Anne Bishop - Written in Red

She stripped off the leash and tossed it in the back. Vlad closed the door and walked over to the driver’s side. He was courteous, and except for that crack about PMS, he was polite. But she had the distinct impression he was laughing at her.

“It’s my BOW, so I’m driving,” she said.

“Found your key yet?” He didn’t wait for her answer. “Since I do have a key, I’m driving—and neither of us will be too late for work.”

She made a growling sound that had his eyebrows shooting up in surprise, but she was beaten for the moment, so she went around to the passenger’s side and got in.

The BOWs were built to tootle around an enclosed community like a Courtyard, but knowing Elliot had been grumbling over the Liaison’s tardiness, Vlad nudged the vehicle to its top speed, aware that Meg was trying to watch him without appearing to watch him. From what the members of the Business Association had been able to piece together by observing her, Meg absorbed what she saw and heard with unnerving clarity, and those remembered images became her reference to the world. What she saw she could repeat and do—up to a point. There were gaps, omissions of information, that they suspected were deliberate, so that blood prophets could do very few things independently. From what Tess had gleaned from questioning Merri Lee, Meg could identify a lot of objects, but she knew what very few of them did.

Which made her escape from the compound where she had lived to her arrival at their Courtyard all the more remarkable. Somehow, she had figured out enough to run away—and stay alive while she did it.

Thinking about what Henry and Tess—and Simon—would say if Meg ended up in a ditch because of watching how he drove, Vlad slowed to a moderate speed and took care not to do anything that would be considered bad driving. That was something they had agreed on—be precise when showing the Liaison how to do something so that she learned what she needed to know.

Of course, Simon had ignored that completely when he rushed off and dumped a Wolf pup in her lap.

Something new, Henry had said about her. Something little known and not understood. She was all of that. And she was a potential threat, because someone with Meg’s ability to remember images and accurately describe them could tell an enemy too much about their Courtyard and about the terra indigene .

He pushed those thoughts aside when a Hawk, an Owl, and four Crows all came winging toward them from the direction of the Liaison’s Office.

the Hawk told Vlad.

he replied to all of them.

the Crows said as they circled around, and went winging back.

He wasn’t far behind them, so a minute later he pulled up at the Liaison’s Office, parking close to the back door. “You go in and get settled. I’ll bring Sam and the bags.”

“Thanks,” Meg replied, jumping out of the BOW.

Sam tried to scramble into the front seat and follow her, but Vlad grabbed him as Meg closed the door. The pup struggled for a moment, then stared out the window, making anxious sounds.

Vlad said.

No answer except that shallow, anxious breathing, accompanied by a whine.

Vlad sighed. How had Simon endured this silence from a pup he loved?

He got out of the BOW, carrying Sam so he wouldn’t have to dry off the pup. After setting him on the floor in the back room—and watching while Sam rushed into the sorting room to find Meg—he took the sacks and towel out of the BOW and carried them inside.

Moving silently, he entered the sorting room. Sam was sniffing one corner of the room, now oblivious to everything except the scent he’d found. Opening the Private door all the way, he looked at the tableau and thought, A Crow, a prophet, and a vampire walk into an office . . .

Then he huffed out a breath. It sounded like the beginning of one of those stupid jokes the terra indigene never understood.

Three deliverymen, all holding boxes and all standing back from the counter. Dropping the pen it was holding, the Crow cawed at them, walked to one end of the counter, selected another pen, then returned and tapped the pen on the paper clamped to the clipboard.

The men hesitated to approach, as if that small distance would make any difference. If Nyx wanted to feed, there wasn’t anything her prey could do to stop her. If she had been wearing jeans and a sweater, the men wouldn’t have known she was one of the Sanguinati. But Nyx preferred wearing a long, black velvet gown that had a modest train and those draping sleeves—the kind of garment female vampires often wore in the old movies Grandfather loved so much. Wearing it amused her because she said it was a way to tell her prey what she was, even before she began to feed.

Still in her winter coat, Meg took the pen from the Crow . Smiling and talking to the men, she quickly filled out the information while they set the packages on the handcart and kept glancing at Nyx.

Realizing none of the men were leaving, Vlad said,

she replied, her dark eyes watching the men while she remained perfectly still.

he asked, although he made no move to withdraw.

Nyx replied.

Meg smiled at the deliverymen as they walked out the door together and got into their trucks or vans. She continued to smile until they drove away. Then she blew out a breath and turned to Nyx and the Crow .

“Thank you for opening the office. I don’t mean to be late every morning. Things have gotten complicated the past couple of days.”

Looking over his shoulder at Sam, who was still busily sniffing his way around the sorting room, Vlad said, “That’s understandable.”

“It was entertaining,” Nyx said. “And Jake knew what to do.”

The Crow who was pulling pens out of the holder and arranging them on the counter looked at them and cawed.

“I think there is a package for Mr. Erebus from the movie place,” Meg said. “Do you want to take it with you?”

Nyx laughed. “And deprive him of a visit from you? No. But I will tell him a package has arrived.” She changed to smoke, from feet to chest, and floated over the counter. Returning to solid form, she held out her arm to the Crow, who hopped on to be taken outside.

Meg stared as the Crow flew off and Nyx changed completely to smoke that flowed toward the access way leading to the Market Square. Then she stared at the counter, and finally at Vlad. “Am I the only one who needs to use the go-through?”

Feeling Sam come up beside him, Vlad grinned at her. “No, you’re not the only one. At least for now. I’ll park the BOW in the garage for you. If you don’t find your key, let me know and I’ll drive you home.”

He didn’t wait for her answer. He needed to open HGR, and he wanted to let Henry know Sam was with Meg—assuming Jake hadn’t already told the Courtyard’s spirit guide.

And he still needed to find a subtle way of warning everyone in the Courtyard that, until Simon returned, he and Henry Beargard would be looking after Meg and Sam.

Meg put out kibble and water for Sam, smoothed the fur under the harness, and let him roam the sorting room without the leash. After she barely missed stepping on his tail or toes a couple of times, he settled down where he was out of the way but could watch her sort the mail and packages. The package for Mr. Erebus from the movie place was small enough to go with the mail, but remembering what Nyx said, Meg put it with the afternoon deliveries—including a special delivery for Winter that she hadn’t yet had a chance to make.