out what was in the bowl. Nathan joined them, surrounding her until she reached Meat-n-Greens and went inside.
“We’ll stay out here until everyone else is inside,” Blair said.
“The female pack and the rest of the food are here,” Nathan said. “The males are just arriving. Is that normal? I thought males helped with food.”
“I did,” Simon replied.
Blair gave him a look. “You brought leaves and fungus.”
Simon bared his teeth. Then he sighed because it was true. “Come on, Sam.”
But Sam was staring at Skippy, whose amber eyes held a puzzled earnestness.
“You can’t come in,” Sam said with quiet authority. “You have to be able to shift to human form to eat here today.”
The adult Wolves didn’t move, didn’t intrude. The moment stretched. Then Skippy slunk away, crying in a way that made Simon’s heart ache.
“We’ll make sure he gets some of the food,” Simon whispered to Sam as he opened the door. He and the leader of the puppy pack went inside.
The tables had been moved together to form one long table down the center of the room. Other tables had been grouped to hold bowls and platters of a variety of foods.
“There is so much,” Meg said, taking slow steps toward the food tables.
Were there more choices than usual, or was seeing it displayed in a different way confusing her?
“We may have gone a bit overboard with the number of dishes we prepared,” Merri Lee said, putting a dish of green beans on the table. “But we wanted enough variety for everyone, and everything here can be eaten as leftovers. Meg, give me the spinach salad and I’ll add the warm bacon dressing and the hard-boiled eggs. Oh, and we have steamed corn on the cob, so make sure you take a piece to try it. Lieutenant Montgomery and Pete have gone to fetch the children. Eve is mashing the potatoes, Miss Twyla is about done with the corn, and Michael and Karl are carving the turkey.”
Simon would have liked to see this carving, but he didn’t ask. He didn’t care about getting in the males’ way, but this seemed like a good time to steer clear of Miss Twyla and Eve.
Montgomery, Pete, and the three human pups arrived, followed by Nathan, Blair, and Henry. Nadine and Chris Fallacaro came out of the kitchen area carrying baskets of muffins and rolls, and a plate with some kind of dense bread.
Nadine pointed to the foods. “Peach muffins, dinner rolls, and zucchini bread. I’m making use of what’s in season.”
Fruit in the muffins sounded good, but vegetables in bread?
Simon looked at Blair and Nathan. They looked at him.
Kowalski came out of the kitchen area carrying two sacks filled with containers of food. “Miss Twyla is sending over some food to Cyrus and his family to keep the peace. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Montgomery came over to them. “Do you want help, Karl?”
“Better if I do it alone, sir.”
Montgomery nodded.
“I’ll walk out with you and make sure Skippy doesn’t ambush you,” Nathan said.
Eve Denby set a big bowl of cooked bread cubes next to the turkey and clapped her hands. “All right, everyone. Grab a plate and help yourself. Anyone shorter than Meg will be helped by an adult.”
Meg and Merri Lee looked at Eve and said, “Hey!”
The rest of the humans laughed. Simon had no idea why.
Merri Lee rolled her eyes. “If that’s the standard you’re using, Meg and everyone exactly her height get to be first in line.”
That brought more laughter. He still didn’t know why this was amusing, but Meg and Merri Lee, with Sam between them, were first to choose food, so he didn’t snarl at anyone. Nathan returned, gave him a nod to indicate that Kowalski—and the food—had escaped Skippy’s notice, and joined the line.
Green bean casserole, broccoli and cheese casserole, potato salad, macaroni salad, and spinach salad; muffins, rolls, and zucchini bread; mashed potatoes, stuffing, turkey, and gravy; corn on the cob and melted butter. He gave up trying to identify the rest of the fo
od the female pack had made for this meal.
Meg didn’t take more than a spoonful of anything, but neither did the rest of the females. They still had full plates of food. The pups weren’t given as many different foods, but the quantity was still sufficient, even for Sam. As they took their seats at the table, Kowalski returned, and something about the pity in the man’s dark eyes made fur spring up on Simon’s shoulders and back.
“You need to come outside,” Kowalski said quietly when he reached Simon.
Montgomery set his plate on the table. “Is there a problem?”
Kowalski nodded, but he kept his eyes on Simon. “You need to come outside.”
He heard the whimpering before he reached the door. Wolf but not Wolf. When he stepped outside, he understood the pity in Kowalski’s eyes, knew why Montgomery sucked in a breath.
Not human. Not Wolf. Not even that terrible but harmonious blend most of them took when they were stressed or needed aspects of both forms. This was the worst kind of between.
He didn’t want to be left out.
Before he could decide what to do with Skippy, Miss Twyla stepped outside and looked at the whimpering juvenile.
“I’m not having a naked boy sitting at the table, so you’d best get him some clothes,” she said.
“Miss Twyla . . . ,” Simon began at the same time Montgomery said, “Mama.”
She ignored them and pointed at Kowalski. “You run over to the store and get this boy a T-shirt and a pair of those elastic-waist exercise pants you all wear when you’re lifting weights and doing whatever else you do to make those muscles. Should be easy enough to take out a few stitches in the back seam to make room for his tail. Don’t bother with shoes right now.”
Shoes? They didn’t have anything that could accommodate Skippy’s feet. One looked mostly human but furred. The other was a Wolf’s paw with human toes.
“Shirt and pants will be enough,” Miss Twyla continued. “Run along, now. The food is getting cold.”