killing. Or maybe wise to be the only one to carry that burden. Either way, Tess was still running A Little Bite and baking chocolate chip cookies for Meg and Sam.
“Enough,” he growled. “You have a business to run.” And until he pulled these books so Heather could fill the orders, he had to stay here instead of going over to the Liaison’s Office to play with Meg for a few minutes.
Checking the list, he pulled more books off the shelves in the stockroom and thought about Meg, because thinking about Meg made him feel calmer, happier.
She had been released from the hospital on Moonsday, but he’d used Sam’s need to stay close to her as a way to keep her home for a few more days. And he’d also pointed out that most of Lakeside was still shut down, so the stores
Well, he could be stubborn too, especially when dressing Meg had turned into a game. He and Vlad and Jenni had raided the Market Square stores for clothes to keep Meg warm. They made fingerless gloves for her, and then demanded that she wear mittens over them if she so much as stuck her nose outdoors. If she actually went outside for even a minute, she had to wear an undershirt, a turtleneck, a sweater, and a down vest zipped up all the way so her chest would stay warm. Plus her winter coat and a scarf and wool cap. And two pairs of socks with her boots.
None of them had given the colors of the clothes any thought until Merri Lee came back from visiting Meg on Windsday afternoon and grumbled about her friend being dressed like a paint-store explosion.
Shortly after that, he’d overheard Merri Lee, Heather, and Ruthie ordering clothes that, they said, would work with what Meg already had, so he figured the clothes game had run its course.
But there was still the hat game.
He scanned the shelves again when he didn’t find two of the books he wanted.
“We’re out of that one too?” he muttered as he added another caught-in-a-storm thriller to his list of reorders. Despite the lack of customers today, he’d been on the move since he unlocked the door, and he’d done nothing but pull stock to fill orders going to
He refused to consider why the Elementals had put in a request for a handful of the caught-in-a-storm titles.
He stopped and let a shudder run through him. Even among the
But even Winter was calmer now that Meg was home.
Elliot’s meeting with the acting mayor had also helped calm everyone. The man had been quick to assure the Courtyard consul that all the wanted posters that had provoked such a tragic case of mistaken identity had been destroyed, and the police would do their utmost to apprehend anyone who caused Ms. Corbyn any distress in the future.
All the Others living in Courtyards throughout Thaisia would be watching to see if the human government in Lakeside would keep its word.
The man who sent the enemy into the Courtyard, the man who had given Meg a designation instead of a name, was still out there. Her skin was still worth too much profit for him to stop trying to get her back.
That Controller was still looking for her, and now the
Simon looked at his hands, which had grown furry. He snarled when he couldn’t get them back to looking human, a sign that he was too agitated to wear this skin. Since he didn’t want to scare off Heather, he did the sensible thing.
He stripped off his clothes, shifted to Wolf, and went to the Liaison’s Office to have a few minutes of playtime with Meg.
Meg put in a music disc and turned on the player. She didn’t want to listen to the radio anymore. She didn’t want to hear about the people who died in the storm or the damage the city had sustained. Maybe she should feel bad about not wanting to listen to the news, but what happened wasn’t her fault. If she had let those men take her, the Elementals still would have savaged Lakeside for the death of old Hurricane, if for nothing else. She could argue that, being the reason the storm ended, she had saved more people than she had harmed by being here.
Didn’t make her feel any less sorry for the people who had been hurt. And it made her wonder whether Lieutenant Montgomery felt the same way.
She had expected to die in the Courtyard, had seen the images from the prophecies come to pass. But the outcome had been different. Not only had she survived, but she had also prevented Asia Crane and those men from taking Sam.
She would always be short, but she wasn’t helpless and she wasn’t small. Not anymore.
She glanced at the clock. Bracing for the sound, she set the mail on the sorting table a moment before Nathan howled. Apparently, he intended to do that on the hour, every hour, while the office was open.
The Meg Report.
She hoped he would grow bored with this particular game very soon.
Hearing a sound from the back room, Meg picked up a stack of mail and barely glanced up when Simon trotted into the sorting room.
Something had changed between them while she was in the hospital. She wasn’t sure if Simon considered her a friend, a playmate, or a valued toy, but he seemed to enjoy playing games with her.
Speaking of games . . .
Standing on his hind legs, Simon rested one forepaw on the table and extended the other to touch her nose. She suspected the name of this game was Plop the Hat on Meg. If her nose wasn’t warm enough according to whatever criteria he was using at that moment, he would fetch the floppy fleece hat he had bought for her and make her put it on.
But she was no longer helpless or small. If she was going to be a squeaky toy for big, furry playmates, she was also going to have some say in the games. Starting now, with the choice of game.
She pulled back her head and glared at him. “If you try to touch my nose again today, I won’t give you any cookies.”
Simon withdrew the paw, seemed to consider that for a moment, then reached out again as if testing her.
“I mean it, Simon. No cookies for the
Nose or cookies. Hard choice. But in the end, the cookies won.
ALSO BY ANNE BISHOP
