“The guest cottage is empty,” James said. “We had a cousin living there for a while, but she met someone at our last gathering and went to live in his community. Mr. Ferryman sent word that you might be needing some quiet, so you’re welcome to stay if it suits you.”
Jean looked at the cottage and the land and the two people waiting for her answer.
Then Lorna stepped forward and handed her a jar. “You can take your meals with us, of course, but this is our traditional welcoming gift.”
Jean looked at her own scarred hand, holding the jar of honey.
“Could you stay here for a while, Jean?” Simon asked.
She swallowed tears and smiled. “Yes, I’d like to stay.”
Monty sat in the visitor’s chair in front of Captain Burke’s desk and waited.
“Choosing the lesser of two evils is never easy, Lieutenant,” Burke said quietly. “If we hadn’t provided assistance in locating that compound, the terra indigene would have torn the Midwest apart. Make no mistake about that. And now the Others throughout Thaisia have grabbed the human governments by the balls with an ultimatum: voluntarily reveal the places where cassandra sangue are sheltered or lose that human settlement—the whole village, town, or city reclaimed immediately if the Others go in and find even a single girl hidden away.”
“What about all the politicians and businessmen and whoever else bought prophecies?” Monty asked.
“As I understand it, the terra indigene aren’t going to stop anyone from buying a prophecy. At least, not immediately. I think the compounds will have new staff to look after the girls and the security will be handled by the Others. So they’re going to know everyone who goes in or out of those places. They’ll know if anyone tries to smuggle out blood or a girl—and may the gods help anyone foolish enough to try it.”
“So even with the compounds revealed, nothing will change for the girls.”
“Everything will change, Lieutenant. The breeding farms will be shut down. The girls living in the compounds now won’t be forced to leave a familiar place, but those places will be run more like supervised housing. And if they want to leave, they can. The blood prophets will make their own choices, live their own lives. And that will include deciding to make a cut for someone who wants a prophecy.”
“With the terra indigene watching and knowing exactly who is buying prophecies.” Monty sighed. “That will give power brokers more reason to support the Humans First and Last movement.”
“Probably,” Burke agreed. “We’ll just deal with one problem at a time.”
“Sir? How do you know all this?” It didn’t surprise him that Burke knew. He just wondered how the man had found out before anyone else.
“I stopped at the Courtyard, intending to give you a lift home and get your report. But you were on your way to Ferryman’s Landing, so I had a brief chat with Elliot Wolfgard. I think he was so forthcoming because he wanted to see how humans might react to the news. The next few weeks should be interesting.”
I could do with a little less interesting for a while, Monty thought as he pushed out of the chair. “I’m not sure Dr. Lorenzo is going to keep his office in the Market Square. Realizing the Others don’t let you pick and choose how you help them … I’m not sure he’s going to get past what he saw in that compound.”
“Are you?” Burke asked.
He didn’t know, so he said, “Good night, sir.”
“Have someone drive you home, Lieutenant.”
“Yes, sir.” Monty called MacDonald and Debany since they were on duty and arranged for the ride home. Then he sat at his desk to wait for them to return to the station.
He looked at the book about Thaisia’s history that Simon had given to him and wondered how much the Others’ version of recent events would differ from the human account. Then he pulled an envelope out of his pocket and opened it. Simon had given it to him when they got off the train.
The single sentence read: “Unlike humans, the terra indigene do not harm the sweet blood.”
He suddenly understood the task the Midwest Wolves and Sanguinati had undertaken. They wouldn’t leave the girls in that compound. Not that one. No, they would scatter those girls among the small human settlements under their control, most likely the Intuit villages. The Others would give the girls a chance to live—or allow them to die if they were too wounded in mind and heart to survive. Not all of them would have Meg Corbyn’s strength and will to live, but he hoped enough of them would.
Monty folded the paper, put it back in the envelope, and tucked it in his desk drawer. Then he opened the history book and began to read while he waited for Debany and MacDonald.
You couldn’t choose to step away once you got entangled with the Others. He just hoped that humans would gain something from the bloodshed that was coming.
Simon looked at the windows of his dark, empty apartment and wanted to howl with loneliness. He wanted company, companionship, but not … Wolves. Yes, he wanted them too, but being around his own kind wouldn’t take away this particular feeling of lonely.
He wanted his friend. His Meg. Her phone message had meant something. Hadn’t it?
He’d found her cell in the compound, the place those humans had kept her for all those years. It still held her scent and looked untouched, as if they’d been waiting to lock her back in that place. That had horrified him in a way the slaughter of the adult humans in the compound never could.
Even with the Sanguinati on the inside to open the doors for the rest of them, the Others hadn’t been able to save all the girls. The Controller and his people had seen to that. But that wasn’t something Lieutenant Montgomery or Dr. Lorenzo had needed to know then or now. It was enough that they had seen what the terra indigene could do. Now he would wait and see what they did with that knowledge.
“If you keep standing there, you won’t find the note I left for you.” Meg’s voice came out of the darkness, a light that banished the shadows of lonely.
He walked over to the stairs that led to her porch. “What note?”
“The one that said to drop off your carryall and come up for dinner.”
“Oh.” He climbed the stairs, bringing the carryall with him. “You have food?”
She smiled at him, a glee that invited him to play. “I made spaghetti.”
That didn’t sound right, but he’d caught the scent of something tasty, so he followed her to the kitchen, leaving his carryall by the door.
“Merri Lee taught me,” Meg said as she lifted the lid on a pot and carefully stirred. “The sauce has ground beef and some vegetables. The beef was thoroughly sniffed before Boone Hawkgard ground it fresh for me, so it’s fine. And the pasta is almost ready.”
He felt like his paws weren’t on firm ground, and he didn’t know how to move. The food scents were too strong, so he couldn’t tell if she’d cut herself recently. “How did you know when to …?” He trailed off, certain he would spoil things if he asked.
The look in her clear gray eyes was equal parts annoyed and amused. “Blair promised to call when he dropped you off so that I would know when to put the pasta in, and he did.”
“Oh.” He yelped in surprise when the timer buzzed, and that made her laugh.
“Here.” She shut off the heat and handed him two potholders. “Pour the pasta into the colander in the sink. Be careful. It’s boiling water and the pot is heavy.”
It was boiling and it was heavy, and he realized that was the reason she let him do this—to protect her skin. While he followed her directions and transferred the spaghetti to a plate, Meg ladled some of the sauce out of the other pot.