“We’re closed, Asia. Go home,” he said.
She let out a theatrical sigh. “I’d really like the job, Simon. The one I’ve got barely pays the rent and it’s boring.”
Now he didn’t even try to sound friendly. “We’re closed.”
Another sigh, followed by a pouty look as she zipped up her parka, pulled on gloves, and finally left.
John, another member of the Wolfgard, left his spot by the door to do a check for any stragglers. So Simon was alone in the front of the store when the door opened again, letting in a blast of cold air that he found refreshing after all the scents humans used.
“We’re—” He glanced toward the door and swallowed the word closed.
The woman looked half frozen. She wore sneakers—sneakers, for pity’s sake—and her jeans were soaked up to the knees. The denim jacket was a light covering suitable for a summer night, and she was wearing a T-shirt under it.
She looked so painfully cold he didn’t have the automatic consideration of whether she’d be edible.
“Is there something I can do for you?” he asked.
She stared at him as if she’d seen him before, and whatever had happened made her afraid. Problem was, he didn’t recognize her. Not by sight or smell.
Then she took a couple of steps toward the counter. He suspected that was to get farther into the store, where it was warmer, than to get closer to him.
“I s-saw the sign,” she stammered. “A-about the job.”
Not a stutter, he decided. Her teeth were beginning to chatter. How long had she been out in that weather? It was a natural storm, coming off the lake. The first one of the new year. Being a natural storm didn’t mean it wasn’t a bitch.
“What sign?”
“H-human Liaison,” she chattered. “The sign said to apply here.”
Moments ticked by. She lowered her eyes. Probably not brazen enough to meet his stare now that she’d said what she wanted.
Something about her troubled him, but it wasn’t the same feeling he had when he was around Asia Crane. Until he figured out what that something was, he didn’t want to kick her back out in the snow. And except for Asia, this was the first human to ask about the job. That was reason enough to give her a few minutes of his time.
Movement at the edge of his peripheral vision. John, now in human form and dressed in a sweater and jeans, tipped his head by way of asking, What now?
Simon tipped his head slightly in turn and looked at the cash register.
“Want me to close up?” John asked, giving the shivering woman a smile as he approached.
“Yes.” He looked at the woman. “Let’s go next door and have a cup of coffee while we discuss the job.”
She turned toward the outer door and hesitated.
“No, this way.” He took a couple of steps past the counter and pointed to an opening in the wall.
The archway between had a lattice door that could be latched when one store was closed and the other was still open to customers. On the wall beside the door was a sign that read, PAY FOR THE BOOKS BEFORE ENTERING A LITTLE BITE, OR WE’LL TAKE A BITE OUT OF YOU.
The sign on the other side of the door read, SURE, YOU CAN TAKE THAT MUG. WE’LL JUST KEEP YOUR HAND IN EXCHANGE.
He didn’t think the woman’s brain was thawed enough to take in the words. After the first jolt of seeing him, he didn’t think she had taken in anything.
Tess was wiping down the glass display case when he walked in. The friendly smile she started to give him shifted to guarded when she noticed his companion.
“Could we have some coffee?” he asked as he took a seat at a table closest to the counter—and away from the door and the pocket of cold that seemed to settle around the tables close to the windows.
“There’s still some left in the pot,” she replied, giving the woman a sharper look now.
Simon leaned back in his chair, resting one ankle over his other knee. “I’m Simon Wolfgard. What’s your name?”
“Meg Corbyn.”
He heard the breath of hesitation that told him it wasn’t a name she was used to. Which meant it wasn’t a name she’d had for long. He didn’t like liars. Humans who lied about small things tended to lie about a lot of other things as well.
And a name wasn’t all that small a thing when all was said and done.
But when Tess brought the mugs of coffee to the table and he saw the way Meg cupped the mug to warm her hands, he let it go.
He thanked Tess, then turned his attention back to Meg Corbyn. “You know what being a Human Liaison entails?”
“No,” she said.
“So you don’t have any experience with a job like this?”
“No. But I can learn. I want to learn.”
He didn’t doubt the sincerity of her words, but he did wonder if she wouldn’t die of pneumonia or something else before she had a chance to learn anything.
Suddenly he remembered the scarred old woman sitting in the sun, offering to read her cards and tell people their fortunes. But she didn’t use her cards that day, not for him. What she had done was the reason her words had whispered through his thoughts for the past twenty years. And now her words rang in his memory as clear as if he’d heard them yesterday.
Be a leader for your people. Be the voice that decides who lives and who dies within your Courtyard. The day will come when a life you save will, in turn, save someone dear to you.
His being the leader of the Lakeside Courtyard hadn’t saved his sister, Daphne, two years ago. But thinking about the old woman when this shivering young woman was waiting for his decision made him uneasy.
Tess set one of her earthenware soup bowls on the table, along with some crackers.
“Last bowl in the pot,” Tess said.
“Thank you, but I can’t pay for it.” Meg’s voice was barely above a whisper—and full of longing as she stared at the food.
Giving Simon a hostile look, Tess said, “On the house.”
“Eat it,” Simon said when Tess resumed her cleanup. “It’s hearty and will warm you up.”
He turned his head and drank his coffee while he watched Tess go through her closing routine, giving Meg a little time to concentrate on the food in front of her.
Tess was a worry. Tess was always a worry, because there was too fine a line between her being amused by humans and being unwilling to tolerate their existence. He didn’t know what she was, only that she was terra indigene—and she was so dangerous even other species of terra indigene feared her. But when she arrived at the Lakeside Courtyard a few years ago, there was something in her eyes that made him certain that if she didn’t get some kind of companionship, she would become an enemy of everything that lived.
Inviting her to stay had been his first official decision as the new leader of the Lakeside Courtyard. Watching her change from a brittle loner to an individual capable of running a public business, he’d never regretted that decision.
That didn’t mean he always trusted her.
“What does a Human Liaison do?” Meg asked.
Simon glanced at the bowl. Half gone. He wasn’t sure if her question meant she couldn’t eat anymore or just needed to pause.
“By the agreements established between humans and the terra indigene, every city in Thaisia has a Courtyard, a tract of land where the Others reside. These Courtyards are also places where products manufactured by humans can be acquired. But humans don’t trust the Others, and we don’t trust humans. A lot of the products are delivered by humans, and there were enough incidents early on to convince the human government and our leaders that it was prudent to have someone receiving the mail and packages who was not inclined to eat the messenger. So a receiving area was built at each Courtyard and is manned by someone who acts as the liaison between the humans and the Others. Each Courtyard’s Business Association decides on the pay and perks. By the agreements, the human government is required to penalize any delivery service that refuses to deliver merchandise to a Courtyard. On the other hand, there is a limited window of time when the position of Human Liaison can be unoccupied before companies can refuse to enter our land without penalty. Those kinds of interruptions tend to fray the tolerance each side has for the other—and when tolerance frays, people tend to die. Sometimes a lot of people die.”