Written in Red (3 page)

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.”

Meg ate another spoonful of soup. “Is that why you allow humans to shop in your store? To build up the tolerance between humans and the Others?”

Smart woman. Her conclusion wasn’t accurate—most
terra indigene
weren’t interested in being tolerant of humans—but it did indicate an understanding of why a Liaison was needed. “The Lakeside Courtyard is a kind of experiment. While the shops in our Market Square are exclusively for our own people and our human employees, the businesses facing Crowfield Avenue have hours when they’re open to humans in general. The bookstore and coffee shop are two of those businesses. There is also a fitness center that has a few memberships available to humans, the seamstress/tailor shop, and a gallery on Main Street, which is open to anyone when it’s open at all.”

“But human law doesn’t apply in those stores?”

“That’s right.” Simon studied her. He didn’t trust Asia Crane. His reaction to Meg wasn’t that simple. Because of that, he decided to hire her. It wouldn’t hurt the Courtyard to have her around for a few days, especially if someone kept an eye on what she was doing, and it would give him time to figure out why she made him uneasy. But before he told Meg, he needed to say one more thing. “Human law does not apply. Do you understand what that means?”

She nodded. He didn’t believe her, but he let it go.

“If you want the job, it’s yours.”

She looked at him with eyes that were the clear gray of a Wolf
,
except she wasn’t a Wolf. The pale skin blushed with a hint of rose on the cheeks. And now that it was drying, he realized her hair was a weird shade of red—and it
stank.

They would have to do something about that.

“I can have the job?” Meg asked, her voice lifted by something he would have called hope.

He nodded. “It’s a basic hourly wage—and you’re responsible for keeping a log of your hours. You also get the use of one of the efficiency apartments above the seamstress/tailor shop, and you can purchase items at any store in the Market Square.”

Tess returned and dropped a ring of keys on the table. “I’ll fetch a few basics from our stores while you show Meg the apartment. Leave the dishes on the table. I’ll take care of them later.” She left as quickly as she’d arrived.

Meg ate one more spoonful of soup and drained the coffee mug. “Is she angry with me?”

“You? No.” With him? Sometimes it was hard to tell with Tess. Other times it was all too easy to see the warning signs.

He held up the keys. “We have rules, Meg, and we enforce them. Access to the Courtyard is restricted. You don’t bring guests to your apartment without us knowing about it first. If we smell a stranger, we’ll kill him. We aren’t interested in excuses, and we don’t give second chances. The storefront on the corner is the place where humans and Others can socialize without needing a leader’s permission. You can bring guests there. Is that understood?”

She bobbed her head.

“All right. Come on. We’ll go out through the bookstore.”

He led her back through HGR, picking up his winter coat, which John had left on the counter for him. Shrugging into it, he pushed open the door, holding it against the wind until Meg slipped out. Then he locked the door, took a grip on her arm to keep her from slipping, and walked her past A Little Bite to a glass door in the seamstress/tailor’s building.

“First key is for the street door.” He pulled out the ring of keys and slipped the first key into the lock. He opened the door, nudged her into the small entry, then locked the door behind him. Remembering that humans didn’t have the same night vision as Wolves
,
he flipped on the light switch, revealing the stairs that went up to the second floor.

She went up the stairs, then stopped on the landing to wait for him.

He went ahead of her, checked the apartment number on the key, and made an almost soundless grunt of surprise. Tess had given him the key for the front apartment that was farthest from the Crowfield Avenue door—and closer to the stairway that led into the Courtyard.

He opened the apartment door and flicked the switch for the overhead light, automatically toeing off his wet boots and leaving them in the hallway. While he waited for Meg to wrestle her feet out of the wet sneakers, he looked around. Clean and basic. Bathroom and closet at one end. A kitchen area that held a half fridge, a wave-cooker, a small counter and sink, and minimal cupboards for storage. A single bed and a dresser. A small rectangular table and two straight back chairs. A stuffed chair and hassock and a reading lamp next to an empty bookcase.

“There should be a set of towels in the bathroom,” he said. “You look like you need a hot shower.”

“Thank you,” Meg whispered.

“Bathroom’s over there.” Simon pointed.

She was shivering so hard, he wondered if she’d be able to get out of those wet clothes. But he had no intention of helping her.

The bathroom door closed. Couldn’t hide much from animal-sharp hearing, but he ignored the sounds. While he located the extra blankets in the dresser’s bottom drawer, the toilet flushed. A moment later, the shower turned on.

He was staring out the window, watching the still-falling snow, when Tess walked in carrying two big zippered bags.

“I put it all on your account,” she said. Her hair, usually brown and straight, now curled wildly and had green streaks—a sign that Tess wasn’t feeling calm. At least the streaks weren’t red, the indication that she was angry.

When her hair turned black, people died.

“Put what on my account?” he asked.

“Two sets of clothes, sleepwear, toiletries, a winter coat and boots, and some food.”

The coat was a bright red, which was a color that attracted a lot of the Courtyard’s residents because it usually signified downed prey. Since that was the most likely reason no one had bought it, he wondered why Tess would bring it for Meg.

“I thought we could offer the midday meal as part of her pay,” he said.

“You might want to discuss this with the rest of the Business Association before you make so many decisions, especially since you just hired a new Liaison without talking to the rest of us,” Tess replied with a bite in her voice.

“You brought me the apartment keys before I asked for them, so you must have made a decision too,” Simon countered.

She didn’t respond. She just set one of the bags on the bed, then took the other into the kitchen area. After putting the food away, she joined him by the window. “You’re not in the habit of taking in strays, Simon. Especially not stray monkeys.”

“Couldn’t leave her out in the cold.”

“Yes, you could. You’ve left other humans to fend for themselves. Why is this one different?”

He shrugged, not wanting to talk about the scarred old woman whose words had shaped so many of his choices.

“We need a Liaison, Tess.”

“A fool’s idea, if you ask me. The only humans that want the job are thieves who think they can steal from us or ones hiding from their own law. The last one you threw out for being a lazy bag of shit, and the one before that . . . the Wolves
ate
the one before that.”

“We weren’t the only ones who ate him,” Simon muttered.

But he had to admit that Tess had a point. Liaisons barely had time to learn the job—if they even bothered to learn the job—before a replacement needed to be found for one reason or another. Humans always had a reason for wanting the job that had nothing to do with the job. Wasn’t that one of the reasons he wouldn’t give it to Asia? Wanting the Liaison job was just her next attempt to make him notice her. He didn’t need her sniffing around him more than she already was.

“What is Meg Corbyn running from?” Tess asked. “She didn’t start out around here. Not with the clothes she was wearing.”

He didn’t respond because he didn’t disagree. Meg might as well have
runaway
stamped on her forehead.

The green streaks faded from Tess’s hair. She sighed. “Maybe she’ll stay long enough to clear out some of the backlog of mail and packages.”

“Maybe,” he said. He didn’t think Meg Corbyn, or whoever she really was, would stay beyond receiving her first paycheck. But she had said she wanted to learn, and none of the other humans had said that. Not even Asia.

An awkward silence.

“You should go,” Tess said. “Naked girl in the shower. Strange man. I read these kinds of stories in books the humans write.”

Simon hesitated, but Tess was right. “Tell Meg I’ll meet her at the Liaison’s Office at eight thirty tomorrow morning. That will give me time to go over a few things with her before deliveries start at nine.”

“You’re the boss.”

Setting the keys on the table, he left the apartment—and wondered if, by leaving Meg alone with Tess, he’d just murdered the girl.

The hot water pouring over her hurt, and it felt wonderful. She used the shampoo and soap that was in the shower rack, then just stood there with one hand braced on the wall.

Safe for now. The wind and snow would have scoured her tracks away. She would be seen by humans, and that was a danger, but as long as she stayed within the boundaries of the Courtyard, no one could touch her. Not even . . .

Shaking, she held out both arms. Thin, straight scars marched down the tops of both arms from shoulder to elbow, one-quarter inch apart. The same kind of scars marched down the top of her left thigh and on the outside of her right thigh. There was a line of them down the left side of her back—precise in their execution. They had to be precise or the cut was worth less—or even worthless. Except for punishment.

Ignoring the crosshatch of scars on the upper part of her left arm, she studied the three scabbed lines on that forearm. Those scars she wouldn’t regret. The visions she’d seen when she made those cuts had bought her freedom. And had shown her a vision of her death.

A white room. A narrow bed with metal railings. She was trapped in that room, in that bed, feeling so cold her lungs couldn’t draw in a breath. And Simon Wolfgard, the dark-haired man she’d seen in the prophecy, was there, pacing and snarling.

She turned off the water and opened the shower stall door.

A moment later, someone tapped on the bathroom door.

“Meg? It’s Tess. I’m going to open the door and leave some pajamas for you. Okay?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Meg grabbed a towel and held it in front of her, glad the mirror had steamed up so that no one would see the scars the towel didn’t hide.

When Tess closed the door again, Meg got out of the shower, dried off as quickly as she could, and dove into the pajamas. Wiping the condensation off the mirror, she double-checked to be sure she wasn’t showing any scars, then opened the door and stepped into the rest of the apartment.

“Give me your wet clothes,” Tess said. “I’ll get them dry for you.”

Nodding, Meg fetched the clothes she’d left in the bathroom and handed them to Tess.

“There’s a bit of food in the cupboards and fridge,” Tess said. “And two sets of clothes. I guessed at the sizes, so you can exchange them at the shop if they don’t fit. Simon will meet you at the Liaison’s Office at eight thirty tomorrow morning to go over your duties.”