Anne Bishop - Written in Red

“An excellent choice for dining. I, too, enjoy a good red sauce,” Vlad said.

Burke’s smile froze.

“Captain?” Monty said. “We should get a seat before the lunch crowd arrives.”

With a nod at Vlad and Henry, Burke turned and led the way to the Saucy Plate. Monty said nothing until they were seated and the waitress handed out menus and took their orders for coffee.

“Captain, I don’t think he meant it to sound . . .” Monty trailed off, unwilling to lie to the man.

“To sound threatening?” Burke asked. “Oh, I’m sure he did. They floated that phone call to see what we would do, but they don’t trust us—not in general and, specifically, not where Meg Corbyn is concerned.” He smiled at the waitress when she brought the coffee and took their orders. “You’ve met Vladimir Sanguinati before. Any reason why you didn’t introduce me?”

Monty shivered and rubbed the palm of his right hand. “I didn’t want to put you in the position of having to shake his hand.”

Burke gave Monty’s hand a long look, then turned the conversation to small talk and stories about Lakeside.

When Meg reached the Pet Palace on the other side of the plaza, she glanced around. The Others who had been on the bus with her weren’t in sight, but there were birds on most of the parking-lot lights. She couldn’t tell if they were crows or Crows. Not that it mattered. If this worked, everyone in the Green Complex would know about her purchases.

Hopefully the Others would realize she was just trying to help Sam and not eat her for doing it.

“Can I help you?” the clerk asked as soon as she walked in the door.

Meg gave the man a bright smile. “I’m looking for a dog harness and a long leash.”

He led her to an aisle that had a bewildering assortment of leashes, harnesses, and collars.

“What size dog?” he asked.

She chewed on her lower lip. “Well, he’s still a puppy, but he’s a big puppy. At least, I think he would be considered a big puppy.”

“Your first dog?” The clerk sounded delighted. “What breed is it?”

“He’s a Wolf . ”

She thought the movie clips of someone’s skin turning a sickly green had been make-believe. Apparently not.

“You want to put a harness on a Wolf ?”

There was something in the clerk’s voice—shock? fear?—that made her wonder how much trouble she was going to be in until she could think of some other way of getting Sam safely outside. “He’s young, and I don’t want him to get hurt if I take him for a walk.”

She didn’t see anyone else in the store, but he leaned closer. “How did you get your hands on a Wolf pup?”

“I’m the Courtyard Liaison. He lives in the apartment next to mine. Are you going to help me or not?”

She wasn’t sure he would, but he finally reached for a harness. His hands shook and his voice cracked, but based on what information she could give him, he found a red harness that he thought would fit and a long red leash that would give Sam room to roam.

“Will there be anything else?” the clerk asked.

Meg thought about it. “What kind of toys would a puppy like?”

She ended up with a ball and a length of knotted rope. Then she spotted dog cookies and picked up boxes of beef flavor and chicken flavor.

The clerk looked so relieved when she handed over her big zippered shopping bag, she wondered if the store would be closed from now on when the Others usually came to the plaza.

“Do you have a catalog?” she asked.

He slipped two into the bag. “Orders are usually next-day delivery.”

She paid for her purchases and sighed with relief when she was on the sidewalk. She hadn’t done anything wrong, but she wasn’t sure how the Others felt about pet stores. She started to walk between two parked cars, then stopped, unable to take another step.

Rememory. A car door suddenly opening as a young woman walked past. Strong hands reaching, grabbing. Dark hood. Hard to breathe. Impossible to see. And those hands touching and . . .

“Are you all right?”

Meg jerked back and almost slipped, then almost slipped again trying to avoid the hand reaching for her.

Crows cawed, sounding a warning.

She focused on the man, who now stood very still. Police officer. Not one of the two who had introduced themselves, but not unfamiliar.

“Officer Kowalski, ma’am. I work with Lieutenant Montgomery.”

She let her breath out slowly. She’d seen him in the car the day the lieutenant stopped in.

“My thoughts wandered,” she said. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.” That wouldn’t explain whatever he’d seen in her face when he reached for her, but the way he looked at her told her plainly enough her explanation, while true in its way, wasn’t quite good enough to be believed.

“Let me give you a hand back to the bus. The parking lot is a little slick today.”

Feeling unsteady and understanding that making an excuse to refuse his help would cause trouble, she accepted his arm—and noticed, even across the parking lot, the way Vlad stiffened as he watched them. She also noticed the way two more police officers got out of a patrol car and began looking around.

“Was anyone abducted from this plaza recently?” Meg asked, only noticing the prickling in her legs when the sensation began to fade.

“Ma’am?” Kowalski gave her a sharp look.

Rememories and images didn’t use to flood her mind like this when she wasn’t focused on a particular question, wasn’t strapped in for a cutting and prophecy. When other people talked about recalling memories and information, was this what they experienced—this immediate association of one thing to another?

Did that mean she was starting to process the information around her like other people did, or was this the first stage of madness in a cassandra sangue ? The Walking Names told the girls they would go mad if they tried to live outside the compound. Only Jean insisted that they wouldn’t, but she really was half mad.

“It’s nothing,” Meg lied. “Overactive imagination. I have to stop reading scary stories before bedtime.”

He nodded. “My fiancée says the same thing. Doesn’t stop her from reading them.”

Releasing his arm when they reached the bus—and Vlad—Meg smiled at Kowalski. “Thank you for the escort.”

“My pleasure, ma’am.” Nodding to Vlad, he returned to his patrol car.

“Problem?” Vlad asked.

She shook her head.

“You want to do any more shopping?”

She shook her head again. She wanted to get out of sight, wanted to hide. The need to do that was almost painful, and she didn’t know what was making her feel that way. But she did remember how Simon had calmed down in response to her acting calm, so it wasn’t hard to guess that predators didn’t react well around fear.

“I’d like to put this in the bus and then make some notes about what stores are here,” she said.

“I’ll take that.” Vlad’s hand closed around the top of her carry bag.

She couldn’t think of a way to refuse his help without making him curious about her purchases, so she surrendered the bag, then pulled a notebook out of her purse. As the Others trickled back to the bus with sacks bulging with merchandise, Meg made a list of the stores—and tried to ignore the feeling that more than the police and the terra indigene were watching her.