text: By the time Meg woke up the next morning, the sun was shining and the sky was a clean blue. Poking her nose out her front door convinced her that, despite the blue sky and sunshine, it was still wicked cold. Since there was nothing she had to do and nowhere she had to go, she warmed up the last piece of pizza and ate it for breakfast while she read a few more chapters of the book she'd borrowed from the Courtyard library.
  
  The last two Earthdays in the Courtyard had been full of turmoil of one kind or another, but just by looking out her window, Meg sensed a difference. Today the Green Complex, maybe even the whole Courtyard, felt quieter.
  
  When she got tired of reading, she dusted the furniture, swept the floors, and ran the sweeper over the carpets. By the time she took a shower and wiped down the bathroom, she was also tired of domesticity, and feeling a little uneasy about the lack of company.
  
  Was she the only one in the complex? Was everyone else off doing something in another part of the Courtyard?
  
  You're safe here, she thought. No one is going to come this far into the Courtyard, looking for you.
  
  Even so, by the time she'd eaten the stew Meat-n-Greens had sent home with her yesterday, she wanted to get out of the apartment, despite the cold. So she gathered up her clothes and towels, then bundled herself up for the short walk to the laundry room. Once she had the washers going, she went upstairs to the social room.
  
  Henry looked up and smiled when she entered.
  
  "Didn't expect to see you up and about today," he said.
  
  She shifted her feet, suddenly wishing she'd stayed downstairs. "Humans aren't that fragile. I was scared yesterday, and my wrist got bruised. It's not like I fell off a cliff or something."
  
  He laughed, a warm sound. "You are the first human to live among us here, so there is much for us to learn."
  
  She came closer to the table where he was sitting. "But you have those apartments that you let people use. And you have people working for you and shopping at the Market Square."
  
  "We have those things," he agreed, "but that's not the same as living among us the way you do now."
  
  She didn't know what to say, so she focused on the colored bits and pieces on the table. "A puzzle?"
  
  "A pleasant diversion on a winter afternoon." He gestured to the other chair. "Sit and join me if you wish."
  
  She sat and picked up several pieces, one after another.
  
  "You have never put together a puzzle?" Henry asked.
  
  Meg shook her head. "I've seen pictures of games, including puzzles like this, but there was no need for us to play them in order to recognize them in a vision."
  
  "Then it's time for you to experience the world instead of just identifying its pieces."
  
  She watched him work for a minute before she began to look for connecting pieces. There was an easiness to the silence between them. In fact, they didn't speak until she returned from the laundry room, having put the clothes and towels in the dryers.
  
  "Are we the only ones in the complex?" she asked when she took her seat at the table.
  
  Henry nodded. "Most are spending the day with their kin in the other complexes. The Coyote is enjoying a run."
  
  "And Tess?" Meg put four puzzle pieces together before picking up her thought. "I've seen her only in her human form."
  
  "None of us have seen her other form. We know she is terra indigene. We know how to read her warning signs. But what she is when she sheds her human skin—that is something known only to Namid."
  
  Deciding she'd asked enough questions, Meg worked on the puzzle with Henry until her laundry was dry. She packed up her laundry bag, bundled herself for the quick walk, and headed back to her apartment.
  
  Halfway there, she saw the Wolf rushing toward her in the fading afternoon light.
  
  "Sam! No!" Simon's voice.
  
  The pup ran past her instead of leaping on her, then turned back and tried to grab a corner of the laundry bag.
  
  "If you rip the bag and I have to wash all these clothes again, I'll wash you with them," Meg warned.
  
  His head cocked. His tail wagged. And she wondered if she had just put a very bad idea in a puppy's head. But he wouldn't actually try to climb into a washer. Would he?
  
  Sam spun around and rushed toward Simon, who was standing near his own apartment door. The pup leaped up, barely giving Simon enough time to catch him before leaping down and running back to Meg.
  
  Once she was close enough that he was bouncing between them, he began talking at her.
  
  Smiling, she shook her head. "I don't speak Wolf."
  
  "No shifting out here," Simon said firmly. "It's cold."
  
  Sam talked back at his uncle.
  
  As a reply, Simon opened his apartment door. "Go inside, and I'll ask her."
  
  Sam bounded into the apartment, sliding as his wet feet hit the bare floor. Shaking his head, Simon closed the door and looked at her.
  
  "Everything all right today?" he asked.
  
  "It was quiet," she replied. "Peaceful."
  
  He shifted his feet and looked uncertain. In fact, he seemed reluctant to look directly at her.
  
  "Mr. Wolfgard?"
  
  "After Sam has his bath, we're going to watch a movie, and he was wondering— we were wondering—if you would like to join us."
  
  Emotions were harder to define on a real face than on a labeled picture, so she wasn't sure which message she was supposed to reply to. He had invited her to join them, but... "You would prefer if I found a reason to decline?"
  
  "No." The word was snapped out. Then he took a step back, and she heard the soft, frustrated whine.
  
  Simon must have gone to school at some point, must have received the kind of education that enabled him to run a business and a Courtyard, but she suddenly understood what Henry meant about the difference between dealing with humans and having one live among them. Having one they treated as a friend.
  
  He wanted her to come over and watch the movie, but something was making him unhappy about it.
  
  "I spend a lot of time in this skin on the other days." Simon thumped his chest and looked at the snow piled in the center of the complex's courtyard. "Earthdays are the days I can be Wolf. But I want to encourage Sam to shift, and that means wearing the human skin for a while every day now."
  
  She took the words apart, as if they were images that would be put back together to make a prophecy—and understood. "You'd like to spend the evening in your other form."
  
  "Yes."
  
  "Well, after you make the popcorn and put the movie on, why can't you do that?"
  
  Now he looked at her. "You wouldn't mind?"
  
  "No, I wouldn't mind."
  
  "Seven o'clock?"
  
  She smiled. "I'll see you at seven."
  
  She felt Simon watching her as she climbed the stairs to her apartment. She heard Sam howl. And she wondered how many residents of the Courtyard knew she was going over to her neighbor's place to watch a movie.
  
  Simon washed the dishes and swallowed impatience. He couldn't wait to get out of this skin, this shape. It had a few advantages over the pure Wolf form, but it wasn't natural, and having to remain in that skin after it began to scrape on the heart and mind could push a terra indigene into a crazed rage.
  
  Not all that different from what had happened out west, except the crazed rage had occurred while the Others were in animal forms.
  
  Not something a leader who had to look human so much of the time wanted to consider might happen to him.
  
  He shook his head, as if that would send the thoughts flying.
  
  Meg said she was all right with him being Wolf while she watched the movie with Sam. He didn't think she was lying.
  
  He went upstairs and got Sam out of the bath, half listening to the grand plans the boy thought would fit into the couple of hours before bedtime. He let Sam dither over which movie to watch while he went into the kitchen and made the popcorn. Even in this form, the stuff didn't have any particular appeal for him, but it was a traditional human treat when watching movies, so he made a big bowl of it for Meg and Sam to share.
  
  He had just finished pouring the melted butter over the popcorn when someone knocked on the front door. Sam let out a sound that was part boy squeal and part Wolf howl as he rushed to the door and pulled it open.
  
  The boy's words tumbled over one another so fast, they made little sense except to convey happy excitement. Then Meg's voice, still close to the door.
  
  Simon cocked an ear. Why was she still close to the door? Had she changed her mind about spending time with them?
  
  No, he realized as he heard her voice in the living room now. She had stopped to take off boots and coat. Why hadn't she used the back door? Was front door a different message than back door?
  
  He'd worked hard to learn the rules of doing business with humans, but there could be a whole other set of rules for personal interactions.
  
  Frustrated now—and suspecting he was making a simple thing complicated—Simon brought the popcorn into the living room. He went back to the kitchen for two large mugs of water. Placing everything on the table in front of the sofa, he greeted Meg and retreated to the kitchen to shed the clothes and shift.
  
  He crept toward the living room, silent and waiting. Sam and Meg put the movie disc in the player and got it started. He listened to the bits and pieces about other movies, listened to boy and woman settling down on the sofa. He waited a couple of minutes longer, then slipped into the living room.
  
  They were tucked at one end of the sofa, the bowl of popcorn on Meg's lap, their eyes focused on the television.
  
  A dart behind the sofa to come around the other side.
  
  A moment's tension. A moment's fear. Then Meg patted the cushion and said, "I think we left enough room for you."
  
  He climbed up on the sofa, filling the remaining space.
  
  "Popcorn?" Meg asked, tipping the bowl toward him.
  
  As an answer, he turned away from the bowl, lightly pressing his muzzle and forehead against her upper arm. More tension, but when he did nothing, she slowly relaxed and began eating the popcorn.
  
  Simon closed his eyes. Keeping his head against her arm, he breathed in the scents that were Meg. The hair was still stinky, but not so much now, and the rest of her smelled good. Pleasing. Comforting.
  
  After a few minutes, he nudged her arm until his head rested on her thigh. Another moment of tension. Then, making no protest, she shifted the popcorn so she wouldn't keep bopping him with the bowl.
  
  A few minutes after that, he felt her fingers shyly burrowing into his fur.
  
  The first time she sucked in a breath, he almost sprang up, thinking she'd heard something outside. Then he began to understand the rhythm of her touch and Sam's comments about the story. Dozing, he could follow the story through Meg's fingers and breathing, only half listening to the boy's "This is a scary part, but they'll be all right," and "Watch what happens now!"
  
  Pleasure. Comfort. Contentment.
  
  Except for the hair, she really did smell good.
  
  Simon came fully awake when Sam said, "We can watch another one."
  
  "You can, maybe," Meg replied. "But I have to work tomorrow, so it's time for me to go home."
  
  "But—"
  
  <Enough, pup,> Simon said. <Brush your teeth as I showed you. I will see Meg home and check the ground around our den. Then I will come back and read you a story.>
  
  <Meg could read me a story.>
  
  Simon raised his head and looked at the boy.
  
  Sam slid off the couch. He gave Meg a shy smile and Simon a wary glance.
  
  "I can come to work with you tomorrow," Sam said.
  
  "You have school tomorrow," Meg replied, smiling. "And I'm not going to agree to something without talking to your uncle first. So good night, Sam."
  
  He poked out his lower lip, as if trying to see what kind of reaction he would get. When Meg and Simon both stared at him, he sighed, said good night, and went upstairs.
  
  Meg set the bowl on the table, then looked at her hand. "Guess I should have gotten some napkins at some point."
  
  He stretched his neck and swiped a tongue over her palm. When she didn't pull away, he took another lick, and kept licking until he cleaned the salt and butter off her skin.
  
  She smelled good. She tasted even better.
  
  "That's good. Thanks," she said. She picked up the bowl and mugs, pushed to her feet, and walked out of the room.
  
  Getting off the sofa, he yawned and stretched, then followed her into the kitchen.
  
  "I'm not sure if popcorn goes in with the compost or in the incinerator bag," Meg said. "So I'll leave that for you."
  
  Retracing her steps, she put on her coat and boots.
  
  It was hard not to crowd her, hard not to jump, hard not to invite her to play. But it was almost time to sleep, and he didn't want Meg to get riled up or worried about being around a big Wolf . He could go for walks with her and Sam if she wasn't afraid of the Wolf.
  
  He went out with her and walked her up to her own door. He waited until she was inside, then took a thorough sniff around her porch before going down and checking the rest of the complex.
  
  As he reached the road, Allison hooted a greeting and glided past him on her way home. Lights were on in Vlad's apartment, which meant the vampire had returned from his evening in the Chambers.
  
  No unfamiliar scents. No sign of danger.
  
  For tonight anyway, they were all safe.
  
  Satisfied, Simon trotted back to his apartment and the boy who was waiting for a story.
  
  "Hello?"
  
  "The messenger you hired to retrieve your property got careless. The Wolves got him before the police did."
  
  "Who is this?"
  
  "Someone who has a better chance of helping you reacquire your property—for the right fee."
  
  "How did you get this number?"
  
  "Like I said, your messenger was careless." A pause. "And I thought it might be inconvenient if the police found this number when they searched the man's apartment."
  
  "There are several messengers looking for my property. Which one got careless?"
  
  "The one in Lakeside."
  
  "Are you sure you've found my property? Describe her."
  
  A hesitation. "Short, delicate, has gray eyes."
  
  Silence. Then, "How long will it take you to retrieve her?"
  
  "A few weeks."
  
  "Unacceptable. Too much profit will be lost in that amount of time."
  
  "Your property is stashed in a very inconvenient place."
  
  "I can help with that by providing some muscle and accessories."
  
  "I prefer to rely on my own accessories, but the muscle will come in handy."
  
  Another silence. "I'll give you a week to come up with some useful information that will assist me in reacquiring my property. If you prove to be a valid source, we'll discuss fees and bonuses."
  
  Click.
  
  Asia listened to empty air for a few seconds, then hung up the phone and watched her hands shake. She'd pulled it off, made the contact, sounded like a pro who reacquired property every day. Sounded like someone who wouldn't flinch about reacquiring living property when it was necessary.
  
  So no-looks Meg wasn't just the thief; she was the stolen property? Someone worth enough that several people had been hired to find the feeb?
  
  "If Asia Crane, SI, had this information, what would she think?" Asia muttered.
  
  She picked up the phone and called Bigwig. "What kind of person could be stolen property?" she asked as soon as he answered the phone.
  
  A crackling excitement filled the phone line. "We've picked up a couple of whispers that a blood prophet wandered off," he said. "Men have been searching the Northeast Region for some sign of her. You think you've found her?"
  
  Asia's thoughts spun so fast, she could barely think at all. Meg was a cassandra sangue? No wonder White Van had tried to grab her. No wonder someone had pressured the Lakeside government to help find her. That skin must be worth thousands and thousands of dollars. Maybe even a million!
  
  And it was surrounded by fangs, claws, and beaks that could render it useless.
  
  "Do you think you've found her?" Bigwig asked again.
  
  "I don't know. Maybe." Asia hesitated, trying to figure out who would give her the best offer for her help. "Someone tried to abduct the Courtyard's Liaison today, so I'm going to have to be careful about asking questions."
  
  "You think she's there? In the Courtyard?" A pause. "Yes. Yes, that makes sense. The mayor has been quite frustrated by the lack of progress the police have made with regard to the thief I told you about. So the prophet and thief are one and the same."
  
  Have to decide now, Asia thought. Gamble on someone who might make good on his offer, or stick with the men who can guarantee I'll have a show that lasts enough seasons to make me a very rich woman? "Yes, I think they are."
  
  "Even if we can't find the original owner, there are others who—"
  
  "I already found him." There was a weight to the silence that followed her words, so she pushed on. "I did some investigating and searched the apartment of the would-be abductor. I found a phone number. I got off the phone with the interested party just before I called you. He's sending in his own people, but we'll receive a finder's fee and some compensation for continued assistance."
  
  "I guess you do want to star in your own TV show."
  
  She grinned. "I guess I really do." After promising to give him daily updates, she hung up and moved around her apartment, unable to relax.
  
  Something in his tone of voice. A lack of confidence that hadn't been there until she told him she'd already made contact with the man she assumed was Meg's Controller.
  
  Had Bigwig hoped to sell Meg to the highest bidder? Or had he hoped to tuck the feeb away somewhere, to be used exclusively by his chosen few?
  
  Didn't matter now. The hired muscle was heading for Lakeside. Time to change her focus. And that meant Darrell was going to get lucky after all.
  
  And her luck was changing too. Bigwig and the other backers might be unhappy about a blood prophet slipping through their fingers, but she would bring them something even better: a small, furry bargaining chip.