Written in Red (15 page)

Meg looked at the clock and reluctantly closed the book. She got up long enough to put her mug in the sink and go to the bathroom. Tomorrow was a rest day, and the Liaison’s Office and most of the Courtyard stores were closed. Hopefully that didn’t include the grocery store. Apples for the ponies on Moonsday? She would need to cut them just before the ponies arrived. Otherwise the chunks would turn brown from the air. She knew that from training images. The girls had spent an entire week one year looking at captioned pictures of different kinds of fruit, from fresh to rotted. In a prophecy, seeing fruit that had been rotting for a specific number of days could indicate the time a person had been missing . . . or dead.

Meg let out a gusty sigh. Maybe her kind always saw the world as images that could be recalled to create a whole picture for someone else. Or maybe it was the way she had been trained to think and learn. Jean hadn’t used the standard images all the time, but she had been unusual, difficult. Different.

You’ll have a chance to escape this life, Meg. You’ll have a chance to be someone for yourself. When the chance comes, take it and run—and don’t come back. Don’t ever let them bring you back here.

What about you?

The Walking Names made sure I can’t run, but I’ll be free someday. I saw that too.

The prickling under Meg’s skin started in her feet and ran up both legs. She stifled a cry, not wanting Henry to hear her and come pounding on the door, demanding an explanation.

She walked toward the bathroom, hoping to find something in the medicine chest that would ease the feeling.

She knew what would make the prickling go away, but it was too soon to cut again. Besides, she also knew how much it hurt to hold in a prophecy, and speaking without a listener would relieve the pressure but it wouldn’t do her any good otherwise.

As she tried to talk herself out of making another cut, the prickling faded on its own.

Meg splashed some water on her face, then returned to the living area of her apartment, determined to focus on the present and not the past because, most likely, her present could be measured in days or weeks.

The Moonsday treat. How many apples for how many ponies? She’d better bring extra in case more ponies showed up. How many lived in the Courtyard anyway? She’d have to ask Jester, since he was the one who looked after them.

Her mind on ponies and apples and what she might do on her day off, Meg pulled aside the drape and looked down at the street—and forgot all about sleeping.

The man was there again. She couldn’t make out his features, but he was wearing the same dark coat and watch cap as the man she’d seen the other night. She was sure of it.

As she watched, he crossed Crowfield Avenue, heading straight for the glass door that provided street access to the apartments. But that door was locked. She was still safe because that door was locked.

Training image. Hands manipulating slim metal instruments to open a lock.

A locked door wouldn’t keep her safe. Panic held her frozen at the window. Then the prickling returned in her legs as she heard a sound she couldn’t identify. Her hands and arms began to tingle as she remembered the last time she and Jean had spoken.

Don’t ever let them bring you back here.

Meg bolted across the room, certain now that the man had been sent by the Controller.

Couldn’t get out. Locked in, just like before when she lived in the compound! No, not like before. Now
she
had the keys. The dead bolt just needed a key.

She scrambled for the keys in her purse, panting as her shaking hands tried to fit the key in the lock.

Was the man coming up the stairs? Creeping down the hallway? If she opened the door, would he be right there, waiting to grab her?

The tingling in her hands became a buzz that was so painful she dropped the keys. Unable to escape, she pounded on the door and screamed, “Henry! Henry!” Could he hear her?
Please, gods, let him hear me!

She felt as well as heard the roar that filled the hallway, followed by a startled cry and the clatter of boots.

Racing to the window, Meg saw the man running across the street, angling for the corner and disappearing from sight. Retracing her steps, she picked up the keys with shaking hands and finally managed to open the door.

Henry stood at the end of the hallway, looking down the stairs. She couldn’t see his expression—the lights from his apartment and hers didn’t reach that far, and he hadn’t turned on the hallway light—but she had the impression he was very angry.

“Henry?” she said hesitantly. “Should I call someone?”

“Who would you call?” he asked, sounding more curious than angry.

“I don’t know. The police? Or someone in the Courtyard?”

He walked back to her door and studied her. Then he shook his head. “No need to call anyone. I’ll take a look around now and talk to Simon in the morning. Keep your door locked, Meg, and you’ll be all right.”

No, she wouldn’t be all right. She couldn’t explain that to Henry, so she closed the door and turned the key in the lock. Then she pressed her ear against the door, listening as she counted slowly.

She reached one hundred before Henry walked back down the hallway to the stairs. As soon as she was sure he wouldn’t hear her, she moved with controlled desperation, changing into jeans and a sweater, packing up a small bag of toiletries, tucking her book, a jar candle, and box of matches into one of the zippered carry bags. She rolled her pillow into the spare blanket from the chest at the end of her bed. Then she put her coat and boots on and held her breath while she turned the key, listening as hard as she could for Henry’s footsteps.

She slipped out of her apartment and locked up, then fled to the back entrance and down the stairs. She hurried to the Liaison’s Office, fumbled to get the door open, and let out a sob of relief when she was inside.

Just as exposed here as in her apartment. Just as alone, since the shops and the consulate wouldn’t be open tomorrow. But no one knew she was here. The low light in the front part of the office was always on and wouldn’t attract attention. Light from the candle would be visible only from the window in the sorting room, and that window looked out on the yard and sculpture garden behind Henry’s studio.

She would be safe here tonight—or as safe as she could be.

Unwilling to turn on the overhead lights, she slipped off her boots, then padded her way to the sorting room, dropping the pillow and blanket on the table before going to the counter that ran under the window. Retrieving the candle and matches from her carry bag, she lit the candle. She didn’t need to cut her skin to figure out the Controller had found her. It was just a matter of time before his man found a way to reclaim her.

Just a matter of time.

Spreading the blanket out on the sorting table, Meg climbed up and got as comfortable as she could on her hard, makeshift bed.

In the western part of the continent, where the
terra indigene
Grizzlies ruled as many Courtyards as the Wolves, some humans called his first form spirit bear.

Spirit bear moved through the world unseen, but some could sense his passing. Some would know he was there before he took on the tangible shape that had teeth and claws.

Now Henry followed the stranger’s trail until it ended farther up the street where the man’s vehicle had been parked.

Turning back to the Courtyard, he went to the glass door and studied the broken lock as he considered what it meant.

So much fear behind Meg’s door, so much desperation when she screamed his name.

If he hadn’t wanted to be close to the wood tonight, would she have disappeared, leaving them to think she was just another human who had used them for a few days’ shelter? Or would the broken lock on the door and the scent of a stranger stir up Simon and the rest of the
terra indigene
who lived here?

Turning away from the door, Henry walked up to the corner and turned left, following the boundary of the Courtyard, not sure what he was looking for but letting instinct guide him.

He prowled the delivery area, taking in the scents around the front of the Liaison’s Office and the consulate. The stranger’s scent wasn’t there, but moving closer to the sorting-room delivery doors, he picked up another scent that was fresher than it should be.

Moving around the office to the yard behind his studio, he saw the flicker of light in the sorting room. Taking up the full Grizzly form, Henry braced a paw on the wall and looked in the window.

Meg, sleeping on the sorting table.

Meg, who wasn’t in the apartment where someone would expect to find her at this time of night.

Moving away from the window, Henry called,

Five of them answered his call, landing on the wall that separated his studio from the delivery area.

Allison asked.

he said.

Two of the owls flew off, taking up position on the roof of the consulate. Another flew up to the roof of his studio. Allison and a juvenile male remained on the wall.

Satisfied that he would have plenty of warning if the stranger returned, Henry ambled back to the efficiency apartment, changed to human form, and retrieved his clothes where he had left them in the stairwell. He made himself a cup of strong black tea generously laced with honey, then settled into the rocking chair near the window that gave him a view of the Liaison’s Office. As he drank his tea, he wondered about the female who had suddenly come into their lives.

Throughout the rest of the night, he wondered a lot.

And he wondered what Simon was going to say in the morning.

CHAPTER 6

S
imon got out of the shower and rubbed the towel briskly over his skin. He didn’t like conforming to the way humans chopped up days into little boxes. The sun and moon and change of seasons should be enough for anyone. But if he
had
to conform in order to run a human-type business, he shouldn’t have to think about it on the one day each week when he could live as Wolf from one sunrise to the next.

Earthday was the day of rest, the day the Courtyard was closed to humans so that the
terra indigene
could run and play and be what they were: earth natives. It was the one day he didn’t have to shift into the skin that was useful but never felt like
home.

Because he dealt with humans so much, he
needed
a day with the Wolfgard,
needed
his own kind. That was the trap for Others who had excessive contact with humans—if you adapted too much in order to deal with them, you ran the risk of forgetting who you were and you could end up being neither and nothing. That was why even Sam’s distress at seeing him as a Wolf wasn’t enough for him to give up what he needed for himself.

But
Henry’s
message on the answering machine this morning had him breaking his own rule, since the Beargard had made it clear that it was the Wolfgard in human form that was needed at the studio.

He got dressed, then stopped in the living room to make sure Sam had food and water—and hadn’t messed in the cage. Since he was in this form anyway, he’d take the pup out before shifting to fur and meeting Blair and some others for a run.

After considering the benefits of walking from the Green Complex to the studio in order to give the human form exercise, he went around to the garage and got one of the BOWs. He made sure this form got plenty of exercise. Today, the sooner he could shed this skin, the happier he would be.

A couple more inches of snow had fallen overnight. Combined with what was still on the Courtyard roads, it added a little sliding excitement to an ordinary drive—and reminded him to talk to the
terra indigene
who worked at the Utilities Complex and also handled clearing the Courtyard’s roads. If Meg was going to be out making deliveries tomorrow, he’d have Jester explain about sticking to the main roads to avoid getting stuck. The BOWs could handle the snow just fine—as long as the driver wasn’t stupid.

When he reached the Courtyard’s business district, he parked the BOW in the employee parking lot, which put him in between the Market Square and the other shops, including Henry’s studio. Getting out of the BOW, he stopped and listened to the rhythmic sound of someone using a snow shovel.

Leaving the parking lot, Simon walked around the garages, then stopped when he saw the footprints outside the Liaison’s Office. There were no deliveries on Earthday, so there shouldn’t be fresh footprints coming
out
of the office this morning.

He walked up to Henry, who was shoveling the area between the back doors of the shops and the Liaison’s Office. Removing the snow. Eliminating the footprints.

“Hard not to leave a trail when there’s fresh snow,” Henry said. The look in the Grizzly’s eyes made Simon wary, especially after Henry added, “We had a visitor last night.”

Simon looked at the office’s back door. “An intruder?”

“Not there,” Henry said, tipping his head toward the office. Then he wagged his thumb toward the stairs leading up to the efficiency apartments.

For a moment, Simon just stared at Henry. Then he absorbed the meaning of the words and snarled as his canines lengthened, his nails changed, and fur sprang out on his chest and back.

“I told Meg we had rules about visitors. I
told
her . . .” He choked on the fury rising inside him—fury that wanted to rip and tear and destroy this strange and awful feeling of betrayal and the person who had caused it.

“Simon.”

He’d thought she was different from the other damn monkeys. He’d thought there was finally one of them the
terra indigene
might be able to work with, despite the way she made him half crazy with the
not prey
confusion. He’d consented to let her have a map of the Courtyard because she seemed to want to do her job. If he’d wanted a liar as their Liaison, he would have hired that Asia Crane!

“Simon.”

Hearing the warning in Henry’s voice, he made an effort to stuff himself back into the human skin.

“If you want to sneak a visitor past us, you don’t have him break the lock on the street door. And you don’t call attention to someone’s presence by yelling loud enough to be heard by the Grizzly staying in the apartment across the hall.”

“She didn’t know you’d be there,” Simon said, choking on the effort to get his teeth back to human size.

“Yes, she did. I saw her in the Market Square yesterday and told her I would be there so she wouldn’t be frightened if she heard me.”

Frightened.
The word cleared away his fury and let him think again.

Meg was hiding from something or someone. He’d realized that when he hired her, but he’d been chasing his tail so much because of her—or dodging to avoid having it stomped on by someone else—he’d forgotten she had run away from something or someone.

He looked at the footprints coming out of the office.

“After the intruder ran off, she slipped out and spent the night on the sorting table,” Henry said.

Too afraid to stay in her own den? Unacceptable!

It took effort to shape words. “Did you see the intruder?”

“Not well enough. But I got the scent of him, and I’ll recognize it again if he comes around.”

If this stranger was hunting Meg, he would come around again. “Can’t get that lock fixed until tomorrow.” A Wolf and a Hawk were learning how to change and fix locks. They might be able to replace that broken one, but the Courtyard had an understanding with a lock company, and being willing to teach Others this skill was the reason Simon did business with Chris at Fallacaro Lock & Key.

“The Owls who kept watch last night will keep watch again,” Henry said. “I’ve already talked to a couple of Hawks and some of the Crows about keeping watch on this part of the Courtyard today. And I’ll be staying at the efficiency apartment again tonight.”

“What about today? With the stores closed, she’ll be alone up there during the day.” Not likely that someone would come in daylight, but imagining Meg by herself all day felt too much like watching a deer that was the perfect prey because it was separated from the rest of the herd.

And that reminded him too much of Daphne and Sam running alone that terrible night, thinking they were safe.

“Should we call the police?” Henry asked.

“And tell them what? That someone broke a lock? Nothing was taken. We aren’t sure the intruder was after Meg. We’ve had people try to sneak in and use the apartments. Could have been someone who just wanted to get out of the cold for a night and thought they could slip away before we noticed.”

“That’s called trespassing,” Henry pointed out. “Humans have a law against it too.”

“We’ll deal with it our own way,” Simon said. “I’ll get another shovel and help you clear the snow.” And erase the footprints that might tell a different kind of predator where to find his prey.

“What about Meg?”

She hadn’t asked for his help. It bothered him that she hadn’t asked for his help. He was the Courtyard’s leader, after all. “We’ll keep watch today. Tomorrow we’ll consider what else might be needed.”

Like getting some answers about who she was running from—and why someone would want her back.

Meg heard the howling as soon as she turned off the shower. Sounded like a whole pack of them was right under her windows. Drying off as quickly as she could, she wrapped the towel around her head, pulled on a bathrobe, and went to the windows to look out.

No sign of them, but judging by the way a car skidded as it came abreast of the Courtyard’s parking lot and the driver tried to accelerate to get away from whatever he saw, they weren’t far away.

There had been no sign of Henry when she hurried back to her apartment. Did he work in his studio on Earthday, or was she alone in this part of the Courtyard? Merri Lee had told her none of the shops were officially open on Earthday, but the library was never locked, and in the morning a couple of the Others served leftovers at the Market Square’s restaurant, Meat-n-Greens. So she could walk over to the restaurant for a meal and then spend some time browsing through the library’s books.

Another howl, easily heard despite the closed windows.

We are here.

Above her, somewhere on the roof, she heard several Crows cawing.

We are here.

Something that had been wound tight inside Meg since last night began to relax. There weren’t any humans around this part of the Courtyard today, but she wasn’t alone. She could spend the afternoon reading or napping, maybe even do some chores now that she’d learned how to clean. Not all human stores were closed on Earthday, so there were cars going by—including, she noted before stepping away from the window, a police car. She would be safe enough while there was daylight.

She could decide later about where she would hide after dark.

That afternoon, Asia Crane slowly drove past the entrance to the Liaison’s Office and the consulate. As usual on Earthday, a chain stretched across the street entrance, a metal Closed sign hanging from the center. It was a simple but efficient way to keep people from using the delivery area as a parking lot for the restaurants and other businesses across the street from the Courtyard.

Bigwig hadn’t been able to give her any information about the white van or the driver who seemed to be casing the Courtyard. Probably nothing more than a disgruntled husband or boyfriend looking for an opportunity to haul his dumb-ass woman back home. Although why anyone would go to that much trouble for no-looks Meg was a mystery.

She didn’t care about the who, how, or why as long as Meg no longer filled the Liaison’s job, leaving it open for her to have another shot at access to the Courtyard.

Damn it! There wasn’t anything that looked like the Help Wanted sign taped to the office door. That meant White Van Man hadn’t taken care of business yet. Well, she might be able to help with that.

Tomorrow she would make a two-prong attack. She would test her welcome at Howling Good Reads, and she would make an effort to befriend Meg.

Her next step would depend on her reception, but one way or another, Simon Wolfgard was going to pay for her backers becoming impatient with her lack of progress.