“You want her to come here?” Simon asked. Wasn’t that what Meg wanted? To bring her friend to Lakeside? After all, she was safe here, had a life here.
“Only if Lakeside is the right place,” Meg replied after a moment’s thought. “It’s the right place for me, but it might not be for her.”
The terra indigene studied her, this human who didn’t want gold or silver or gemstones or money. Finally Cheryl Hawkgard said, “We will try to save your friend.”
“Thank you,” Meg said. She went into the office and quietly closed the door.
The terra indigene hustled to load their carryalls into the bus. Blair took off for the train station as soon as he could close the bus door. After a brief discussion, Alan Wolfgard and Bobbie Beargard decided to ride back to the High Northeast with Charlie, so they loaded their gear in the back of the pickup. Alan wanted a last quick browse through Howling Good Reads and Bobbie went with him, leaving Simon alone with Charlie.
Smiling gently, the Crow said, “Don’t absorb so much of what is human that you forget who you are. But if you must, do it for your own sake rather than for the benefit of the rest of us.” He looked around. “This is a good place. Can I come back and visit again?”
“You will be welcome,” Simon replied.
Alan returned with another bag of books. Even Bobbie had a couple she tucked in her carryall before he could see the covers.
After they were gone, Simon returned to Howling Good Reads and looked around. All the guests had taken advantage of shopping in a bookstore—and interacting with humans who chatted with them and recommended books—so there were a lot of empty spaces on the shelves. He and Vlad were going to have some work ahead of them to restock. Maybe he should get a cloth and wipe the shelves now that he could see them.
Was that too human?
He understood Charlie’s warning, but he was a Wolf and always would be.
But would it be such a bad thing to be just a little more human? Just enough more?
Don’t get too comfortable in this skin, he thought as he went into the stockroom and rolled a cart to the shelves. Especially when there’s no certainty you’ll still want it a decade from now.
Monty flipped the folder closed when Louis Gresh walked up to his desk.
The two men studied each other. Then Louis said, “Yesterday you and Captain Burke went to a meeting at the Courtyard. Since then, he’s been on the phone and you’ve been working at your desk instead of being out on patrol. Burke’s not always easy to read, but you’ve got the look of a man who knows there’s a bomb and is trying to find it before the clock gives that final tick.”
Monty said nothing.
“Not only that,” Louis continued, “you’re keeping your partner out of it with the captain’s blessing, which means he knows how bad this will be if things go sideways.”
“Something you want, Louis?”
“Let me help on the QT.”
“Did Burke okay it?”
Louis smiled. “Okay what?”
Monty hesitated. The fewer people who knew the ultimatum the Others had given, the fewer people who might tell the wrong person. The Controller had clout with people in government and business. What if someone warned him as a way of garnering favor? What would happen to the Midwest—and the rest of Thaisia—if the man managed to escape and go to ground somewhere else?
But they weren’t going to narrow down the target without taking chances. Not in the window of time Burke figured they had before the terra indigene began destroying the Midwest.
He wrote down the names of a dozen villages, towns, and cities, then handed the paper to Louis. “We’re looking for private schools, institutions, or any other kind of place where blood prophets might be kept.”
Louis gave the paper a little wave. “These located around the Great Lakes?”
“Lower Midwest.”
Louis looked at him for a long time. “If this bomb goes off before you find what you’re looking for, how much of Thaisia do we lose?”
“The whole Midwest Region.”
“Gods above and below.”
Monty watched Louis carefully fold the paper and put it in a pocket. The Midwest wasn’t their jurisdiction. Government officials should be informed of the threat, and the rest should be up to the Midwest’s governor to locate the Controller and stop the actions that were adding to the ever-present tension between humans and Others.
But that assumed the Midwest’s governor wasn’t a client of the man the terra indigene wanted killed. That wasn’t an assumption the humans who would get caught in the destruction could afford to make. It wasn’t an assumption he could afford to make.
Clock is ticking, Monty thought. He hoped Dominic Lorenzo would come through and give him the list of private hospitals or other medical institutions that could hide a compound that matched the description Meg had provided. He hoped that what he was doing would give all of them the chance at a better future.
He hoped he found the answer before the bomb made of wind and fire destroyed the Midwest.
CHAPTER 27
On Firesday morning, Monty waited at the bus stop and listened to the people around him.
“Crows gathering around schools and medical facilities in the Midwest. Why would they do that?”
“Spying. That’s what I heard.”
“Spying on what? Looking to snatch food from the children or pick through the trash is more like it.”
“All those people arrested for shooting birds. It’s not right.”
Not wanting to get entangled in the discussion by pointing out that killing crows was against the law, Monty felt relieved when the bus arrived.
Gods above and below. Shooting crows. Those Midwest towns might as well paint a target in the town square and have the government stand there shouting, We have something to hide!
The police force grapevine could be an effective tool. However, in this case, some people who shouldn’t have had gotten wind of the hunt. But the Lakeside police were discovering the grapevine had also revealed unexpected allies in other regions. Much of what Captain Burke received was speculation or rumor about halfway houses for girls with addictions, but it was becoming clear that many police stations across Thaisia were looking at Lakeside and wondering if the Chestnut Street station might provide a new model for working with the terra indigene. After all, Lakeside had come through that recent conflict with the Others with minimal casualties and damage to property.
It won’t mean anything if the east and west of Thaisia are divided by a scorched hole where the Midwest used to be, Monty thought. But we’ll keep trying. Clock is ticking, so we have to keep trying.
“Gods, Doug. What did you get me into?”
“Problem, Pete?”
“You’re damn right there’s a fucking problem! Someone e-mailed my wife’s itinerary to me to show they can find her at any hour of the day. Someone sent me a photo of my children’s school and a close-up of children on the playground during recess, with a black X over my kids! Someone doesn’t want me asking questions.”
“You want to back out?”
“The time to back out was when you called. But I don’t want to come home one day and find my wife and kids …” A choking sound. Then a shuddering effort to regain control. “I’m pretty sure I located Mr. Smith’s compound. It’s not in my town. It’s in the nearest city, which is on the main rail line.”