Anne Bishop - Written in Red

“Ignore the fluffy,” she muttered. “Remember the part about big and scary.”

Then she heard sounds that had her rushing into the back room.

“What are you doing?” she yelped.

He had opened all the cupboards and found the puppy cookies. The ripped top of the box was in pieces on the floor. He grabbed one side of the box and shook his head, dumping a few cookies on the floor.

“Stop that!” Meg scolded. “Stop! You’ll set a bad example for Sam.”

She didn’t think, didn’t even consider the stupidity of what she was doing. She just grabbed the other side of the box and tried to pull it away from him.

Never play tug-of-war with a Wolf who weighs twice as much as you do, she thought as it became clear to her that her shoes had better traction, but he had more feet and more experience playing the game.

Before she could figure out how to gracefully end the contest, the box ripped and cookies went flying.

Simon dropped the box and dove for the cookies. Licked one off the floor— crunch, crunch —then swallowed before going after the next one.

“Don’t eat off the floor!” Meg shoved him away from the cookies, surprising a growl out of him.

They stared at each other, him with his lips raised to show her an impressive set of teeth, and her realizing that it had probably been a lot of years since anyone had dared push him away from food he wanted.

She stepped back and tried to pretend she was dealing with a big version of Sam the puppy, since that felt safer than dealing with Simon the dominant Wolf . . . and her boss.

“Fine,” she said. “Go ahead and stuff yourself with cookies. But you’re going to be the one who explains why there aren’t any left when Sam comes to visit.”

Turning her back on him, she strode into the sorting room and kept going until she reached the counter in the front room, her legs shaking more and more with every step.

“Let him have the cookies,” she muttered as she watched a white van pull into the delivery area. “Maybe they’ll fill him up enough that he’ll forget about wanting to eat the annoying female.”

Pulling her clipboard from the shelf under the counter, she waited for the last delivery of the morning.

Henry stepped into his yard and reached back to shut the workroom door. The wood had stopped speaking to him a few minutes ago, so he had put his tools away and tidied up. He would get something to eat at Meat-n-Greens, then take care of the new library books—however many were left. Fortunately, there would be a list so he would know what books were supposed to be on the shelves.

The Crows on the wall were uneasy—and silent.

Henry asked.

Nothing unusual about that. Now that they finally had a decent Liaison, they were getting more deliveries.

He breathed in cold, clean air—and breathed out hot anger as the scent from over the wall reached him. It belonged to the intruder who had broken in when Meg had first come to work for them and was living in the efficiency apartment.

An intruder who was now inside the office, talking to Meg.

he asked the Crows .

Jake replied.

He opened the workroom door, then pulled off his boots and socks. Putting them inside, he closed the door.

Between was not encouraged in the Courtyards. Between disturbed humans too much, stirred up too much fear. Right now, he didn’t care. He shifted what he needed. His feet changed shape and acquired footpads, fur, and claws. His palms grew a pad, and his fingers changed to stubby, clawed digits.

The snow packed against the wall of his yard formed a ramp. He scrambled over the snow and down the other side of the wall, crouching beside the snowpack while he studied the van. Then, staying low, he crossed the open area and reached the passenger’s door.

A glance into the office. Meg talking to the intruder.

She didn’t look like she wanted to talk to that monkey. But he did. Oh yes. He did.

Simon chased a cookie across the floor, enjoying the silly game.

Meg hadn’t been upset when she saw him as Wolf . She had, in fact, been foolishly brave, daring to push the leader away from food. And they had played. He couldn’t remember ever playing with a human.

Chasing one you were going to eat didn’t count.

Did she play tug with Sam? What about throw? He didn’t think she was strong enough to throw anything very far, but it could still be an enjoyable game. The three of them could play. They could . . .

Simon raised his head, growling softly but not yet sure what he was sensing that had him primed to attack.

He stepped into the sorting room, sniffed the air . . . and knew.

Meg wasn’t just uneasy. Meg was afraid.

Her skin prickled so fiercely, it was everything she could do not to drop the clipboard and pen and pull out the razor to ease the awful feeling that had started as soon as the man walked into the office. Everything about him was wrong , but he hadn’t actually done anything.

“Must get lonely, working here all by yourself,” he said.

“Oh no. There are people coming and going all day.” Not to mention the Crows who kept track of who came and went.

Trying to ignore the prickling, Meg frowned at the back of the van. Not enough information and far too many blanks. Who was this delivery service anyway?

Giving up on the van, she turned toward the package, sliding her eyes to get another look at the man. Big. Rough-looking. No name stitched on the shirt pocket. No company logo or identification on the jacket.

“There’s no company name on this label,” she said. The box was tall enough that she could see the label but not read it easily. Another black mark for this delivery service that their driver didn’t think to tilt it for her. “Who sent this?”

He shrugged. “Couldn’t say.”

“It should be on your paperwork.” Her voice turned sharp. There was something about the look in his eyes that reminded her of the Walking Names when one of the girls dared to ask a question that wasn’t about a lesson. “Who is it for?”

“For one of them. What difference does it make?”

Something ugly in his voice now. But he was more frightening when he tried to go back to friendly, as if she couldn’t hear the ugliness under the words.

“Sorry,” he said. “Had a couple of rough deliveries earlier. Complaints about things I can’t fix. You know?”

That was possible, although she suspected he deserved the complaints. Setting her pen and clipboard on the counter, she reached for the box, intending to turn it in the hopes she could at least make out which complex it should go to. If she couldn’t read that much, she would refuse the delivery and write a memo to Simon and Vlad in case someone was looking for the package.

The man moved fast, clamping one hand on her wrist.

“Why don’t you come with me?” he said, smiling when she couldn’t break his grip. “We’ll get something to eat and get acquainted.”

“No.” She twisted, trying to break free. “Let go of my wrist!”

“Whatcha gonna do? Bite my hand off?”

Simon exploded out of the sorting room. He didn’t bother with the hand. His lunge took him over the counter far enough that his teeth just missed the man’s face.

The man let her go and scrambled back toward the door. “You fucking bitch! I was just asking you out for a meal. You didn’t have to sic your fucking dog on me!”