Etched in Bone

by Anne Bishop

  He sat and stewed until the sawhorses were removed from the archways and the Market Square was once again open for business. Then he sauntered to the butcher shop.

  The glass case was so clean, even his mother wouldn’t find fault. It was also completely empty.

  “Morning,” Jimmy said when the brown-feathered freak walked out of the big refrigerator. “I was hoping to get a couple more slices of that meatloaf. The kids really liked it.”

  “Got nothing,” the male replied. “We got cleaned out last night.”

  So those bastards had managed to do the job.

  Jimmy put on his down-on-his-luck expression. “That’s too bad. But, really, you got nothing? I wouldn’t be asking but . . . the little ones.”

  The male shook his head.

  Furious but knowing better than to show it, Jimmy headed for the door. As he reached for the handle, the male said, “Wait.”

  He went back to the glass case. The male didn’t look happy and kept glancing at the door, as if he needed to make sure no one would see him.

  “After this happened, a delivery of special meat came in. We don’t usually sell it to humans, but you need to bring something back for your mate and young, right? I’ve got one piece left—part of a foreleg. It should be enough to feed the four of you.”

  “How much?” Jimmy asked.

  “Ten dollars.”

  He thought about trying to bargain for a better price but realized that was pointless. If this was the only piece of meat available, the male could sell it for twice that price to the next person who walked into the shop. Which meant Jimmy could sell it for at least that much outside the Courtyard. “Sold.”

  “Being the last piece, it’s already wrapped,” the male said. “I’ll get it for you.” He was back in less than a minute with what looked like a long roast wrapped in heavy butcher’s paper and tied with string.

  Jimmy eyed the package. “You sure there’s enough meat on that?”

  “Plenty. Lean meat too. Hardly any fat.”

  Jimmy paid for the roast and left the shop, feeling triumphant that nobody else would have meat tonight. Not that bitch Eve Denby or the bitches who were sleeping with the cops. Maybe he’d be a generous son and invite Mama over for dinner. Maybe he could talk her into doing the cooking so the meat wouldn’t end up overcooked or too tough to chew.

  Seeing Kowalski walking toward him, he held up the roast in triumph. “You’re too late. I bought the last piece of special meat.”

  He had just enough time to register the weird-ass crazy look in Kowalski’s eyes. Then he was on the ground, struggling as Kowalski hauled his arms behind his back and handcuffed him. Then Kowalski stepped back, not trying to restrain him any further.

  “You fucker!” Jimmy screamed as he rolled to his side. “This is harassment! This is— I’ll have your badge for this! I’ll have your ass for this!”

  A girl with dark eyes and long black hair rushed out of a nearby shop, wearing nothing but a white slip.

  “Officer Karl!” she said when she reached Kowalski. “What’s happening? Do you need help? Should I peck its eyes out?”

  Jimmy stopped thrashing as if he were helpless and sat up. Peck its eyes out? What kind of shit talk was that?

  “No, thanks, Jenni,” Kowalski replied, sounding way too calm when his eyes still had that weird-ass crazy look. “I’ve got it under control. But could you ask Officer Michael to bring me a large evidence bag and then call a patrol car? Tell him we need both ASAP.”

  She pulled the slip over her head and let it fall. Nice body, Jimmy thought, momentarily distracted from the crazy-ass cop. Nice and naked and . . . Seeing downy feathers covering her pussy instead of normal hair creeped him out. Seeing her change into a large Crow and fly off creeped him out even more.

  He didn’t know how long he sat on the ground. Felt like forever but couldn’t have been more than a minute or two before Debany came running and said a patrol car was on the way, before Kowalski and Debany hauled him to his feet and carefully put the roast in an evidence bag.

  Evidence his ass. This was a shakedown. That’s what it was. They would haul him in; CJ would spring him because he hadn’t done anything wrong; and those two bastard cops would “lose” the evidence until they cooked it for dinner.

  Full of righteous anger that he would blast at Captain Bastard Burke and CJ, he didn’t resist when Kowalski put him in the patrol car that pulled into the delivery area, then got in the front with some officer named Hilborn. No, he didn’t resist because he’d take this all the way up to the mayor’s office if he had to—and he’d do it before any of the scrapes and bruises caused by Kowalski slamming him to the ground had begun to fade. Yes, he would take this to the top, and when he was done, he wouldn’t have to pay for a single mouthful of food for the rest of his stay in Lakeside.

  • • •

  Meg watched the patrol car pull out onto Main Street with Lieutenant Montgomery’s brother in the back. Being taken in to the station wasn’t the same as being arrested. But given a limited number of images that could be used to convey a vision, would the prophecy cards make such a distinction? Or was it enough that someone was going to jail, even if the stay was temporary?

  If that was the case, if this was the first part of what the cards had revealed, there had also been a death. Whose death?

  She looked at Nathan, who watched her with an intensity that made her feel small and tasty—and made her glad being a blood prophet made her inedible.

  That thought made her uneasy—and a little bit queasy.

  “Do you know what’s going on?” she asked Nathan.

  He didn’t answer, didn’t even try. But he seemed pleased about Cyrus Montgomery being taken away in handcuffs, and Meg wondered if whatever pleased Nathan was the reason Simon had avoided her since last night.

  CHAPTER 20

  Windsday, Messis 22

  Monty walked into the interrogation room sick with fear. When he’d first caught sight of Kowalski as his partner hauled Jimmy into the station, he’d thought Karl had been hopped up on some kind of drug. And there was Jimmy with scrapes on his face and bruises already blooming, screaming that Kowalski was off-his-head crazy—and judging by the scared expression on Officer Hilborn’s face, Jimmy’s assessment of Kowalski might not be wrong.

  Then Monty unwrapped the “roast” Jimmy had bought at the Market Square butcher shop and understood Kowalski’s behavior. He understood a lot of things as he slammed into a stall in the men’s restroom and threw up. Now he needed to convince Jimmy to give him the information he would never get from Simon Wolfgard—because Wolfgard had already sent a clear message that Jimmy was involved up to his neck in whatever had happened in the Courtyard last night.

  Setting a closed folder on the table, Monty took a seat opposite his brother.

  “Look what that bastard Kowalski did to me,” Jimmy shouted, waving a hand at his own face. “You better fry his ass for this, CJ, or I’ll raise a stink that will smell right up to the mayor’s office in this fucking city.”

  “Have you made out a will?” Monty asked quietly.

  “What? Are you listening to me? Kowalski—”

  “Have you made any provision for your wife and children? Is there any legal document I should know about?”

  Jimmy stared at him. “What are you talking about?”

  “Whatever you did this time, you might not survive it.”

  “I didn’t—”

  Captain Burke walked into the room. He closed the door, walked up to the table, and pressed his hands flat against the surface, all his attention on Jimmy.

  “Your brother shouldn’t do this interview,” Burke said. “But I figured you would lie and stall and wheedle and waste everyone’s time if I had anyone else asking the questions. I’m not willing to waste anyone’s time, especially mine. So this is what i
s going to happen. Lieutenant Montgomery is going to have ten minutes to get information from you about an incident that occurred last night. I’m going to be standing on the other side of that glass, listening. If I’m convinced that you’ve provided accurate information, you’ll be free to leave. If I’m not convinced, you’ll be charged with mishandling human remains, accessory to murder, and cannibalism. And you will be relocated to a secure, undisclosed location by nightfall—the kind of place people like you never leave. I can, and will, make that happen.” He straightened and stepped away from the table, finally looking at Monty. “Your ten minutes starts now.”

  As soon as Burke left the room, Jimmy started in again. “What is this shit? I didn’t kill anybody. I was home last night.”

  Monty took the first photograph out of the folder and laid it between them. It showed a tattoo on a man’s forearm. “Do you recognize this tattoo? Do you know this man?”

  Jimmy looked at it—and hesitated a moment too long. “Never seen it.”

  Monty removed another photograph from the folder, which showed the whole forearm—and showed the ragged edges where something had bitten through elbow and wrist. “You sure? You were carrying this man’s forearm when Officer Kowalski arrested you. Which is why you could be charged with mishandling human remains as well as cannibalism.”

  Jimmy shook his head so violently Monty wondered if he would tear a muscle. “No way. No. That bastard is lying, trying to set me up. I bought a piece of special meat from the butcher shop and that Kowalski—”

  “Gods, Jimmy! Humans are the special meat. All the terra indigene in the Courtyard consider humans a prey animal, same as rabbits and deer. Anyone who enters the Courtyard without the Others’ permission is meat.”

  Jimmy stared at Monty, his eyes blank with shock.

  “I’ve been informed that a person or persons unknown broke into the Market Square butcher shop last night and stole all the meat. Since there was a delivery made yesterday, that equals a lot of beef and pork. Gone. So are the people who tried to steal it.”

  Jimmy blinked, seemed to come back to himself. “What do you mean, tried to steal it?”

  “They didn’t get away, didn’t leave the Courtyard. And the Others know you were involved in the theft.”

  “I was home last night.”

  “Yeah.” Monty smiled bitterly. “You’re always the one with the alibi if things go wrong. You’re as dirty as the men who do the job, but you’re always distant enough that you can’t be charged.”

  “So you can’t hold me for something I didn’t do.”

  Jimmy sounded like he always did—sure that he was going to walk away unscathed to start thinking up his next scheme. But not this time.

  Monty tapped the photograph of the full forearm. “The Others know you were involved, Jimmy. It doesn’t matter if you were at the butcher shop last night or home in bed. They know. And this was their way of telling you, and the police, that they know. But what they aren’t telling us is how many men entered the Courtyard last night. They haven’t left any identification for us to find, which they sometimes do. Whoever was in the Courtyard last night is dead. We know that.”

  “Then why aren’t you asking the freaks?” Jimmy demanded.

  “Human law doesn’t apply in the Courtyard. I told you: if humans aren’t invited in, we are meat. Right now, these men have disappeared. Maybe they were killed by other men and their bodies haven’t been found. Maybe they took the first bus out of town and walked away from their families. It happens. But if those men have families, have wives and children, those wives will never be able to get a death certificate, will never be able to get on with their lives or receive any assets their husbands had tucked away. Those women will spend the rest of their lives not knowing if they’re widows or abandoned. Would you want that for Sandee and your kids?”

  Jimmy wouldn’t think twice about something like that. Monty saw it in his eyes, in his face. He would leave Sandee wondering and wouldn’t care.

  “You knew him, Jimmy.”

  “I told you I didn’t.”

  “You’re lying. I know the signs.” Yes, he knew the signs. Jimmy was sly; he was cunning; he never told the truth if a lie would work. And he enjoyed beating people down with words and intimidating them with a large body and a big voice. As Jimmy had done to Sierra. As he was doing to young Frances, giving his son a nod of approval for doing the same.

  “Fine.” Monty put the photographs back in the folder. “You’ve been implicated in an attempted burglary that resulted in the deaths of six men, so you’ll be charged with accessory to—”

  “What are you saying?” Jimmy was sweating now and looking sick.

  “I’m saying Captain Burke was right. This is a waste of time, so you’ll be charged.”

  Now, for the first time, Cyrus James Montgomery truly looked afraid. “You giving up on me? What’s Mama going to say about that?”

  “I don’t think she’ll say anything when I tell her you had a chance to cooperate, but you refused to meet the conditions of your release and were sent to the place where dangerous criminals are held while they await trial.”

  “When I tell her my side of it—”

  “You’ll be gone. She won’t hear your side of it.” Monty leaned across the table. “And with you out of the picture, not filling her head with crap, Mama will believe whatever I tell her.”

  Oh yes. Jimmy was sweating now.

  Monty wondered if his brother remembered saying those exact words to him a couple of years after Monty left home and Jimmy hadn’t moved out of his parents’ home yet.

  “Bastard.” Jimmy looked like he wanted to spit in Monty’s face. Might have done it if someone hadn’t rapped on the glass at that moment, signaling that their time was up.

  Monty stood and reached for the folder.

  “There weren’t six of them,” Jimmy said suddenly.

  Monty sat.

  “Don’t think there were six,” Jimmy amended. “And maybe it was a little bit my fault, but not like you think.”

  He waited. Monty said nothing.

  “Saw the meat being delivered yesterday.” Jimmy shifted in his seat, as if he was uncomfortable all of a sudden. Monty could believe that. Jimmy did better when he had time to make up a story. “Seems a waste, bringing good meat like that to the freaks when they could be catching rats and squirrels and shit.”

  “I didn’t hear you complaining about the meat deliveries when you were eating at Meat-n-Greens or A Little Bite. Where did you think that food came from?” Monty asked.

  “Yeah, well, it seemed like a waste. And I was having a drink at a bar near the bus station and heard these men complaining that there wasn’t any meat in the shops and their women were bringing home tripe and shit like that instead of real food, and maybe I was a bit too full of drink and said how the Courtyard always had good meat, said I’d seen a delivery of steaks and pork chops and roasts and all kinds of food that was fit for a man to eat. And the four of them—there were four of them, not six—started buying me drinks and we were just talking about how hard it was now to take care of a family and they were asking about the butcher shop and maybe I told them more than I meant to—more than I remember saying, that’s for sure. Then I went home and I slept all night.”

  In the end, Monty had the name of the bar and the names the four men were known by in places like that. Hopefully it would be enough that the police could fill out DLU forms to give to the next of kin.

  “Can I go now?” Jimmy asked when Monty stood again.

  “I’ll find out.” He took a step away from the table, then stopped. “Jimmy, you should think hard about getting out of Lakeside and starting fresh somewhere else. You haven’t done anything to give the terra indigene here a reason to think well of you, and now they definitely have reason to think you’re an enemy.”

  “You th
ink I give a shit?”

  Didn’t take long for Jimmy to fall back into his entitlement mind-set.

  “You should,” Monty said quietly, “because there are beings in the Courtyard who are so powerful and dangerous that they can turn your brains to soup with just a look. Just a look, Jimmy. And now, because of this bit of stupidity, all the Others are going to be watching everything you do from now on.”

  Monty walked out of the interrogation room and leaned against the wall, exhausted.

  Four men had gone into the Courtyard last night. Only one had had time to let out a high-pitched, terrified scream.

  The door of the observation room opened and Commander Louis Gresh stepped out.

  “Captain Burke said I should drive your brother back to the apartment building,” Louis said.

  When no one else came out of the observation room, Monty asked, “Where is the captain?”

  “He’s kept Kowalski isolated in his office since your brother was brought in. He knew you’d get the truth out of Cyrus, or enough of it, and he figured watching Kowalski right now was more important.” Louis blew out a breath. “This shook up your boy something fierce.”

  “It shook all of us.” Monty looked at the ceiling. “The terra indigene aren’t human, but they have studied us, and, gods, they know how to send a message.”

  “Do you think your brother got that message?”

  “No. He’ll go on believing he can work this just like he worked his schemes in Toland. Despite the evidence right in front of him, he’ll be like a lot of other people who still want to pretend, maybe need to pretend, that there aren’t lethal repercussions when they mess with the Others.”

  Louis sighed. “It could have been worse.”

  “How?”

  “The Others could have waylaid Kowalski, made sure he wouldn’t cross paths with Cyrus. Then Cyrus would have brought the package home and opened it there. How much more shocking would it have been to cut the string, unwrap that package, and recognize the tattoo?”