text: After a long, hot shower and a late breakfast, Meg filled Earthday with chores, Sam, and her first social outing. While her clothes washed, she and Sam walked around the complex. While the clothes dried, she and Sam walked around the complex. By the time she got home and put her clothes away, Sam was sprawled on her bedroom floor, unwilling to move. She had to lug him back to his cage in Simon's living room.
  
  Then it was time to meet the females who were gathering in the Green's social room to watch a chick movie. Jenni Crowgard and her sisters were there, along with Julia Hawkgard, Allison Owlgard, and Tess.
  
  They rearranged the chairs and the sectional couch to their liking—and for ease at reaching the popcorn, nuts, and chocolate chip cookies Tess had brought. Then Jenni started the movie.
  
  There were mothers crying about daughters, and daughters yelling at mothers. There were fathers arguing with sons. There were friends offering unwanted advice to everyone. But in the end, they were all smiling and hugging.
  
  Meg couldn't decide if this was supposed to be a story about a real family or if it was make-believe and wouldn't actually happen in a human community. The Others didn't understand the story either, but they all agreed on one thing: there wasn't a single chick in the whole movie.
  
  By the time she got back, Sam was awake and ready to play. So they ate and played and watched another movie that definitely had chicks and other animals in it.
  
  "If you let me get some sleep tonight, you can come with me in the morning," Meg said when she latched the cage. "But if you start howling and keep everyone up, you'll have to stay home by yourself."
  
  Sam whined, making Meg feel like a meanie. But he settled down, and she went back to her apartment and barely had time to go through her nightly routine before she fell into bed and was sound asleep.
  
  The next morning, there wasn't a sound from Simon's apartment. Not a yip or a howl. Having slept through her alarm, Meg wasn't sure she would have heard Sam before she stumbled out of bed, no matter how much noise he'd made. However, by the time she got out of the shower, the silence had taken on an ominous feel.
  
  What if she hadn't latched the cage correctly last night? What if Sam had gotten out and, feeling upset with her for leaving him, had done one of the things that had worried Simon enough to buy the cage in the first place?
  
  Rubbing her wet hair, Meg stuffed the towel on the rack, put on her robe and slippers, and hurried over to Simon's apartment. She shivered as she worked the lock in the back hallway—a reminder that even indoors, this wasn't a good time of year for wet hair and minimal clothing.
  
  She would fix both of those things as soon as she checked on Sam.
  
  What if he wasn't making any noise because he was injured and couldn't howl for help? What if he was sick? What if...
  
  She rushed down the stairs and into the living room.
  
  ... he was licking the last bits of kibble out of his bowl and waiting for her quietly so she would take him with her?
  
  Sam wagged his tail and let out a soft arrooooo of greeting.
  
  "Good morning, Sam," Meg said. "I just wanted to let you know that I'll come and get you in a few minutes. Okay?"
  
  Taking the sound he made as agreement, she dashed back to her apartment to dry her hair and get dressed. She hurried through the rest of her morning routine, almost choking on her hasty breakfast of peanut butter and bread.
  
  By the time she got her place locked up and returned to Simon's apartment, Sam was dancing in place. As soon as she unlocked the cage, he was out and dancing at the front door. She got him into his harness and packed up his bowls and towel. When she stepped outside, Vlad was waiting for her.
  
  He took the two carry sacks and looked thoughtful. "What are you bringing every day?"
  
  "Sam's food bowls," Meg replied, double checking that she had properly locked Simon's door, because she remembered images and clips of thieves breaking into houses. Then there was the recent vision of those men dressed in black and Sam being afraid. She didn't think anyone would sneak into the Courtyard and try to steal from the Others. On the other hand, people did foolish things all the time.
  
  "Meg, if Sam is going to the office with you most days, get another set of bowls so you don't have to cart these back and forth," Vlad said.
  
  "I'm going to look through the Pet Palace catalog this morning to see how much they cost," she said as the three of them set off for the garages, stopping every few steps for Sam to pee. She didn't want to be stingy, but the shopping trip on Firesday had shown her how quickly money was used up, and she didn't want to run out before the next pay envelope. And that thought reminded her to stop at the Market Square bank and find out how much store credit she could anticipate having each month. She was beginning to understand why so many of the Controller's clients had wanted prophecies about money.
  
  "Buy what you want for Sam and charge it to the Business Association," Vlad said. "I'll authorize the purchases."
  
  "Thank you."
  
  They packed the carry sacks and Sam into the BOW. Then, despite her having her key that morning, Vlad drove the three of them to the Liaison's Office.
  
  When she opened the front door, Harry from Everywhere Delivery was just pulling in.
  
  Not late this morning, she thought as she waved at Harry—and caught a glimpse of someone watching from the second floor of the consulate. But just barely on time.
  
  Since Harry always chatted with her for a few minutes, Meg took her time setting up her clipboard and filling out the information on the packages he brought. Unlike Asia Crane, he wasn't blatantly curious about the Courtyard. Harry chatted about his own life, a version of the human world that was as alien to her as the terra indigenes' way of life. But Meg absorbed the words, and whenever she had a few minutes of quiet time, she tried to match the things Harry talked about to the images and clips that had been part of her training.
  
  "Pull up so we're not in the way of deliveries," Monty said as Kowalski drove into the Courtyard. "This won't take more than a couple of minutes."
  
  There had been no further news from the West Coast, no confirmation of how many people in Jerzy had been killed last week, no information about why a pack of young men had attacked the Others and started the fight that escalated into a slaughter. And despite having a patrol car waiting at the train station whenever an eastbound train pulled in, there had been no sign of Simon Wolfgard.
  
  Preferring to avoid more dealings with Vladimir Sanguinati, Monty had decided to approach the Liaison. He didn't think Meg Corbyn could—or would—tell him anything, but he wanted to remind her that he was there to help.
  
  As he opened the office door, one of the Crows fluttered over the stone wall, while another went winging off, no doubt to tell someone that he was there.
  
  There was that flash of fear in Meg Corbyn's gray eyes when she saw him, quickly followed by an effort to hide that fear. He wondered if she would ever look at him and not be afraid that he was going to take her back to whatever she had run away from. But why would she still be afraid? Didn't she know that the Others wouldn't tolerate her being apprehended?
  
  "Good morning, Lieutenant Montgomery. Is there something I can do for you?"
  
  Reaching the counter, Monty smiled and shook his head. "No, ma'am. I just dropped by to see if there was anything we can do for you."
  
  "Oh." She looked at the catalog on the counter, as if searching for the correct response among the merchandise.
  
  Since she wasn't looking at him, he focused on the room beyond the Private door, which she had left open. A back wall with slots and shelves. A box of sugar lumps sitting on a big table in the middle of the room. And a gray puppy standing in the doorway, its lips peeled back to reveal a mouth full of healthy teeth.
  
  Not a dog puppy, Monty thought when the animal snarled at him. A Wolf pup.
  
  Meg jerked at the sound. After staring at the Wolf, she looked at Monty and said, "This is Sam. He's helping me for a few days." Then she looked at the youngster. "Sam, this is Lieutenant Montgomery. He's a police officer." Back to him. "He's young. I'm not sure he knows what a police officer is."
  
  When did the Others start shifting into human form? Was that pup also a boy? Whose boy?
  
  He didn't need three guesses to figure that out, but it made him wonder what other duties Simon Wolfgard might require from his Liaison.
  
  "Maybe the bookstore has one of those 'this is' books," Monty said. "I don't recall the actual name, but the gist of the books is to help children identify things. Like, 'This is a cat. This is a car. This is a mouse. This is a moose.'"
  
  There was a queer look in her eyes, and her fair skin paled. "I remember those kinds of books," she whispered. "I didn't know other children were taught that way."
  
  He'd been thinking of all the evenings he sat with Lizzy, reading those books to her, and how excited she had been when they went to the children's zoo and she could identify the goat, chicken, and bunny. But looking at Meg, he doubted she had the same kind of warm memories about those books.
  
  "Thank you. That's a good suggestion," she said. "If HGR doesn't carry children's books, maybe the Courtyard library does."
  
  Time to leave. He glanced at the catalog, which was open to a selection of dog beds, and noticed she had circled one. He took a moment to gauge the pup, then tipped his head to look at her choice.
  
  "I'd go with the medium-sized bed, not the small," he said.
  
  "But he is small," Meg protested. She paused. "At least, I think he's small. I haven't seen a full-grown Wolf yet."
  
  He smiled, but he wondered why she hadn't seen a Wolf yet. "Take my word for it. Sam is already bigger than what people consider a small dog."
  
  "Oh. Well, that's good to know."
  
  "You have a good day, Ms. Corbyn."
  
  "You too."
  
  When he stepped out of the office, he caught sight of Kowalski's expression. Looking to the right, he saw the Grizzly who was standing on the other side of the wall, watching him. In those first moments, his lungs refused to breathe and his bowels turned to water.
  
  "Good day, Mr. Beargard," he said quietly. Then he walked over to the patrol car and got in.
  
  "We okay to leave?" Kowalski asked, still keeping an eye on the Grizzly.
  
  "Yes. Let's go," Monty replied.
  
  Henry Beargard watched them until they pulled into traffic.
  
  "A guy from the consulate came out as soon as you went into the Liaison's Office," Kowalski said. "Mainly wanted to know what we were doing there. Told him it was a courtesy call."
  
  "Which it was."
  
  "The guy was in my line of sight, so when I first saw the Grizzly, I thought it was one of those carvings, until the bear turned his head and watched you talking to the Liaison." Kowalski braked carefully as they came up to a red traffic light. "Never saw one of the Bears before. Can't say I'm anxious to see another one." A pause when the light changed and they started moving again. "Do you think he could have gotten over that wall?"
  
  Could have gotten over it or gone through it. Not finding any comfort in that certainty, Monty didn't answer the question.
  
  Meg called the Pet Palace and placed her order with the shop's manager since the salesperson who answered the phone didn't want the responsibility of charging anything to the Courtyard. Receiving a promise that the bowls and bed would be delivered the following morning, she considered her next call.
  
  Something was wrong with Sam—or had been wrong. She'd understood that from the cage in Simon's living room and the kibble, which she doubted was a typical food for any of the Wolves.
  
  Something had changed in the past few days. Sam seemed more responsive, more like a curious puppy now. If he was behaving more like a typical Wolf pup, maybe that explained his increasing lack of interest in the kibble.
  
  Although it didn't explain his interest in the cookies she had bought for him.
  
  Since she couldn't ask Simon for advice—and she sure didn't want to ask Blair—she called the Market Square butcher shop to see if she could get an answer.
  
  And as she listened to the phone ring, a thought niggled at her. She'd been in the Courtyard almost two weeks now and heard them every night, so why hadn't she seen any of the Wolves in Wolf form? Were they under orders to avoid her when in that form? Were they really that scary?
  
  "We got meat and fish today," a male voice said. "Whaddaya looking for?"
  
  "This is Meg, the Liaison. Do you have any special meat?"
  
  Silence, followed by sputtering. "Special meat? You want some of the special meat?"
  
  Obviously there was a special meat. Just as obviously, not everyone was allowed to have it.
  
  "It's for Sam," Meg said. "He's not enthusiastic about the kibble, so I wondered if there was a special meat for puppies. Well, maybe something like rabbit or deer isn't really special, since Wolves eat it all the time. Don't they?" When he didn't say anything, she plowed on. "Little Wolves Sam's age do eat meat, don't they?"
  
  A gusty sigh. Then that voice, sounding relieved, said, "Sure they eat meat. Sure they do. Got some nice bits of beef in today. That would be more of a treat than deer or rabbit—unless you want a whole haunch of rabbit. Got a haunch left from the one I caught this morning."
  
  Suddenly feeling queasy, Meg said, "A small piece of beef would be fine. I don't want to give him too much if he hasn't had it for a while."
  
  "I'll bring it over." He hung up.
  
  Meg stared at the phone. "Why was he so upset about me asking for special meat?"
  
  Not everyone was allowed to have it. Or was it just the humans who weren't supposed to want it because...
  
  Before she lost her nerve, she called A Little Bite and silently thanked all the gods when Merri Lee answered.
  
  "Are humans considered special meat?" Meg asked.
  
  "This isn't a good thing to talk about over the phone," Merri Lee finally said.
  
  For a moment, Meg couldn't think, could barely breathe as a drawing of a cow with arrows pointing to the various cuts of meat popped into her head. Then she imagined a drawing of a human with the same kinds of arrows. Could there be a sign like that in the butcher shop?
  
  "Merri? Does the butcher shop in the Courtyard sell people parts?"
  
  Silence.
  
  "Oh, gods."
  
  After another silence, Merri Lee said, "I'm pretty sure the special meat isn't sold in the butcher shop anymore, if it ever was," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "And I'm pretty sure when the Others kill a human, that person is usually consumed on the spot and there aren't any leftovers." She swallowed hard enough that Meg could hear it over the phone. "But when special meat is available, you'll see a sign on the shop door. It's not obvious what it's for, but we've all been able to guess why it goes up. Like I said, I'm pretty sure they don't sell the meat there, but the sign tells all the Others that it's available."
  
  "But we're supposed to shop there!"
  
  "Have you been inside yet?"
  
  "No. I don't know how to cook, so I haven't bought any meat there yet." And might never buy any.
  
  "When you do, be sure to ask what meat you're getting. Or tell them what you're looking for. If you ask for a steak and don't specify the animal, you could get beef or horse or deer or moose or even bison. That can be interesting, but you don't always want interesting."
  
  Feeling wobbly, Meg braced a hand on the counter and wished she'd never thought of getting a treat for Sam. "Okay." She blew out a breath. "Okay. Thanks, Merri."
  
  She hung up and went back into the sorting room in time to hear a loud knock on the back door. Sam followed her, still wearing the harness and leash because he wouldn't let her unclip the safety line.
  
  She opened the door. The man had the brown hair and eyes of the Hawks she'd met, and he was wearing a blood-smeared apron around his waist. He held out two packages wrapped in brown paper.
  
  "Chopped up a few pieces of stew beef," he said. "Let it get body warm before you give it to Sam. The other package has pieces of dried stag stick. The pups like chewing on those."
  
  "What's a stag stick?" Meg asked, taking the packages.
  
  He stared at her for a moment. Then he put a fist below his belt and popped out a thumb.
  
  "Oh," Meg said. "Oh."
  
  He spun around and ran back to the Market Square.
  
  She closed the door, looked at the packages in her hands, and said, "Eeewwww."
  
  But Sam was bouncing all around her, dancing on his hind legs to sniff at the packages.
  
  The first package she opened had the beef. Figuring she could warm it in the wave-cooker, she put that package in the little fridge. The next package held three pieces of... stag. Using thumb and forefinger, she picked up a piece and gave it to Sam. Then she hurriedly wrapped up the rest and ran to the bathroom to wash her hands. Twice.
  
  Of course, he wouldn't stay in the back room with his chewy, so she began sorting the mail while she studiously ignored what Sam was holding between his paws and gnawing with such pleasure.
  
  Vlad looked up from the invoices he was sorting and studied the Wolf in the doorway. "Something wrong?"
  
  Blair came in and took a seat on the other side of the desk. "Boone says he's not going to store special meat in the shop anymore because he doesn't want to get into trouble with Henry now and with Simon when the Wolfgard returns."
  
  "Why is Boone worried about getting into trouble?"
  
  "Because Meg asked if he had any special meat."
  
  Vlad's mouth fell open. "Meg?"
  
  "Boone says he'll get in trouble if he doesn't sell it to her when she asks for it, but he'll get into more trouble if she buys some and then finds out what it is. He can't sell what he doesn't have, so he's not going to have it."
  
  "Meg?" Vlad said again. He couldn't decide if he was intrigued or disturbed by this information.
  
  "Turns out she was looking for a treat for Sam." Blair's lips twitched in a hint of a smile. "From the sounds he was making when he called me, I'm guessing the Hawk is going to stress molt a few feathers before the day is done."
  
  Vlad laughed out loud.
  
  Blair pushed out of the chair. "Course, he also brought pieces of a stag stick for Sam."
  
  "Stop," Vlad pleaded, laughing so hard he couldn't breathe. "No, wait. Did Meg know what it was?"
  
  "She does now. I did tell Boone he should continue delivering a little meat for Sam." A pause. "Simon called. He'll be back on Windsday."
  
  Still trying to catch his breath, Vlad waved a hand to acknowledge he'd heard.
  
  "Doesn't sound like he got any answers," Blair said.
  
  Sobering, Vlad nodded. "We'll all talk when he gets back." Once Blair left the office and he was sure the Wolf was out of hearing, he added, "About a lot of things."
  
  Meg stared at the back door of Howling Good Reads. Bringing a Wolf into the store wasn't a problem; she'd heard that one or two Others were usually in animal form to provide store security. No, the problem was how they would react to Sam's harness and leash—and whether she would be breaking some unspoken rule by bringing a young terra indigene into a store frequented by humans.
  
  Leaving Sam in the office had not been an option after she considered how much trouble he could get into on his own. So here she was, dithering at the door.
  
  The wooden gate at the back of Henry's yard opened. The Beargard studied both of them for a long moment before he looked at HGR's back door. Stepping up to her, he took the leash.
  
  "Come on, Sam. You play with me for a while. The sooner Meg takes care of her chores, the sooner you can both eat."
  
  This was Henry, and Sam would be safe with the Grizzly, but Meg didn't feel easy about other people holding the leash and having control over Sam, and she especially didn't like the pup accepting that other people could hold the leash.
  
  Her uneasiness must have shown on her face, because Henry said, "We'll be fine, Meg. Do your chores."
  
  She looked at Sam. "It would be better if you stayed with Henry. Okay?"
  
  She didn't wait for an answer. She went into HGR and hurried through the stockroom. But she didn't make it into the public part of the store before she heard that squeaky-door howl—Sam's protest at being left behind.
  
  Already feeling guilty about leaving him, she let out her own squeak when Sam's howl was answered by a deeper howl somewhere in the store. She hesitated. Then curiosity pushed her into the store proper.
  
  Maybe she would see her first grown Wolf.
  
  Apparently, she wasn't the only one engaged in Wolf spotting after hearing that howl. All the customers she passed were looking for something that wasn't on the shelves, but she reached the front of the store without seeing one of the terra indigene in Wolf form. She did find John Wolfgard, who took her to the children's section. He seemed too cheerful to be a Wolf, and she wondered if customers who dealt with him were relieved or disappointed by that.
  
  Called away by another customer, he left her browsing the picture books and "this is" books. She chose a couple of the "this is" books and a book of children's stories. Not sure how long she'd been browsing, and wanting a chance to look for a book for herself, she hurried out of the children's section and headed for the front of the store where she'd seen a display of books, and almost ran into the man blocking the way.
  
  He was about Simon's age, with a lean face and body, but his hair was a blend of gray and black, and his gray eyes held the least illusion of humanity of any shifter she'd seen in the Courtyard so far. He wore jeans, a white sweater, and a scarred, black leather jacket. There was no doubt in her mind that he was the Wolf who had answered Sam's howl.
  
  He didn't move out of the way so much as shift position enough for her to squeeze past him. When she did, he leaned in and sniffed her with no subtlety whatsoever. Then he sneezed.
  
  Meg didn't bother to sigh about another Wolf who was going to complain about her stinky hair—which didn't smell anymore, thank you very much.
  
  Even John's smile faltered when he noticed how the other Wolf followed her to the front of the store, but he rang up her purchases—including a novel that she grabbed from the display table to prove she could buy a book for herself—and put them in the carry bag she'd brought with her.
  
  Thanking John, she headed toward the back of the store, more and more nervous about the Wolf who seemed intent on following her. She breathed a sigh of relief when he hesitated, then turned and went into A Little Bite. Wanting to get back to the office before he began following her again, she flung open the back door of HGR and hurried to the open door of Henry's yard.
  
  A snowball hit her shoulder, surprising a squeak out of her. But it was the Wolf charging at her that made her scream so loud the Crows and Hawks that were all around Henry's yard and the Liaison's Office took off in a flurry of wings. Meg dropped to her hands and knees, then curled up, covering her head and neck with her arms.
  
  The Wolf landed on her back, snarling fiercely as he slid off her in his attempt to grab at her arms.
  
  Then a small head shoved its way under her arm, and a tongue gave her face a couple of quick licks. Sam talked at her for a moment before he pulled his head out of the space and happily jumped on her again.
  
  Henry's laugh boomed out. "You caught her good and proper, Sam. Now let her up."
  
  Meg counted to ten. When no one jumped on her, she slowly uncurled. A moment later, a big hand grabbed the back of her coat, hauled her upright, and began whacking the snow off her.
  
  "You make a fine squeaky toy, Meg," Henry said, his voice suffused with laughter. "Sam, it's time for you to go."
  
  "That's enough," she gasped, brushing the snow off the front of her coat.
  
  Henry picked up her purse and the carry bag, brushing the snow off both of them. "It was nice of you to play at being prey."
  
  She hadn't been playing at anything. The red harness or the size of the animal hadn't registered in her brain. All she'd seen was a Wolf heading toward her at a full run. Sam had looked a lot bigger in that moment, and dropping to the ground had been instinctive.
  
  "I probably should have run," she murmured, taking the purse and carry bag from Henry. Sam returned, mouthing one end of the leash as he dragged it behind him.
  
  "No," Henry said quietly, his attention on something behind her. "Running would have been the wrong thing to do."
  
  Taking the leash from Sam, she clipped it to his harness and slipped the other end over her wrist before turning to look at whatever Henry was watching.
  
  The Wolf who had followed her in HGR was standing nearby, holding one of the insulated lunch boxes Tess used to deliver food or coffee to people working in the Market Square. He stared at her with a fury that bordered on crazed hatred.
  
  "What do you want, Ferus?" Henry asked.
  
  It was Sam, standing between her feet and snarling at the other Wolf, that finally pulled Ferus's attention away from her. But not for long. He couldn't seem to tear his focus away from the harness and leash that attached Sam to a human.
  
  "Ferus." Henry's voice was both command and warning.
  
  "Tess asked me to carry this for the Liaison," Ferus said, the words almost lost in the growling voice.
  
  "You should go now," Henry said to Meg, resting a hand on her shoulder. "You'll need to open up for afternoon deliveries soon." He gave her a little push toward the office.
  
  "Come on, Sam," Meg said, too scared now to do more than whisper.
  
  All the way back to the office, Sam ran to the end of the leash, then stopped and kept watch until she caught up to him. And all the way back, Ferus trailed behind them, a silent threat.
  
  Memory. A movie clip showing a pack of ordinary wolves pulling down a deer. Beginning to feed before the deer was dead. Ripping. Tearing. Gorging on fresh meat.
  
  They had watched that same clip for an entire afternoon because one of the girls had fought against being cut, and the resulting prophecy had been of inferior quality. And while the girls watched the clip, the Walking Names had whispered over and over, "That could be you. If we ever stop taking care of you, that is what the wolves will do to you."
  
  They took care of property, not people. Willing to risk her life in order to have a life, she had run and had ended up in a Courtyard, hiding among beings who were even more dangerous than the man who saw her as nothing but a living tool. Despite Simon snarling at her about one thing or another and always threatening to eat her because she had done something he didn't like, and despite the conditioned fear of the Others the Walking Names had tried to instill in her, she hadn't thought of herself as prey. Until now.
  
  She didn't need to cut skin to know that was exactly how Ferus saw her. To him, human equaled prey, equaled meat. She didn't need the razor to know it wasn't a question of if he would pull her down and rip her open like the deer she had seen in that movie clip; it was a question of when.
  
  She had been so busy building a life here, she had forgotten the other part of her personal vision. She was going to die in this Courtyard.
  
  But she'd also seen herself in that narrow bed, and Simon pacing in that white room. How could she be there if the Wolves tore her apart?
  
  Sam yipped, and she realized they had reached the office's back door. Her hands shook as she struggled to get the key in the lock.
  
  Once she had the door open and Sam had darted inside, she dared to look at the other Wolf . "Thank you for carrying the lunch."
  
  He just stared at her. Then he held out the lunch box.
  
  Taking it, she backed inside the office and closed the door—and almost wet herself when the furious howl sounded from the other side of the door.
  
  Panting in her effort to breathe, she set all the bags on the small table and ignored the snow she was tracking on the floor. Slipping the leash off her wrist and stripping off her coat, she went into the bathroom, shutting the door before Sam could follow her.
  
  She needed to pee but now she couldn't relax her muscles enough to go. Finally able to take care of business, she left the bathroom in time to see Sam climb up on a chair and try to snatch the lunch box.
  
  Grabbing the pup, she dried off his feet, removed her boots, and cleaned up the floor. Then, with him dancing around her, she opened the lunch box. A container of beef and vegetable soup for her, and a smaller container of soup for Sam. Dumping out the untouched kibble, she poured the soup in his bowl, dipping her finger into it to make sure it wasn't too hot. He began lapping up soup as soon as she got out of his way, so she opened her own container. That soup was hot, and she realized Tess must have deliberately let Sam's serving cool off. A cheese sandwich was included with her lunch. Tearing off a piece, she gave it to Sam, then forced herself to eat a bite of the sandwich and a couple of spoonfuls of soup. Her stomach was still flipping with fear, so even that little bit of food made her queasy.
  
  Giving up, she heated water while she wrapped up the food—and wondered if she was going to have to puppy-proof the fridge and lower cupboards.
  
  After making a cup of peppermint tea, she grabbed the carry bag of books and headed for the front room, intending to open up early and take a better look at the books in between deliveries.
  
  The box of sugar lumps she'd left on the sorting table was knocked over and the top of the box was torn. Drawers where she kept her office supplies were pulled open.
  
  And there was someone making furtive noises in the front room.
  
  Quietly turning the knob, Meg yanked the Private door open, then stared at the Crow who, flustered at being caught, almost fell off the counter.
  
  "Jake?"
  
  Jenni had told her that Jake liked playing the pen game with the humans who brought packages, and he intended to help the Meg whenever he was assigned to watch that part of the Courtyard.
  
  Help was not the word that came to mind as Meg unlocked the front door. And how had Jake gotten in? As far as she knew, only a few members of the Business Association had keys to the Liaison's Office. Well, he could have slipped in with one of the deliverymen and hidden so he could rummage through the drawers while she was out of the office.
  
  She picked up two empty boxes from the floor, then looked at all the pencils that were scattered on the counter, along with most of the pens she usually kept in the holder. She wasn't sure what the Crow was building, but he'd certainly gone through the drawers to find what he wanted.
  
  "Jake, you can't have the pencils and pens," Meg said. She reached for one of the pens. He pecked her. "Hey!" She had had her fill of wildlife today and didn't need a pesky Crow stealing her things.
  
  Caw!
  
  "I need those pens!"
  
  Caw!
  
  "Jake!" Her eyes filled with tears, which was stupid. It was all stupid, but she had been scared twice in the space of a few minutes, and she didn't need this—whatever it was.
  
  Jake tipped his head this way and that. Then he fluttered around his creation, pulled out a blue pen, and offered it to her. When she took it, he selected a red pen and offered it. Finally he gave back a black pen and began rebuilding whatever he was building on her counter.
  
  "Mine," she said, sniffling as she put the three pens under the counter with her clipboard.
  
  She was about to ask about the sugar when Asia dashed into the office.
  
  "Gods above and below, Meg. What's going on? Is someone hurt?"
  
  "Hurt?"
  
  "That scream. Didn't you hear it? I was looking at the display of pottery in the window of Earth Native and I heard that awful scream. And all the birds suddenly flying around, going crazy and making a racket." Asia threw her hands up, causing Jake to flutter his wings and caw in protest.
  
  Meg wanted to slink into the sorting room and lock all the doors and never come out. She would stay there until she dried up into human jerky.
  
  Then she considered what the Wolves would happily do with that kind of jerky.
  
  "You heard that?"
  
  "Of course I heard that!" Asia edged away from the Crow and lowered her voice. "Do you know who it was?"
  
  "Me," Meg mumbled, her face burning with embarrassment. "It was me."
  
  "You?"
  
  "I was startled. And even little Wolves look pretty big when they're running right at you."
  
  Of course, that was the moment Sam chose to stand in the doorway, wagging his tail and licking his chops.
  
  "Oh," Asia gushed, leaning on the counter but careful not to have any part of herself beyond the counter. "Isn't he the sweetest thing!" Her eyes flicked up to the doorway. "Speaking of sweetest things, you must have a mighty big sweet tooth, Meg."
  
  Meg glanced back. "Oh, the sugar is for the ponies. They get a special treat on Moonsday." She looked at Jake. "Do you know how the box got knocked over and the top torn open?"
  
  The Crow lifted his wings in a way that perfectly mimicked a shrug.
  
  Meg leaned closer to Jake. "If someone hid a lump of sugar in order to attract bugs to eat, that someone isn't going to be allowed to play with the pencils anymore."
  
  He stared at her. Then he fluttered down to the floor, pecked around the edge of the counter for a moment, flew back up, and dropped the sugar lump on the counter.
  
  Sighing, Meg took the sugar lump—and heard something fall over in the back room.
  
  "Asia, this isn't a good day for a visit."
  
  "I can see that," Asia replied. "You take care. Maybe we can grab some lunch in one of those places across the street tomorrow."
  
  "I'm not sure. I'm looking after Sam, and he's a handful."
  
  A thump, followed by Sam loudly talking back at something.
  
  "I have to go," Meg said, hurrying into the back room.
  
  For a moment all she could do was stare. Sam had somehow dragged a chair across the room and was climbing up to reach the box of puppy cookies she'd left on the counter. The fridge door was open, and scraps of her cheese sandwich were scattered on the floor, along with the wrapping, which had been ripped into pieces. Either he wasn't interested or he hadn't been able to grab her container of soup. She didn't want to think of how much of a mess that would have made.
  
  Deciding she would drink her now-cold peppermint tea before dealing with Sam's helping himself to her lunch, she grabbed the pup and went into the sorting room, firmly closing the door to the back room.
  
  That's when she saw the box of sugar on the table and realized she no longer had the sugar lump she'd taken from Jake and had no clue where she'd dropped it.
  
  Slipping into the front room to retrieve her tea, she saw Ferus standing outside the consulate, talking with Elliot Wolfgard and gesturing toward the office. Easy to guess what they were talking about: Sam on a leash. Vlad and Henry didn't seem concerned about it when she and Sam walked around the complex, but she had a feeling the Wolves weren't going to be as understanding about buddies and safety lines.
  
  "Crow in the front room, puppy in the middle room, crazy Wolf outside," she muttered. "Could today get any better?"
  
  Apparently, it could. Fortunately, she noticed the bug Jake must have dropped in her tea as a peace offering before she took a sip.
  
  Entering the Stag and Hare, a restaurant directly across from the Courtyard's delivery entrance, Asia settled at a table by the windows. The cold came off the plates of glass in waves, and most of the customers were huddled at the tables closest to the fireplace in the center of the main room.
  
  Keeping her coat on, Asia placed her order and stared out the window, turning over the things she had seen as she considered what she could use to her advantage.
  
  Meg had screamed, and all the terra indigene in that part of the Courtyard had responded, even those who worked in the consulate. According to Darrell Adams, a human who worked for Elliot Wolfgard, everyone at the consulate thought of the Liaison's Office like a poor relation—something that had to be tolerated but was ignored as much as possible.
  
  Poor relation or not, even they had paid some attention when Meg screamed. So there was a way to redirect the Others' attention, if only for a minute or two. Plenty of things could be accomplished in a minute or two.
  
  And there was that Wolf pup wearing a harness. Could he shift into a boy, or did the harness constrict his ability to change into human form? If one of the Others could be contained and controlled, her backers probably knew a few collectors who would risk the wrath of the terra indigene to have a Wolf for a pet, if only for a little while. They might even consider using a tamed Wolf in a few horror movies—at least until he became old enough to be dangerous.
  
  Asia smiled at the waiter when he brought her a bowl of soup. As the simple meal warmed her, she looked at the Courtyard and smiled again.
  
  Meg was looking after a pup while Simon Wolfgard was away. Didn't need to be a genius to add up two and two and get money.
  
  After all, holding someone for ransom was often a lucrative, if risky, business.