by Anne Bishop
“‘They’re damn fools, the whole lot of them. My family has been raising horses and cattle here for four generations, and we have never had trouble with the terra indigene.’
“When asked about the loss of livestock to Wolves, Stewart Dixon told the reporter, ‘It’s called rent.’
“And now here’s a recap of the photographs that were sent to news stations all around the continent.”
Monty watched the photos appear on the TV one by one. No one spoke, not even the officers who had supported the HFL. Then the last photo appeared and remained on the screen.
“Oh, gods,” Monty whispered. The mug slipped from his hand. Had Meg Corbyn seen . . . ? Of course she had.
He looked toward the door where Burke stood. Yes, his captain recognized the Wolf on top of the mound of bodies. Burke gave him a nod.
“Lieutenant?” Kowalski said, suddenly beside him. “I’ll get the car.”
Monty walked out of the break room, his mind racing. The other photos had been terrible, but it was the half-shifted, recognizable face of Joe Wolfgard that made the loss of the Wolfgard in another part of Thaisia personal.
He doubted Simon Wolfgard would want to see a human today. He doubted Simon would want to see a police officer or be asked what ramifications these actions might have for Lakeside. But today he wasn’t going to the Courtyard as a human or a police officer. Today he was going as a friend.
• • •
Burke moved aside when Montgomery and Kowalski hurried out of the break room. Then he filled the doorway, preventing anyone else from leaving.
“Gentlemen, there is a war coming. Despite what the HFL may want you to believe, it won’t be against the terra indigene. It’s going to be humans against humans. It’s going to be between those who recognize that working with the Others is the only way to survive on this continent and those who mistakenly believe that killing the shifters will win us anything. It’s going to be between the so-called Wolf lovers and the HFL supporters.”
Burke scanned the room, noting who met his eyes and who looked away. “So I’m telling you now. If any of you, after looking at those pictures, are thinking of putting on an HFL pin again, I want the paperwork for your transfer or resignation on my desk first.” He gave them all a fierce smile. “I know. I’m not the station chief. I’m just the patrol captain and I don’t have any say about the personnel under other captains’ commands. But I’m telling you here and now, if you can’t—or won’t—fight alongside the Others in order to save this city, I don’t want you in this station, because being divided within the ranks will kill us all. I can’t do anything for the rest of the continent, but I’m going to do everything I can to save Lakeside, and, if the gods are merciful, saving Lakeside might help Governor Hannigan keep at least part of the Northeast Region open to human habitation.”
He turned away, then turned back. “Don’t try to call my bluff about this. I am standing with the Lakeside Courtyard because I think it’s the only way to save the people of this city. If you can’t stand with me, you need to be gone by the end of the day.”
He walked to his office and wasn’t surprised when Louis Gresh came in right behind him.
“That was quite a speech,” Louis said.
“You think so?”
“You usually get what you want when it comes to having men transferred out of this station, but . . . a humans-against-humans war when there’s another potential enemy?”
“They didn’t think it through.” Burke settled in his chair. “You kill off one kind of predator, you leave a void. Sooner or later, something will fill that void, and in this case, I think it will be sooner rather than later. The HFL wants to talk about land reclamation? They have no idea what they started—and I have no idea who among us will still be here to see where it ends.”
• • •
Deciding on visible police presence, Monty asked Kowalski to park in the Courtyard’s customer parking lot.
“Check on the Denbys, warn them about the news reports,” Monty said.
“Sure not something the children should see.” Kowalski seemed about to say something more but changed his mind.
Monty smiled. “I’ll check on them after I talk to Simon.”
“Not sure what all they’re doing, but the girls are working with Meg at the Liaison’s Office this morning, and Theral is at the medical office.”
“Then check on them too.”
The lights weren’t on in Howling Good Reads, but the front door was open. That door wasn’t usually open anymore, so Monty went in cautiously, his hand brushing against his police issue revolver.
“Simon?”
A sound. Something moving on the other side of the main display table.
Careful, careful. He could draw his weapon against a human intruder but not against a Wolf. Not today.
Then Simon stood up, grabbing the table for balance.
“Simon.”
“You did this.” The voice sounded rough, not quite human. “You did this.”
“I saw the picture. Simon, I am so sorry about Joe.” What was he dealing with here? Shock? Rage? Overwhelming grief?
“How much human will the terra indigene keep? Well, you showed them the answer, didn’t you? You showed them this as an example of what it means to be human.”
Monty didn’t have time to brace for the attack before Simon grabbed him and slammed him against the bookshelves.
“We tried to work with . . .” Simon snarled. “We . . . tried. But you did this!”
More than grief. More than rage and shock.
“What are you afraid of?” Monty asked. “Us? Humans?”
Simon released him and stepped back, shaking his head. “Fear you? You’re going to be as good as extinct soon. Why should we fear you?”
Monty swallowed hard. “Did Meg tell you that?”
“No. Jean did.”
Gods above and below.
Vlad stepped out of the back of the store. “Simon, Meg was looking for you.” He glanced at the counter. “She’s at the Liaison’s Office now. You need to convince her to go home, let someone else take care of the mail and packages today. The humans will be talking. She doesn’t need to hear more than she already knows.”
Simon looked around, as if wondering why he was in the bookstore. “I didn’t mean to be gone long. I . . .” He headed for the back of the store, but he stopped and wouldn’t meet Monty’s eyes. “We learn from other predators. Remember that, Lieutenant.”
Then he was gone, and Monty was left alone with Vlad. “Is there anything any of us can do to help?”
Vlad walked over to the checkout counter. He took one copy of the Lakeside News off the stack, folded it, and placed it under the counter. “You could get rid of the rest of these. I’d rather not put them in our recycling bin. Too much chance of someone seeing what they shouldn’t.”
“Of course.” He’d take them to the station. He didn’t think Eve Denby would want the front-page photo in her recycling bin either. “Anything else?”
“What else do you think the police can do?”
“I wasn’t asking as a police officer.”
Silence. Then Vlad said softly, “Ask again in a couple of days.”
Monty left the bookstore, dumped the newspapers in the backseat of the patrol car, then walked across the street to the Denbys’ apartment.
Mother Court was in full swing at the breakfast table as the young wrongdoers tried to get their sentence reduced.
Wrong day to ask about watching TV, Monty thought.
“No means no,” Eve said.
“But I got hurt,” Robert protested, displaying his scabbed elbows and knees before pointing out the bruises caused by Nathan’s teeth.
“If there are any further outbursts over your sentence, you will be held in contempt of court, and ‘no dessert’ will be added to your sentence.”
The girls, Monty noticed, were keeping very quiet. And judging by the look in Lizzy’s eyes, he needed to ha
ve a talk with her about the injury she might cause if she whacked someone—like Robert—with Grr Bear since her new buddy had a wooden head and paws.
Then again, the boy was being a bit woodenheaded too.
“As your father, and your attorney, I advise you to accept the sentence you already have and not give the court any reason to add to it,” Pete said.
That ended all discussion. Monty accepted a cup of coffee and a piece of toast—and wondered how much longer those things would be an ordinary part of a meal.
After the children went to their rooms to make their beds and do a general tidying for inspection, Eve poured more coffee for the three adults.
“We heard,” Pete said quietly. “Saw just enough of the morning news to . . . Gods.”
“Anything we can do?” Eve asked.
“A question to ask in a couple of days.” Monty rose and put his cup and plate in the kitchen sink. A moment later, Eve stood beside him.
“What happens in a couple of days?”
He looked out the window at a pleasant summer day. Then he sighed. “I wish I knew.”
CHAPTER 40
Moonsday, Juin 25
Computers in select newsrooms in each region of Thaisia chugged away as they downloaded a digital photo sent from the newspaper in Bennett. When the download was complete and a copy printed out for editors to review, most laughed harshly or swore or looked at coworkers and said, “What the . . . ?”
The photo was of a sign made from old boards nailed to a post. Painted in red were the words WE LERNED FROM YU.
Intuit editors had a very bad feeling when they saw the photo, and they sounded an alarm to all Intuit communities within reach. Most of the editors in charge of the newspapers in human cities decided it was some kind of prank to waste front-page space, but some sent a reporter to check out the potential story.
And a few television stations, after receiving the photo, sent reporters and cameras to Bennett to find out about the sign as a follow-up story to the Humans First and Last movement’s triumphant land reclamation.
CHAPTER 41
Windsday, Juin 27
A young television reporter watched the land rush by as the train sped toward the town of Bennett.
“Think that’s the same sign?” another reporter asked, pointing out the window.
WE LERNED FROM YU.
“Didn’t learn much,” someone else in the car said with a sneer.
The young reporter looked around the car and frowned. Reporters and their cameramen from various newspapers and television stations were the only passengers. Sure, there had been a travel lockdown in the Northeast by the loony governor, but that was over and done—just some kind of political maneuver. And there had been other people boarding the train in Shikago. Maybe the railroad had reserved a car for reporters?
WE LERNED FROM YU.
The reporter checked his watch. Another of those signs and the Bennett railway station just minutes away now.
Funny how the Bennett newspaper editor who had sent that first photo hadn’t responded to e-mails or phone calls from any of the TV stations or newspapers that sent out reporters for the follow-up story. It was almost like the man couldn’t be bothered with them after sending out that lure.
The train pulled into the station.
No passengers waiting to board. No station personnel in sight.
The young reporter disembarked with the rest of the newsmen. An odd silence filled the station, a silence that seemed to seep into his skin and awaken a primal understanding.
The newsmen left the station in a group, looking for a taxi or bus so they wouldn’t have to haul their equipment. What they found were cars in and around the streets, many parked haphazardly, as if the drivers had left the vehicles in a hurry.
No people walking. No music coming from radios or television programs drifting out of open windows.
Some stores were closed. Others had lights on and doors open.
A cameraman suddenly stopped and gasped, “Gods above and below.” He ran down an alley toward whatever he’d spotted, and the rest of the newsmen followed him to open land beyond the buildings.
The young reporter caught up to the others and stared at the mound of bodies. Young. Old. Some wearing the uniforms of their profession. Others wearing casual clothes. In front of the mound was another of those signs: WE LERNED FROM YU.
It’s the whole town, the reporter thought, feeling his gorge rise in response to hearing someone else throwing up. Something killed the whole town and piled the bodies to imitate the Wolf packs that were wiped out by the HFL, down to the last pup.
He shuddered. “They’re still here,” he whispered as he backed away, trying to look everywhere at once—and wondering if any of the humans in the town had seen what had killed them. “We have to get back to the train, have to get away. They’re still here.”
Cameramen shot a bit of footage. Newspaper reporters snapped digital photos. But the fear of the train pulling out of the station and leaving them behind snuffed out any desire to do a live report in a dead town.
As they hurried back to the train station, the young reporter heard a sound that might have been the wind in the nearby trees—or the sound of something laughing.
To: Tolya Sanguinati
Grandfather Erebus has decided that you will take control of the town of Bennett. Sanguinati from the Toland Courtyard are on their way to you now, along with a few of the Wolfgard who worked with you. Some of the terra indigene from Toland will join Stavros when he takes over the rule of Talulah Falls. The rest will head to the Midwest and Northwest regions to manage a few of the reclaimed towns that have railway depots. Those places are still of value to us.
Give this warning to the humans who helped save the Wolf pups at Prairie Gold: there is no safety in the dark.
—Vlad
To: Vladimir Sanguinati
Your message received and understood. I have considered what businesses are immediately necessary and will ask Jesse Walker for her recommendations. While having some Wolfgard in Bennett as one kind of enforcer would be beneficial, ask some of the Toland Wolves to come to the terra indigene settlement at Prairie Gold. The pack’s nanny is the only surviving adult Wolf there, and someone needs to teach the juveniles how to hunt. Much bison meat has already been cached, so the youngsters can be fed for some time, but the Intuits, no matter how well intentioned, cannot teach young Wolves all they need to know.
Also, all the humans who ran the ranches between Prairie Gold and Bennett were killed. Most of the fences that divided the land were torn up and are now fearsome balls of barbed wire and posts. Tobias Walker tells me the beef cattle can manage on their own for the summer, but there are other animals that require tending, including the ones in town that humans kept as pets and the working animals on the ranches. We are doing what we can, but there are not enough of us to care for that many animals as well as handle so many other tasks. Would the Elders allow some humans—Intuits or Simple Life folk, preferably—to come to Bennett under the Sanguinati’s supervision to deal with such things?
—Tolya
CHAPTER 42
Thaisday, Juin 28
Meg tried not to hover while Henry measured the drawer where she wanted to keep the prophecy card box.
“You’ll want handles to lift the box out of the drawer without catching your fingers,” Henry said.
“Okay.” She hadn’t considered the mechanics of lifting the box. “I would like a lock. With a key. Two keys.”
The Grizzly gave her a long look. “We can get a lock and keys.”
“It doesn’t have to be a fancy box.”
Another long look. “You’ll take what I make.”
“I just meant . . .” Something, not a prickle or a buzz, whispered across her skin. This wasn’t a prophecy or vision. This was a flash of understanding. Despite—or perhaps because of—the turmoil going on throughout Thaisia, Henry wasn’t working on his sculptures, but he needed something to occupy
his time when he had to stay in human form to help Simon. “Thank you. Umm . . . Ruth and Merri Lee said there should be a fabric lining. They’re going to look at information on tarot and fortune-telling cards to see if the box is supposed to have a certain kind of fabric, and then they’ll check with the seamstress and tailor to find out what might be available.”
“Tell them to talk to me about the size I’ll need.” Henry thought for a moment. “No, I’ll talk to Ruth. The Business Association has other things to discuss with her.”
“She’s not in trouble, is she?” Meg couldn’t think of anything Ruth—or Merri Lee or Theral, for that matter—could have done that might upset the Business Association.
“No one in the female pack is in trouble. At least, not with us.” Henry closed the drawer and came over to stand beside her. “No more packages arrived that we should know about? You would tell us if there were?”
She blinked at his fierce tone. “Why wouldn’t I tell you? We aren’t receiving many packages for individuals. I don’t think anyone in the Courtyard is ordering anything from catalogs right now, so that’s not unusual.”
“Nothing from that Jack Fillmore who is hunting Theral?”
Oh. That kind of package. “No. Nothing since those chocolates. Maybe he’s left Lakeside.”
“He has the scent of his prey, Meg.” Henry’s voice was a soft rumble. “He’ll keep hunting until he catches her—or we catch him.”
“Then I’ll keep watching.”
“Arroo!”
Meg looked through the doorway into the front room. “So will Nathan.”
Henry folded the paper with the measurements for the box and tucked it into his pocket.
“Henry?” Meg considered the wisdom of asking the question. “Never mind.”
Henry left the Liaison’s Office. Meg listened but didn’t hear the gate to his yard open. Must be going directly to his meeting with Ruth.