Written In Red Part 42

"And Tess?" Meg put four puzzle pieces together before picking up her thought. "I've seen her only in her human form."

"None of us have seen her other form. We know she is terra indigene. We know how to read her warning signs. But what she is when she sheds her human skin-that is something known only to Namid."

Deciding she'd asked enough questions, Meg worked on the puzzle with Henry until her laundry was dry. She packed up her laundry bag, bundled herself for the quick walk, and headed back to her apartment.

Halfway there, she saw the Wolf rushing toward her in the fading afternoon light.

"Sam! No!" Simon's voice.

The pup ran past her instead of leaping on her, then turned back and tried to grab a corner of the laundry bag.

"If you rip the bag and I have to wash all these clothes again, I'll wash you with them," Meg warned.

His head c.o.c.ked. His tail wagged. And she wondered if she had just put a very bad idea in a puppy's head. But he wouldn't actually try to climb into a washer. Would he?

Sam spun around and rushed toward Simon, who was standing near his own apartment door. The pup leaped up, barely giving Simon enough time to catch him before leaping down and running back to Meg.

Once she was close enough that he was bouncing between them, he began talking at her.

Smiling, she shook her head. "I don't speak Wolf."

"No shifting out here," Simon said firmly. "It's cold."

Sam talked back at his uncle.

As a reply, Simon opened his apartment door. "Go inside, and I'll ask her."

Sam bounded into the apartment, sliding as his wet feet hit the bare floor. Shaking his head, Simon closed the door and looked at her.

"Everything all right today?" he asked.

"It was quiet," she replied. "Peaceful."

He shifted his feet and looked uncertain. In fact, he seemed reluctant to look directly at her.

"Mr. Wolfgard?"

"After Sam has his bath, we're going to watch a movie, and he was wondering-we were wondering-if you would like to join us."

Emotions were harder to define on a real face than on a labeled picture, so she wasn't sure which message she was supposed to reply to. He had invited her to join them, but . . . "You would prefer if I found a reason to decline?"

"No." The word was snapped out. Then he took a step back, and she heard the soft, frustrated whine.

Simon must have gone to school at some point, must have received the kind of education that enabled him to run a business and a Courtyard, but she suddenly understood what Henry meant about the difference between dealing with humans and having one live among them. Having one they treated as a friend.

He wanted her to come over and watch the movie, but something was making him unhappy about it.

"I spend a lot of time in this skin on the other days." Simon thumped his chest and looked at the snow piled in the center of the complex's courtyard. "Earthdays are the days I can be Wolf. But I want to encourage Sam to shift, and that means wearing the human skin for a while every day now."

She took the words apart, as if they were images that would be put back together to make a prophecy-and understood. "You'd like to spend the evening in your other form."

"Yes."

"Well, after you make the popcorn and put the movie on, why can't you do that?"

Now he looked at her. "You wouldn't mind?"

"No, I wouldn't mind."

"Seven o'clock?"

She smiled. "I'll see you at seven."

She felt Simon watching her as she climbed the stairs to her apartment. She heard Sam howl. And she wondered how many residents of the Courtyard knew she was going over to her neighbor's place to watch a movie.

Simon washed the dishes and swallowed impatience. He couldn't wait to get out of this skin, this shape. It had a few advantages over the pure Wolf form, but it wasn't natural, and having to remain in that skin after it began to sc.r.a.pe on the heart and mind could push a terra indigene into a crazed rage.

Not all that different from what had happened out west, except the crazed rage had occurred while the Others were in animal forms.

Not something a leader who had to look human so much of the time wanted to consider might happen to him.

He shook his head, as if that would send the thoughts flying.

Meg said she was all right with him being Wolf while she watched the movie with Sam. He didn't think she was lying.

He went upstairs and got Sam out of the bath, half listening to the grand plans the boy thought would fit into the couple of hours before bedtime. He let Sam dither over which movie to watch while he went into the kitchen and made the popcorn. Even in this form, the stuff didn't have any particular appeal for him, but it was a traditional human treat when watching movies, so he made a big bowl of it for Meg and Sam to share.

He had just finished pouring the melted b.u.t.ter over the popcorn when someone knocked on the front door. Sam let out a sound that was part boy squeal and part Wolf howl as he rushed to the door and pulled it open.

The boy's words tumbled over one another so fast, they made little sense except to convey happy excitement. Then Meg's voice, still close to the door.

Simon c.o.c.ked an ear. Why was she still close to the door? Had she changed her mind about spending time with them?

No, he realized as he heard her voice in the living room now. She had stopped to take off boots and coat. Why hadn't she used the back door? Was front door a different message than back door?

He'd worked hard to learn the rules of doing business with humans, but there could be a whole other set of rules for personal interactions.

Frustrated now-and suspecting he was making a simple thing complicated-Simon brought the popcorn into the living room. He went back to the kitchen for two large mugs of water. Placing everything on the table in front of the sofa, he greeted Meg and retreated to the kitchen to shed the clothes and shift.

He crept toward the living room, silent and waiting. Sam and Meg put the movie disc in the player and got it started. He listened to the bits and pieces about other movies, listened to boy and woman settling down on the sofa. He waited a couple of minutes longer, then slipped into the living room.

They were tucked at one end of the sofa, the bowl of popcorn on Meg's lap, their eyes focused on the television.

A dart behind the sofa to come around the other side.

A moment's tension. A moment's fear. Then Meg patted the cushion and said, "I think we left enough room for you."

He climbed up on the sofa, filling the remaining s.p.a.ce.

"Popcorn?" Meg asked, tipping the bowl toward him.

As an answer, he turned away from the bowl, lightly pressing his muzzle and forehead against her upper arm. More tension, but when he did nothing, she slowly relaxed and began eating the popcorn.

Simon closed his eyes. Keeping his head against her arm, he breathed in the scents that were Meg. The hair was still stinky, but not so much now, and the rest of her smelled good. Pleasing. Comforting.

After a few minutes, he nudged her arm until his head rested on her thigh. Another moment of tension. Then, making no protest, she shifted the popcorn so she wouldn't keep bopping him with the bowl.

A few minutes after that, he felt her fingers shyly burrowing into his fur.

The first time she sucked in a breath, he almost sprang up, thinking she'd heard something outside. Then he began to understand the rhythm of her touch and Sam's comments about the story. Dozing, he could follow the story through Meg's fingers and breathing, only half listening to the boy's "This is a scary part, but they'll be all right," and "Watch what happens now!"

Pleasure. Comfort. Contentment.

Except for the hair, she really did smell good.

Simon came fully awake when Sam said, "We can watch another one."

"You can, maybe," Meg replied. "But I have to work tomorrow, so it's time for me to go home."

"But-"

Simon said.
Simon raised his head and looked at the boy.

Sam slid off the couch. He gave Meg a shy smile and Simon a wary glance.

"I can come to work with you tomorrow," Sam said.

"You have school tomorrow," Meg replied, smiling. "And I'm not going to agree to something without talking to your uncle first. So good night, Sam."

He poked out his lower lip, as if trying to see what kind of reaction he would get. When Meg and Simon both stared at him, he sighed, said good night, and went upstairs.

Meg set the bowl on the table, then looked at her hand. "Guess I should have gotten some napkins at some point."

He stretched his neck and swiped a tongue over her palm. When she didn't pull away, he took another lick, and kept licking until he cleaned the salt and b.u.t.ter off her skin.

She smelled good. She tasted even better.

"That's good. Thanks," she said. She picked up the bowl and mugs, pushed to her feet, and walked out of the room.

Getting off the sofa, he yawned and stretched, then followed her into the kitchen.

"I'm not sure if popcorn goes in with the compost or in the incinerator bag," Meg said. "So I'll leave that for you."

Retracing her steps, she put on her coat and boots.

It was hard not to crowd her, hard not to jump, hard not to invite her to play. But it was almost time to sleep, and he didn't want Meg to get riled up or worried about being around a big Wolf. He could go for walks with her and Sam if she wasn't afraid of the Wolf.

He went out with her and walked her up to her own door. He waited until she was inside, then took a thorough sniff around her porch before going down and checking the rest of the complex.

As he reached the road, Allison hooted a greeting and glided past him on her way home. Lights were on in Vlad's apartment, which meant the vampire had returned from his evening in the Chambers.

No unfamiliar scents. No sign of danger.

For tonight anyway, they were all safe.

Satisfied, Simon trotted back to his apartment and the boy who was waiting for a story.

"h.e.l.lo?"

"The messenger you hired to retrieve your property got careless. The Wolves got him before the police did."

"Who is this?"

"Someone who has a better chance of helping you reacquire your property-for the right fee."

"How did you get this number?"

"Like I said, your messenger was careless." A pause. "And I thought it might be inconvenient if the police found this number when they searched the man's apartment."

"There are several messengers looking for my property. Which one got careless?"

"The one in Lakeside."

"Are you sure you've found my property? Describe her."

A hesitation. "Short, delicate, has gray eyes."

Silence. Then, "How long will it take you to retrieve her?"