“So you stepped in,” Burke finished. “Lizzy might not have reached Lakeside if you hadn’t.”
Nathan shifted in his chair. “This room stinks. Can we leave now?”
“Stinks because you don’t like being here?”
“It smells of sick and cleansers.”
“Ah. I’ll let maintenance know.”
The moment Burke stood up, Nathan was on his feet too.
“Officer Kowalski will drive you back to the Courtyard. Would you mind taking Lizzy with you, just for an hour or two? Lieutenant Montgomery and I have some work to do.”
Nathan studied the human. The voice. Too casual. Like when a Wolf trotted past a herd of deer pretending not to notice them.
“Why do you want her there?” Nathan asked. “This building is protected. You have many humans with guns.”
“I’ve been told that Celia Borden wants custody of Lizzy,” Burke said quietly. “Leo Borden knew where Lizzy and Elayne were staying. Not a big leap to think Leo told someone, and that person wanted to make sure Elayne Borden didn’t leave Toland while her daughter’s toy held a fortune in gems.”
“What does that have to do with the Lizzy staying in the Courtyard?”
“Human law doesn’t apply in the Courtyard. I want to make sure our laws can’t be used against Lizzy and put her in danger. I don’t want to be compelled to hand her over to the enemy.”
Nathan thought trying to force Burke to do something that made him angry would be like trying to force Henry Beargard, with pretty much the same result. “That’s Simon’s decision, not mine.”
Burke didn’t mention that he and his police had helped Simon protect Meg, had done more to be helpful than humans had done before. Smart of Burke not to mention it and to keep the choice with the terra indigene.
“Tess is angry, so I’m not sure the Courtyard is the safest place, but the Lizzy can come back with me,” Nathan said. And he’d just hope some of the human pack were around and knew what to do with a human pup.
CHAPTER 22
Watersday, Maius 12
There had been the sound of dripping, and blood on the floor, and the other girls. . . .
She stood next to the bed and focused on the man who blocked the room’s doorway.
A different place. A new keeper. But he didn’t look like a Walking Name. It wasn’t just the jeans and blue shirt that made him different from the ones who had controlled her in the compound. He seemed . . . wild . . . and his amber eyes made her certain that he wasn’t human.
Why had one of them brought her to this place?
“I’m Jackson Wolfgard. You said you wanted to live. The Intuits couldn’t keep you in their village, so we brought you here to the Wolfgard camp in the terra indigene settlement.”
She had said she wanted to live. Had screamed the words. Yes. She remembered that much. Her memories of how she had gotten from that room to this one were veiled.
She recalled training images of expressions in an attempt to figure out what she saw in his face. Reluctance. Resignation.
He moved to the desk and chair, the only other pieces of furniture in the room besides the bed and small table with a lamp. When he stepped away, she stared at the silver razor he’d left on the desk.
“Meg, the Trailblazer, says you should have the razor, that cutting should be your choice. She says this kind of room will help quiet your mind.” Jackson watched her, just as she watched him. “We don’t know how to take care of the sweet blood, but we’ll try to help you stay alive, if that’s what you want.” A hesitation. “You should choose a name.”
“I’m called cs821,” she whispered.
“That’s not a name.”
She didn’t know what to say.
“If you want something, ask us.”
When she nodded, he left the room and closed the door.
She waited, but nothing happened. When she got tired of waiting, she explored the room. Wood walls, wood floor, wood ceiling. Wood desk, wood chair, wood table, wood headboard. Wood shutters that were open, but the screened window was covered on the outside with white paper that allowed light to come in but prevented her from seeing out.
The adjoining room had a toilet and sink and another small covered window.
Returning to the bedroom, she went to the desk and reached for the razor gleaming silver on the dark wood. The euphoria that came from a cut would make her feel good. So good.
But something Jackson said finally clicked. Meg, the Trailblazer, had told her new keepers that this is what she needed to stay alive. Meg.
Could it be . . . ?
She looked around the room again. Nothing but wood and a covered window.
She walked over to the bed and studied the cover, sorting through training images until she came up with an identification. Patchwork quilt. Different colors, different patterns of fabric stitched together.
Gingerly, she sat on the bed. Timidly, she touched the quilt. Quietly, her finger traced the patterns. Intrigued by the shapes, she forgot about the razor.
CHAPTER 23
Watersday, Maius 12
“‘The terra indigene demanded full disclosure of the whereabouts of these so-called blood prophets, publicly exposing already troubled girls who, according to medical experts, require the quiet life of private institutions. And once these institutions admitted to having some of these troubled children, the Others removed the girls from sheltered environments and took them to undisclosed locations. Everyone willing to stand up for human rights and human dignity should insist that the government in every village, town, city, and region in Thaisia demand the same full disclosure from the terra indigene that they demanded of us. If the Others truly mean these girls no harm, let us see them, let us know they’re safe. And let humans take care of humans without fear of reprisal.’
“Nicholas Scratch’s speech was heard by a standing-room-only crowd at an HFL fund-raiser in Toland. Closer to home, Mayor Franklin Rogers told reporters that he would assist Governor Patrick Hannigan in creating a medical task force for the Northeast Region. The task force will be charged with inspecting all facilities that care for at-risk girls who have life-threatening addictions.”
“Turn that off,” Burke said as he drove up Main Street toward the Courtyard.
Monty turned off the radio. “So-called blood prophets. Do you think someone like Nicholas Scratch doesn’t know about the existence of cassandra sangue and what those girls can do?”
“The Cel-Romano Alliance of Nations has developed an airplane—a new form of transportation that gives humans an expansive look at the land around them. The Humans First and Last movement bursts onto the scene in Thaisia, coming over from Cel-Romano. A speaker for the movement arrives in Toland to spread the message that humans should come first, last, and everything in between when it comes to having the resources available in this world. Drugs show up in various human communities and either render the user completely passive or so aggressively violent that self-preservation isn’t a consideration. Is it a coincidence that all these things have happened in such a short time? I don’t think so. Developing an airplane would take months, even years. Now that there’s a machine that works, it would be time to put the other pieces in place. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that Scratch had had contact with the Controller or men like him. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that the drug problems in Thaisia were tests of potential weapons. The last message I received from my cousin, Shady Burke, indicated that Cel-Romano still shows signs of preparing for war. Living in the human part of Brittania, he’s concerned that Cel-Romano’s leaders may decide that it’s too risky to fight the terra indigene and will attack other human-controlled parts of the world in order to acquire more land and resources.”