Written in Red

Vlad sat back and crossed one leg over the other. “The leaders from the Courtyards that were affected are satisfied that this sickness begins with the humans?”

“Yes. But the human leaders believe just as strongly that we’re the cause.”

“Doesn’t matter what they believe,” Jester growled.

“If the humans are spreading a new sickness to us, there is a way to fix the problem,” Blair said, staring at Simon.

“That’s not the answer,” Henry said, shifting in his chair. “Not yet. First we or the humans must find the root of this sickness. Then we decide what needs to be killed.”

“Agreed,” Simon said. “Especially since there has been no sign of this sickness in the east.” He sighed. “One thing ties each of these attacks to us: some Crows were killed near each of the villages a day or two before the attack took place. I’ll talk to Jenni Crowgard. If Crows begin to die without reason, we need to take that as a warning that the sickness has reached Lakeside.”

He waited a moment. “Now. What’s been happening here?”

He wasn’t sure if it was just timing or if Vlad had sent a signal, but as soon as he asked the question, the door opened and Winter walked into the room, followed by Erebus Sanguinati. After a moment of startled silence, two chairs were added to the circle.

Elliot was sitting close enough to him that Simon could smell his sire’s fear. Bad enough to have Erebus come to this meeting, but one of the Elementals? They rarely concerned themselves with anything but their connection to Namid. And when they did, the results were unpredictable—and usually devastating.

“Meg had a prophecy while you were gone,” Henry said, his abrupt words changing the direction of the discussion before it began.

Elliot gave Simon a startled look. “Prophecy?”

“Meg is a cassandra sangue,” Simon replied.

Winter had no reaction. Erebus simply nodded.

“What do you know about blood prophets?” he asked Erebus.

“Very little. Meg is the first of her kind I have ever seen, so I did not know the cassandra sangue and the humans who have the sweet blood were the same,” Erebus replied.

“What is the sweet blood?” Henry asked, his eyes narrowing in thought.

“They have adult bodies, but they retain the sweetness of a child’s heart,” Erebus said.

Simon thought about the old woman who had cut her face to see his future. A sweetness in her eyes, in her smile, despite her age. Not a feeb, like some of the adolescents had called her. No, there was nothing wrong with her mind. But perhaps that childlike innocence provided a veil against the terrible things the prophets sometimes saw in the visions.

“Not prey,” Henry said, looking at Simon. “We’ve recognized something different about some humans without realizing what it was.”

Simon nodded. “Meg.”

“The Sanguinati do not feed on the young,” Erebus said. “And we do not feed on the sweet blood, because they are both wondrous and terrible. That forbidding was done long ago, and it is still passed down from one Sanguinati to another, even though we had forgotten the reason for it.”

“Why terrible?” Tess asked, leaning forward. Her hair was still colored, but it was relaxing into loose curls.

Erebus shrugged. “Prophecies swim in that blood. I do not think I would like to see such things if I drank from a cassandra sangue.”

“Our Meg is going to stay, isn’t she?” Winter asked, sliding a look at Elliot that chilled the air. “My sisters and I would be unhappy if someone made her leave.”

How did she know about the argument between Meg and Elliot? More to the point, what would she do with that knowledge?

He didn’t want to think about that, so he focused on Henry. “What prophecy?”

Tess, Vlad, Jester, and Blair already knew about Sam somehow being connected to men coming into the Courtyard with weapons. That explained Nathan being assigned to keep watch at the Liaison’s Office and why Blair had spent the night keeping watch on the open Utilities gate. The men Meg had seen had come in during a storm.

“We have been vigilant,” Henry said. “The pup has not been alone. Meg has not been alone. They have both grown stronger in the past few days.”

Despite the potential threat seen in the prophecy, Simon relaxed a little as each member of the Business Association gave him a report. He even laughed during Blair’s account of Boone’s dealings with the Liaison and her request for special meat. There had been no clashes with humans in general or the police in particular while he’d been gone, no clashes among the terra indigene except for the misstep Elliot had made that angered the Sanguinati. But that wouldn’t happen again. He’d banish Elliot from the Lakeside Courtyard before he let the other Wolf—or anyone else—harm Meg in any way.

And Meg. Making deliveries, making friends, making a life among them in such a short time.

Meg. One of Namid’s creations, both terrible and wondrous.

That was something he was going to have to think about.

Dear Ms. Know-It-All,

The other night, I had a friend over for dinner and a walk on the wild side (if you know what I mean). Everything was going fine until the kissing and petting part. I got a little excited when he began to play push-away after I nipped him and, well, I ended up biting him on the thigh. It wasn’t a big bite—didn’t even need stitching—and despite what he claimed, it really wasn’t all that close to his chew toy. Now he won’t return my calls. What should I do?

Signed,

Puzzled

Dear Puzzled,

First, young terra indigene often get confused when food provides more than one kind of stimulation. But when you invite a human over for dinner, he expects to be served dinner, not be dinner. Second, even though humans claim to enjoy biting as foreplay, they only mean it when their partners don’t have teeth of any significance. Third, no male, human or Other, feels easy when teeth get too close to the chew toy. So chalk this up to experience, and the next time you invite a human to take a walk on the wild side, stick to a jog in the park.

Trying to breathe and swallow at the same time, Meg spit peppermint tea all over the counter.

Ms. Know-It-All. The newsletter’s dispenser of advice for interactions between humans and the terra indigene.

Gods above and below.

She wondered whether Lorne found the column humorous, or if knowing the Others thought this was sound advice for dealing with humans was the reason he preferred to keep a counter between himself and most of his customers at the Three Ps.

She was still wiping the tea off her counter when she spotted Harry walking up the narrow path from the street. She opened the go-through and reached the door at the same time he did. Pushing it open until he could brace it with his shoulder, she grabbed the top package and hurried back to the counter.

On second thought . . .

Putting the package on the handcart, she waited for him.

“Had a spill, Miz Meg?” Harry asked as he set the rest of the packages on the cart. There was an odd tone in his voice.

“Enough of one that the counter is still wet,” she replied, looking over her shoulder, then back at him. “You go ahead. I’ll fill out my notes as soon as I finish wiping the counter. I’ve seen cars slipping and sliding out there this morning, and you don’t want your truck to get hit.”

“That I don’t. You keep warm now, you hear? And watch out for those spills.”

“I will. Drive safe. See you Moonsday.”

Harry waved at the Crows as he pushed open the door and headed for his truck. Meg finished wiping the counter, folded the newsletters, and put them in the paper-recycling bin in the back room.