Murder of Crows (9 page)

“It’s not a wound. It’s barely a scratch.” Meg sounded snappish in the way of many small creatures when they were cornered and tried to sound threatening.

“It bled,” he snapped in return, showing teeth that were a little too long to be human. “It bled enough for you to slip into speaking prophecy,
so let me see the wound
.”

“Well, you can’t see it when you’re standing over there.” Snappish. Defensive. Scared.

Why scared? He wouldn’t hurt her. Okay, he used to threaten to eat her because she annoyed and confused him so much, but that was before she almost died leading the enemy away from Sam. Besides, he’d sensed from the very beginning that she was not prey and, therefore, not edible.

As he walked around the table, she put her right foot on the top step of the step stool she used to reach the higher mail slots in the sorting room’s back wall. She pushed down her sock.

He crouched to take a look. She’d smeared her ankle with the stinky ointment humans used when they got hurt. To him, that medicine smell meant
wound
. But the scrape above her ankle bone? She could have done that brushing against a branch or a stone. Definitely not a bite. Just a layer or two of skin stripped off by a tooth. Just enough for blood to replace the missing skin.

Is she really that fragile?
Simon thought as he studied the scrape.
Can it take so little to damage her?
Then again, her skin had split just because the winter air was dry.

How could she live among them? How could she play with Sam—or with him? No matter how careful they were, there would be bumps, scrapes, nicks. How long could she survive? It was said the
cassandra sangue’s
body had a thousand cuts. Was that just the cuts with the razor, or did every little scrape count as well?

As soon as he stood, she pulled up her sock and moved away from the step stool.

“It wasn’t Nathan’s fault,” she said. “If it was anyone’s fault, it was mine. I needed to cut. Something was going to burst inside me if I couldn’t get it out.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “Did something happen to one of the Sanguinati?”

“No.” But it could have. Vlad had gone off alone without telling anyone anything, not even the direction he was heading. If he hadn’t been called back … “No, all the Sanguinati are back in the Courtyard.” He took a step toward her, immediately stopping when she tensed. “Meg, this isn’t good for you. Twice in one day? There has to be something you can do, that we can do.”

“What? Put me in a cage?”

He flinched. “I’ve had enough of cages.” He’d kept his nephew Sam in a cage for two years after Daphne was killed. It had been the only way to keep the pup safe. That had been a strain on all the Wolfgard living in the Courtyard. He wasn’t going to do it again—even if it meant letting Meg die young. “If you cut when you’re out of control, you could kill yourself.” He might have to let it happen, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t fight against it.

“I know.” She hesitated. “I want to think about this for a little bit.”

She sounded dismissive. Resentment swelled up inside him.

“Why are you shutting me out?” he shouted.

She jolted, looking as skittish as a lame rabbit. Then her gray eyes lit with anger.
“I’m
shutting
you
out? I tell you I’m not ready to have sex, and you treat me like I’m diseased!”

“What?”
Shit, fuck, damn. Females! “I thought we settled this. And I
wasn’t
treating you like you were diseased. That’s ridiculous.”

“On Earthday, you didn’t invite me to take a walk with you and Sam. And when I came over for movie night, you were so distant, like you didn’t want to be bothered with me anymore.” Her eyes filled with tears.

Not fair, Meg. That is so not fair!
“I wasn’t being distant. I was trying to be polite!” He paced for a minute, snarling under his breath. “There are always rules and more rules when it comes to dealing with humans. But I don’t know the rules for this because I’ve never had a human friend. I like spending time with you and playing with you. I like the way the three of us cuddle together on the sofa when we watch a movie. Those things are important to me.”

“They’re important to me too,” Meg said, sniffling as she wiped a tear off her cheek.

“Then why can’t we do that?” he asked, trying not to whine.

She looked away, her brow furrowed like she was thinking hard. “The other morning, why did you shift to human and get into bed with me?”

They were back to that? Really? “To
talk
to you. To find out what had scared you so much that you kicked me off the bed.” He growled in frustration. “All
I
wanted was my share of the covers.”

“But you have fur.”

“Not in this form.” He waved a hand to indicate his body. “Humans get upset when they see
terra indigene
in between forms, and you were already upset. I keep trying to be polite, and you keep slamming my tail in the door. Not my actual tail but … you know.” Did she know? With Meg it was hard to tell.

He huffed out a breath. “I just wanted to talk.” Human females were supposed to like talking. But Meg hadn’t been raised like a typical human female, so maybe this talking wasn’t any more natural to her than it was to him.

“You can’t communicate the way
terra indigene
can with each other, so I couldn’t talk to you in Wolf form,” he continued. “That’s the only reason I shifted. And I didn’t think cuddling for warmth would be a problem when you were okay with it when I was Wolf.”

He waited, giving her time to absorb what he’d said. That’s what Meg did. She absorbed images, sounds, experiences, and those things became the touchstones she used to convey what she saw in prophecies. But more than that, right now he wanted her to understand for herself why her friendship was important to him.

“A leader needs to look beyond his own kind, needs the obedience of everyone in the Courtyard because we’re surrounded by the enemy.”

“Who are, in turn, surrounded by the rest of the
terra indigene
,” Meg replied thoughtfully.

Simon nodded. “We’re here to watch the humans and to acquire the things humans make that we want to have. We may all be earth natives, but we aren’t the same kind of earth natives. And although we’ll stand together against the common enemy, not all Courtyards are … pleasant … places to live. When a leader spends too much time with his own kind, he’s not always trusted by the rest of the
terra indigene
living in that Courtyard.”

Meg said nothing. Then, “You’re lonely, aren’t you? But you have friends here, Simon.”

“I don’t want to cuddle up to Henry. Or Vlad.”

He could see her taking that in. Leader. Lonely. But not as lonely since Meg had come to the Courtyard.

“You want to be friends again?” she asked, studying him.

“Being friends isn’t a small thing, Meg.”

“No, it’s not a small thing.” She gave him a tentative smile. “But maybe we could have a friend rule to avoid confusion if you need to talk to me.”

He hadn’t been confused until she started acting weird about his shifting to human the morning she dreamed about the Crows, but he said, “All right. Like what?”

A genuine smile this time. “I don’t know. I’ll think about that too.” The smile faded. “Can Nathan come back and be watch Wolf?”

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll tell him he can come back. But, Meg? I want some rules too about you using the razor when you’re too upset to think straight.”

She hesitated. “It’s important for me to have the razor, to be the one who chooses.”

“I know that.” He hadn’t forgotten her telling him she could use anything to cut her skin. At the time it had been a threat to force him to return the razor that had her designation,
cs759
, engraved on one side of the handle. Now, realizing how many things she could use to violate her skin, he saw the razor as a necessary evil—a thin, precise blade honed so sharp it did the least amount of damage.

But every cut brought her closer to the one that would kill her.

Vlad said.

“I have to go. The police want to talk to Jenni, Starr, and Julia. I’ll send Nathan over.”

As he turned to leave, Meg said, “Simon? Nyx didn’t mean to hurt me either. Just so you know now and don’t get mad about it later.”

He turned back and saw her push up her sleeves. He stared at the dark bruises on both of her wrists. Sanguinati were strong. So were Wolves. But Nyx wouldn’t have held on with more force than necessary. How hard had Meg struggled to get those kinds of bruises?

“You think hard about why things went out of control today,” he said softly. “You think real hard.”

And so will I.

“C
an you think of anything else?” Monty asked, keeping his eyes focused on his notes to avoid looking at the three females sitting on the other side of the table in the Courtyard’s meeting room. What he’d mistaken for oddly styled bangs were actually small feathers that formed a crown at the top of each forehead, rising and flattening in response to his questions.

If anyone needed proof that the Others weren’t human, that mix of feathers and hair would do it. And it was an indication of how a loss of composure could affect the
terra indigene
’s ability to hold a human shape.

The two Crows, Jenni and Starr, held hands and huddled as close together as the chairs allowed. The Hawk, Julia, looked like she needed a cuddle but wouldn’t ask for one from anyone in the room.

Simon Wolfgard, Blair Wolfgard, Vladimir Sanguinati, and Henry Beargard were in the room as observers. So was Monty’s partner, Officer Kowalski.

He’d gone over the Crows’ movements. Added to the information he’d received from the trash collectors and the residents on the street, it formed a picture that gave him a feeling of icy sickness. The Crowgard regularly went out on collection day, paying special attention to the upscale neighborhood near Lakeside Park. The heavy-plastic container used for food debris wasn’t usually of interest to them because they had plenty of food in the Courtyard, although they often let the crows in the neighborhood know about any available food they spotted. No, the Crowgard were mostly interested in the open metal cans that held all kinds of potential treasures—things the humans were discarding as used up or broken. If a third of the Crows each found one item of interest, they all considered it a successful “hunt.”

This morning, several cans had bits and baubles that were sure to catch the eye of a Crow. Much more than usual, Jenni said, even for that street. In fact, the pickings had been so good, Jenni and her sisters had called to the rest of the Crowgard to come over and help them with the bounty. Regular crows were also flocking to that street because of food spilled around the cans.

Jake Crowgard had found an unsoiled piece of pizza between the cans of one house. After consuming a couple of bites, he spotted the box of a building set he liked and left the food for the regular crows.

And then Meg Corbyn became hysterical and Simon threatened all the Crows with expulsion from the Courtyard if they didn’t return immediately. So they abandoned their prizes and were heading home when the garbage truck turned the corner.

As the truck came down the street, the crows who had been eating the food dumped around the cans tried to leave. But they kept fluttering and pitching forward, unable to fly away. That’s when Jenni and Starr, who had stayed to watch the street, realized there was a real danger. And then two cars came roaring down the street. One of the cars hit a man from the truck and kept going, swerving this way and that in order to run over the most crows—and the birds didn’t even try to get out of the way.

“It could have been us,” Jenni said, trembling. “Without our Meg giving the warning, it would have been us.”

Yes, it would have been,
Monty thought grimly. “What about Jake? Is he all right?”

“He will be,” Simon said.

Wolfgard’s amber eyes had flickers of red, a sign of temper.

“The people who live on that street didn’t do this,” Monty said. “When questioned, they all thought the food dumped around the cans had been caused by teenagers doing a bit of mischief. But when they saw the items that had been left in their cans as bait, they insisted those weren’t things that they had put out.”

“Well, they would say that, wouldn’t they?” Blair said.

“They’re afraid of reprisals. I won’t deny that,” Monty replied. “And many of them admitted that they put the ‘almost usable’ discards on top of the rest of the debris because some people who run flea market stalls drive by at night to look for items they can resell. But the items that were left as bait didn’t have enough value to be worth the effort of cleaning them up or repairing in order to sell again.”

Jenni sniffed. “There were shinies.”

Which only proved that whoever had planned this had known what would draw the Crows and keep them around long enough to poke in the cans and eat some of the food so conveniently available.

“I think that’s all the questions I have for the ladies,” Monty said as he closed his notebook and tucked it in his pocket. “But I would like a word with you, Mr. Wolfgard, if you can spare the time.”

“That’s fine,” Simon said. “I have something to discuss with you too.”

Henry Beargard looked at Simon and nodded. Then the Grizzly led the rest of the
terra indigene
out of the room. When Monty made a subtle gesture, Kowalski said, “I’ll warm up the car,” and left.

Alone with the Wolf, Monty sat back in his chair. “Why would someone target the Crows?”

Simon cocked his head, clearing surprised by the question. “What?”

“Out of all the different kinds of
terra indigene
, why go after the Crows? In Jerzy, the attack took place on a night when the Crowgard were using the house the Others owned in the village. In Walnut Grove, food was used to lure the birds into position to be attacked by the dogs—and the main target was the Crows. And now here, a baited street.” Monty leaned forward. “So I’m asking you: What is it about the Crowgard that would make someone feel the need to get them out of the way?”

He had the Wolf’s attention. The
terra indigene
must know that Crows died each time there was an attack, but he’d wondered if the more formidable kinds of earth natives had considered that the Crows were the primary target.

“They’re curious,” Simon finally said. “They pay attention to everything and everyone in their territory. They remember faces that are familiar and know when a stranger shows up. They warn the rest of us when something doesn’t look right or someone acts oddly. And they communicate with regular crows.”

“The rest of you can’t do that?” Monty interrupted. “Communicate with the animals that share your form?”

“How many wolves do you see in a city?” Simon asked dryly. “Or bears?”

“Point taken.”

“But the crows are everywhere, and the Crowgard find out about other parts of the city from them.” Simon stopped.

Yes,
Monty thought.
You’ve just told both of us why someone wants them dead.
“They see too much,” he said quietly. “They pick through the trash, looking for the things that, to them, are little treasures. Which means they might find things the people buying, or selling, drugs like gone over wolf don’t want anyone to find.”

“They would notice a pattern of activity,” Simon said.

He nodded. “But if you murder enough Crows, they’ll stop poking through the trash—and secrets will remain secrets.”

Simon didn’t reply.

“Was there something you wanted to ask me?” Monty asked.

“Dr. Lorenzo. Do you trust him?”

The question took Monty by surprise. “I think he’s a good man,” he replied cautiously.

“He wants to study
cassandra sangue.
He wants to study Meg. That’s why he agreed to supply human healing and medicine.”

“I thought you wanted human healing and medicine available in the Courtyard,” Monty countered.

Simon looked away.

The leader of a Courtyard looking away first? That couldn’t be good. “Did something happen to Ms. Corbyn?”

“A scrape. A nothing sort of scrape that didn’t really bleed. But it was enough.” Now Simon looked at him. “If that’s all it takes for her to see prophecy, why does she need to cut and take the risk of cutting too deep?”

“I don’t know.” But he was going to call on Dominic Lorenzo and find out. “What did Meg see?”

A hesitation. A reluctance that Monty could feel as a barrier between them.

“The humans who ran away from the damaged car. You know where to find them?” Simon asked.

He nodded. “Officers from that district of Lakeside are looking into it.” He studied the Wolf. “What should they be looking for, Mr. Wolfgard?”

Another hesitation. Then, “Jars. Smoke in a jar. A hand … or something else.”

Gods above and below.
“Is anyone missing from the Courtyard?”

“No. Vlad was away from the Courtyard when Meg … freaked … even before she spoke prophecy.” Simon pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Monty. “You might find these stories interesting. But you should be careful who else you tell about them.”

The titles weren’t familiar to him, but he’d read other books by a couple of the authors. “Do you have any of these books in stock?”

“Some.”

The Others didn’t admit to vulnerabilities. They didn’t willingly share information that could be used against them. For Simon to be pointing him in a particular direction indicated the depth of the Wolf’s concern.

“Is Lakeside going to survive whatever’s coming?” he asked.

“I hope so,” Simon replied. “But if humans declare war on the Sanguinati …”

“I, and the rest of the Lakeside police force, will do everything we can to prevent that kind of conflict.” Suppressing a shiver, Monty stood. “Thank you for your time. I’ll go downstairs and pick up those books on my way out.”

Monty set two bags of books on the patrol car’s backseat. Then he got in and said to Kowalski, “Extra assignment. Pick half the books. I’ll take the rest. For now, let’s go to Lakeside Hospital. I’d like to catch Dr. Lorenzo before his shift starts.”

Kowalski looked at the bags of books, then put the car in gear and drove out of the Courtyard. “If you need information in a hurry, Ruthie could read a third of the books.”

“No. You don’t need to keep the reading material a secret from her, but I think it’s best if Ruth isn’t involved in gathering this information.”

“Gods below, Lieutenant, what kind of information are we looking for?”

“Anything in those stories about trapping or killing Sanguinati.”

Kowalski didn’t say anything else during the drive to the hospital.

Monty found Dr. Lorenzo easily enough and noted that the doctor didn’t look pleased to see him.

“I’m not on retainer to the Lakeside Police Department,” Lorenzo said. “And while I want to establish an office in the Market Square, I’m not on call twenty-four/seven for the Others.”

“No, sir, you’re not,” Monty replied with his usual courtesy. “But you are the doctor who is looking for some inside access to the Courtyard—and a way to study a blood prophet.”

Lorenzo bristled. “Is that a threat, Lieutenant? If I’m not available to answer questions whenever you drop by, you’ll try to influence Wolfgard’s decision about me having an office in the Courtyard?”

Monty shook his head. “The Others—and especially Simon Wolfgard—are still deciding if they’re going to trust you. And unless they don’t have a choice, they aren’t likely to call you here. But I think they gave me some information knowing I would pass it on to you.”

Now he had the doctor’s attention.

“Did something happen to Meg Corbyn?” Lorenzo asked.

Monty repeated what Simon had told him about the scrape on Meg’s ankle. It didn’t give him any comfort when Lorenzo looked disturbed.

“Do they have cameras in the Courtyard? Or some kind of ability to make a record of that scrape that I can put in Ms. Corbyn’s medical file?”

“It’s just a scrape,” Monty protested.

“On you and me it would be. But you said she saw things, spoke prophecy. That means that skin has been ‘used.’ There is speculation that cutting too close to a previous cut can cause mental or emotional complications, maybe even madness.”

They looked at each other, remembering the crosshatch of scars on the upper part of Meg Corbyn’s left arm.

Lorenzo sighed. “If that scrape wasn’t deep enough to leave a scar, I want—and Simon Wolfgard should want—a record of what skin was scraped. It will be important to know, especially if another cut is made around the same area sometime in the future.” He hesitated. “Have you heard the slogan Humans First and Last?”

“Doctor, if you’re part of that movement, stay away from the Courtyard. For all our sakes.”

“I’m not, no. But I was approached at a conference recently by someone who was fishing to see if I was interested in joining the ranks of believers. People talk, Lieutenant. Once it’s known that I’m giving any kind of continued assistance to the Courtyard … there could be repercussions.”

“There could be,” Monty agreed. “Especially if people don’t stop to realize that helping the Others may prevent minor conflicts from escalating into a war. If you get any odd phone calls or receive any threatening letters, you call me.”

Lorenzo nodded. “If that’s all, I need to start my shift.”

When Monty returned to the patrol car, Kowalski gave him an odd look. “Turn on your mobile phone, Lieutenant. The investigating officers who are tracing the car that struck the city worker want to talk to you.”

Monty walked into Captain Burke’s office and sat in the visitor’s chair without invitation.

Burke folded his hands, placed them on the desk blotter, and leaned forward. “You heard from the officers who were looking for the men driving that car?”

“They found the house … and two college boys still hopped up on whatever they had taken before they baited the street and waited for the Crows,” Monty said, fighting the sick feeling that had come over him after taking that call. “When the officers searched the house, they found a hand in a jar, most likely pickled in some kind of brine. Supposedly it was a Sanguinati hand. They found eyes. The label claimed they were Wolf eyes, but they weren’t amber or gray, so that’s unlikely. When the boys were taken into custody, they kept screaming, ‘We’re going to be the Wolves now.’”

“Where did they get the hand and eyes?” Burke asked.

“An esoteric shop near the university. The front room had the kind of edgy merchandise you would expect to find where a lot of young people are gathered. But the back room …” Monty cleared his throat. “Since I could confirm that none of the residents of the Lakeside Courtyard are missing, it’s assumed that what the investigating officers found in the back room was brought in from somewhere else. Probably from Toland.” The city was a major port for ships that carried passengers and cargo to and from the Cel-Romano Alliance of Nations and other human ports around the world. Easy enough to hide one box of emotionally volatile merchandise among the legitimate cargo in the baggage car of a train traveling between Toland and Lakeside.