“Where was this? Lakeside?”
“No, a place called Ferryman’s Landing. I’m in Lakeside now. I’ll wait a couple of days and let things settle. Then I’ll see what I can do about extracting your property.”
CHAPTER 20
“Mr. Smith is on the line for you.”
The Controller picked up the phone. “What is it?”
“The scrap girls I sold you. I’d like to get them back.”
“We agreed at the time of the sale that there would be no returns.”
“Yes, I know, but all my best girls are suffering from breakdowns. No matter what my clients ask, all the girls talk about is a killer, a destroyer, blood and fire and death. Clients are demanding refunds since they aren’t getting what they paid for.”
“Prophecy is about interpretation, Mr. Smith. It’s your job to interpret what the prophet sees. And we all know how fluid interpretation can be if one looks beyond the literal.”
A pause. “What if the girls are saying what they’re really seeing for my clients?”
“It’s unlikely.”
Another pause. “About the girls …”
“The scraps you sold me have already been used and are no longer available. Good day, Mr. Smith.”
The Controller hung up and stared at the phone. Then he pressed the office buzzer and waited for his assistant’s response.
“Sir?”
“Prepare cs747 for the chair.”
“Today’s top story. A town in the Midwest is under quarantine after an outbreak of violence. There are rumors that a shipment of tainted ground beef was the cause of a series of violent attacks that ended in several deaths. Officials believe this is an isolated outbreak, but they advise caution and are recommending that citizens dispose of any ground beef bought in the past three days.”
Emotionally battered and physically queasy, Monty turned off the radio and locked his apartment before hurrying to reach the bus stop. He needed to hear whatever Burke had to say to all the men this morning—and whatever Burke was willing to say in private.
He didn’t think any other humans besides himself, Dominic Lorenzo, and Captain Burke were aware of what Meg Corbyn had revealed when she experienced that odd secondary prophecy from the reopened cut. So they were the only ones who had a good idea what the officials investigating the violence in the Midwest town were going to find.
The beef had been tainted with a particular kind of human flesh.
The Controller watched the attendants check the straps that secured a girl to the chair and prevented her from struggling just as the cut was made, since an imperfect cut spoiled both skin and prophecy. Like other men in his line of business, he’d lost a few valued clients recently—men who had regular appointments and were now making excuses for not wanting another prophecy.
Not want another prophecy? His clients weren’t the kind of men who would leave their fortunes to chance. No, they’d gone to West Coast compounds or to one of those “charitable homes” in the Southeast and paid for a cut on an inferior girl.
If that was the depth of their loyalty for the guidance he had provided, then fuck them all. Prophecies could be read in so many ways, as he’d told that fool Smith. Until recently, his girls and his interpretations had been superior to those of anyone else in the business.
Now it was time to utilize his own resources and find out why things were going wrong. Had been going wrong since that bitch cs759 managed to escape. If she couldn’t be reacquired, she had to be destroyed.
But he wasn’t here to find out about Meg Corbyn. He was here strictly for himself.
He snapped his fingers and waited until cs747’s eyes focused on him. “Tell me about my future. What do you see around me? Speak. Tell me what you see.”
He’d ordered a cut on prime skin. Not much good skin left on this one, but the only girl superior to cs747 when it came to prophecy was cs759.
“Tell me about my future. Tell me what you see,” he said again when the cut was made and the blood started to flow.
She resisted. Despite the agonizing pain that flooded a prophet’s body before she began to speak, this bitch always resisted for a few seconds, and he couldn’t be sure she revealed everything she saw before the euphoria clouded her memory.
“A map,” she said dreamily. “You’re holding a map of Thaisia. It’s bleeding. All the cities are bleeding. Drip, drip, drip on the floor, splashing your shoes.” She paused. “They know your name.”
The Controller’s breath caught in his throat. No one knew his real name. “What do they call me?” he asked harshly.
“Killer.” She smiled and looked right at him with clear eyes. “Destroyer.” Then she laughed, and the sound held no sanity.
He rose, furious. “Clean her up and take her back to her cell.”
The next time he needed scraps for the grinder, the bitch would be on the truck.
Jean lay on her narrow bed, drifting on the last bit of euphoria. Had the Walking Names who brought her back to her cell raped her? Or was she too scarred by the cuts and the beatings for them to keep it up long enough to get off?
Had to hold on for those moments before the pain forced her to speak. She could hold out longer, but then the Controller might start to wonder, might have the Walking Names do a more thorough check of her cell. They might find out about the little secret cuts and start wondering what she’d seen.
She’d seen enough to know she had to hold on a little while longer.
All the cities bleeding because of the Controller. That was the future for the humans in Thaisia. There was only one person who might be able to change that future, and it wasn’t the Controller. It was Meg Corbyn.
“Meg,” Jean whispered, smiling.
As she drifted to sleep, she wondered why, in all the recent visions, she kept seeing her scarred hand holding a jar of honey.
Meg drove her BOW to the Wolfgard Complex. The Green Complex, where she lived, was the only one where humans were tolerated because it was the multispecies complex. The rest were segregated by kind, and even when she made deliveries, she was careful not to intrude, going only to the area used for the delivery of mail and packages.
But today she wanted to see Sam before she started work, so she drove to the Wolfgard Complex with her container of treats—cookies she’d broken into puppy-size pieces, as well as a few cookies for the adults.
The pups were playing in front of the complex when she pulled up. Most of them remained focused on each other and the game. One stopped and watched as she got out of the BOW. Then he ran toward her, his feet still too big for the rest of him.
“Sam!” she cried happily, crouching with her arms open in welcome.
The other pups, hearing the cry and seeing Sam racing toward her, joined in the chase.
Alarmed, Meg shot upright, realizing too late that Sam might remember he had to be gentle with her but none of the other pups knew she couldn’t be nipped or scraped with claws. Even if they didn’t intend to hurt her, an accident could have terrible consequences for all of them.
A sharp arrrooooo! had them all skidding to a halt before they rammed into her.
The female striding toward her and the pups was mostly human in form but couldn’t pass for human. For one thing, she had fur instead of hair and her ears were still Wolf.
“Hello,” Meg said. She smiled at the female before crouching to hug Sam. He wiggled and licked and talked at her in Wolf, which started the other pups vocalizing.