The Others 03 Vision in Silver (22 page)

Watersday, Maius 12

“I
’m sorry, Meg,” Merri Lee said. “But I think Henry is right. You shouldn’t have made that cut, especially when you were feeling out of control.”

They were sitting in the back room of the Liaison’s Office making a record of what had happened to precipitate Meg’s need to make the cut, including everything Lizzy had said while the pins-and-needles feeling escalated to the painful buzz. Now Meg pushed away from the table and went into the sorting room, looking for something to do that would give her an excuse to end this discussion.

“That’s not what you wanted to hear.” Merri Lee followed Meg into the sorting room and set the pad of paper and pen on the counter.

“I
had
to cut!” Meg shouted. “Why doesn’t anyone understand that?”

“Maybe no one understands it because no one else sees it that way,” Merri Lee replied hotly. “You screwed up, and now you’re trying to justify your actions.”

“Lizzy . . .”

“Threw a hissy fit and tried to get her own way. Maybe she’s a spoiled brat and thinks she should always get her own way. Maybe she’s been misbehaving—and getting away with it—because her mother caved when she started whining and Lieutenant Montgomery wasn’t there to insist on good behavior. Or maybe she’s acting up because she’s only six or seven years old and has been through a lot in the past twenty-four hours.” Merri Lee blew out a breath. “Look,
Meg, you tried to do something nice by showing her the ponies. They’re chunky and they look kind of cute in a grumpy sort of way. And everything was fine until she started going on about
riding
a pony, right?”

Meg laid a hand against her waist, feeling the bandage over the cut. “Yes, but then . . .”

“Then you got that prickling warning that something was going on,” Merri Lee interrupted. “Which escalated into feeling so bad and desperate that you would have done who knows how much harm to yourself if you’d been alone with the razor.”

Tears stung Meg’s eyes. She’d expected support, not someone else telling her she was wrong, that she couldn’t cope with the world outside a sterile cell.

“I did it for Lizzy,” she insisted.

Merri Lee made a face. “All right, let’s take a look at that. You did it for Lizzy because you were absolutely sure the prickling you felt was a prophecy about Lizzy. But if you told me everything you remember, Lizzy wasn’t the only person with you. You focused on Lizzy, so the visions you saw were about Lizzy. But maybe the initial prickling had really been a warning about trouble for Nathan or Jester or the ponies or one of the Elementals, since Fire was standing there when Lizzy made the grand statement that Grandma would have let her ride a pony. Which may or may not be true, by the way. You can’t exactly call Grandma and ask, can you? That prickling might have been about
you
, warning you that you needed to get away from Lizzy and the Pony Barn because something might happen to
you
if you stayed. Did you even consider that?”

Meg stared at Merri Lee. “You think I should have walked away.”

“Yes, I do. Your skin prickles several times a day. We’ve all seen you rub your arms or legs. But you don’t cut yourself every time you get that feeling. Why are those times different from what happened today?”

“Sometimes the pins-and-needles feeling fades away.” Meg rubbed her arm, not because she had that feeling, just as a way to recall what she usually did. “When the sugar lumps were poisoned, I knew the danger was in the back room of the Liaison’s Office, but I had to cut in order to see the vision that would tell someone
what
was wrong.”

“How did you know the danger was in the back room?”

“The feeling went away when I left that room and came back when I went in.”

Merri Lee picked up the pen and began scribbling on the pad of paper. “So
the prickling goes away when you put some distance between yourself and a person or an object, giving you an indication of
what
might be important. That means the prickling is a kind of dowsing rod. A tingle might mean misplaced car keys—a minor thing that’s not worth a cut—while a buzz that causes physical discomfort usually means something really important. Is that accurate?”

Meg nodded.

“So if you’d walked away and then had each person approach you, you might have realized what you were feeling wasn’t about Lizzy at all.” Merri Lee put the pen down and took Meg’s hands in her own. “Lizzy was on overload, which is understandable. But so were you. Going with her on your own wasn’t the best idea. And having Nathan with you doesn’t count because he didn’t know what to do with a human child throwing a hissy fit.”

“He would have nipped a puppy. He’s nipped Skippy plenty when the two of them are the office watch Wolves.”

“There you go.”

Meg sighed. “What should I do?”

“If I were you, I’d call that bakery in Ferryman’s Landing and buy Nathan his own box of Wolf cookies as an apology for upsetting him. And then . . .” With a tight smile, Merri Lee released Meg’s hands and stepped away.

“And then?”

“And then Meg, the Trailblazer, should think about what you would want other blood prophets to learn from what happened today. I made some notes. You add your thoughts; then Ruth can fix it up a bit and give it to Vlad to send out.”

After Merri Lee left, Meg looked at the clock. Too early to close the office. Deliveries had dwindled, but there was still a chance something might arrive.

Sighing, she went into the front room and saw Simon in the passenger seat of the minivan right before it pulled out of the delivery area and drove away from the Courtyard.

Watersday, Maius 12

“T
he sign says ‘Do not park in driveway,’” Blair said.

“There’s nothing close on the street, so we’re parking here,” Simon replied. “I don’t want too many humans seeing a Wolf.” He looked back at Nathan, who had refused to shift out of Wolf form once someone else could take care of Meg. “You still want to come in with us?”

Still sounds shaky,
Simon thought. But he gave Nathan credit for resisting the temptation to lick Meg’s blood once the cut was made. He hadn’t been able to resist when he’d found her after she’d made an uncontrolled cut last month. Then again, he hadn’t had Fire standing there, ready to scorch him for his own good.

Blair pulled into the driveway next to Montgomery’s apartment building. Simon got out and opened the side door for Nathan. Then the three of them went into the building and up the stairs.

None of the Wolves were feeling friendly toward humans right now, so Simon didn’t bother to suppress the growl when he saw Montgomery and Burke waiting for them just inside the apartment doorway.

“Thanks for coming,” Montgomery said. “I appreciate it.”

“The lieutenant suspects that someone searched his apartment after Lizzy arrived in Lakeside yesterday,” Burke said. “I’m guessing it was sometime early this morning.”

Simon stiffened, insulted. “We’re not some damn sniffer dogs!”

“No, sir, you’re not,” Montgomery said, his usually courteous voice sounding strained. “But you can confirm if someone was here without me going through any official channels.”

Simon thought that through. Like wolves,
terra indigene
Wolves maintained territories where they hunted for food or grew foods their human forms enjoyed. But Wolves living in different territories would work together to protect themselves and the wild country from an invader. He’d thought of the police precincts in those terms: different packs who guarded a specific territory but would work together to guard the whole city of Lakeside. “You don’t trust the other packs of police.”

Neither human spoke. Finally Burke said, “That will depend on what you can tell us.”

Nathan said as he pushed past the two humans.

Simon and Blair stepped inside. Montgomery closed the door.

While Nathan systematically explored the living room, Simon stepped toward the kitchen and sniffed. Then he looked at Montgomery. “Something stinks in there.”

“I meant to take out the kitchen waste when I got home yesterday,” Montgomery said, looking embarrassed.

Nathan reported as he sniffed the back and sides of the sofa.

When Simon relayed the remark, Montgomery nodded. “The sofa was here when I rented the place, left by the previous tenant. I haven’t replaced it yet.”

Nathan said as he checked out a bookcase before returning to the sofa.

“Kowalski was here?” Simon asked.

Montgomery nodded. “He packed a bag for me yesterday.” He blinked. “You can tell he was here? You recognize his scent?”

“Of course,” Simon replied, watching Blair check out the kitchen, including fridge and cupboards. No reason for intruders to look in those places for the Lizzy or Boo Bear, but Wolves didn’t get invitations to look at human dens. Why waste the opportunity?

Blair said. Then he paused near the waste container. He
crouched and sniffed around the top before getting down on his hands and knees to sniff the foot pedal that lifted the lid.

Simon watched Blair but noticed how Monty winced, probably thinking it was the garbage that was interesting . . . and noticed how Burke focused on the Wolf.

Blair said.

Nathan reported.

Simon relayed the observations as the other two Wolves checked out the rest of the apartment.

“Ah . . .” Montgomery hurried forward when even human ears could hear Blair rummaging in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom.

The three of them reached the bedroom in time to see Nathan shift his forepaws enough to pull open dresser drawers and poke around. Abandoning the dresser, the Wolf sniffed the clothes in the closet before standing on his hind legs in order to sniff the shelf above the clothes rod.

Finished with the closet, Nathan poked his head under the bed, then pulled back, sneezing.

Judging by the look on Montgomery’s face, Simon didn’t have to relay that comment.

Montgomery sighed. “If it was my mama noticing the dust, she would have said, ‘Crispin James, you are disrespecting your home.’”

“Crispin James?” Simon said. “Not Montgomery?”

“Mama calls me Crispin or Crispin James. The rest of the family calls me C.J., and my friends call me Monty.”

“Why do humans need so many names?”

“I do not know.” After a moment, he said, “Sometimes names represent a different aspect of the same person. Crispin James is the son of Twyla and James Montgomery. Lieutenant Montgomery is a police officer. Same person, but the people around me have different expectations, need different things from me.”

“We each have one name,” Simon said.

“That’s not quite true,” Monty said. “I’ve heard you referred to as the Wolfgard when other
terra indigene
talk about you as the leader of the Courtyard. And then you have Meg Corbyn and
cs759.
Same person.”

“No.”
Simon showed his teeth to emphasize the denial. “One was property. The other is
Meg
.”

“Same person, but what she was, and is, called carries weight and meaning, for herself and for the people around her,” Monty countered.

The blood prophet pups on Great Island need to have names to help them learn they aren’t property anymore,
Simon thought as Nathan gave the bathroom and kitchen a quick sniff while Blair went into the bedroom. Something to discuss with Steve Ferryman since the Intuit might already know some suitable names.

That settled, at least momentarily, Simon watched the humans without making it obvious. Burke remained focused on the Wolves. Montgomery, on the other hand, looked like he regretted calling the Courtyard and letting those sensitive noses poke into every corner of his life.

Blair and Nathan returned to the living room.

“Two scents that aren’t Kowalski or Montgomery,” Blair said. “We don’t recognize them, so it’s no one who has been around the Courtyard.”

Simon saw the tension drain from both men. Not a betrayal from someone Montgomery would trust.

“Thank you for your help,” Burke said.

Simon looked around the apartment. No pack here to help guard the young. No one to protect the Lizzy when Montgomery had to do police things.

Humans were like sticky vines. If you didn’t escape at the first touch, you got more and more tangled up.

Most of them were meat, would always be meat. But, damn it, now when he looked at some of them he just didn’t see them as meat anymore, even when he wanted to bite them for a transgression.

“Predators have found your den,” he said reluctantly, remembering how Montgomery and Burke had helped him protect Meg. “The Lizzy can’t stay here.” Hearing Nathan’s soft, distressed whine, he added with some heat, “But I don’t want her playing with Meg or Nathan until she understands how much trouble she caused today by being a whiny human.”

Judging by the way Montgomery stiffened, his hackles would have risen in defense of his young—if humans had hackles.

But Simon heard more regret than anger in Montgomery’s voice when the man said, “I am sorry that Meg and Nathan were harmed by Lizzy’s actions. Young humans will misbehave and make mistakes.”

“Young Wolves misbehave and make mistakes too,” Simon said. “But for the well-being of the pack, the young must learn from mistakes and be disciplined when they misbehave.”

is
just a pup,> Nathan grumbled. that
hard.>

will
nip,> Blair said.

Simon agreed. They just wouldn’t tell Montgomery. And if the Lizzy was smart, she wouldn’t tell him either.

“I appreciate you allowing us to stay in the Courtyard while I sort things out,” Montgomery said. “I’ll make sure Lizzy understands she has to follow your rules.”

“We’ve been here long enough,” Blair grumbled.

Simon nodded.

“We talked to a bakery on Market Street and have some samples of the food Nadine Fallacaro can offer for Tess,” Montgomery said. “If the food meets with Tess’s approval, she can talk to Ms. Fallacaro about placing an order for A Little Bite.”

“I’ll help them load the bakery boxes and the cooler, Lieutenant,” Burke said. “Why don’t you pack what you’ll need for a few more days?”

“And don’t forget to take out the waste in the kitchen,” Simon said. “In a couple more days, even other humans will be able to smell it.”

They went out. Blair opened the minivan so that Nathan could get out of sight while Simon walked across the street with Burke to fetch the food.

“The food in the cooler should be put in a fridge as soon as you get back to the Courtyard,” Burke said as they walked back to the minivan.

Something in Burke’s voice reminded Simon of an annoyed Grizzly.

“When Wolves are hunting, they’ll follow the scent of prey a long time,” Simon said. “You didn’t think the predators would follow the Lizzy?”

“They’re not after Lizzy,” Burke growled as he and Simon placed the bakery boxes and cooler on the floor behind the front passenger’s seat. “They’re after the jewels. And these people have already killed a woman and broken into a police officer’s apartment because of those jewels.”

“Can’t you keep Boo Bear in the cage?” Just saying the word
cage
made Simon’s canines lengthen, but he tried not to make any other shifts.

“Arrest the bear as a jewel thief?” Burke sounded amused.

Not making fun of me,
Simon decided.
Just amused by the idea.
Still, it was an opportunity to ask questions. And if Burke wouldn’t tell him, he’d just ask Kowalski or Debany why it was amusing.

“On TV shows, the police have a cage for evidence,” Simon said. “Doesn’t your police station have a cage like that?”

“It does.” Burke no longer looked amused. “But I think those jewels need to be tucked away in an undisclosed location until we find out where they came from—and who wants them back. Whoever killed Elayne Borden shouldn’t profit from it.”

Simon studied the police captain. Then he took out his mobile phone and called Jester Coyotegard, someone who delighted in mischief.

“Pony Barn,” Jester said.

“It’s Simon. If you wanted to keep a bag of jewels away from bad humans but didn’t want them to know you kept the jewels, what would you do?”

“Go to Sparkles and Junk and replace the jewels with sparklies that are about the same size and color,” Jester replied promptly. “Of course, if I was planning to give the real jewels back to someone in the future, I wouldn’t leave them with the Crows.”

Good point. “Thanks, Jester.” Simon ended the call and looked at Burke. “Maybe, after the Lizzy is asleep, someone could drive Boo Bear to the Courtyard to visit his kin. And maybe that someone could pick him up again before the Lizzy is awake.”

“Maybe someone could,” Burke said, smiling. He stepped away from the minivan. “Thanks for all your help.”

As soon as Simon got in and closed the door, Blair backed the minivan out of the driveway and drove back to the Courtyard.

He’d had enough, and all Simon wanted now was to get out of this skin. But as they pulled into the Courtyard’s Main Street entrance, Meg rushed out of the Liaison’s Office.

“Is Nathan with you?” she asked, sounding breathless. “I haven’t been able to find him anywhere.”

“He’s in the back,” Blair said.

“Can I talk to him?”

Simon turned enough to look in the back of the van.

Nathan sighed, but he stood up.

Simon made room for the Wolf to hop out of the minivan. He watched Meg go back into the office with Nathan. Then he sighed, closed the doors, and said to Blair, “I’ll meet you at A Little Bite.”

He walked down the access way and over to the coffee shop’s back door,
resigned to being human a while longer. He might as well check in with Vlad after talking to Tess.

There were plenty of things he still needed to do before going home. So no one would think he was waiting around to find out why Meg wanted to talk to Nathan.

*   *   *

Meg let Nathan out the back door of the Liaison’s Office and watched him hustle over to the back door of Howling Good Reads.

Reporting to Simon, naturally.

After closing the door, she went into the bathroom to wash her face.

Anger. Wariness. Distrust. She didn’t have any training images to identify emotions on a Wolf’s face, but she spent enough time around Nathan that she could interpret his expressions.

Had
the cut been unnecessary? Everyone else thought so.

Meg turned on the taps, splashed water on her face, then remained bent over the sink.

The pins-and-needles feeling was irritating, often painful. But it
was
a kind of dowsing rod that had been evolving since she’d come to the Courtyard. So maybe if she had walked away . . .

No. No, no,
no
. There
had
been danger for someone at the Pony Barn. That painful buzz
had
been a warning about an enemy. . . .

Meg clenched her teeth against the sudden buzz that filled both her arms. She jerked upright and saw her face in the mirror above the sink.

The buzz faded.

Meg stared at her reflection.

“It was me,” she whispered. “I was the enemy.”

She took a step back from the sink, laid a hand over the bandage at her waist, and thought about what Merri Lee had said:
And then Meg, the Trailblazer, should think about what you would want other blood prophets to learn from what happened today.