Written In Red Part 51

"Are you saying I snore?" she asked, her eyes still closed.

"No." He considered. "I don't think so. But I know when you sleep."

She swallowed. Such a bitable throat, so soft yet firm.

No, he thought, pressing his forehead against her arm. Meg is not bitable. He raised his head and studied the gray eyes that now looked back at him. "I'm the leader. You should have called me. Even if you wanted Tess to be there instead of a Wolf, you should have told me first."

"I knew there was something wrong. Didn't want anything bad to happen while I was arguing with you."

It was a valid point. Not that he would tell her that.

He touched her hair. Still weird in color and funnier-looking with the black roots. When it grew out, he might actually miss the orange hair.

He wasn't going to tell her that either.

"I'll watch for deliveries," he said. "You rest. There is food. You want to eat?"

"Not yet." Her eyes closed, then fluttered open again. "Is Nathan angry with me?"

"Yes. If you lock him out again, he'll bite you."

The briefest smile. "Bet he won't if I tell him he can have all the cookies."

He watched her, listened to her, and knew she was truly asleep. He kissed her forehead and found the act pleasing for its own sake. And, he admitted as he licked his lips, it was enjoyable for other reasons. Meg wasn't bitable, but he really did like the taste of her.

He traded places with Nathan. While he watched Jester fill the mail baskets and explain to the ponies why there wasn't a treat, he dialed the number that would bring Crispin James Montgomery back to the Courtyard.

Monty realized Kowalski had been talking to him only when silence suddenly filled the patrol car.

"I'm sorry, Karl. I wasn't listening. Have some things on my mind."

"Like why we're being called this time?" Kowalski asked. "Kind of strange to be told something is urgent and then be given a specific time to show up."

"That's part of it." Another part was Captain Burke informing him that the mayor was grumbling about how many resources were being used on behalf of the Others when they didn't feel inclined to return any favors. Burke suspected His Honor was floating the idea of Humans First and Last as his potential campaign platform.

Let me worry about the mayor, Lieutenant. You just remember that all roads travel into the woods.

In other words, remaining on good terms with the terra indigene was more important than human politics.

They pulled into the delivery area for the Liaison's Office. Monty drew in a breath. Closed sign on the door, but he could see someone at the counter.

Someone who wasn't Meg Corbyn.

"Come in with me, Karl." Not his usual request, but this time he wanted backup with him instead of waiting in the car.

As they walked up to the door, Simon Wolfgard approached from the other side. He turned the lock and opened the door.

"Is Ms. Corbyn taking the day off?" Monty asked as they all walked up to the front counter.

"Midday break," Simon replied. "She'll be back for the afternoon deliveries." He didn't sound happy about that.

The door into the next room was wide-open. The room itself didn't interest Monty, but the wheelchair parked next to a big table did.

"Ms. Corbyn seems to be accident p.r.o.ne all of a sudden," he said softly. Would Meg be there for the afternoon deliveries, or would the Others have a different excuse for her absence?

Simon turned, looked at the wheelchair, and snarled. "She hurt her leg this morning. She says she doesn't need the wheelchair, but that's what is used when humans are injured. Isn't it?"

Monty wasn't sure if that was a question or a demand to confirm the answer the Wolf wanted. "Wheelchairs aren't used for minor injuries, unless a person can't walk for some reason."

"Well, we don't want her to walk on that leg today." Then Wolfgard seemed to pull back, as if the admission that the Others were actually trying to take care of a human revealed too much. "That's not why I called you. Meg . . . We suspect there is something wrong with the sugar lumps that were in the back room. The Liaison usually gives the ponies sugar on Moonsday as a treat, but she had a feeling something was wrong. Some of us believe the sugar was poisoned, but we don't have a way of testing it."

Monty put the pieces together and filled in the unspoken piece: Meg, the ca.s.sandra sangue, had cut herself and saw poison in the sugar. Simon wasn't going to acknowledge that his Liaison was a blood prophet, but that explained his over-the-top solution to dealing with what should be a minor injury.

"Where are the sugar lumps now?" he asked.

"In the back room. We packed the box in another box," Simon replied. "You can bring your car around to the back door so you don't have to carry it far."

What did she see besides poison that made you this wary? Monty wondered. He looked at Kowalski. "Bring the car around to the back door."

"Yes, sir."

He turned back to Simon. "Do you have any idea who might have done this?" He'd received one of the flyers banning a woman named Asia Crane from the whole Courtyard, including the stores. And he'd heard the whisper that an employee had been fired for breach of trust, whatever that meant.

Simon hesitated. "No. No one had a reason to hurt the ponies." He shifted from one foot to the other. "Lieutenant . . ." A deep breath before words tumbled out. "Skull and crossbones. A skeleton in a hooded robe. Screaming children with black snakes pushing out of their bellies."

"What?" Monty braced his hands on the counter. Was that a threat?

"We think that poison was used to kill some human children. Or it will be used."

"Here? In Lakeside?"

"Don't know where. Don't know when. Maybe it already happened. Maybe it's something that can be stopped." Simon took a step back from the counter. "I'll open the back door for your man."

Staggered, Monty stayed at the counter until Kowalski drove back to the delivery entrance. Simon Wolfgard didn't come back to the front room, so Monty left.

"Back to the station?" Kowalski asked.

"Yes. Where is the box?"

"In the trunk. Figured that was better than having it in a closed car with us."

Monty nodded. Keeping his face turned to the pa.s.senger's-side window, he said, "Karl? Do you remember hearing about children being poisoned by someone dressed up like a skeleton or a death's head in a hooded robe?"

Kowalski hit the brakes, then fishtailed the car before he regained control. "Sir?"

"We might have a line on another crime."

"G.o.ds above and below," Kowalski muttered.

Neither of them spoke again until they reached the station. With Kowalski starting a search for a crime that matched those clues, Monty reported to Captain Burke.

Burke's eyes turned a fiercer blue while his face paled. "That's all he gave you?"

"I think he gave me all they had," Monty replied. "He didn't have to say anything."

"Most of them wouldn't have." Burke sighed. "All right. We have only one lab in Lakeside set up to handle and identify poisons. Have Kowalski drive over and deliver the box personally. I'll put in a call and see what I can do to b.u.mp our request to the top of the queue. You see what you can find out about children being poisoned. And as sad as it would be to find it, let's hope you do find a report. If it already happened, we know where and when, and maybe even what kind of poison."

"If it hasn't happened, how do we warn the rest of the cities in Thaisia?" Monty asked.

"I'll have to think about that. It may surprise you, Lieutenant, but not everyone likes me. And not everyone who does like me likes my stand with regard to the Others. We didn't empty the precinct's coffers to buy a prophecy, and anyone who has heard one will recognize that clues like that tend to come from a prophecy. If we admit it was a footnote in a prophecy done for the Lakeside Courtyard, we're telling a whole lot of people that the Others have a resident blood prophet."

"Putting a target on Meg Corbyn, with no certainty we're doing our own people any good."

Burke nodded. "I'll make some calls and spread the word as best I can-after you run the search to find out if this already happened and was, may the G.o.ds be merciful, a tragic reference rather than a future possibility."

"Yes, sir."

Monty sent Kowalski to the lab and took over the search. How old were the children? And where were the children?

Lizzy, he thought, looking at the picture of his daughter that sat on his desk. Be safe, Lizzy.

When it started snowing in Simon's office, he yanked off his sweater and shirt to cover the computer. Vlad knew more about the things than he did, but he did know that snow and anything that plugged into an electrical outlet weren't a good combination. Hearing footsteps in the hall, he leaped for the doorway before Winter and her fury actually entered the room.

His torso and arms furred as a defense against the cold that surrounded her. Her gown fluttered despite an absence of wind. As bits of it flaked off, it became snow that rapidly covered the floor around her.

"Who tried to poison our ponies?" Her voice added an icy glaze to the frosted gla.s.s on his door and rose to the volume of a storm. "Who dared raise a hand against our companions and steeds? Who?"

"I don't know," Simon replied quietly, looking into her eyes. "Meg saw enough to protect them and to warn us, but she didn't see who poisoned the sugar."

An awful silence. The Elementals were dangerous enough when they gave pa.s.sive guidance to Namid's weather and seasons. When they were capricious and cruel, they could cleanse a piece of the world of everything but themselves.

"Should I ask Meg to try again?" Simon asked.

Winter touched the green scarf around her neck. "No," she said, her voice quieting. "No. Jester says our Meg bled to protect the ponies. He says there was pain."

"Yes."

"She has done enough." Winter started to turn away. Then she stopped and didn't quite look at him. "Her leg. It will be difficult to walk over snow-rough. It might cause pain."

"It might," he agreed, not sure where she was headed with this.

"I will ask my sister if she would wake for a few days and soften the air. It will be easier for our Meg to walk if the pavement is free of snow."

"She would appreciate that. And I appreciate that."

Winter walked away, the train of her fluttering gown trailing behind her.

Simon rushed back to the desk and removed his shirt and sweater. Overall, not too many flakes fell in the office or on the desk. Since the computer was still running and didn't explode when he touched a key, he figured it would be all right. Using the clothes, he had everything on the desk wiped down by the time Vlad came upstairs.

"She sounded angry," Vlad said. He disappeared for a moment, then returned with a couple of towels from their restroom and helped Simon wipe down the furniture.

"But still in control enough not to create a blizzard inside the store." He considered how she would have entered. "Did the books in the stockroom get snowed on?"

"No, just the floor. John is mopping that up now. I'll get a broom. We can sweep up the snow in the hallway and on the stairs." Vlad looked around, then extended a hand. "Give me the shirt and sweater. I'll use the dryer at the social center. It's closest, and your things will be dry by the time you need to take Meg back to the office for the afternoon deliveries." He paused, then asked, "What are you going to do with Sam?"

"Blair is taking him. Nathan and I are having a hard enough time leaving the bandage on Meg's leg alone. I don't think a puppy could stop himself from worrying at it, and he could hurt her. She'll stay with us this evening, and Sam can cuddle with her in human form."

When they had the snow swept up, Simon receded the fur, put on a spare flannel shirt he kept in a bottom desk drawer, and got back to work.

CHAPTER 22.

Pausing at an intersection, Meg rolled down the driver's-side window and breathed in air that held the warmth of spring. Oh, winter was still beneath that warmth, but the roads were clear of snow and ice, she was on her midday break, and she was alone for the first time since she made the cut two days ago.

Even friendship could feel smothering, especially when your friends were large and furry and liked a lot of physical contact. She came to realize that despite taking a human form, the Others' understanding of human anatomy was mostly limited to what parts of that anatomy they liked to eat. They had responded to the cut on her leg with the intensity usually reserved for an amputation.

Yesterday she had appealed to Merri Lee, Heather, Ruth, and Elizabeth Bennefeld to explain that a simple cut that was healing well didn't require a wheelchair, a driver, or a guard constantly watching her in case she keeled over. Simon didn't want to accept it, but they hadn't given him any wiggle room.

And that was why she was driving the BOW by herself on this fine Windsday afternoon, looking for a spot where she would stop and eat the box lunch Tess had made. Interior roads were clear for the first time since her arrival in the Courtyard, so she turned the BOW inward, following whatever road appealed to her.

Trees and open s.p.a.ces. She saw a Hawk on a tree stump. She didn't look closely enough to determine what he was eating for lunch.

Stopping at one intersection, she watched all the ponies canter past her, clearly enjoying a chance to run. She turned in the direction they had come, only to discover they had turned and were now following her, slowing when she slowed, lengthening their strides when she sped up a little, staying with her as she turned onto one road after another. They left her when she turned toward the little houses that belonged to the girls at the lake. She pulled up next to one of the houses, then got out to walk along the wide path that circled the lake.