Written in Red

bigwig. So it was argued that while those boys were standing next to the drums, no one saw them dump the poison into the creek. They were released, and the city government was foolish enough to let them publicly declare their ‘actions without consequences’ as a victory for humankind. And the terra indigene watched and listened.

“Late that night, it started to rain. The skies opened up and the water came down so hard and so fast, the underpasses were flooded and the creeks and streams had overflowed their banks before anyone realized there was trouble. Precise lightning strikes knocked out electric power all over the city. Phone lines went down about the same time. Middle of the night. No way to see in the dark, no way to call for help. And it kept raining.

“Sinkholes big enough to swallow tractor trailers cut off every road leading out of the city. Bridge supports that had held for a hundred years were torn out of the ground. Localized earthquakes shook buildings into pieces, while sinkholes swallowed others. And it kept raining.

“People drowned in their own cars trying to escape—or in their own homes when they couldn’t even try to get away.

“The rain stopped falling at dawn. Truckers coming into the city for early-morning deliveries were the first ones to realize something had happened and called for help. They found cars packed with women and children floating in fields on either side of the road.”

Burke cleared his throat. “Somehow cars that just had women and children got out. And most men who were around the same age as the ones who had poisoned the Others’ water supply didn’t die of drowning.”

Monty watched Burke’s face and said nothing. This was nothing like the version of the Drowned City he’d heard.

“As the water began to recede, rescue teams in boats went in to find survivors. They weren’t many beyond the ones who had been washed out of the city. There wasn’t a government building or a police station still standing. My grandfather’s rescue team got close to the Courtyard and saw what watched them. That was their first—and only—look at the truth about the Courtyards and the terra indigene.”

Burke took a breath and blew it out slowly as he returned to his chair behind the desk and sat down. “The Others, like the shape-shifters and bloodsuckers? The ones who venture out to shop in human stores and interact with humans? They’re the buffer, Lieutenant. As lethal as they are, they are the least of what lives in a Courtyard. What lives unseen . . . My grandfather said the term used in confidential reports was Elementals. He wouldn’t explain what they were, but a lifetime after he saw them, his hands still shook when he said the word.”

Monty shivered.

Burke linked his fingers and pressed his fisted hands on the desk. “I don’t want Lakeside to become another Drowned City, and I expect you to help me make sure that doesn’t happen. We’ve already got one black mark. We can’t afford another. We clear on that, Lieutenant?”

“We’re clear, sir,” Monty replied. He wanted to ask about that black mark, but he had enough to think about today.

“Stop by your desk to pick up your cards and mobile phone. Officer Kowalski will be waiting for you there.”

He stood up, since it was clear that Burke was done with him. With a nod to his captain, Monty turned to leave.

“Do you know the joke about what happened to the dinosaurs?” Burke asked as Monty opened the office door.

He turned back, offering the other man a hesitant smile. “No, sir. What happened to the dinosaurs?”

Burke didn’t smile. “The Others is what happened to the dinosaurs.”

Officer Karl Kowalski was a personable, good-looking man in his late twenties who knew how to handle a car on Lakeside’s snowy streets.

“Hope the salt trucks and sanders make a pass pretty soon,” Kowalski said as they watched the car in front of them slide through a traffic light. “Otherwise, we’re going to spend the day dealing with fender benders and cars that spun out and are stuck.”

“Is that what we’re checking out?” Monty asked, opening the small notebook he carried everywhere.

“Hope so.”

An odd answer, since their first call was to check out a car abandoned on Parkside Avenue.

Monty checked the notes he’d made. “A plow spotted the car late last night but it wasn’t reported to us until this morning? Why the delay?”

“Car could have slid off the road and gotten stuck,” Kowalski replied. “Owner could have called a friend and gotten a ride home, intending to deal with the car in the morning. Or he could have called a towing service and found shelter somewhere, since every towing business would have lists of calls in weather like this, and it could have taken the truck hours to get to the owner of this car.”

“But the car is still there.”

“Yes, sir. The car is still there, so now it’s time for us to take a look.” Kowalski pulled up behind the abandoned car and turned on the patrol car’s flashing lights. He looked toward the bushes that provided a privacy screen behind a long stretch of fence. “Ah, sh— Sorry, Lieutenant.”

Monty looked at what might have been a trail from the car to the fence. “What is it?”

“Nothing good,” Kowalski replied grimly as he got out of the patrol car.

Monty got out, testing the ground beneath the snow to make sure he wasn’t going to tumble into a ditch. Reassured, he plowed through the snow next to the indentation that might have been another person’s footprints.

Caw caw

He glanced to his right at the handful of birds perched in the nearby trees.

The chest-high fence didn’t have those decorative spikes to deter someone from scrambling over. The bushes wouldn’t be much of a wall, especially if someone hopped the fence to look for help. Noticing the broken tops of two bushes, Monty reached over the fence and parted them.

Caw caw

“Oh, gods, there’s a lot of blood,” Monty said, catching sight of the trampled snow beyond the bushes. “Give me a boost. Someone’s hurt and needs help.”

“Lieutenant.” Kowalski grabbed Monty’s arm and hauled him back a couple of steps before saying in a low voice, “That’s the Courtyard. Believe me, there is no one wounded on the other side of that fence.”

Hearing fear beneath the conviction in Kowalski’s voice, Monty looked around. The handful of Crows had swelled to over a dozen, and more were flying toward them. A Hawk perched on top of the streetlight and another soared overhead. And all of them were watching him and Kowalski.

Then Monty heard the howling.

“We need to go back to the car now,” Kowalski said.

Nodding, Monty led the way back to the car. As soon as they were inside, Kowalski locked the doors and started the engine, turning the heater up all the way.

“I thought the barrier between humans and Others would be more . . . substantial,” Monty said, shaken. “That’s really the Courtyard?”

“That’s it,” Kowalski said, studying Monty. “You didn’t work near the Courtyard in Toland?”

Monty shook his head. “Never got near it.” He noticed that Kowalski’s hands hadn’t stopped shaking. “You sure there’s nobody hurt on the other side of that fence?”

“I’m sure.” Kowalski tipped his head to indicate the open land on the other side of the four-lane avenue. “Once the tow truck arrives, we can check the cairn to find out who went over the fence.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Every Courtyard has its own policy when it comes to dealing with humans. The Wolfgard have been running this one for the past few years, and their rules are clear. Kids who hop the fence to look around on a dare get tossed back over the fence and sat on until we pick them up and arrest them for trespassing. Teenagers will get roughed up, maybe get a bad bite or a broken bone before they’re tossed back over the fence. But any adult who goes in without an invitation doesn’t come back out. And if any human—kid, teen, or adult—hops that fence and is