“You caused a commotion at your place this morning,” he said.
“I had a bad dream, and I sort of fell on top of Simon.” How many times did she have to say it?
“What was the dream?”
“I don’t remember.”
Blair’s amber Wolf eyes studied her. “You would tell me if I needed to keep watch for something, wouldn’t you?”
“I would. And I will. But there’s nothing to tell you now.”
He opened the back door and stepped aside to let her enter.
“Meg!” Lorne hurried over to her, casting a nervous glance at Blair. “Take a look at these. And here’s a catalog from the place that prints the postcards. Keep it awhile. You can make up a list of the images you want me to order for you.”
Meg took the postcards and catalog. “Thanks.”
With another glance at Blair, Lorne bolted across the access way and back to the safety of his own shop.
“I’m going back to work now,” Meg said.
But the enforcer’s eyes were focused on the second floor of Howling Good Reads and the Wolf standing at the window. Blair walked away without saying a word.
Shivering even though the day was turning warm, Meg went inside the office and laid out the postcards on the sorting room table.
Common images for blood prophets living in different parts of Thaisia. But these weren’t the pictures she and Jean and Hope needed. These were scenic and pretty, and prophecy was rarely about things that were pretty. If that wasn’t true, blood prophets wouldn’t need the euphoria to veil what they saw and cloud their memories.
She had lied about the dream because Simon, Vlad, and the rest of her friends would be upset if she told them about the part she remembered.
There was no scar along the right side of her jaw. But there was going to be. Sometime soon she would make that cut to save Simon and the rest of the Wolves.
“Vladimir.”
Looking up, Vlad forced a smile. “Grandfather. What brings you to the Market Square?”
In his human form, Erebus Sanguinati looked like an old man with a lined face. His hands had knobby joints and big veins, but the fingernails were not as yellowed or horny as they used to be—a slight adjustment in appearance that had been made after Meg began delivering packages to the Chambers, the Sanguinati’s part of the Courtyard. His voice had a slight accent and belied the lethal nature of the vampire who commanded all the Sanguinati in Thaisia.
Erebus sat beside him on the bench. “Our Meg saw a couple of movies at the store here that she thought I might enjoy. So I have come to look. Then I saw you.” He smiled gently. “You are troubled?”
Meg lied to me. Not something he would say to Erebus now or ever. Grandfather doted on Meg.
“Yes, I’m troubled,” Vlad admitted. “I keep coming back to what happened this morning and how prophecy usually works.”
“Prophecy is about the future, about something that is going to happen. Is that not so?”
“Yes. And sometimes that future possibility is just minutes away, leaving a person with very little time to act.” Vlad blew out a breath. “Daybreak. That’s what is bothering me. A mound of bison is bothering me. They must be connected with the dream Meg had and the drawing Hope made, but Joe Wolfgard said the bison fell where they died. They weren’t mounded.”
“You think the sweet blood saw something else, something that hasn’t happened yet?”
Vlad nodded. “And whatever Meg and Hope saw, each in her own way, is connected to something that will happen around a place called Prairie Gold.”
Erebus said nothing in a way that kept Vlad silent. A minute passed. Then two.
“We are more suited to hunting around larger human cities than other forms of terra indigene,” Erebus finally said. “Not so well suited for small human places, like so many of the towns in the Midwest Region.”
“I’m aware of that, Grandfather.”
“But now the leader of the Lakeside Courtyard and our sweet blood are connected to two places that have no Sanguinati among the terra indigene who are keeping watch over the humans. You are concerned that the Wolves will not relay information?”
“No, it’s not that. I trust Simon, and he trusts Jackson and Joe. But Wolves and Sanguinati have different strengths. I’m just wondering if our not being present in so much of the Midwest makes other kinds of terra indigene more vulnerable to an attack.”
Erebus’s laugh sounded like skittering dry leaves. “You would tell the Bear and the Panther that they are not capable of defending their land? You would say such a thing to the Wolves?”
“We’ve fought well together here. We can fight well together in other places.”
Another silence. Then, “This place where the bison died. Could the Sanguinati shelter there?”
Vlad nodded. “There is a motel, so there are a few rooms that can be rented. I asked when I was speaking with Jesse Walker, the woman who runs the general store.”
Erebus smiled. “Very well, Vladimir. Perhaps it is time to reassess our presence in the Midwest Region. I will ask two of our kin to visit this Prairie Gold.”
“We could supply them with a legitimate reason to visit. The terra indigene collect the gold that is found in the streams that flow in the Elder Hills. Sanguinati could trade human money for the gold and bring the gold back here or take it on to Toland. Also, Jesse Walker didn’t sound like she trusted the humans in Bennett, the railway town where the Intuits buy many of their supplies. We may be able to supply some merchandise directly.”
“All right. But, Vladimir, you will inform the Wolf there that the Sanguinati will be arriving. As a courtesy.”
“Of course, Grandfather.”
Erebus stood. After giving Vlad’s shoulder a pat, he walked over to Music and Movies to consider the movies Meg thought he would like.
Vlad sat for a moment longer before returning to Howling Good Reads. The Sanguinati who were heading for Prairie Gold could take the first order of books with them.
One window of Nadine’s Bakery & Café was fitted with a piece of plywood, replacing the broken glass. Painted across the door and other window were the words Wolf fukker.
“I guess the vandals do need a dictionary if they can’t spell that right,” Kowalski said.
Guilt produced a queasy burn in Monty’s stomach. He’d talked Nadine into providing baked goods and sandwiches for A Little Bite. The Others had come to her place early two or three times a week to pick up an order. They’d come quietly, in a minivan that looked no different from a thousand others in the city. But someone must have figured it out, must have said something.
Monty walked into the pretty café, with its handful of tables and the big glass display cases that were usually full of mouthwatering treats.
Not much in the display cases today.
Nadine walked out of the back room where she did the cooking and baking. “Lieutenant.”
“Ms. Fallacaro, I am so sorry this happened.”
“Could have been worse. Those little bastards could have—would have—done more if Chris hadn’t run downstairs with a baseball bat and started swinging.”
Chris’s father was Nadine’s cousin and the owner of Fallacaro Lock & Key—and a member of the Humans First and Last movement. Chris’s refusal to join the HFL was the reason he was currently staying with Nadine. Monty wondered whether Fallacaro knew or cared that the HFL had targeted members of his family.
“He thinks one of them might have a broken arm,” Nadine continued.