Written In Red Part 26

Sam crept to the door of the cage and stretched his neck to sniff the harness. He looked at the harness, then looked at her . . . and stepped out of the cage, making anxious little sounds.

"All right," she said brightly. "Let's go walk in the snow!"

She shimmied out of her end of the leash and put the harness on him, double-checking to make sure nothing was too tight. Then she put on her coat and shimmied the leash back up to her waist. Sam hesitated and looked ready to bolt back into his cage, but he followed her to the front door and pressed himself against her legs, which made putting on her boots a balancing act.

Zipping Simon's keys into her jacket pocket, she opened the front door, and she and Sam stepped outside.

Closing the door, she took a deep breath, grabbed her end of the leash before the loosened loop slipped down, and moved away from the building. After a moment, Sam followed her.

"There's Henry and Vlad," she said, spotting the vampire and Grizzly on the other side of the complex. "Let's go over and say h.e.l.lo." She started walking but stopped as soon as she felt a tug around her middle. She looked back at Sam, who hadn't moved but was now studying the red leash stretched between them.

Meg smiled. "See? Safety line."

His tail began to wag. He trotted up to her, and the two of them followed the walkway until they reached Vlad and Henry.

She couldn't identify the expressions on their faces. Since they weren't yelling at her-or threatening to eat her-she gave them a bright smile and said, "Sam and I are mighty adventurers, just like in the movies."

"I can see that," Henry replied after a moment. He looked at Sam. "You can follow a scent better than she can, so you make sure our Liaison doesn't get lost."

Sam replied in Wolf, and she and the pup continued their circuit around the complex.

Watching the woman and Wolf pup, Vlad felt relieved that Simon wasn't going to be within easy reach of a telephone. When he'd promised to keep an eye on those two, he hadn't antic.i.p.ated Meg doing anything like this.

"That's Sam," he said, struggling to keep his voice neutral and not provoke the Grizzly.

"It is," Henry agreed.

"That's Sam on a leash." Because their second form couldn't be contained by such things, the Sanguinati didn't have the hatred of chains and cages that filled the shifters, but even he felt anger at seeing a terra indigene being treated like a . . . a . . . dog. He could imagine what Blair or, even worse, Elliot would say if they found out.

Hearing the Crows, he amended that thought to when they found out.

"And that's Meg with a leash around her waist," Henry said as Sam ran around her in circles and pulled her legs out from under her, dumping them both in a s...o...b..nk. "Hard to get away from what's on the other end, but a good way to haul someone back if there's trouble."

A good way to capture two instead of just one. But Vlad didn't say that. He just watched while girl and pup got untangled and climbed out of the snow.

"Something frightened her at the plaza," Henry said. "For a moment, the air carried the scent of the man who tried to break in to the efficiency apartments. But with all the police around, it was not a good time to hunt."

Vlad watched as Meg and Sam started the second circuit around the complex, heading back toward him and Henry. Sam was ahead of Meg now, sniffing at everything. Then he bounced back to Meg for a moment before bounding into the lead again.

This was the Sam he remembered before Daphne was killed-an exuberant pup. How could a piece of leather that should have offended make so much difference? Why did it make so much difference?

Sam was digging at something in the snow, and Meg was watching Sam. So neither of them saw Blair standing at the entrance to the complex, his mouth hanging open as he stared at the leash and harness.

"Henry," Vlad said.

"I see him."

Before Meg and Sam noticed him, Blair stepped out of sight. Not gone, no, but watching as Sam took a running leap and disappeared in a drift.

He howled that squeaky-door sound that couldn't be mistaken for any other Wolf. Meg laughed and took a step back. "Climb, Sam. Climb! We are adventure buddies scaling the mighty snow!" She pulled, and Sam climbed until he got out of the drift. He shook himself off and looked at Meg, tail wagging, tongue hanging out in a grin.

"Time for dinner?" she asked the pup.

His answer was to set off at a brisk pace, pulling her along behind him.

When Meg and Sam were inside Simon's apartment, Vlad watched Blair reappear at the entrance, looking wary. That harness and leash would infuriate all the Wolves in the Courtyard. Without Simon's presence, Blair, as the Courtyard's main enforcer, would either defend Meg or let the other Wolves have her for this offense. Which would bring the Wolves into conflict with the Sanguinati, because Grandfather Erebus was entertained by the Liaison and her courtesies, and he had made it clear that Meg was under his protection until he said otherwise.

Blair looked at them, nodded, and walked away.

"What do you think?" Vlad asked.

"See what you can find in the books or the computer about adventurers and ropes. See if you can find out why Meg did this."

"I can look. Or I can just ask her."

"Or you can just ask her." A thoughtful pause. "She does not think like other humans, and she does not think like us. She is something new, something little known and not understood. But she found a way to quiet Sam's fear, and that should not be forgotten."

No, that shouldn't be forgotten, which was something he would point out to Blair.

Henry blew out a breath. "Come. There is pizza and a movie. What was chosen for the entertainment?"

Vlad smiled, revealing the Sanguinati fangs. "Night of the Wolf."

CHAPTER 11.

Her coat dangling from one arm, Meg rushed back into Simon's living room and shrieked, "Sam! What are you doing? Stop that! Stop!"

The pup continued chewing at the cage and pushing his little paws against the wires so hard that it looked like his toes had elongated into furry fingers that were trying to reach the latch.

She banged the cage with the flat of her hand, startling him enough to take a step back.

"Stop that!" she scolded. "You're going to break a tooth or cut your paws. What's wrong with you?"

He talked at her. She threw her hands up in exasperation.

"You have food. You have water. You already ate the cookies, and we had a quick walk. I have to go to work now. If I'm late again, Elliot Wolfgard will bite me, and I bet he bites hard."

Sam lifted his muzzle and wailed.

Meg stared at him and wondered what happened to the sweet puppy she had brushed yesterday evening, the puppy who had snuggled on the couch with her while she watched a television program. He'd been fine about going into the cage when she said it was time for bed. He hadn't made a fuss about her going back to her own apartment. And he'd been fine when she came over this morning-until she tried to leave.

"You can't go to work with me," Meg said. "You'd be bored, and I can't be playing with you. You stay home all the time when Simon goes to work."

Sam howled.

"I can come back during my lunch break for a walk."

Sam howled.

If she left, would he stop howling? If she left, would he still be howling when she got back? How much longer before Vlad or Henry or Tess started pounding on the door to find out what was wrong? Or was this something Sam did every morning and the residents were used to it?

Maybe they were, but she wasn't.

"All right!" she yelled. She opened the cage door. "Out! Out out out. Wait for me by the door."

Sam rushed out of the cage and busied himself trying to tug harness and leash off the coat peg by the front door.

Meg grabbed his food and water bowls and hurried to the kitchen. Finding a clean, empty coffee can with a lid in one of the bottom cupboards, she filled it with kibble and threw a few cookies on top, poured the water down the sink and dried the bowl, then grabbed one of the big carry sacks hanging from a peg and filled it with Sam's things. A moment's thought about snow and puppies had her running upstairs to snag a bath towel from the linen closet.

"I'm late, I'm late, I'm late," she muttered as she ran down the stairs. She stuffed Sam into the harness, ignoring his complaints because she didn't smooth all of his fur in the right direction. "I'll fix it after we get to the office."

Pup, purse, her carry sack, Sam's carry sack. The towel over one arm, the leash looped around her wrist. Juggling everything, she opened the door, fumbling for the keys in her pocket. Just as she pulled them out, Sam jerked on the leash, yanking her off balance.

She dropped the keys-and an olive-skinned hand caught them before they hit the ground.

"Need a hand?" Vlad said, smiling at her.

"Or a mallet."

He looked baffled-and very amused. "I don't understand."

She shook her head.

He locked Simon's front door and handed her the keys.

"Thank you," she said, dumping the keys in her purse and digging for the BOW's key. "I'm having a difficult morning. Sam! Stop tugging at me!"

"Is it that time of the month?" Vlad asked.

Some feeling blew through her. It might have been embarra.s.sment, but she suspected it was closer to rage. "What?"

He studied her. "Is that not an appropriate question to ask?"

"No!"

"Odd. In many novels I've read, human males often ask that question when a female is acting . . ." Puzzlement as he continued to study her face. "Although, now that I consider it, they usually don't make that observation to the female herself."

"I have to go to work now," Meg said, enunciating each word.

"Ah." He looked at Sam, then at the carry sacks and the towel. "Where is Sam going?"

"He's coming with me."

Something in Vlad's eyes. Surprise? Panic? She would be okay with panic. It would mean she wasn't the only one who felt out of control today.

Although a vampire feeling out of control might not be healthy for the people around him.

"I'll help you with those," Vlad said.

She didn't argue, especially since she hadn't found the BOW's key yet. Vlad flung the towel over his shoulder and held the handles of the carry sacks in one hand as if the sacks weighed nothing, then led the way to the garages, leaving her to deal with Sam. She shortened the leash to keep the pup from running around her in circles. The way things were going, she would end up face-first in the snow. Again.

The way things were going, if she didn't put her foot down, she would end up puppy-sitting a little tyrant.

She was still trying to find her key-and wondering if she'd left it on her kitchen table-when Vlad dipped a hand in his pocket, pulled out a key, and opened the back of her BOW.

"What?" she stammered. "How?"

"Any BOW key works for all the BOWs in this Courtyard," Vlad said. "Makes it easier, since very few of them are designated for a particular individual."

While she stared at him, he picked up Sam, wiped the pup's feet, then placed pup and towel where Sam could look out between the front seats. He tucked the sacks in the back. "Are you riding in the back?" He wagged a finger at the leash still looped over her wrist.

She stripped off the leash and tossed it in the back. Vlad closed the door and walked over to the driver's side. He was courteous, and except for that crack about PMS, he was polite. But she had the distinct impression he was laughing at her.

"It's my BOW, so I'm driving," she said.

"Found your key yet?" He didn't wait for her answer. "Since I do have a key, I'm driving-and neither of us will be too late for work."

She made a growling sound that had his eyebrows shooting up in surprise, but she was beaten for the moment, so she went around to the pa.s.senger's side and got in.

The BOWs were built to tootle around an enclosed community like a Courtyard, but knowing Elliot had been grumbling over the Liaison's tardiness, Vlad nudged the vehicle to its top speed, aware that Meg was trying to watch him without appearing to watch him. From what the members of the Business a.s.sociation had been able to piece together by observing her, Meg absorbed what she saw and heard with unnerving clarity, and those remembered images became her reference to the world. What she saw she could repeat and do-up to a point. There were gaps, omissions of information, that they suspected were deliberate, so that blood prophets could do very few things independently. From what Tess had gleaned from questioning Merri Lee, Meg could identify a lot of objects, but she knew what very few of them did.

Which made her escape from the compound where she had lived to her arrival at their Courtyard all the more remarkable. Somehow, she had figured out enough to run away-and stay alive while she did it.