Anne Bishop - Written in Red

“Yes. Thank you.”

Tess smiled and glanced at the clock on the wall. “Then I’ll let you get back to work. The ponies will be coming soon. Don’t forget to come by on your lunch break. A Little Bite is providing the midday meal.”

“I’ll remember.”

She waited until Tess left, then put the Back in Five Minutes sign on the counter, locked the Private door, and went into the bathroom to wash her face. Nothing she could do about the puffy eyes, but dust could cause puffy eyes too, couldn’t it? And that corner that held the older mailbags and packages was dusty.

She unlocked the Private door and tucked the sign under the counter just in time for another delivery truck to drive up.

It looked like she’d get to try out the dust excuse and see if anyone actually believed it.

“SIMON!”

Hearing Tess’s voice, Simon vaulted over the checkout counter, an instinctive response to some knowledge embedded into the essence of his kind. When she strode from the back of the store, he knew why he wanted to give himself room to fight.

Her hair was completely red and coiling as she walked toward him.

Not black. Not the death color. But close enough.

Tess looked around. Her voice thundered through HGR. “Howling Good Reads is closed for the day. Anyone who is still in the store sixty seconds from now will never be seen again.”

Others and humans ran for the nearest door, whether it was HGR’s street door or the archway to A Little Bite.

“Tess?” Julia Hawkgard called from the archway. “Are we closing too?”

“Customers go. You and Merri Lee stay to close up.”

When Simon turned toward the street door to lock it and flip the sign to CLOSED, Tess snarled, “Not you, Wolfgard.”

He walked up to her. “I’m the leader of this Courtyard. You live here because of my invitation. Remember that.”

Threads of black appeared in her red hair.

“If I have to make friends with a monkey in order to clean up your mess, you’re going to make some concessions,” she said.

“You don’t have to make friends with anyone.” He wasn’t sure she was capable of making friends. And despite the efforts he and Henry had made over the years, they still didn’t know what kind of terra indigene Tess was. But they knew she could kill. They did know that.

“Well, I have. For the sake of the Courtyard, I have made friends with our Human Liaison. Now it’s your turn.”

“What do you expect me to do? Asia Crane would have pushed where she didn’t belong, and she’ll keep pushing.”

Tess tipped her head. “Even now?”

“Even now. And Meg isn’t strong enough to hold her ground.” But she had been strong enough to run from something—or someone—and had enough spine to ask him for a job.

“You’ve turned Asia into forbidden fruit,” Tess said.

“What?”

“You’ve read enough human stories to know the lure of forbidden fruit.”

Yes, he had. And if Meg smelled like prey the way she was supposed to, he wouldn’t have responded in a way that was closer to protecting one of his own. Oh, he still would have forced Asia to back down, but he would have done it the same way he dealt with a customer in the store who wanted access to places that were private.

So it was Meg’s fault that he hadn’t behaved correctly.

“Simon?”

He heard the warning note in Tess’s voice. “I won’t forbid Asia from visiting with Meg, as long as she stays on her side of the counter.”

“And I’ll talk to my employees about helping me befriend the Liaison,” Tess said.

“And keep a sharper eye on Asia?”

“That too.”

Her hair was still red, but the black threads were gone and the coils were relaxing.

Since it wouldn’t be viewed as a retreat now, Simon took a step back and looked around. “I don’t feel like opening up again.”

“No one will come in today anyway,” Tess said. “But tomorrow the fear will have faded just enough.” She smiled. “I heard John mention you received a shipment of terror books.”

“Horror books.” Now he smiled. “Including a couple of boxes of terra indigene authors I don’t usually put out for human customers.”

“Maybe you should make a display of them and put them on sale tomorrow. I expect we’ll be busy.”

“We could have tripled sales if we’d eaten one of the customers before they’d all gotten out.”

Tess laughed. “Maybe we can do that next time.”

Simon sighed. “I need a day out of this skin.”

“And I need a few hours of solitude. See you tomorrow, Wolfgard.”

“Tomorrow.” He tipped his head toward A Little Bite. “What about your shop?”

“Julia and Merri Lee will clean up and close up. I’ll tell them to take something over to Meg before they leave.”

Choosing to be satisfied with that, Simon pulled out his keys and secured the dead bolt on HGR’s street door. He checked the office, and stopped long enough to call Vlad and tell him the store was closed and also mention doing a display of horror books by terra indigene authors. Then he turned off lights as he went through the building, put on his winter coat when he reached the stockroom, and left, locking the back door.

He didn’t want to be in this skin. He wanted to wear the body of a Wolf. But he had to stay in human form until he got Daphne’s son, Sam, outside for a few minutes of fresh air—which was all the pup could tolerate since the night Daphne was shot. Once he got the youngster settled inside again, he could shift and run alone for a few hours.

So he set off for the Green Complex, hoping a walk on a cold day would frost some of his anger and frustration—and wishing again that he could find something that would break the fear that kept Sam locked in a single form.

Meg had her coat on and the bowl of carrot chunks on the sorting table with the mail when the ponies neighed. She opened the sorting room’s outer door and smiled at their grumpy faces.

“Good morning,” she said, hoping they couldn’t recognize forced cheer. “I brought a treat for all of us, since we’re all working hard to get the mail to everyone in the Courtyard. So let me get the baskets filled, and then I’ll show you what I brought.”

Maybe they aren’t grumpy, Meg thought as she filled the slots in Thunder’s baskets. Maybe that’s just what pony faces look like.

When Thunder moved away, she wanted to remind him she had a treat for all of them, and felt disappointed that he was leaving without giving her a chance to make friends. But he simply circled around until he was behind Fog and would be first in line again.

She brought the bowl with her when she picked up the last stack of mail for the Green Complex—Fog’s destination today.

Apparently, ponies did have more than one expression. When she offered two carrot chunks to Thunder, he took the first warily and the second eagerly. Bobbing his head, he trotted off while the others jostled one another to reach the bowl.

“Wait your turn,” Meg said. “I brought plenty for all of us.”

They settled down and waited for their treats, looking as interested in her as they were in the carrots. When Fog trotted off, Meg closed the door and felt that something had finally gone right that day. Setting the bowl on the table so that she could munch on the rest of the carrots while she worked, she went into the bathroom to wash carrot flecks and pony spit off her hands—and put a clean bandage on her finger.